Carl Gunnarsson (District 2) (FINISHED)

Carl has sandy brown hair which he prefers to keep cut short, far out of his eyeline; having to flick his fringe every few seconds would frustrate him to no end. More often than not it is a mess, he simply doesn't care enough for superficial things to style it. He keeps what facial hair he has close trimmed for much the same reason; dealing with a forest of hair on his face would require far too much effort. He's Caucasian and has a plain, unblemished complexion.

At 5'11 and 145 pounds, Carl is of thoroughly average build. He has no evident musculature to speak of, no bulging biceps or triceps like his peers. He's fortunate enough to have a level of sustenance that ensures the skin isn't hanging off his bones, but he's no glutton either. He wears only sensible, plain clothes, nothing outlandish. Usually he sports a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a pair of brown cotton trousers and some practical, well-made shoes.

Carl's personality doesn't feature the hard, cold, unforgiving and even brutal nature typical of those from his District. Instead, he is quiet, sincere and even sensitive, on the odd occasion that he opens up to someone long enough to show it. He's not one to make friends, preferring instead to stay alone. He prefers it that way, not having to rely on others for anything.

Those from District 2 are known to be calculating, and Carl is too, but to a different extent. While some would forge elaborate plans to further their own means, Carl is more pensive. A thinker. He prefers books to pickaxes, math to training, logic to aggression. While those around him spend their free time practicing archery or sparring, he locks himself in his room and buries his head in books. What the books are about is of no concern to him, he simply loves the pursuit of knowledge.

Carl's social life is more or less non-existent. Its not that he doesn't have the necessary social skills (he actually gets on well enough with the lecturers in his school, with whom he often debates a wide range of topics), more so he just doesn't have the time or desire to socialise. He'd rather learn about the mechanics of a pulley system than go to a dance. His experiences regarding those of the opposite sex are similar. He's been physically attracted to one or two girls from his class, but never made a move. Not because he's too shy, but because he doesn't see the point, they'd all rather go out with buff guys. Why would anyone have any interest in him?

Carl was born into a reasonably well-to-do family, with a miner father and seamstress mother. Such families, as standard, enrolled their children in military schools to become proficient in combat in preparation of the Hunger Games, should they get picked, as well as techniques for the local stone mines. Carl was enrolled in one such school, but it soon became clear that he wasn't like the other children. While the others were fascinated by the weapons and armour and the like on show, Carl would sit and watch the clock, not because he was bored and wanted to go home, but because he was intrigued by how it worked.

Soon, the students were forced into one-on-one combat against each other. His peers took to it like ducks to water, but Carl would just stand idly, waiting for his turn, which would result in him being beaten mercilessly. He never even tried. He thought it to be a crude, barbarian, animalistic thing to do; fight one another in combat. The Gunnarsson family was once well respected in District 2, for Carl's father was a Project Manager in the stone mines, but once word got out that their only child was a wimp, they were the town's laughing stock. As such, Carl's relationship with his father got worse over time, as he regarded his son studies as "a waste".

Despite his ineptitude on the field of battle, Carl soon grew a liking for battlefield tactics. While the others practiced wielding halberds and glaives, he read accounts of the battles that once raged across Panem. Once he distanced himself from the gore and violence of it all, it was like a game of chess. Moves and counter-moves. Strategies and formations of battalions. It had none of the unpredictability of face-to-face combat. It was logical. Calculable. It made sense.

Alas, he still got beaten daily. District 2 was not a place for smarts or intelligence, but one where strength and courage reined...