Glass Charr, District 12
Feb 28, 2012 18:41:25 GMT -5
Post by silentwhispers on Feb 28, 2012 18:41:25 GMT -5
Name: Glass Charr
Age: 15
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 12
Appearance:
Glass is the normalaity of District 12. Long, unwashed black hair that glows blue in the sunshine or the moonlight with her sharp, clear gray eyes, slightly broad body but a frame of starvation is what makes her clearly the districts' resident. She's tall, a bit smaller than 5'8, with that pale olive skin that seems to glow when she's strolling at midnight. Her stride is quick and silent, almost as if she's trying to hurry away without beeing seen, and in some cases, she may be. She's a good bit attractve, but no one seems to flutter over her just because of her looks. Generally, her personality drives them away.
Her long, thin arms are strong for physical activities, but are no match for things that require patience or exactness. Glass's legs are long and frail, and they seem as if they could break if she stepped too hard on the coal-dusted grounds. Her expression is permenately a scowl or a look of painful distress. At times, her eyes even could up into her own thoughts of horrendous days without love, or food, or medical care. It haunts her, and her heart is clearly written on her sleeve.
Personality:
She is quiet, a mute if you must. Her painful history has drained the courage from her, the will to live. When one tries to communicate with her, sorrowful eyes start to glaze over and she turns away in vain, remembering her mother, the one that died in a past mine explosion. Depression leaks from her very beng, as if her auma was made entirely of the mood. Her unsteady mental health also implies that one keep walking, right past the girl with those big, gray eyes that plead for help from every stranger that does pass.
She skips school, and more than likely isn't even enrolled in classes anymore. Her knowledge runs no farther than the eighth grade, where the pain was too much for one twelve year old girl to bear. She doen't care for anyone but her brother, Rayth, whom she hunts for to feed, steals him clothes, supplies, and forces him into school. Dread of him turning into a second one of her keeps her awake at night.She likes to watch kids play and have fun, but once one older than the age of 10 starts to play, she sneers and takes cover in an empty, abandoned shack only meters away from the never electrified gate of 12.
She has no fear of dying, and no fear of killing. If anything, she lusts the blood of the Capitol, and of every human around her seeming to be on top. If she had weapons, she'd become a mass murder. She wishes she'd be one of the few that die in places such as these, but her thoughts are never expressed clearly through her actions.
History:
(First person)
December 18, 10:33 AM
I shied away as my father made a run for me, his hand poised above his head so he could bring it down upon my face with a sickening smack. I fell to the coal-rotted floor, my face stinging as though a million tracker jackers had stung in one place. A quick, broken sob came from deep within my throat, but my father just sneered and stumbled back to his room, the white liquor still in his hands. I waited until a slam rattled the house, and I got up to assess myself in the mirror on the wall above me. Already, a faded yellow bruise had begun to form on my cheek, leaving me with teary eyes and a weary body. I had begun to tire of the abuse, the nights of him ranting to my mother in their room, the sounds he made when he couldn't wash down the alcohol fast enough. He tortures this family, and if it means the last of my life, I'll get him away from Rayth and mother.
January 3 3:50 AM
I woke up again to the sounds of my mother crying at my father's tireless anger. Sounds of physical abuse ran through the three walls that divided our rooms, and my heart fell into my stomach so hard I had to swallow down my puke. It disgusts me how he acts this way. Even for a coal miner, it was unacceptable. It kills me how even Rayth has to endure this. I hope he will soon be whisked away to another family, preferably in District Two, where he would be treated as though he is worth something. I'm seriously thinking of sending him off... But who would comfort me in my sleepless, nightmare filled nights?
January 16 1:47 PM
I did something bad. I can't possibly explain it, but I think I just murdered my father. It wasn't my fault, though, but I still hope I won't get caught. I was sitting on the table, sewing Rayth a new shirt when a sharp, unexplainable plain cuts into my back. Warm, sticky blood starts to pour from my back, and my vision gets blurred. I turned to see my father, rage sparking in his irises like lightening. I tried to scream, but it stuck in my throat. So, instead, I began to run. I dashed through the living room, and into my secret closet behind the door to the bathroom. I can hear his heavy footsteps haunting the hallways, his taunting voice rising above my mental hysteria. "Come on our, baby, I promise it will be quick. Don't want to make daddy mad, do you?" I choked back the sobs that found their way into my throat, and suddenly, all was still. I decided to take in my surroundings in the dim light. To my right, there were towels and clothes hanging on numerous racks. Behind me, a tool shelf covered the entire wall. But, to my left, I saw a sight I thought I never would have. Bows and endless supplies of arrows lined up many of the large, cluttered shelves. A voice in the back of my mind warned me against touching anything, but I had to feel them. The rough, hand-made design of the bow, and the deadly, pointed arrows drew a spark from me. I wondered how they reminded me of a far-off memory, but gave up due to nonimportance. I positioned an arrow on the drawstring of the bow, anxious breaths pulsing from my lungs silently. Before I knew it, the door slammed open, and the arrow flew from my grasp. The last thing I remembered before the knife entered my chest was the sight of a bloodied, use-to-be father falling to his death.
February 26 12:06 AM
We had a private funeral for my father today. It was horrifying, the love my mother still showed for him even though he nearly murdered me. I felt alone now, except for Rayth. He would always love me, he told me before we left the house with the dead carcass of the terrifying memory. I will always love him too, even if it means killing myself in order to do so. I can no longer trust anyone but myself, especially my mother. One day, I hope she sees him for what he really was.
March 14 8:57 AM
Today, my mother died. I am turely alone, except for the one blanket of sunshine that kept me sane during these past few weeks. Rayth, the love of my life, keeps me from bringing myself to the same fate of my father, kept me positive about horrid situations. We have no food, no parental guidance to bring us back into the social world of coal mining. I feel my own life slipping through my hands, and I can see in Rayth's eyes that he can tell. He can see straight into my soul, and it worries me, the things he will see. I just hope that one day, I can make everything ok again. But not now, not with the possibility of either of us being selected for the Games.
Codeword: oDair
Comments/Other: Sorry it's kind of bad, she's difficult to explain. Once she's out there, you'll get the idea of her. =].
Age: 15
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 12
Appearance:
Glass is the normalaity of District 12. Long, unwashed black hair that glows blue in the sunshine or the moonlight with her sharp, clear gray eyes, slightly broad body but a frame of starvation is what makes her clearly the districts' resident. She's tall, a bit smaller than 5'8, with that pale olive skin that seems to glow when she's strolling at midnight. Her stride is quick and silent, almost as if she's trying to hurry away without beeing seen, and in some cases, she may be. She's a good bit attractve, but no one seems to flutter over her just because of her looks. Generally, her personality drives them away.
Her long, thin arms are strong for physical activities, but are no match for things that require patience or exactness. Glass's legs are long and frail, and they seem as if they could break if she stepped too hard on the coal-dusted grounds. Her expression is permenately a scowl or a look of painful distress. At times, her eyes even could up into her own thoughts of horrendous days without love, or food, or medical care. It haunts her, and her heart is clearly written on her sleeve.
Personality:
She is quiet, a mute if you must. Her painful history has drained the courage from her, the will to live. When one tries to communicate with her, sorrowful eyes start to glaze over and she turns away in vain, remembering her mother, the one that died in a past mine explosion. Depression leaks from her very beng, as if her auma was made entirely of the mood. Her unsteady mental health also implies that one keep walking, right past the girl with those big, gray eyes that plead for help from every stranger that does pass.
She skips school, and more than likely isn't even enrolled in classes anymore. Her knowledge runs no farther than the eighth grade, where the pain was too much for one twelve year old girl to bear. She doen't care for anyone but her brother, Rayth, whom she hunts for to feed, steals him clothes, supplies, and forces him into school. Dread of him turning into a second one of her keeps her awake at night.She likes to watch kids play and have fun, but once one older than the age of 10 starts to play, she sneers and takes cover in an empty, abandoned shack only meters away from the never electrified gate of 12.
She has no fear of dying, and no fear of killing. If anything, she lusts the blood of the Capitol, and of every human around her seeming to be on top. If she had weapons, she'd become a mass murder. She wishes she'd be one of the few that die in places such as these, but her thoughts are never expressed clearly through her actions.
History:
(First person)
December 18, 10:33 AM
I shied away as my father made a run for me, his hand poised above his head so he could bring it down upon my face with a sickening smack. I fell to the coal-rotted floor, my face stinging as though a million tracker jackers had stung in one place. A quick, broken sob came from deep within my throat, but my father just sneered and stumbled back to his room, the white liquor still in his hands. I waited until a slam rattled the house, and I got up to assess myself in the mirror on the wall above me. Already, a faded yellow bruise had begun to form on my cheek, leaving me with teary eyes and a weary body. I had begun to tire of the abuse, the nights of him ranting to my mother in their room, the sounds he made when he couldn't wash down the alcohol fast enough. He tortures this family, and if it means the last of my life, I'll get him away from Rayth and mother.
January 3 3:50 AM
I woke up again to the sounds of my mother crying at my father's tireless anger. Sounds of physical abuse ran through the three walls that divided our rooms, and my heart fell into my stomach so hard I had to swallow down my puke. It disgusts me how he acts this way. Even for a coal miner, it was unacceptable. It kills me how even Rayth has to endure this. I hope he will soon be whisked away to another family, preferably in District Two, where he would be treated as though he is worth something. I'm seriously thinking of sending him off... But who would comfort me in my sleepless, nightmare filled nights?
January 16 1:47 PM
I did something bad. I can't possibly explain it, but I think I just murdered my father. It wasn't my fault, though, but I still hope I won't get caught. I was sitting on the table, sewing Rayth a new shirt when a sharp, unexplainable plain cuts into my back. Warm, sticky blood starts to pour from my back, and my vision gets blurred. I turned to see my father, rage sparking in his irises like lightening. I tried to scream, but it stuck in my throat. So, instead, I began to run. I dashed through the living room, and into my secret closet behind the door to the bathroom. I can hear his heavy footsteps haunting the hallways, his taunting voice rising above my mental hysteria. "Come on our, baby, I promise it will be quick. Don't want to make daddy mad, do you?" I choked back the sobs that found their way into my throat, and suddenly, all was still. I decided to take in my surroundings in the dim light. To my right, there were towels and clothes hanging on numerous racks. Behind me, a tool shelf covered the entire wall. But, to my left, I saw a sight I thought I never would have. Bows and endless supplies of arrows lined up many of the large, cluttered shelves. A voice in the back of my mind warned me against touching anything, but I had to feel them. The rough, hand-made design of the bow, and the deadly, pointed arrows drew a spark from me. I wondered how they reminded me of a far-off memory, but gave up due to nonimportance. I positioned an arrow on the drawstring of the bow, anxious breaths pulsing from my lungs silently. Before I knew it, the door slammed open, and the arrow flew from my grasp. The last thing I remembered before the knife entered my chest was the sight of a bloodied, use-to-be father falling to his death.
February 26 12:06 AM
We had a private funeral for my father today. It was horrifying, the love my mother still showed for him even though he nearly murdered me. I felt alone now, except for Rayth. He would always love me, he told me before we left the house with the dead carcass of the terrifying memory. I will always love him too, even if it means killing myself in order to do so. I can no longer trust anyone but myself, especially my mother. One day, I hope she sees him for what he really was.
March 14 8:57 AM
Today, my mother died. I am turely alone, except for the one blanket of sunshine that kept me sane during these past few weeks. Rayth, the love of my life, keeps me from bringing myself to the same fate of my father, kept me positive about horrid situations. We have no food, no parental guidance to bring us back into the social world of coal mining. I feel my own life slipping through my hands, and I can see in Rayth's eyes that he can tell. He can see straight into my soul, and it worries me, the things he will see. I just hope that one day, I can make everything ok again. But not now, not with the possibility of either of us being selected for the Games.
Codeword: oDair
Comments/Other: Sorry it's kind of bad, she's difficult to explain. Once she's out there, you'll get the idea of her. =].
