Fischer Moore, District 12 {Finished}

Name : Fischer Moore

Age : 19

District : 12

Ever since I was a young boy my eyes had been prone to the changing of color. Yellows, blues, and greens twinkled throughout the light grey that exposed my emotions for all to see. The innocence and openness that was clear in my young eyes left me when I joined the other men in the mines. Now they were clouded by a layer of black that left me seeming shut off from the world. On days my hair isn't pushed back in grease-covered clumps, blonde strands fall across my darkened eyes.

Thick muscles allow me an intimidatingly large size. Standing 5'10", I am 160 pounds of stocky muscles, making work in the mines much easier. The mines have turned my hands varying shades of grey and black. Soot and dirt bury between the folds in my hands, refusing to budge from their comfy home. Darkened hands were connected the short, stocky arms that made me seem taller than I really was. My legs and torso seemed to match each other perfectly for size, my arms were the odd ones out.

Clothing isn't my main concern. Rarely can I sport anything besides the tattered rags that serve as a work uniform for the men in the mines. On my off Sunday, loose, wavy pants suit me well. They are paired with flat, brown shoes that slip on my feet and a dust-ridden shirt that is much too small for me, displaying the occasionally glimpse of midsection and shoulders. The one constant I have is a dainty bracelet given to me by Evelyn. It was simply twine with odd objects she'd picked up hanging, randomly placed. After she left, I never took it off.

After many, many years of physical and emotional abuse, I had learned to hate Mother. At first, I pitied her. How much pain could one have to go through to abuse their family so? How much torment afflicted her soul? But no, this woman did not deserve pity. She was a twisted, bent, broken shell of hate and anger who had set her sights upon the eldest of her children and used her hate to tear us all apart. My two youngest siblings, Foiger and Emilay, never felt as much pain. I resented them for it, but I tried to hide it. Hiding the spite in my face as Foiger forgave Mother for everything she ever did. Hiding the horrible feeling that the blood flowing through my veins related me to Emilay, the heartless.

My view on life can be summed up in one word : practical. I've always wished for a safe place to live, for Evera, Evelyn, and me. That could never happen though, thanks to my mother. Mother had taken Evelyn away from us, not the Capitol. Mother had taken safety away from us, not the Capitol. However, Mother had taught me to handle conflict. It doesn't throw me off balance anymore, I can take it without being emotionally destroyed. Many people say I have a tendency of getting into "win-lose" situations, I happen to disagree. My life is a "win-lose" situation. When I am at home I can be with Evera but I have to deal with Mother. When I am in the mines, well I am in the mines, but I don't have to deal with Mother.

Even though it was only a few, short years ago, I miss Evelyn like she was murdered yesterday. She was my eldest sister, being one year younger than me. My two eldest sisters, Evelyn, Evera, and I had always been close. I had always felt as if it was my job to care for them, now I feel even more obligated to protect Evera. Especially from Mother. Before I worked in the mines Evera could always depend on me to be there for her, but now I can only be home on Sundays. Despite my hatred for my blood relatives, I will always be loyal to Evera. We may or may not share the same man's blood, but she will always be my sister.

My nature tells me to lead, never follow, but my placement in District 12 has deprived me of that choice. Leading brings me pride, but I've also found that having your own opinions is just as important. It helps you be a better or worse person, it keeps you from being influenced by the wrong people. Personally, I hold myself and others to very high standards which often leads me to disappointment. The higher you set your expectations, the more painful the fall when they always fall through. I am always there to listen though, I am open to explanations. Relationships have always come easy with my ability to listen and keep commitments. I only wish that everyone were able to do the same.

Mother had always been beautiful with long, blonde hair and clear blue-green eyes. Those simple eyes were what let everyone know she was not from here. They were not touched by the trademark grey that swirled through so many of District 12's inhabitants. She was, however, touched by the inexplicable pull of the bottle. No, not even the bottle. It had never stopped there. The alcohol, the drugs, the abuse. Her life continued to crumble beneath her and, the saddest part of all, she embraced the terror she reined down upon her own family.

The worst of it came when Evera was around, my beloved sister. Just like everything else in Mother's life, it started with the crude remarks. That just wasn't enough for her, soon they turned into screaming matches, followed by knife fights. Every Sunday when I had time to spend with her she had some new battle scar marring her skin. My job in the mines prevented me from protecting her from Mother anymore. It tore me from the inside-out to be safely hidden there while my sister was violently abused. And neither of our two living siblings could be bothered to take care of Evera. Mother never bothered them...

Foiger reminds Evera and me very much of our mother. He has the same clear, blue eyes and same simple-minded attitude. Mother never bothered him much. When she did abuse him, he always forgave her. Perhaps he did not forgive her, but let himself forget the injustice she had done to him. Either way, he was very much unlike Evera and me in this way. Neither of us would ever forgive mother. The youngest of us all, Emilay, could not have been more distant from the family. If it were not for the ice that cast over her blue eyes, she would be beautiful with long, strawberry blonde hair. There was a horrible person inside of her that cheered on the children that took lives in the Games. Sometimes it makes me wonder if she may be the product of a Peacekeeper. Maybe that would mean she wasn't related to me.

Evelyn Monroe Moore, she was one year younger than me. Mother had never forced me to get tessarae, maybe because she knew I would work in the mines. I like to think she forced Evelyn to tessarae because we needed the food. Truth was, we didn't, Mother just wanted to be rid of Evelyn... She was 14, I was 15. Everyday, every hour, we watched. We watched her in the coal black chariot with a matching dress. We watched her smile for the camera's at her interview. We watched as 16 boys and girls died, putting Evelyn in the top eight. Evera hoped, everyday, that her beloved sister would return to her. I hoped with her, but the truth was, she never would. We sat together that day, watching. We watched as Evelyn died a slow, painful death. The cannon that made it official sounded and Evera sobbed in my arms. Never again would we hear her little fingers strum her guitar. Never again would we hear her beautiful voice sing a lullaby that made the world stop and stare. What we would hear was the horrid laugh of Mother, casting away the death of her eldest daughter.

Codeword : Odair

Face Claim : Harry Tucker


Family Relation : Brother of Evera Moore


Scheme : 4B565F, B6C1CB, 6E8090, D3DAE0