Ariel Tristana LeBlanc // District Two

Ariel is, as far as almost anyone is concerned, absolutely ravishingly gorgeous. Whether it's the pristine, lightly olive toned skin, the sleek, well kept, raven black hair, the sultry look in her hazel eyes, or the whole five foot two package of gracefully proportioned curves, there is no doubt that Ariel was dealt aces in spades.

Slim of waist, full of hip and bust, she successfully tips the scales at one hundred and seven pounds, a weight she seems to effortlessly maintain. Virtually everything about her screams perfection. Slender, toned legs, the graceful slope of her shoulders, defined, but not sharp curves to her facial features, she seems to have everything.

Until, of course, you start to notice the blemishes that appear haphazardly across her skin. They are, truthfully, the only blemish that has ever seen the light of day on her skin. Fortunately for Ariel, she's had the wherewithal to keep her injecting to places that generally go un-noticed, or easily covered up.

Beyond her bare skin and bones, her dress sense and ability to delicately apply makeup to bring out the best of her already stunning physique, only makes her all the more enviable. Typically favouring black colours, in a wide range of styles, from corsets to tank tops, from jeans to miniskirts and everything in between, she has an elegant, bold, but somewhat dark sense of fashion, presenting a dark, sensual allure to those who she wishes to snare.

Ariel is, unfortunately, gifted with both an addictive and an indulgent personality. Prone to giving into her every whim and desire, and even more prone to enjoying it far more than she should, is a violent concoction, which has led to her addiction to morphling, and to a lesser extent, her nymphomanic tendencies.

This leads us on to her next crucial defining feature. She's, to be kind, sexually liberated. To be blunt, she's a harlot, a slut and a nymphomaniac. Her utter lack of morality when it comes to the idea of fidelity and propriety is made all the more worse when you consider her seeming inability to restrain her desires, and naturally, when you have a body that rocks as hard as hers does, there aren't all that many people that refuse her attentions.

Under this outwardly hedonistic girl is actually someone who's very much striving to succeed in life. She wants to do well in her studies. Her mediocre intelligence hampers her significantly, but she is dauntless in her pursuit in the basic act of passing exams, which has led her to make nice to Fionna.

She's, as might be imagined, an outgoing and vivacious person to be around, the life of any party, even if that life isn't necessarily isn't the one you planned for. Naturally very friendly, Ariel would make an exceptional best friend, if every so often she didn't case you a look that makes you question exactly how she regards you. It probably also helps that she knows exactly how to talk to people, naturally being able to pick out the right words for almost any situation.

Ms LeBlanc, out of the nine teenagers beset with the wide variety of vices that she is most commonly associated with, was probably one of the ones who people thought would be least likely to fall into the same traps. She was born into wealth, to parents of good repute, her father a mining magnate, her mother the daughter of previous victor, she was very much thrust into the world of the upper class. From the earliest she can remember, she has been given everything she ever asked for, has been doted on, and ever since she turned eleven, and began to turn into the stunning young woman she is today, very much at the forefront of eligible girls in District Two.

It was at this point that suddenly, the good little girl began to derail. It can be put down to a single, four letter word. Boys. She was, truthfully, obsessed with them. Where other girls would occasionally permit a fleeting thought of a cute guy, Ariel would occasionally permit a fleeting thought that wasn't about a cute guy. Her way with words wove her into many social circles, as she discovered her newfound power over the opposite sex.

Things only got worse as she got older. Temptations of the flesh became increasingly harder to resist. An inner hunger drove her to look to more carnal means of satisfying her desires than simply hanging around the cute boys. It was no longer about just knowing them, being friends with them. She had to occupy their every thought when she so demanded it. The power was intoxicating. And slowly, she began to not only crave control over males, but females too. Her sexual urges and acts of passions became ever more indiscriminate, a freight train not so much going out of control, but heading for a train wreck.

That train wreck came in the form of a Career prospect. Lars Erlandesson. He was beyond the cute guy. He was the bad boy. The ultimate in guy every girl wanted. Every guy hated. Dark, mysterious, and oh-so-gorgeous, the sort of 'look but don't touch' type. Naturally, Ariel ignored the constraints placed on everyone else. After all, she had never been denied, and would never deny herself. And she wanted him. Another feather for her metaphorical cap. And for a time at least, it worked perfectly. Some would say a little too perfectly.

Realistically, she should have acknowledged his somewhat psychotic tendencies when her many, many exes began sporting bruises, black eyes and cuts, seemingly from nowhere, and didn't so much recoil, as bolt and run from Lars when he entered a room. But she was too caught up in her own victorious triumph over conquering the unconquerable to notice. She had snared the ultimate catch. For a good few months, she never wavered. Some thought that the two seemed to temper each other. For one, Lars actually began to integrate, even if a little awkwardly. And Ariel? She was faithful.

At least until she met Caius. And then, as always, she, like a moth to flame, felt the inexorable pull of her desires, yanking her to him. Lars was all but forgotten, a pleasant memory, but little more. Lars of course didn't take this well. She remembers little of what happened, but she has never seen Caius or Lars since. And she awoke to a bliss that gripped her more surely than anything a male or a female could deliver.

Morphling.

It was a powerful, soporific, but entirely welcome experience. The disconnected feeling. The self-satisfaction. For once free of her urges. At peace. As might be assumed for someone so profoundly affected by the painkiller, used to keep her sedated while she underwent copious amounts of expensive regenerative surgery, repairing the damage that Lars had done to her, to say that her rehabilitation to a life without morphling was difficult would be a catastrophic understatement.

She was wracked by waves of anxiety, gripped by tremors that at times became so violent, restraints would cause more injury than prevent it. Desperation sank in, and she turned, once again, to the one thing that never failed her. Her body. No less than three of the male medical assistants were snared by her looks, with almost painful ease. While the doctors thought she was finally responding to the withdrawal of the morphling, in actual fact, she was back on the dosages. Not the knock-out sedation dosage, but enough to bring on her somewhat disconnected feeling, and remove her from herself.

For the past two years, her sexuality and her addiction have become intrinsically linked together, her promiscuous behaviour fuelling her need to slake her thirst for the sweet oblivion that morphling brought upon her. But deep down, she is terrified of herself. Her meeting with the other eight was by chance, having been found face down in the gutter, incoherent, lost to the world, in a feverish withdrawal spiral that left her almost incapable of functioning at all. Since then, she has remained with this group, much to her mothers dismay, but to her delight, has been making significant progress in her studies, all thanks to Fionna, a girl who she respects, likes, and, to her confusion and frustration, is beginning to become attracted to.