✗ DELGADO LOCKE ✗ D4 (FIN)

Don’t worry; I’m not actually going to eat your family. I’m about as harmless as I look, and I look like a prepubescent schoolgirl. Well, that’s probably an exaggeration, but what can I say? I spend about 800% of my life exaggerating, ha.

Seriously, though. I do look rather feminine for a sixteen year-old boy from a Career District. In fact, I look more like one of those starving children from the lower districts. I’m that thin. I have narrow, sloping shoulders that slide into a thin waist, long arms and skinny legs to match. I have a little muscle, but not much; I’m definitely not like one of those behemoths from Two. It probably doesn’t help that I like to wear tight clothing as well, but if you got it, flaunt it, right?

On a side note, I’m not gay. I like boobs. I think…

Okay, back to reality. I’m skinny. We’ve established that. What’s next, my face? I think my face is a lot nicer to look at than my pencil legs and twig arms, even though I’m really pale. I have a strong jaw and a small, pointed nose above thin, rosebud lips. My eyebrows are kind of bushy and arched, the same color as the dark mess of hair atop my head. People sometimes tell me I have a sort of “pixie-like” face, whatever that means. They say it’s cute, not that I care what people think, so sure, that’s fine. I like how I look.

And there’s my camera. I know most people would say that a camera shouldn’t be brought up alongside weight and hair color, but I think in my case there should be an exception. I am never without my camera. It’s like an extension of myself, both mentally and physically. Ever since my grandma gave it to me when I was seven I've kept it close. It's on a strap around my neck at all times, so I’d say it counts.

Is that it? Oh wait, yeah, my eyes. They’re nothing special, in my opinion, but I had this girlfriend once. She was really into poetry; all that sappy, lovey-dovey stuff that usually makes peoples’ ears bleed. She said my eyes were “blue pools of laughter, like a beautiful butterfly’s wings, the color dark and deep with crystal shards like stars…”

Eh, yeah. We didn’t last long.

. P . E . R . S . O . N . A . L . I . T . Y .

I am constantly torn between being a good person and a sarcastic little prick.

Not that I’m a totally bad guy or anything- I’m just a congenital smart aleck. I don’t mean any harm thirty-five percent of the time. I guess you could say I’m a button-pusher, but only towards people that either, A) are annoying the hell out of me, B) are annoying the hell out of someone else, C) had it coming, or D) all of the above.

A better way of putting it would be “brutally honest”. I’m not one for beating around the bush or sugar-coating anything, so you can always expect a straight answer from me. Of course, this means I get a few more black eyes than the average person, but that’s not going to change the way I act. I don’t go out of my way to impress people or make them like me more. I am who I am, and a broken nose isn’t going to change that. The truth hurts.

Nevertheless, people are pretty comfortable around me- mostly girls, for some reason.I’m not a pig, and I’m not a big fan of flirting unless I really, really like someone, so I guess girls appreciate that about me. There’s no pressure, and I hardly ever date for some reason. I’m pretty accepting of just about everyone, unless they’re an ass, but I forgive easily. Holding grudges and arguing are pointless to me, so I don’t do it. I’m an easygoing, “go with the flow” kind of guy.

My camera. Oh, my camera. I love my camera more than I love my own parents, which sounds terrible but you’d understand if you met them. Touch my camera and I really will eat your family. So don’t touch it.

. H . I . S . T . O . R . Y .

Yes, I’m that rich kid with the stuck-up, snobby parents who gets whatever the hell I ask for and who everyone is jealous of because, yeah, I’m rich and I get whatever the hell I ask for. Sounds great, doesn’t it? I never starve, I never have to work, and tesserae? Pfft. “That’s for the common folk.” And yeah, sometimes it is great.

But, then again, sometimes it sucks. I know I have no room to complain; I’m way better off than most kids, but there’s no such thing as a perfect life. And believe me, my life is far from perfect, but that’s partly my fault. Mine, and my brother and sisters’. I’m a triplet, one third of a whole, sharing my DNA with two other people.

We were always different; never what our parents wanted us to be. They had it all planned out. Dez would become some macho Career tribute, volunteer for the Games when he was eighteen, and wipe out everyone within the first three days and therefore become the greatest Victor in the history of Victors. Dem would be an instructor at the Training Facility, and she’d be so fantastically amazing and awe-inspiring that she’d become the greatest instructor in the history of instructors. And me? I’d inherit the family business- Dad’s fishery- and rule the whole fucking district.

It didn’t work out.

We didn’t turn out the way our parents wanted us to. Their “plans” went to shit pretty quickly, and they were devastated. We didn’t see them much to begin with as they were always busy. Most of the time they’d just dump a nanny on us and pretend we weren’t their responsibility, but now they’ve practically disowned us. Sure, they feed us, give us clothes, let us sleep under their roof, and occasionally yell at us for ruining everything, but they’re about as much of our “parental figures” as President Snow is a fairy princess.

Dez has the muscle, yeah, but he’s far from a “macho Career tribute”.I remember this one time when we were six and our uncle took us out deep-sea fishing for the first time. Dez was the first one to catch something, this big ole’ fish that I can’t remember the name of. “What do we do with it now?” he’d asked. And Dez had screamed and cried and protested and our uncle bashed the fish’s head in with a mallet and peeled off all its scales right in front of us.

Now Dez is a vegetarian. And something like an animal rights activist. He refuses to fish, and he’s always taking in half-starved and diseased animals off the streets and nursing them back to health. His room’s a fucking zoo. It’s disgusting. But seeing the look on our parents’ faces when they find a baby crocodile swimming around in the kitchen sink almost makes it worth it.

And Dem’s got the intelligence, sure, but one thing my parents didn’t count on were her sadistic tendencies. Dez’s little pets are always disappearing out of their cages, though they usually return a few days later, albeit in more than one piece. She’s got a temper that can be compared to one of those nuclear reactors in five. Hot and highly combustible. She also has a thing for breaking peoples’ fingers, which really gets in the way of my photography sometimes. No one in their right mind would put her in a room full of weapons with a bunch of children.

And me? Well, you know me. I’m Del, the smartass skinny kid with the camera.

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Face Claim: Ira Giorgetti