Wren Williams::District 4

Name: Wren Williams
Age: I am sixteen years of age.
Gender: Female
District/Area: District 4
Appearance:

Such a sweet looking girl, people say. Such a beautiful young lady; she shouldn't be fighting, she should be learning how to be a good mother.

No wonder I've always hated my mother.

People underestimate me by my looks. Sometimes it's good, other times it's bad. When people underestimate me by my looks, I prove to them that I'm better. But on the other hand, good looks are for those fake District 1 competitors. Good looks won't help you in District 4 though. Ugly, pretty, skinny, or fat--it matters who is the best and not what people are labeled by.

My hair is usually in a tight bun. Hair that falls on my neck bothers me extremely bad, so I put the bun up as high as possible. My hazel eyes usually get most people the first time they see them. They seem warm and welcoming, though I'm almost the complete opposite. It's good though, since I can lure people easier with them.

The one thing I cannot live with is my eyeliner. Though I wear very little, it gives my hazel eyes an edge to them. A little warning, as some might say. Though most people don't see the warning, it still makes me look more intimidating. The more intimidating a person looks, the more respect I have for them; therefore I have to look intimidating to respect myself. It's a slightly strange concept, I know. But it's what I live by, and I don't think anything will change that way.

From training, I've built my body to be quick-paced. Though I am tall for a girl, standing at nearly 5'8", I am fairly skinny. Yes, I am muscular, but my muscles are small. I can be as quiet as a girl 4'11", because that was a skill that I worked on the most at the academy. Agility is one of the most precious things you need to win the games. I've always known that, but some children are too naïve to think about that and major in weapon training. But my strength is very weak compared to everybody else's, and because of that I know that I'm not good enough to be a volunteer for the games.

My clothes usually consist of the bodysuits we wear at the academy, but all other times I dress in fairly good fashion. Maybe a dress here and there or a skirt at times. But I usually have my bodysuit on, so I don't worry about other clothes that often unless I visit home.

Personality:

She's meaner than mean
Crueler than cruel
You can't escape
You're never safe
She'll play you for the fool

Sneaky. Manipulative. Evil. Those are some words I've heard from the other children call me. And do I disagree?

Not in the least bit.

I am probably the most secretive, cruel person you will ever meet. Though I am evil, I am a very quiet person. I watch and listen. Then I strike. Strike with physical pain? It's not really my game. I strike with weakness and words. Everything that comes out of my mouth is crisp, powerful, and completely cold. I will win in any fight of words you pick with me, as when I watch and listen, I always point out a weakness. A weakness in their voice, a weakness physically, or a weakness just by the amazing element of guessing. Not random guessing of course, but you have to listen to the way they talk, the way they move. You can almost find out everything about their history by just their tone or shifts in their movements. It's quite easy, it's just that people don't pay attention to important details because me focus more on other useless things. But reading people is probably the most helpful skill I have ever had.

Though I am people smart, I know when it comes to books and studying, I am inferior to most others. When I did go to school in my younger years, I failed almost every class except Language. Math and science were the worst; I could never keep track of all of those numbers and rules that applied to the concept of math. And science was just a harder version of math with even more rules and theories. My parents sent me to the best school in the District,, and I was kicked out when I was 11 for "lack of knowledge." If they knew me now, I would've convinced them to let me stay. Though I was simply bad at almost every subject, I found it interesting. I liked to learn, but I guess it was for the best. Now I'm doing what I love most--fighting.

In most cases of verbal fighting, I remain calm and know I'll win. But when I get frustrated, the best of my anger comes out. Frustration is the worst feeling for me. I feel helpless and confused, which are the feelings of weakness. When I am frustrated, physical fights will occur from me. I will fight, and I do win occasionally, but most of the time I lose. The strength I have is poor, and I despise myself for it. Sometimes my quickness gets the best of me and by luck I win, but usually I get pinned down and fall in embarrassment. But don't worry, that rarely happens--maybe once or twice every couple months. You'll find it funny that I remain calm so often then I just burst out, as I find it funny myself. But please, go ahead and laugh. See what happens.

History:

A rich snobby girl. It's okay, for me it's a term of endearment. I am rich. I am snobby. And you're not. Do you know why you call me that? Because you're jealous. You're jealous that my family has money and yours is almost to poor to pay for the academy. You were born into poverty and tried to raise your way up by coming here. I can see right through you, and guess what? I pity you.

My father owns a company that supplies fishing needs. Rods, lines, bait, you name it, he's got it. It's been open since the Dark Days ended, and it's been in the family for three generations. My father was always my favorite. He wanted power and self control just as I do. He's earned it well, and he is my role model. Too bad my brother was born first, so he gets to take over the business. Good, because I never wanted the business. It involves all the studies I failed in. Not the best idea for me.

My mother is the secretary for the Mayor and she works at the Justice Building. She gets paid fairly well, but of course not as much as my father. Not even close. My mother always wanted a baby girl. She wanted to put dresses on her, teach her proper manners, and teach her how to cook and be a proper wife. Too bad she got a daughter who turned out to be a total bitch. I honestly think she wouldn't care about my attitude if I actually let her teach me the crap she suggested. What's the fun in manners when you can fight your way through everything? Lucky society in District 4 has given us at least some freedom of violence. If it were up to me though, I would make it the survival of the fittest. People fighting for what they want and in order to survive, they have to earn it. I think that's the perfect society.

I was never the popular child in the family; it was always my brother Arlo. He was the talented, perfect one. My father would always pay attention to him but never me. I didn't really mind, as I respected my older brother. He might not be as cruel or deceiving as I am, but he's good with numbers and can talk people into almost anything. Those are good features to have for being a businessman.

My mother always tried to pay attention to me. She tried giving me lessons in almost everything, tried helping me in school, but I never listened to her. I still don't. By the time I was 10, she decided to give up on me. She never paid any attention to me either. She always paid attention to her work and nothing else. But, when I was 13 years old, I asked to go to the academy. That got my whole family's attention.

Of course, my mother hated the idea. She said it "wasn't proper for a girl to be fighting." I just rolled my eyes at her like I usually did. But my father was so happy. He found out that his little girl wanted to (at least try to) represent District 4 in the Hunger Games. He was ready to sign the papers, and then I looked at my mother. She knew she couldn't stop my dad from signing those papers. He signed them almost immediately and sent me off a week after. He told me that he's always wanted one of his children to be in the academy like he was, and Arlo was out of the question for his business training. He was so proud of me, and I feel like that was the only time I really personally connected with my father.

When I got there, training for me started almost immediately. I knew I wanted to focus the most on throwing knives and agility. I wanted to be in the Career Pack, but I wasn't allowed because I wasn't strong. To be in the Career Pack was always a dream of mine since I was about 5. And now my dreams were crushed. But not to worry, I got my revenge. All seven of them lost three fingers each. That was a good day for me.

And then she overheard the conversation about escaping. She thought it was a dream. Her other dreams were crushed and spit upon. There was nothing left for her here except rot and ruin.

While they were speaking, she finally came out of the shadows and spoke out.

"I want in, and if you refuse, I'll tell everyone about your little plan. And then, your fantasy will be crumpled into little pieces of shame. I promise, I'll be a good little girl," She told them.

And that is what became of Wren Williams.

Codeword: Odair
Comments/Other:

Faceclaim hasn't been accepted yet, but my faceclaim for Wren is Annabelle Stephenson.

Bio for the Runaways plot.