Ezrah Novak || D4

[atrb=border,0,true] [AGE] 16 [GENDER] Male [DISTRICT] 4

Upon first look, Ezrah Novak doesn't quite stand out from his other sixteen year old peers. Still young and growing, Ezrah hits about 5'7"-5'8" in height (if counting the hair). Atop his head sits a mass of soft, chestnut brown curls left mussed about where they dry or where the wind leaves them. Although nothing more than a few inches in length, Ezrah hair does a fairly decent job at hiding his escaping hairline - which at times brings to question the matter of early onset balding. The hair on his body, aside from his eyebrows, tends to take on a lighter shade. Facial hair is still something out of the question; however if he tries really hard, a few scraggly sprouts will dust his jawline. Instead of attempt being manly, he shaves whatever scruff he has. The result is a rather bare ovular face defined by straight edge eyebrows that match his hair. His eyes take on a rounded, puppy-like naivety. Many would agree his eyes are a gray-ish color, but a closer observation reveals he has a bit of green near the pupil.

Unlike many of his fellow sun kissed denizens, Ezrah's complexion has two modes: fair and slightly rosy or hot pink. He doesn't tan, freckle, or develop any of that attractive sun kissed glow. Just a few hours of afternoon sun at the beach will earn him a strip of blush across his nose and cheeks - a mark he's not often seen without. Aside from the complexion, he does possess a few lentigines scattered across his body in odd constellations, but otherwise escapes most skin condition woes (occasional teenage acne! oh noo)

Most peers Ezrah's age would remember he is the boy partially deaf in his left ear, which is a long-term product of an infection from when he nearly drowned as a child. Because of the infection, he also suffers a balance disorder that causes attributes to random bouts of vertigo when overworked, over stressed, or out to sea. Were it not for his disability, he would probably have more of a swimmer's build. Instead, he lacks much muscle definition in his legs; although, this is made up for with abdominal and upper body strength from hauling the daily catch to the markets. The constant day to day hard labor leaves its usual wears: calloused hands, faded scars along his fingers from learning his way around a gutting/shucking knife as a child, and the occasional bruise from knocking about crates or getting in people's ways.

To most people, Ezrah Novak is known as the boy with the dud ear or the boy who delivers fish. Upon first meeting, he seems polite and humble. He's nice, but not very sociable. Ezrah never has been the type to sway the girls with natural charisma. He's sweet and outgoing, sure, but far from charming or outspoken. Shyness isn't much of the problem, Ezrah is more or less seldom approached because he never does the approaching. What friends he has are those that happened by chance, which happen to be very few. Instead of talking, Ezrah is the type to observe. It's a habit from childhood to just sit, watch, and learn. It's through this method he learned such skills as weaving or knotting. Sight is his most valuable asset ever since his hearing was compromised (though this doesn't stop him from some humming from time to time, he does it. a lot)

The problem with Ezrah is he lacks ambition. There's no passion or anger to drive him through life like most people. Instead he's just has a sort of way about him that seems lost at sea unsure of where to go. A part of him even believes that he has nowhere to go because maybe he doesn't deserve it or because he hasn't earned it. The years and years of trying to prove himself in reward for daddy's love had only proved fruitless; as a result, he's somewhat subconsciously convinced that maybe he hasn't actually earned it just yet. Overall, it's left him with a bit of shot self esteem holding him back from really taking a direction in his life, and he doesn't quite realize it yet.

He has nothing to fight for, nor does he believe he's entitled to fight for anything. Ezrah carries a large philosophy on indifference. If he doesn't act, then he doesn't risk getting hurt or hurting others. So, when he's been wronged, he doesn't get angry or fight back. In fact, it's incredibly hard for him to get angry at his own expense, hard but not impossible. Hate is beyond his capability, even toward his father or toward the Capitol and its games. Disappointment and even a little resentment, yes, but nothing has become worthy his of hate. If he does dislike someone or something, he pushes it to the back of his mind because what better method than to ignore the problem, especially if its one that can't be helped or fixed. It's out of sheer stubbornness that he remains to be the least outwardly negative person on the planet, acting as a sort of balance to his self-destructive father - not that it takes much of an extended effort to be nice.

It's his stubbornness that's trapped him in his own limbo, but it is also the same stubbornness that's given him a limit. Because Ezrah, as nice as he is, can be a bit of a pushover. He's a helper, and is often never hesitant to offer his aid, whatever the case may be. It could be as simple and innocent as helping an old lady carry her groceries to the market or as complicated and dangerous as stealing. This often allows him to be taken advantage both financially and sometimes emotionally, but Ezrah has a limit. When that wall is hit, there is no budging. It often lies in line with his own moral boundaries, which can sometimes stretch beyond local authority depending on the situation. He's by no means daring or brave, being brave earned him a dud ear.

In spite of all things, Ezrah has an incredibly optimistic and bright disposition. Even through bouts of anxiety induced vertigo, he's keen on painting a bright and lovely outlook on life. Being otherwise would make it too hard to keep on floating through life.

Papa Novak's words are rarely kind. They're spit out with little regard, stinging at the ears of his own flesh and blood. This is how Ezrah sees his father: a bitter old drunk, whose harshness progresses as the disappointments stack on one after the other.

It started at Ezrah's induction into the world when his mother didn't make it through the birthing. At infancy, he was put into the care of his father, a very heartbroken fisherman. With no other siblings or close family, it was just Ezrah growing up with his father. As a fisherman's son, Ezrah lived by no means luxuriously. Papa Novak took care of him, but did little more for him as a father should. At most, Ezrah was tolerated in his younger years. As Ezrah grew, he began to understand something between them was broken that needed to be mended. He soon began tagging along to the docks and onto the boats, like most little boys (after much begging and finally earning a begrudging approval). Like a stray gull, he would sit and observe. Day by day he would watch and try to understand the weaving, the knotting, the gutting, the fishing. Other fishermen would step in and teach Ezrah little things as they went, but never his father. It was at this point Ezrah would try to impress his father with what he learned, show him that he was worthy of learning, that they weren't so different. It was never good enough.

The constant pushing and pulling grew over the years. Once Ezrah would think he's done well at something, his father would move the bar just beyond his reach again. He was never good enough, never clever enough. Despite his fierce determination, it began to wear. The tipping point came a few years later at around the age of nine. A rough day on the water resulting in Ezrah nearly drowning trying to fetch his practice knife that had fallen overboard and getting his foot snared on the sea floor. He was fetched, but not without falling ill as a consequence. From then on, things weren't the same. Papa Novak looked at him differently, everyone did. The world swirled around him and the sky threatened to lift him off his feet. The world to his left sounded dull and muffled, and it never went away. From that point, Ezrah became useless in the eyes of his father. At once was possibly potential, possibly acceptance, had diminished. Diving was out of the question and the idea of going out to sea unsettled him.

Once Ezrah became of reaping age, he stood at a divide among his peers, he wasn't good for fishing and was even worse a candidate to be a career. The games, his future, all of it fell into a fog that collected at the back of his mind to remain dishearteningly unclear. So continued years ongoing uncertainty and avoiding the thought of his fate, whatever it may be. Eventually having gone stir crazy from being land locked, he began channeling himself into work. Helping is what he does best, which was where he found himself; lugging product off the docks, across the district, to the markets and the trains.

Every once and a while the world spins, threatening to tear him to the ground, but it doesn't slow him. As long as he keeps moving, someday he'll make it out of the fog and figure out where the hell he's headed.