Clymene Staite, Avox
Sept 25, 2011 15:15:08 GMT -5
Post by ali on Sept 25, 2011 15:15:08 GMT -5
Speak the words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open
History
[/font][/justify]Hello, my name is Clymene. You may be reading this wondering why I am not speaking this through my mouth, rather than speaking it through pen and paper. I am afraid that I cannot talk, as I am an Avox. This horrific punishment was brandished on me many summers ago, but firstly to get to the reasoning of the punishment, I must tell you where my story began. 38 years ago, I was born into a poor family in District 4. My father, though a fisherman, got very little money for the crabs he caught out at see. In those times, crabs were not a delicacy in the Capitol or higher ranking Districts; so the price of crabs were pretty poor. My mother was a simple house wife- caring for myself and my brother as children.[/color][/blockquote]
As I grew into a young woman, I began dreaming of having my own family with a beautiful husband. And at the age of 18 I thought that dream had come true. My father introduced me to a rich young man, going by the name of Richard. He was sweet, caring, compassionate- everything a woman could ask for; so at the age of 19 we were married happily. The first year went smoothly, no problems occurred. Richard began training to be a Peacekeeper and I fell pregnant with my first. We were both excited about having a baby- Richard especially. Then the baby arrived, little Tisha. She was beautiful, Brown hair like my own and grey eyes like her father. However, Richard was disappointed; almost angry at me for bearing a daughter.
The next few years were hard for myself. Richard began to become more of a monster than what he had been for the first few years of our marriage. He did not hate Tisha, but he did not particularly like her. He slowly began to become abusive, only verbally abusing me at first but it slowly it became worse. 2 years after Tisha was born, I gave birth to Daria. Richard, was furious that I had given birth to another girl- let alone a impaired one. He began to become more and more violent, hitting me and breaking bones. I felt lost, confused and alone because I knew I couldn’t tell anyone or Richard would kill me and the Girls. As the decade passed, Richard not only became more and more abusive, he also began to become a drunk. Many nights he would come home and try to abuse my daughters, but I put myself in their way- sacrificing my dignity for them.
Then one year- the envitable happened. Tisha was reaped. While Richard seemed pleased about it, in a sickening sense, I weeped for her. Daria was very young, and her deafness didn’t help much when I had to explain to her that her big sister was going away for a while. Little did I know at the time of reckoning, that Tisha would never return. Around 2 weeks into the games, there were very little left. 5 remaining tributes still stood- including our Tisha. One day, over the speaker system in the arena, the remaining tributes were invited to the feast. It was here, that our daughter met her end. In an attempt to help a ally, Tisha did not see another come up from behind. I closed my eyes as she was brutally murdered in front both myself and Daria.
On the return of Tisha’s body, I made my decision to leave District 4 and into the wilderness along with Daria- in hope of sparring her from the same fate as Tisha. A matter of Days before I planned to escape the control of the Captiol, our home was ram-sacked by Peacekeepers. They came looking for me. Daria did not hear my screams for help as they dragged me from the house, how could she? But Richard could. I watched as he stood, smiling maliciously at me as I was taken away. The moment I was thrown in the back of the Peacekeeper van, my world was plunged into darkness.
I am not sure how long passed before the blindfold was removed, it may have been days or even weeks. I remember, the light blinding me before I realized I was strapped to a metal chair. I knew what was coming. The chains didn’t stop me screaming, as Doctors reached into my mouth with a knife and cut my tounge. I continued to scream, more guttrally, as the blood poured into the roof of my mouth. It was over. My voice, was gone. Once the pain had subsided- I was shipped off to a slave market where I began my new life as an Avox...
Personality
[/font][/justify]Despite all that I have gone through, I find that my kindness is the only trait that has remained. I treat people the way I wish to be treated, that is with the up-most respect possible. I believe that the only reason I remain so kind to those around me is that I have not used up all the mothering instinct which has been pent up through out the years I have been absent from my child’s life- and without this natural meaning of life I may be somewhat of an empty shell of sorts. To me, my children mean everything to me and I miss both ever so dearly. I believe that we all have Kindness in our hearts, but only a limited amount and once it has gone we are heartless humans who care for no one but themselves.[/color]
However, since Richards abusing nature formed- I have become unstable around newer faces. I do not trust people as much as I might of when I was still a young woman, free from any man other than my own father. I find that I have less trust in a male companion who I have just met than a female counterpart. I assume this is because of what Richard did to me for the many years of my young adult hood, effecting my view on strangers as a whole. It takes a lot for me to learn to just another human being and I sometimes do not trust people for many years now- if they were to live that long.
Since the birth of my first, I have discovered that I have a passion for creating stories. When I had the use of my voice, I would create stories for my children; all about distant off lands and romances between Districts. Daria was the one who loved my stories the most, and would listen- well watch me sign one every evening up until the day I was taken. Since the day of my Avoxing, I have had to find new means of creating stories. This way, is through the means of pen and paper. When I can I invest in one notebook and one pen but sadly neither lasts me very long. Not long enough for another pay day anyway. I hope that one day when the Avox world is less confined to slavery, that I’ll be able to publish one of the thousands of stories I have created.
Becoming an Avox, has deeply upset and traumatised me. I do not feel like I have done anything wrong- it simply seems that I have been caught red handed for no good reason what so ever. I didn’t even get a trial for my plans, waking up and not being able to talk was my trial in many ways. Physically, I have lost my toung to the capitol to cook and boil and eat for tea- if my tongue was even worth that. Emotionally, I find that I cry at the tiniest intention of punishment forced in my direction. I have also developed a fear for the dark. When alone, in the Dark I find that I begin to panic, thinking I will open my eyes any minute and relive the experience of having my tongue removed again.
Appearence
[/font][/justify]When I was younger, I was a very pretty girl. I had flawless, pale porcelain white skin and bright hazel nut eyes. Yet time has taken her toll on me and I have aged like most woman. My skin is still pale but has grown a slight grey pigmentation, though it is not very visible at all. My eyes have dulled slightly, darkened almost into a dark chocolate brown. My hair is the same shade as both my daughters- a deep brown colour, but mine has a slight mahogany red tinge to it. Since my time in the Capitol, I have had my hair cut too just above ear lenght and I find that it is often rugged similar to that of a boys cut. My face shape, unlike most of my facial features, has not lost its original form. It is still round, with full rosy cheeks and pale pink lips.[/color]
My body has always been that little bit extra fatter. No immensely, just a thin layer of puppy fat that seems to refuse to go away- even on my Avox diet. I have a slender neck, and I am quite short for my age- standing at 5 feet in total. My arms and legs are proportional to my body, so are neither longer or shorter than they should be on someone my height. For my work, I wear a white skirt with a white tailored blazer and black cami beneath it. To accompany the office styled look I have to wear 2 inched white high heels to make up with my height. When I am not doing anything, I usually just strip to the cami and the skirt since both are the most comfortable items of the outfit.
Codeword: Odair