Carter Braeson ~ District 12 [fin]

« BASICS »

NAME: Carter Magnolia Braeson
AGE: Seventeen | March 18
GENDER: Female
DISTRICT: District 12
SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

« APPEARANCE »

To others, I look healthier than others in the seam. But to me, I’m just your average citizen in poverty. My skin is slightly tanned – though this is due to the amount of time I’m in the sun’s harmful rays. Sometimes, when I come home for the evening, my skin is already peeling or burning. My bones, such as my ribcage, my collar bone, etc. are easily visible whenever I’m wearing my normal outfit – tattered jean shorts and a tank top from the hob. My arms are hairless naturally, except for a few blonde wisps here and there. Speaking of hair, my hair isn’t exactly my favorite feature – it’s rather bland. The color is your average dirty blonde, with honey tones to it. I have horrible split ends and a choppy haircut that my mother gave me with a small blade.

The length is rather down to the middle of my back, and it grows quickly, so it’s hard to keep up with it. I mean – I know the wavy volume and smoothness of it is nice, but the hairstyle just doesn’t fit me in any way. While my hair may not be perfect, to me, my eyes are. They’re just the shade of the sky, with small specks of silver near the outside of the pupil. They seem to gleam in the sunlight, creating small silver sparkles. My eyebrows are thin and messy, though I try to keep them in order. They’re just an inch or two about my eyes, and they end right near each side of my nose. My facial features are much defined – my jaw line, nose, cheekbones, etc. My height also makes my different – I’m pretty tall for a woman at 5’10’’. It makes me stand out in a crowd, but my thin weight makes it easier for me to hide.

« PERSONALITY »

You wouldn’t be surprised to find out that I’m not your average girl. I don’t care about boys, dating, makeup, hair, or anything of these sorts. My reason for being is to make sure my little sisters never have to starve or enter for tesserae when they’re old enough. I’m rather a person who cares about the nature, and scavenges for food among the streets. Being one of the poorest of the poor, I’m lucky when I get a right sized shirt to wear – other times, I’d dead out of luck. Though I may not care about much in my life, I care about my education. I don’t want to end up working in the mines when I grow up – I want to be able to help the people who need it when they’re hurt or in need of assistance.

My hobbies usually include wood carving and hanging up in the trees not to far from the border of the district. I’d never leave the district, for I could get in trouble and not be able to support the ones I love. Whenever I’m bored or not doing my daily chores, I got to the black market, or the hob, where I sell the small wooden figures I make with my father’s kitchen knife and the sandpaper we purchase. Because we can’t purchase food and items with money, my sisters and I provide art – I carve, my nine-year-old sister, Katarina, paints and my six-year-old sister, Posey, is great with the natural clay that can be found not too far from the old wrecked up shed we live in. I have strong beliefs about things, including the peacekeepers. I hate the way they’re always on our backs, looking at us as if we would rob a place the minute they turn their backs – not that they’re wrong.

One of my many flaws is that I don’t have a conscious. A few days each month, I go out to the black market, and when I make a trade, I snatch something else, such as bread or meat, and run for the hills. I never provide my real name, so the chances of them finding me are slim. I also have no verbal backbone – I can’t really defend myself with words, and I have no skills with my fists. But most of all, I can be very defensive. When ever someone questions my decisions, I can have a temper tantrum. When the Hunger Games come, I always the one who is hesitant to enter, and often has to be pinned down to get my finger pricked. In the back of my mind, I know if I get picked my only chance to survive is to not be seen whatsoever, and wait for the right moment to strike.

« HISTORY »

Faerie Scottsville met the maker of the mine pickets, Ross Braeson when he came to her house, delivering new mine picks for her. Faerie was a miner who worked in a small area under the mountains. After feeling the instant attraction for the builder, she invited him inside her small house for tea. Then, after getting to know each other more, they began to become close friends over time, even sharing a kiss or two. One day after two years had passed, the pick maker proposed the miner. When they were married, they conceived their first child, Carter Braeson. Carter was a very determined child – she always tried to get what she wanted, no matter the circumstances.

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Carter’s POV

When I began school, I hated most of my teachers – I never wanted anything to do with them. Though, I knew my education was important, so I always put up with their brainwashing. Even though I was neutral with the Hunger Games as a child, my little sister, Katarina would often remind me of them when she was scared; late at night, she would wake me up after having nightmares involving the awful games. By the time I was eleven years old, my mother had another child named Posey. She wasn’t very talkative, and never really did much, like Katarina did. When my twelfth birthday came around, it was rather a time of mourning rather than celebrating – I would be entering the games that year.

When my first reaping came, I was scared to death and refused the blood test. Of course, the peacekeepers held me down and drew my blood. Then, I was off to the reaping. Waiting for the names to be announced was the scariest thing I’ve ever had to do – I mean, it was my first time and I didn’t want to be picked. Luckily, I wasn’t. My life went on normally, and I often begin to enter my name two more than necessary each year, due to the fact that my family of five was hungry. I always dreaded the Hunger Games, because I wanted to be able to support my sister, mother and father when they were in need.

« OTHERS »

Face Claim: Mona Johannesson
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