Malik Brent Wilder D9 (done)
Aug 14, 2013 18:59:04 GMT -5
Post by phoenix007 on Aug 14, 2013 18:59:04 GMT -5
Name: Malik
Age: 14 turning fifteen around the next Hunger Games
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 9
Looks
I guess you could say I look like my father. I guess you could say I resemble my mother’s sister Dianna, But my looks are not of much concern to me. I have never needed to tend much to them. My dark hair has always been closely cropped to my head and has never needed any care. My skin is a plain light shade of ebony or a darker tan. I find my skin tone very useful. When I get dirt on my self. It does not bulge out like on most white folk I know.
My wide almond eyes are a warm light hazel tint which I take as a trophy worth hold high since most darker people and Panem are cursed with dark eyes that remind me of a muddy pond. The brow held about my eyes in thinner than most and is often arched. My lips are not as full my fathers of but they are not as thin as my mothers. Pretty neutral I guess. My nose is short and stubby definitely not an elegant shape. My ears are like long bulgy leaves that sprout from my rounded head and slim cheekbones.
My body is fit yet lean and somewhat skinny. My family is on the poorer side of district so I don’t eat extra meals to save them money. Everything about me I don’t find special. Not in an insecure way but I think of my looks as quite bland causing me not to pay too much attention toward them.
Demeanor
I guess you could I’m independent. I don’t really like to be told what to do or when to do it. When people order me around I get mad but over the years I’ve learned to control and not throw tantrums. Hard worker? Eh. I do my best to do my share of the work that needs to be done in order to feed my family, but I don’t always enjoy it. Tending cattle can get boring and I tend to get distracted and wonder off.
My wheels are always turning, I’m not afraid to speak I just choose not to in most situations. I think its better; it keeps me from saying something wrong. I’m quick, fast on my feet, and can think fast and smart when needed. I rarely find myself not knowing what to do or being totally confused.
Depressed? There is no need to be. Happy? It’s Rare. Being depressed gets you know where that why I always keep going. No times to start feeling sorry for myself. But there is a down side, when the extremely rare good things happen you don’t have time to appreciate it. Sometimes my mother has to slow me down See says I move to fast and think to rashly at times. I guess she’s right, though I like myself just the way I am.
Life
All throughout my life I’ve had to deal with my mother and father constantly fighting, whether it be about money –since we are some of the poorest of District 9-, or whether it be about what may or may not have said to another. I can remember that my father was always extremely protective of my mother and any time she said anything to another man my dad would flip. I also remember never wanting parents always thinking that I could take care of myself.
All throughout my life I was forced to work in the factories and help out with various different jobs. Basically anything they gave me to do. It isn’t the most horrible job, it’s just I’ve been doing it since I as about twelve. Back then I cold barely handle working, but over the progressive two years i've learned to manage. I know everyone has to do their share but The jobs that i am assigned are the mostly boring, the ones no one wants to do. All throughout the past i've walked off and found other things to do then work in a factory. This got me into trouble often but i never really paid much attention to lectures and small punishments.
Now that I’ve matured a little more I’ve realized that I need them. But I still can barely stand taking orders from them unlike my brother James who craves orders and direction his whole life, not once could he think for him self. That kept me going my entire life to not be like him, mostly because of how little he was respected. Sometimes I felt pity for my brother, you could tell my father loved me more, though I never really boasted or took advantage of it. The higher respect for me was just always there.
I always remember doing well in my schooling. I never was outstanding but I met the criteria. When we weren’t working our father took us into the basement and did minor survival training and some combat lessons as well just encase we were reaped for the games. He didn’t want us to be afraid of the games he wanted us to face the truth. He wanted us to have the skills to survive. If the day ever came he wanted us to make our district proud.
[/blockquote]Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:
Age: 14 turning fifteen around the next Hunger Games
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 9
Looks
I guess you could say I look like my father. I guess you could say I resemble my mother’s sister Dianna, But my looks are not of much concern to me. I have never needed to tend much to them. My dark hair has always been closely cropped to my head and has never needed any care. My skin is a plain light shade of ebony or a darker tan. I find my skin tone very useful. When I get dirt on my self. It does not bulge out like on most white folk I know.
My wide almond eyes are a warm light hazel tint which I take as a trophy worth hold high since most darker people and Panem are cursed with dark eyes that remind me of a muddy pond. The brow held about my eyes in thinner than most and is often arched. My lips are not as full my fathers of but they are not as thin as my mothers. Pretty neutral I guess. My nose is short and stubby definitely not an elegant shape. My ears are like long bulgy leaves that sprout from my rounded head and slim cheekbones.
My body is fit yet lean and somewhat skinny. My family is on the poorer side of district so I don’t eat extra meals to save them money. Everything about me I don’t find special. Not in an insecure way but I think of my looks as quite bland causing me not to pay too much attention toward them.
Demeanor
I guess you could I’m independent. I don’t really like to be told what to do or when to do it. When people order me around I get mad but over the years I’ve learned to control and not throw tantrums. Hard worker? Eh. I do my best to do my share of the work that needs to be done in order to feed my family, but I don’t always enjoy it. Tending cattle can get boring and I tend to get distracted and wonder off.
My wheels are always turning, I’m not afraid to speak I just choose not to in most situations. I think its better; it keeps me from saying something wrong. I’m quick, fast on my feet, and can think fast and smart when needed. I rarely find myself not knowing what to do or being totally confused.
Depressed? There is no need to be. Happy? It’s Rare. Being depressed gets you know where that why I always keep going. No times to start feeling sorry for myself. But there is a down side, when the extremely rare good things happen you don’t have time to appreciate it. Sometimes my mother has to slow me down See says I move to fast and think to rashly at times. I guess she’s right, though I like myself just the way I am.
Life
All throughout my life I’ve had to deal with my mother and father constantly fighting, whether it be about money –since we are some of the poorest of District 9-, or whether it be about what may or may not have said to another. I can remember that my father was always extremely protective of my mother and any time she said anything to another man my dad would flip. I also remember never wanting parents always thinking that I could take care of myself.
All throughout my life I was forced to work in the factories and help out with various different jobs. Basically anything they gave me to do. It isn’t the most horrible job, it’s just I’ve been doing it since I as about twelve. Back then I cold barely handle working, but over the progressive two years i've learned to manage. I know everyone has to do their share but The jobs that i am assigned are the mostly boring, the ones no one wants to do. All throughout the past i've walked off and found other things to do then work in a factory. This got me into trouble often but i never really paid much attention to lectures and small punishments.
Now that I’ve matured a little more I’ve realized that I need them. But I still can barely stand taking orders from them unlike my brother James who craves orders and direction his whole life, not once could he think for him self. That kept me going my entire life to not be like him, mostly because of how little he was respected. Sometimes I felt pity for my brother, you could tell my father loved me more, though I never really boasted or took advantage of it. The higher respect for me was just always there.
I always remember doing well in my schooling. I never was outstanding but I met the criteria. When we weren’t working our father took us into the basement and did minor survival training and some combat lessons as well just encase we were reaped for the games. He didn’t want us to be afraid of the games he wanted us to face the truth. He wanted us to have the skills to survive. If the day ever came he wanted us to make our district proud.
[/blockquote]Codeword: odair
Comments/Other:
Sorry it's so concise![/size]I hate bios
