Mylenne Lucic / District Seven /

Name: "The name's Mylenne, but I don't see much harm in calling me Lenny. Rolls off the tongue a bit better, don't it?"
Age: "I'm only fifteen years old. People call me young, a cute little thing, but I'm mature for my age, at least sometimes. Watch it, because every time you pinch my cheeks, I secretly want to chop your hand off"
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 7
Appearance:

"Aw, darn. This? I haven't looked in the mirror for a good month or two. I'm not gonna sound too smart at all. Well - here's what I know. I'm short. Not the shortest, but people tease me well enough to know I'm shorter than most. Five feet tall, maybe? Don't wanna make my brain sore, thinking of it, so I'll leave it at that. My weight matches my height fair enough. I'm skinny. Most people are, at least here. District Seven ain't known for it's food. Hell, the districts that are known for such get it torn off their fingers for District One. Nevermind, I'm so off topic. It happens. I'd have to say I'm around 110 pounds, which is fair enough for a fifteen year old 'round here. Most of that weight's in muscle, mind you, and most of that muscle's on my legs, which are a bit stubbyl. It's strange. Not that I look disproportional or anything, simply different.

"My momma always told me I had nice fat lips. When I was little, the boys at my school told me they were good for kissing, and I'd laugh with them and while they walked away, I would kick their behinds. They're pale, pink, and usually chapped, with round little cupid's bow atop. My face is pale, and soft to boot, a bit like porcelain. But I hate way scratches and acne show up like blood and dirt in the snow. It's so hard to cover. I have a few freckles here and there, and thankfully they're extremely pale. My eyes are deep-set in my face, framed with a wide forehead and broad cheeks. They're a dark color brown, and almost don't gleam when the light touches them. My hair is another story. It's a pale, almost white color of blonde. When I was very little, it was much darker, but somehow it became very very light

"I expect you'd find the most remarkable thing about me is my arms. Probably my right arm, in particular or... the lack thereof. I haven't been able to feel my right arm for five years, since I was ten. This is because, well, it simply isn't there. Just below my shoulder hangs a knob, much like children draw clenched fists. I remember when all I could see there was flesh. Now the skin there is pale, and it feels weak, as though it could be torn off as easily as a bandage. On my other arm, my left, I have sturdy muscle - probably due to half a decade just using that side of me. Towards my upper arm, there are white slashing scars that feel much like those on my other shoulder, but that arm was saved."

Personality:

Turning Tables - Adele []

"Oh, I really apologize if I'm bad at this too. I'm not exactly an expert at... personalities. Nevermind, just don't let me talk too much. I'll sound like an idiot. I'm really rather not used to doing this sort of thing. To be honest, I try to do my best to keep people from even wanting to know all this sort of stuff. I don't want people to know who I am. Because, to be quite honest, they won't care about me. They'll turn around and hurt me. That's how it's always been. Call me cynical, a pessimist. I don't give a shit. I'm being realistic. No one's perfect, everybody makes mistake. It is with one imperfection, one mishap, that someone gets hurt, intentional or not."

"As I just stated, nobody's perfect. What the hell? If that has been clearly proved, then why does anyone even try? It's such a depressingly true fact. Why aim for something you can't achieve? You're all stupid, if you even attempt. Perfectionists make me laugh. I'll be as sloppy as I please, thank you. And responsibilities? They're really, really, really, not my kind of thing. Don't trust me with much, really. I won't be bothered, unless there's candy or entertainment involved. I like those sorts of things. I may not be the brightest, and to be honest I'm borderline terrible with emotions, but I'm a business-woman at heart. You give me something, then maybe I owe you. I give you something. You definitely owe me. No questions asked

"I bet you're reading this and you think I'm funny. You think I'm cute, adorable, a joke. Maybe I am. I won't let you think otherwise, because honestly I couldn't care less. I have my life, you have yours. You can judge me however the hell you'd like. Because to be honest, I'm weak. I'm lost. I'm scared. I try to act independent because I want you to care. I just want someone to turn around and ask me what's wrong. Maybe I won't answer, and I won't know why. Ever since the incident, people turned their back on me, whispered about how off balance I must be, and I'm afraid of getting hurt again. I'm afraid of anything sharp, any heights. I hurt myself doing something so simple, that I'm so wary of everything now. There's no way I can't be. I'm sorry if you think I'm fake, that I'm putting on a show, but it's what a girl has to do

"Alright?"

History:

"Oh god. Here comes the humor, the tragedy, the epic-ness. Yeah fucking right. I'll always be the girl, the clumsy one that tripped into a wood-cutting saw. I mean, we might as well start with that. It was a pretty bright afternoon, a sunny summery day. I was only ten years old. The innocent little girl with chubby, porcelain cheeks and an infectious smile. Enough about that though. I was visiting my father at work. My mom had finally let me go by myself. By the very edge of the clearing, there were the saws. Out of the way, as not to cause trouble. But they did. A few meters outside the clearing, I saw dear daddy and my hands flew up, and I went running. And then I think there was a root. Which was stupid. Being a little girl, it was up to my knee. And I went tumbling straight over it. My hand hit something hard, cold, metal. There was no time for me to go numb, go into shock. Just pure pain. I felt both my arms trapped under piercing metal. My left hand broke free, dripping with blood. I was terrified. I could not remove my other arm from the saw. When one of the workers finally found the off button, I was beyond help. I can not describe the pain I felt, and my throat was too sore from shrieking to cry. Somewhere along the line, I passed out."

"Wonderful story, right? I mean, my life had been a piece of cake before that. I was the third born to my family, but they were so much older that I spoke very little to them. The most they ever asked for was to swing me in my baby seat. Which brings me to my parents, the ever talented. My father was in charge of several locations around the district that focused on collecting lumber. My mother? She was a craftswoman. She used to deal with large things. Shelves, chairs, tables, and the like. But after a while people began to ask her to make other things - beautiful little carved creatures with wings that looked so real that children thought if you threw it into the air, it would fly. Things with teeth and fur and talons. Simply gorgeous things, that I could look at forever and try to make up lives for before their spirit got trapped inside the wood. Don't make fun of me, I was little then. At school, I played tag and won by climbing up the trees and pretending to be a little branch. I was good at that. I looked at the older kids that were higher in the trees, and I wanted to be like them. "

"But after that incident, I didn't at all. Everything changed. It took a year for me to recover. I had to sit in bed the entire day, and it hurt so much that I didn't want to get up even when I knew that I could. I squirmed so often that as soon as a wound would heal, I would reopen and expose it. It was awful. Bythe time I was free to go back to school, people didn't recognize me. The rumors they had heard were terrible. I was grumpy and rude and always tired. People would poke me, make jokes about how I was barely human. I went home everyday and bawled my eyes out. I was afraid of everyone, everything. People stared me down, told me I should be grateful I was alive."

"I am, I promise. But there's nothing I can do anymore. It's just the way I am."

Codeword: ODAIR?
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