Xavier Xart, District 7 [Done]

Xavier Xart

Age: 18
District: 7
Gender: Male

\\Appearance//

I stretch out toward the sky like the trees around here, and I’m as regular as the pines that dot the forests. I’ve got brown hair and eyes—something I never thought made me stand out at all—and so do the rest of the men in my family. I think in clichés, or so my brothers tell me. I’m the tallest of three, with broad shoulders and a skinny waist, and hair that runs down my back. Even though I’m the middle child, I’m still taller than Seymour, my older brother. Ebbie—Ebenezer—isn’t much more than thirteen and his voice hasn’t changed, so it isn’t like he’d be close to me anyway. We used to be a lot more rough and tumble when we were younger, what with us all being around the same size. Now the biggest scrapes we get into our with our words, though those can hurt just as much.

When I go out into the woods, I like to wear things that help me blend in with the forests. I guess I’ve bought into my whole life lock, stock, and barrel, but I like wearing a warm hat and flannel. The girls don’t pay me much attention, but I haven’t got a mind for them anyway. There’s something more peaceful about the world—the beauty of the blues, yellows, and reds of the leaves—than I’ve found in the girls around here. They’re all starting to get focused on finding a husband and making a family, but that isn’t really what I’m after.

I don’t mind being plain and blending in, even if it means I tend to be off of people’s radars. It helps me to watch animals in the trees, especially the birds. I can name just about anything that might be flapping its wings or giving a call. People don’t take the time to really do that, not when we’ve got so much wood to send off to the capitol. I guess you could just say I like blending in—it’s a skill of mine—and finding out where things fit. I smell like the forest, sawdust, and whether or not it’s been raining (then I tend to smell like the old dog down the lane). We all have little wooden bracelets, too—my siblings and me—something we all get when we’re twelve, a kind of marking for when we’re entering adulthood.

\\Personality//

I tried for a while to figure out just the best way to describe who I am. I don’t like making a lot of noise, I like watching a lot. When it came to my brothers I always have been the mediator—they come to me when they’re upset and I try to figure things out for the lot of us. Tend to do the same in life as I do out in the woods, make myself scarce and pay attention to who people are rather than insert myself into anything. What’ve I ever gotten out of making myself the center of attention anyway? I like helping people along, even if it means they don’t always thank me for what I’ve done.

My father always taught me the importance of doing good for the sake of doing good. I guess it was a lesson in following orders too, and not thinking about how awful things are in other places—but for the most part he tried to show me how we got a lot more than other people tend to. Living out in the woods and the fresh air seems a lot better than those folks that are trapped in cities with dirty air and tight borders. Even if there’s stuff out there that lurks in the corners and is dangerous—especially other people that wander about—we’ve still got all this free space to roam. I can’t have it any better, can I? I think if I were locked up somewhere I might go crazy, on account of the need to get away from everyone when something’s bothering me.

I don’t really do well in groups—a problem for anyone that’s an introvert. If I have to work with other people I suppose I will, but that’s the whole reason I want to be a logger or a carpenter. I get to do what I want on my time, and I get to do it on my own. We don’t have to listen to anyone else, and we get to make our own hours. That and I don’t have to listen to all the idiots or sad sacks around here. There’s better life out in the trees, looking out at the countryside than having to work with anyone else. My whole life has been about being outside—away from everyone else. I think I’d wither up and die if someone tried to chain me up. Not that I’d ever run away—not from my family that needs me. When Ebbie’s all grown up though, we’ll see. I got to make my own life soon enough.

\\History//

My ma and pa are good, salt of the earth people. They come from a line of carpenters and loggers—nothing out of the ordinary. Not that there’s anything wrong with all of that. They knew this place before we turned to logging; at least, they knew what their parents used to say. They always taught us our manners—elbows off the table and to say grace before we eat— and made sure that we had enough to go around. It’s hard enough with just them, but imagine having three hungry boys to look after! I’m not sure how they did all of it, but I’m proud of them.

My brother Seymour came first. He’s three years older than me, and he’s always been the most outspoken one of us. His mouth runs faster than a tribute being chased by a career—and it doesn’t seem like he ever shuts up either. He tends to take the opposite stand of everyone around him, even if that means he’s supporting something he doesn’t like. That meant we got into a lot of fights growing up, if only because he was so antagonistic. It made me not want to engage him—and matter of fact, might have even contributed to me not wanting to say much of anything at all.

I came next, and I think my parents were a little disappointed I wasn’t a girl. Had my whole room done up in pink and tulle, but turns out I wasn’t what they were expecting. I was the calmest little one they said, just looking up at my parents with big eyes, trying to figure out the world. My mom used to sing me songs and cradle me to sleep—she’d try and get me to sing with her when I grew up, and she was just about the only one that could get me to do it. I don’t know, I suppose everyone’s momma has that effect on them. She has a nice, high voice that’s just relaxing.

My brother was last, and he’s just a ball of energy. Always been the one that wants to go on adventures and see the whole world. I guess there’s just a bit of my grandfather’s spirit in him. He wants everything to happen right away, and I still got to teach him that that’s not what’s important in life. You’ve got to work for what you want, and not just expect it to happen for you. He doesn’t like to hear that, but he’s good enough that he respects me for it. We’re a good little family, the five of us. We live out in the woods, at the end of a dirt road. We’ve got a little shack with two bedrooms—one room for me and my brothers, and one for my mother and father. Just enough to get by—and I hope it stays that way.

Codeword: Odair