The Jinx Household (Jinx Family Plot)

Now the dark begins to rise
Save your breath, it's far from over
Leave the lost and dead behind
Now's your chance to run for cover

I've never understood my siblings, that much is certain. You'd think that a family that prides itself on its brood of Career children would be a bit more sane, for lack of a better word. I cannot fathom how such a prestigious and well-known household as my own can operate with such an unstable bunch running around and wreaking havoc within its thick flagstone walls and winding hallways, the very structure of the house itself screaming intimidation and do not enter. One would realize upon entering, however, that we're all just socially inept teenagers who know how to throw their weight around. Of course, I'm no exception to that unspoken truth- I'm not exactly what one would call a "social butterfly", and the littlest things, no matter how trivial, can cause my temper to wear thin and stretch to its limits before it finally snaps in an explosion of furious words and swinging fists. The fact of the matter is, we're all a little crazy.

Then again, some people are a little more off their rocker than the children living under this roof. My face is a mixture of surprise and disgust as I lean perched on the edge of the couch before the flickering light of the television screen, watching as Kiera Dempsey and Wednesdae Drummond decide that an arena set in the literal pits of hell- where twenty-four children are being forced to fight to the death- is the perfect place to get to know the inside of each others' mouths. Trying to watch, at least. A fight has broken out in the kitchen- probably something as menial as who gets the last bag of animal crackers- while Charm and Spell are having a loud conversation from two different rooms as I try to concentrate on the screen. There's a flurry of movement off to my left, and suddenly Curse passes right in front of the TV in a whir of blonde hair and fluttering book pages, momentarily distracting me at the same moment that the two twisted lovebirds on screen draw their weapons against the District 8 female. A little snippet of the dialogue is lost to my ears as a result, and I feel annoyance flare within my chest- teeth gritting to avoid barking out an scathing insult to my too loud, too disruptive siblings. Something crashes in the kitchen- probably the shattering of one of our mother's prized china plates- and it becomes too much.

"Do you mind?" My head snaps around, the corner of my mouth curled up in a half-snarl and my eyes light blue slits simmering with rising anger. "I'm trying to watch the Games, but that's a little difficult to do with all this commotion!"