Ebony Frost - D10 [FINISHED] | Hunger Games: The RPG

✨ zozo.
Retired Staff

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Pronouns: she/her
last seen Sept 23, 2024 14:15:14 GMT -5

bloomtodeath

Ebony Frost - D10 [FINISHED] May 12, 2012 6:08:11 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on May 12, 2012 6:08:11 GMT -5

Name: EBONY FROST (

IDK)
Age: 16/17 IDK HAVEN'T DECIDED
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 10
Appearance:

[/img]

PHILIPPA COLLIASS

~~GUH SHE'S SO PRETTY STAWP IT~~

MIRROR MIRROR ON THE WALL WHO'S THE FAIREST OF THEM ALL?[/blockquote]Personality:

~~HAHAHA COLD-HEARTED CRAYCRAY STEALIN' BITCH.~~ UGHHHHHH AT EVERYTHING. SLYTHENDOR(?). FAIRY-TALES ARE BS. REALIST/PESSIMIST. SORRY WHAT? YOU INSULTED ME? HOPE YOU LIKE A GOOD KICK IN THE HEAD! ~~I JUST NEED SOMEBODY TO LOOOOOVE.~~

History:

WHAT KIND OF NAME IS EBONY REALLY DAD REALLY?!? ~~SHE BE CLIMBIN' IN YO WINDOWS SNATCHIN' UP YO VALUABLES~~ THIEF. LIGHT-HANDED. STEAL ALL THE THINGS! COME AT ME BRO. SO LOL MY MOM DIED AND NOW I HAVE A NUTTY STEPMOM WHO WANTS TO MAKE MY LIFE MISERABLE YAY.

Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:

LOL THIS PLOT HASN'T EVEN STARTED YET BUT ALL THE INSPIRATIONAL/MUSE SONGS!

"Yeah, I, I know it's hard to remember
The people we used to be
It's even harder to picture
That you're not here next to me
You say it's too late to make it
But is it too late to try?
And in our time that you wasted
All of our bridges burned down

If happy ever after did exist
I would still be holding you like this
All those fairytales are full of sh*t
One more stupid love song I'll be sick"

"Once upon a time somebody ran
Somebody ran away saying fast as I can
I've got to go
Once upon a time we fell apart
You're holding in your hands the two Halves of my heart
I could've been a Princess, You'd be a King
Could've had a castle, and worn a ring
But no, you let me go"

P A L E T T E

Last Edit: May 26, 2012 22:49:10 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

✨ zozo.
Retired Staff

8,203 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Sept 23, 2024 14:15:14 GMT -5

bloomtodeath

Ebony Frost - D10 [FINISHED] May 26, 2012 22:43:41 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on May 26, 2012 22:43:41 GMT -5

name » ebony frost
age » sixteen
gender » female
district » ten

[/color]

Once upon a time somebody ran
Somebody ran away saying fast as I can
I've got to go

{SKIN WHITE A P P E A R A N C E AS SNOW}

Once upon a time we fell apart
You're holding in your hands
The two halves of my heart

‘Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?'

Sometimes when I’m standing in front of that daunting mirror that hangs on our living-room wall (My Mother’s portrait used to hang there but there’s no use in mentioning that anymore) and I want to rip claw scream tear at the reflective surface until it shatters into a million pieces I wonder what life would be like without them. Never ever knowing what you looked like. And maybe the world that we live in wouldn’t be so caught up with facades, or appearance, or looking your absolute best. I think my stepmother should take a page out of my book sometimes ~~all the time, actually~~ – so obsessed with her looks. Her hair, her teeth, her clothes, her skin. It’s pathetic. But I have to hold my tongue, don’t I? Because if I speak up around her, I’ll end up with a bright red mark across my face to match my lips. I always wondered how such arctic, scathing hands could leave such a burning sting.

I’ve always hated mirrors. Not so much for the result of what stares back at me (although sometimes on my foulest of days it feels like nothing could be worse than feeling the cold stare that bores back at me) but how much they hold. How much they show. I tried to smash away the things that smiled smugly at me through a small hand-mirror with intricate designs woven around the edges with a fling at the brick walls of my house. I didn’t even flinch when it smashed against the concrete and fell into pieces. Things that, try as you might, you have to face. And when your gaze lands on an image of a back-to-front replica and you take yourself in and ”cheer up love, pop a smile on your pretty little face” (oh Daddy, how I wish I could) you’re forced to look yourself straight in the eye and see how horrid you have become. ”Why don’t you ever smile, girl?” Because you don’t deserve a smile ~~you horrid bitch GIVE ME BACK MY FATHER.~~ Once upon a time I gazed up at mirrors and marvelled a little girl in a beautiful dress and twirled around and around and around until I felt dizzy. Once upon a time I used to believe that a whole other universe existed through the glass, but I’ve had no time for stories once reality hit me like a cold smack on my cheek.

The second I see that sour, almost blank expression with a scowl across my face and tedious, grimacing brown circles around dark pupils, I see myself through other’s eyes for a moment. How horridly mean I must look – acidic, subconscious facial expressions to act as a first barrier. I think I’m getting more and more like the evil queen and less and less like the beautiful fairy godmother with every passing day as it ticks by ~~and it’s the most frightening thought in the world.~~ My eyebrows, as dark as my hair, furrow at the middle and leave a crease of frustration right down the centre. Hair that falls just above my shoulders I cut it short in an act of rebellious fury against my stepmother and my turmoil of emotion and to keep myself from ripping it off my scalp and hangs around my face in odd layers and wavy lumps the scissors would not stop hacking until someone forced them out from the cage of my clenched palms with fingers for shackles and determination for chains to dissect an odd frame of black and flecks of red (rebel rebel rebel!) against my pale-toned heart shape of a face.

A curve on my lips rarely appears anymore. It is as if it refuses to shift from a frozen, unemotional line like the words I want to speak that hardly leave my head. I used to smile so much that my Daddy said I lit up the entire room. Now when it does shift, it’s crooked and forced and only there to please him. Perhaps he realises, perhaps he doesn’t. I am invisible – set aside the reflections that seem to lurk around every corner and in every bathroom stall and in the watery puddles after a rainstorm. Ripples appear and cascade to the edges as I stomp, stomp, stomp with my boots that stupid girl away. She blurs in currents and distorts into a murky blur when the dirt from the road mixes with the pools of water and disappears into a clay-brown nothing, her face fading from view. Good bloody riddance. I walk away, light nimble fingers tracing the worn, scratchy fence posts as I slide through streets and dip into pockets, bags, shoes, purses when no-one’s watching.

I’m a mystery, a hidden mastery. My small little frame, nicer-than-normal clothes adorning my limbs but hey, no-one asks questions around these parts if you want to stay out of trouble. They don’t bother to think about why my necklace could have come straight from District One itself, or how the fabrics of my clothes are so fine that it must have cost a fortune to be shipped from Eight. Silly people, for they’d never guess that I didn’t pay a dime. I merge through crowds and sliding with the current to take what I please. No-one would suspect a petite little thing with a doe-eyed expression and a mouth pursed open slightly to form a look of shock, words unable to form in her throat, of being a thieving criminal, would they? Of course they wouldn’t. So off comes the mask and I’m pattering back down the way I came, a smirk in its place and a tap of my brand new earrings in my pocket for safekeeping. Idiots.

Once upon a time on the same side in the same game
And why'd you have to go and
Throw water on my flame?

{LIPS RED P E R S O N A L I T Y AS BLOOD}

I could've been a Princess, you'd be a King
Could've had a castle, and worn a ring
But no, you let me go

[/color]

‘Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.'

I don’t have any friends. Not anymore, anyway. Once upon a time the four-worded phrase that never seems to release its latch on my mind no matter how many times I try to shake it away I did. ~~Once upon a time~~ people actually enjoyed my presence. ~~Once upon a time~~ I happily went along to birthday celebrations and tea parties at lunchtimes. ~~Once upon a time~~ I ran through fields in a long chain of children who shouted and screamed and laughed and played pretend - clumsy magic wands and excited, sparkly dresses and a big, bad dragon following in suit. We were dreamers and mischief-makers. Now it’s just an empty, discarded shell that I hide away in a box in my closet. I can’t throw it away. My mother made that dress, you see.

I’m as stubborn as a mule, as cunning as a snake. As daunting as a hawk and as quiet as a mouse. I could go on and on and on about the animals I used to talk to as a little girl. They would never answer back with words, of course, but I always thought they understood, in a way. I guess not even animals could understand me now. There are holes in my apologies and truth sucked back into my throat and a big brick wall of a castle that I surrounded my~~heart~~self with. (“Daddy, will I get a Prince Charming to come and rescue me and he call me the fairest-est in the land like you call Queen Mommy?” [/color]”Of course you will, Eb, for you too are the fairest in the land.”)

Oh, the irony of having the surname of Frost and matching its description so perfectly. It seems like everyone in my so-called ‘family’ is morphing into slabs of ice from the never-ending toxin of winter she’s brought to my home. She numbs them down to the core and freezes them up. Sucks the warmth right out of them. They’re crystallized figurines hung in a display, taking them down at any given time she pleases and spinning them around in her fingers at her command; the bitch. I don’t know if everyone else at school sees me like that, too. They may. They probably do. I act like I don’t care, I act like it’s not a big deal. I walked past a not-so-little girl I used to call my best friend and she didn’t even notice me. Or rather, pretended not to notice. But thing is, is that I do care. I want to be everything that my stepmother is not – but how can I be when I’m on a spiral of hate and bitterness and poison and I can’t seem to stop rolling, I can’t stop morphing into her no matter how hard I try. I am becoming one of her figurines, her collectable crystals. I am freezing.

MONDAY – ENGLISH; Haiku Writing

Once upon a time,
Ebony wrote a haiku.
And it stunk. The end.

Ebony is a bright and intelligent girl who is extremely capable in English ~~Math History Music Art and the rest of it, really - you name it, she’s flunking~~ but her effort seems to be slacking considerably. She does not seem to want to see or use her enormous potential, and her social skills need great improvement. I could re-write that a hundred times over, sugar-coat and all, with the same smothering message in different phrases, and I still wouldn’t care what they think. Crack! goes the mirror as another curve between my ears is forced upwards with the dainty, selective words they painted to tell me that I’m a waste of time/space/money/knowledge/effort/life – because “magic mirrors break if you tell a lie straight to its face!” What’s that, 7 years of bad luck, huh? 4 down, 3 to go. No point telling me I’m a waste of anything, really. I already get enough of that for twenty people at home.

Once upon a time, we burned bright
Now all we ever seem to do is fight
On and on, and on and on

{HAIR BLACK H I S T O R Y AS EBONY}

But no, you let me go
And stole my star
Cause you really hurt me

[/color]

‘And every kingdom must one day come to an end.'

People might laugh and by people, I mean anyone and everyone who’s ever met me in the past 4 years if I said I used to be tolerable. I daren’t say the ‘h’ word ~~happy happy you could be happy~~ because it’s been so long since its first vacation from my life that I’ve almost grown used to its absence. It seems like such a long time ago, when I was still a fairy princess (“Ebony’s the fairest-est Eb Eb Eb is she is she is she’s the bestest in the laaaaaand!”) but really, what kind of name is Ebony, Dad? playing kings and queens and castles. My Daddy, my king, the only man in the world who would ever make me happy. He’d sit me on my pony - in my sparkly shoes and magic wand that he’d saved up so many hours of pay to get me for my birthday – and lead me through fields and forests and rivers and lakes and my magic kingdom.

It still baffles me how much people change.

Or rather, how other people change them. How events in their lives, small or large, can flip a switch and considerably tilt someone’s path forever. How a word, a gesture, a misplace of step or a rational decision can create all these possible, invisible roads that fate takes us on. How we have no control over these roads, these destinations and signposts and promises of adventure and how you can never control them. How something can shatter, break, fall to pieces like the glints of light you see in the concrete and the brick walls ~~even though you swear to yourself you swept up every last scrap of that stupid mirror.~~ I’ve always been good at blaming others for how my life turned out, when in reality, I truly have no idea who caused the ripples – which, to be honest, really are more like tidal waves – in my voyage.

I was twelve when the Queen – the good, kind, fairy-godmother Queen – became ill. Something was eating at her alive, something no-one could figure out. It’s in the food, they said – but I helped cook with my Daddy every evening; and we added no more, no less to the ingredients page. Slowly, painfully, she deteriorated. I wished and wished and wished with all my heart that she would get better. I summoned all the magic I could into kisses on foreheads and get-well-soon hand squeezes. She withered away into a petal, all brand new again, floating away with the wind to discover new lands and journeys and adventures that even my wildest imagination could not convene. And so did my father, my poor, poor King. They say he died of a broken heart and hid away in its remains – living through bleak eyes and half-hearted kisses before bed and an angry smash of her chair on the concrete outside.

Only then, only afterwards, only ”I am terribly sorry but we’re too late to fix her” ~~what’s the point she’s dead anyway you useless morons~~ did we find out what it was. Laced in pie or jelly or cake or meat from the markets – impossible to track down, of course. How unfortunate. Poison poison toxic lethal fatal venom noxious ~~murder~~ death kill dead (I might be sick) washed her away along with my hopes and dreams and magic castle in the sky. After that, apples seemed to taste bitter in my mouth ~~like words of emotion or feeling or truth I refused to speak aloud.~~

And then she came. Daddy said she fixed him up and made his heart better again but I could tell he didn’t mean it. The farm was slipping and our money was dwindling, and she just happened to have all the right ideas. ”Sell the ponies” she said. ”The horses, too.” And although I screamed and kicked and cried when they dragged my horse away, she didn’t move a muscle. Neither did Daddy. That was the tipping point, the moment when I realised that for the first time in my life, my King had let me down. My home was stripped of everything I knew and replaced with taxes and charts and things I did not understand. Even an apple tree grew in the centre of my riding ring, a constant symbol of her presence that I hated hated hated. What was a girl, who had grown up around the magnificent animals and rode bareback through fields and into town with her mother beside her - supposed to do with herself now her familiar had been taken from her? And when not even her precious King could help her get it back, taken over by the evil that plagued her new life? Change.

The castle and my kingdom were packed into the box of fairies and glitter and magic and never opened again.

------

codeword:

lyrics; princess of china – coldplay ft rihanna
fc; phillipa colliass

describing [4D4646] thinking [6E5B48] talking [A0CC89] [/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote][/justify][/size][/center]

Last Edit: May 27, 2012 5:33:14 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

✨ zozo. Retired Staff 8,203 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Sept 23, 2024 14:15:14 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	Ebony Frost - D10 [FINISHED] May 26, 2012 22:48:50 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✨ zozo. on May 26, 2012 22:48:50 GMT -5 OH MY GOD SHE'S DONE. Sorry for the ~~essay~~ ~~novel~~ length, I got a bit carried away xD
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

Baby Wessex d9 [earthling] Administrator 9,572 POSTS Pronouns: She/Her last seen Sept 27, 2024 19:25:29 GMT -5 cameron stood in line for an hour for a stupid ride for me <3 best <3	Ebony Frost - D10 [FINISHED] May 27, 2012 18:23:36 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by Baby Wessex d9 [earthling] on May 27, 2012 18:23:36 GMT -5 [/size][/ul] ACCEPTED!
	credit umber vivuus 12a 🥀 [dars] credit ✨ zozo. - chars -