Tallulah Hale - District 1 [DONE]

She's always had the face of a quiet one, never opening her mouth for anything but what was essential, and it was shown in her body language. The way she moves her body is the outcome of an awkward childhood, awkward life. When Tallulah stands, her knees turn inwards, feet even more angled together usually one overlapping the toes of the other. She's the opposite of imtimidating in her stance especially with her shoulders rolled forwards, and neck hidden between the hills of her shoulders pulled closely to her jaw. At a height of 5'6, she happens to be shorter than most girls her age. Her awkwardness only makes Career Training even harder, pulling extra effort she may not have on her behalf to even try to do anything other than pull sneak attacks, think up plans and run away. Running seems to be the only thing the trainer could congratulate her on, seeing as Tallulah almost outran her, they both ended up out of breath. Tallulah has pale, untanned skin that seems like it never tans and is unusually clear, an upside for once.

Tallulah has never been too much of a looker, she never grew out of her childishly large cheeks and she furrows her brow a little too often for her own content. But, she rather enjoys her lushious brown hair, reaching just below her shoulder blades, flowing down like a river. The soft mess of tangles somehow manages to stay relatively straight, most days when other days, it takes a lot of straightening to achieve. The colder weather makes it worse, making it flat, static-filled and actually cold. Tallulah's hair just so happens to be a strange concoction of gold and dark brown, giving off a mixture of both, here and there. Her eyebrows are more of her brown side giving thicker hairs closer to the middle, but lighter, stretching just passed the eyes. People tend to think she's glaring at them, if it wasn't for her constant lack of eye contact, she may be in a bit of trouble. Tallulah hates her eyebrows for bringing attention to her but, what she hates more is her eyes.

Swirling brown, her eye's stand out vibrantly. A little pool of sunlight, floating within her iris, giving a solar effect. Her eyes are not yellow, nor are they an unatural colour, they simply give a chocolate-gold colour, like her hair. There's a difference between her soft looks and her emotionless stares, and she speaks with her eyes unlike most people. The way she blinks can tell you if she's comical, gloomy or just plain confused. The way she glances can tell you when she's scared, nervous or calm. The saddest part of this, though is she never truly looks someone in the eye unless she understands where they are coming from. Usually looking away, or at their nose, Tallulah never truly focuses on they're eyes. Eyes are the window to the soul. What if she doesn't want to see that soul for fear of what secrets it keeps?

Her lips are a light pink, the top one puckered naturally. She has a full bottom lip but a rather thin upper. She does hate the way her head is shaped, rather oval-ish, not at all what she hoped it would be as a little girl. Speaking of not what she hoped something would be, Tallulah actually dislikes her body. A larger chest than she wishes, a taller body than she wants, not to stand out and a bit too fleshed out for her own appeal. Her shoulder, a tad broad, she hates. Then again, there's much she takes for granted on herself. What she doesn't of course she takes care of. Her clothes, usually skirts, blouses or dresses, she takes much care of, every outfit a gift, in her eyes.

Of course, there's always flaws to a personality. Some people can be melodramatic, some are hot-headed, others have a problem with certain things. Tallulah isn't loud, nor is she obnoxious. She's just quiet, as most girls like her would be. She is the type of girl who someone may say something to seven times over and never realize they said so until the eighth time. She wouldn't say anything about it though. Tallulah is the type of person who sits away quietly, letting who ever else claim the limelight. Never truly trying to speak up, she communicates with her eyes, as said previously. She will only ever talked when asked something or if the comment requires an answer. Her eyes tell a story her mouth can't and Tallulah doesn't even realize it, for the most part. Even quiet in her movements, she's never talkig loudly, never talking about anything in specifics. Unexpressive just happens to fall under her catagory, other than her eyes. Other than that, she little so never shows more than a bit of expression. A soft smile, a dull frown, nothing more than little movements. People tend to think she is impatient but, that isn't at all what is going on. Thoughts, a mind of her own, Tallulah never was one to express herself thoroughly.

Add understanding to the list. She sits around, unmoved and listens. She listens to the world. She tries to understand, even if she has never expirienced the death of a person, unlike what seems all of District One has gone through. But, she listens to the comfort others lend each other and applies that to her understanding to who ever dares talk to her. She lives by the moral: The ones who seem the strongest, often need a hug the most. Tallulah is the patient type, regardless of the many times she's heard the people talk of her. She could wait a ridiculous amount of time, making her seem rather selfish in certain situations. Never truly giving in, just letting the figurative wind bend her, giving into the wind and not letting it break her.

Tallulah has always lived Dyslexic, even so brings a book around, trying to work out just what the story could possibly be about. It's a thick book, too. Because of her lack of reading ability, she relies on her Career training, brainstorming and running, regardless of her socially awkward stance. To add to the chaos, she has minor Asperger Syndrome. She's always arranging her clothes in a certain way and, she has a rather difficult time trying to talk to people, always drifting off to something else, yet staying relatively on topic. Life is hard for some, easier for others. It can be understandable.

As minor details, Tallulah loves the colour autumn orange. The whole colour itself makes everything okay for her. It seems like a calming colour, picturing leaves, falling softly, colour mixed into a brown-gold and lovely orange glistening the crisp edges of the leaves. She doesn't quite know what animal to like, so she agrees with anything. She pictures people with colours, certain people purple, others green, blue, red, yellow, turquois... It's just how she can remember people. She lives pasta, for no perticular reason, the slippery feel of it against her lips, like she doesn't have to hold secrets, which she hates doing. She doesn't usually trust people, it takes a lot of work. She isn't the same as the too trustworhy little girl she once was. Altho she may not seem like it, she sings. No ones ever really given her their opinion, she is too shy to sing infront of people. But, to Tallulah, it seems melodious and haunting.

She was born into a family where they could care less. The mother very beautiful, the father just as handsom, always trying to please the Capitol. Always trying to keep themselves alive, out of the reach of peacekeepers. The daughter was not named until later. Much, much later. She was always called "You" or "Please" or "Hey", for she was not as beautiful or as decorative as they. It was embarrassing, two beautiful people should have a beautiful child, correct? Not a socially awkward, not-ugly girl, who never speaks. She was raised, knowing just who she was and why she had to perfect herself. She would stare at the stars every night, while her parents slept, until she was seven, wondering why she had never heard her name before. She gave up trying to look to the sky for answers, no one would reach down to her and save her. This is not a story of a tradgety, nor a pleasant story.

She got her name at nine, when her parents could tell she was smart enough too memorize something. She didn't like it at first, Tallulah was a lovely name but, it tasted weird to the tongue, almost like it didn't belong. But, eventually, it grew on her and Tallulah grew to accept it. By ten, she was already starting too look better, hence getting a bit more attention. Tallulah was given a kitten, a beautiful black kitten, big green eyes and a very skinny figure. It was taken care of, in the good hands of Tallulah. She would brush the kittens hair daily, not having anything else to do besides attempt to train as a Career. Being a Career, she had learned, was a priviledge. Having a kitten was all Tallulah wanted, she had that now. She didn't know what else she could possibly ask for. She named the kitten Kili, no really important reason behind it other than the death the cat brought upon mice in it's later years. She never allowed it outside, though. In some way, she could relate everytime the cat would paw silently at the door, glacing outside. Tallulah would sit beside the cat and a small, sad smile would flicker up on the corners of her mouth, dancing slowly, and she knew she knew what it felt like, not to go out. She hadn't been far out from her house. Leaving the house didn't start until she was fourteen.

Barely any friends and, Tallulah beginning to look better, her parents let her leave for times. Eventually, though, they let her breeze in and out when ever. The gift of friendship, it never really struck Tallulah. Rather than talking, she would sit, try to read something and struggle immensely doing so, then give up and observe people and their behaviour. She noticed the little things, only little kids seemed to notice anymore. Chipped paint in the corner of a room, the dust which gently fell around the furniture of the household, the way her father looked at her mother... Tallulah would wonder if a boy wod ever see her that way, or if she would see someone like that, one day. She pondered it for nights, gently petting Kili's saber coloured fur, mummbling out songs she made up on spot about anything that acrossed her mind past that point. Tallulah wanted to be a writer as a young girl. But, with the strict watch of the peacekeepers, not offending someone was hard. She wanted to be a poet, so she could write songs, hidden beneath the pages of a cover, waiting for someone to discover them. Thanks to this, she hides a bookload of songs beneath her bed.

oDair