Jayde Moreno - D1 [FINISHED] | Hunger Games: The RPG

✨ zozo.
Retired Staff

8,203 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Sept 23, 2024 14:15:14 GMT -5

bloomtodeath

Jayde Moreno - D1 [FINISHED] Apr 16, 2012 16:37:56 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Apr 16, 2012 16:37:56 GMT -5

Name: JAYDE MORENO
Age: 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 1
Appearance:

AMBER ANDERSON

Personality:

FIGHT ME. FIGHT ME, DAMMIT. COME AT ME BRO. NO SERIOUSLY FIGHT ME I'LL BEAT YOU TO A PULP. ALL I KNOW HOW TO DO IS FIGHTFIGHTFIGHT. ABSOLUTELY BONKERS. I HAD A HEART THEN BUT THE QUEEN HAS BEEN OVERTHROWN.

History:

STREET FIGHTER. SPOTTED BY MORENOS. NEXT THING YOU KNOW FIGHTING IN MY HOUSEHOLD. IT'S SHIT BUT IT'S BETTER WITH A ROOF OVER MY HEAD I GUESS.

Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:

A female Moreno for Thundy! :D

LIGHTS BY ELLIE GOULDING<33 ~~bassnectar remix~~

t h i s p a l e t t e or t h i s o n e ?

Last Edit: May 7, 2012 3:51:17 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

✨ zozo.
Retired Staff

8,203 POSTS

Pronouns: she/her
last seen Sept 23, 2024 14:15:14 GMT -5

bloomtodeath

Jayde Moreno - D1 [FINISHED] Apr 21, 2012 20:34:27 GMT -5

Post by ✨ zozo. on Apr 21, 2012 20:34:27 GMT -5

name » jayde moreno
age » seventeen
gender » female
district » one

[/center]

I had a way then
losing it all on my own.
I had a heart then
but the queen has been overthrown.

- - - - - - a p p e a r a n c e - - - - - -

And I'm not sleeping now
the dark is too hard to beat
And I'm not keeping now
the strength I need to push me

Someone once told me I was beautiful. Then I punched them in the face.

I am far from beautiful. My hair is brown and ragged, long, choppy from odd bits slashed

[/i] off with knives and ripped out of my scalp. My face, a weird angle of cheekbones and skin and freckles that splatter against my face like the blood that splatters the floors of this house we call a home. A scowl rips across my face in a pale line, darting light-brown eyes and jumpy, flickering eyelids with eyelashes so quick to touch that it seems like that don't meet at all. Light skin, never kissed by the sun, leaves a pale complexion of someone who prefers the night life over the daytime. Someone like me.

Most of my clothes have rips and tears and maroon-coloured stains - my battle scars. I don't even know if the blood is mine or someone else's. Jayde was here. She tried to stab you in the leg. It's everywhere, my crimson mark. As are the stitches, the cuts, the bruises, the scrunching pink scars at odd angles and lengths, like a road map up my body, marking each attack. I could trace my finger over each one and still feel the scorching pains of metal piercing flesh and blood and muscle as it entered my body. I stand with a tall posture and I run like the wind. Longs limbs are handy when you're escaping near-death from multiple house-mates, after all.

[/blockquote]

Noises, I play
within my head
Touch my own skin
and hope that I'm still breathing

[/justify]

- - - - - - p e r s o n a l i t y - - - - - -

And I think back to when
my brother and my sister slept
In an unlocked place
the only time I feel safe

Fight me, fight me, fight me. It's all I know how to do. Bruise and batter and punch and kick and stab and shove and bite and twist and sleep with a knife in a clenched fist with one eye open. There's a drumming in my head, boom, boom, boom that keeps me from falling into deep sleep. With every beat of my internal pulse I'm reminded that any moment, they could sneak up on me. Stab me in the back, quite literally. Insecure, jumpy, temperamental, nuts. Knife handles are an extension of my arm, palms constantly clamped around the smooth surface like my teeth gritting with the determination to fight, fight, fight with every last breath of effort I have left.

Don't touch me. Unless you want a smack in the face. Any little tingle of another's flesh on mine and the switch is flicked. I'm insane.

[/i] I'll claw and scratch and [/color]fight, survive, win, fight, survive, win - but is there really any difference to those three words? My entire life has been about surviving. My mind is wired up so tightly that any trace of suspicion and it springs, releases this crazed, mental girl that just wants to live another day. That's all. I've watched them bury body after body in that garden. Kick out the ones that were barely lasting. I am not them. I am a fighter. It's all I know.

I am cold. I am fierce. I am temperamental. I don't ever make friends. They'll just stab you in the back, one way or another. And when I say stab, I really do mean stab. In my world, anyway. People avoid me because I'm a crazy nuts berserk weird emotional spastic deranged insane jumpy psycho freak-show. Words I could list forever and ever, and endless line of synonyms that join me up and present themselves to other people. I don't need them, anyway. I have my knife and I have each breath that comes slowly and I take for granted. They don't know me. Perhaps they never will.

[/blockquote]

You show the lights that stop me turn to stone
You shine it when I'm alone
And so I tell myself that I'll be strong
And dreaming when they're gone

[/justify]

- - - - - - h i s t o r y - - - - - -

'Cause they're calling, calling, calling me home
Calling, calling, calling home
You show the lights that stop me turn to stone
You shine it when I'm alone, home

"What's your name, girl?"

"Jayde."

"Is that it?"

"Just Jayde."

"Well, Just Jayde, how would you like to become Jayde Moreno?"

".....I'd like that a lot."

[/i][/center]

I don't know when I was born. Or where. Or who to. I was raised on the streets of the dodgy back-alleys of District One by the Fighters. A home to me was an abandoned warehouse, a box and a blanket. Unkempt hair, dirty hands and feet. Raggedy, they called me. Raggedy little Jayde. My name was an irony in itself. Someone thought it amusing to call a scruffy little rag-doll girl something of such beauty. Some sick humour they had there. From then on, I learnt to find food and fight and tie my shoes and fight and steal wallets from unsuspecting pockets and fight and bargain with tradesmen and fight, fight, fight.

As I grew older, so did the ones that took care of me. I became a sort of mascot, that one kid that always hung around the miniature arenas. Studying punches and leaps and kicks and the fight fight fight that echoed through the old, crumbling buildings. From that, I moved on to training. Copying the moves that my mentors taught me. Scrambling from the floor again and again and again. I wanted to win, win, win. Take out my anger on strangers with each satisfying blow of my fists and 'RUN JAYDE RUN!' when Peacekeepers turned up. And boy, did I run.

I fought. I won. I made my share of money for the Fighters through bets and bargaining with audiences that I'd picked up along my violent road. I watched people's skulls smack against concrete floors and saw the light fade from their eyes in the process. I did not flinch. Not even for a second. Once. Twice. Three times, even, they died in front of me. I simply picked my small self off the ground and walked away, death being so normal to me. I even killed my first victim when I was fifteen. Sent my knuckles straight into their temple, and boom. They were gone. I ate well, that night, on a throne of plush and food and cheers. I was queen of the run-down castle and no-one could overthrow me.

And then the Moreno's came.

It was dark. I was cold. We thought they were here to shut us down, at first, in their fancy outfits and shiny jewellery. Us Fighter Folk hid in the shadows, watching with sceptical eyes as they wandered over to the arenas - but they did not seem to want to stop the fighting. They didn't even flinch. And I wondered if they were fighters too. Someone whispered about homes for young fighters, a roof over their heads and a warm bed and food and pride. Others whispered about taking me away. Taking me away from my Fighters, my family I'd grown to almost love. But a girl who does not flinch when death stares her in the eyes is not capable of love. So I stood up, walked over to the cage, and began to do what I did best. Fight.

My opponent had to be carried out unconscious in three minutes. I saw them nodding, collected my money, and walked out of that warehouse with the money in my pocket and the clothes on my back. I hopped into a shiny car and never returned.

Now I fight every day just to stay alive. I am trapped in a never-ending madhouse. Often I wish that they'd pull my name out of that bloody bowl so the constant struggling would end. Hell, maybe I'll volunteer. How proud they'd be, my parents. Though parents isn't a very good word to describe people that kill off their children with their other children. I'm no expert when it comes to caregivers, but damn, this lot are nutters . Perhaps we belong together, the family of lunatics. Down we go, one by one, until there's only one left - and before you know it, more of us pour in. Poor, lost souls that just want to live. ~~I'm~~ They're so pathetic.

[/blockquote]

- - - - - - o t h e r » information - - - - - -

codeword:

comments/other:
lyrics; lights - ellie goulding
fc; amber anderson

describing [5A405E]
thinking [D4C9F5]
talking [7B5394]
palette

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Last Edit: May 7, 2012 3:57:36 GMT -5 by ✨ zozo.

“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

✨ zozo. Retired Staff 8,203 POSTS Pronouns: she/her last seen Sept 23, 2024 14:15:14 GMT -5 bloomtodeath	Jayde Moreno - D1 [FINISHED] May 7, 2012 3:51:28 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by ✨ zozo. on May 7, 2012 3:51:28 GMT -5 Done<3
	“and men said that the blood of the stars flowed in her veins.”

L△LIA RP Tutor 3,574 POSTS last seen Jun 24, 2019 15:25:10 GMT -5 BOOM SH△KALAKA	Jayde Moreno - D1 [FINISHED] May 7, 2012 17:29:08 GMT -5 Select Post Deselect Post Link to Post Member Give Gift Back to Top Post by L△LIA on May 7, 2012 17:29:08 GMT -5 ACCEPTED!
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