sherlock abbey-prather ✖ district six ✖ fin

name ✖ Sherlock Charles Abbey-Prather.
age ✖ Sixteen.
gender ✖ Male.
location ✖ District Six.
face claim ✖ COMING SOON.
codeword ✖ Odair.
comments/other ✖ Gahhh I ran out of muse for Sherlock. XD

appearance ✖ Windswept chocolate-brown hair hangs over my forehead. I take the time in the morning to smooth it down, but it always springs right back up into it's messy style. It's like my hair has memory, a mind of its own. When I was little I used to hate this, but now it looks good and makes me seem more boyish. My half-sister, Quinine, says it adds to my perfection. I don't take this as a compliment because I know that Quinine means it as an insult.

My skin is medium-toned and it stretches tightly around my body, especially my face, making the sharp bones appear more prominent. I have a thin angular face and high cheeks bones and slightly sunken cheeks, making my face look even thinner than it really is. I honestly think that the slightly sunken cheeks is unattractive, but only I seem to notice the slightly sunken cheeks. It's not that I'm insecure or narcissistic (contrary to Quinine's belief), I just know my own face better than anyone else.

My nose isn't very large nor is it small. It's medium-sized and thin and straight, except for a small dip at the end of the bridge of my nose. Below it are my small and lips and above it are my eyes. My eyes are honey-brown with tiny bits of muddy pine-green mixed into the brown. The green spots are shaped like little glass shards. My eyes have many fathoms and show everything I'm feeling. Some people say that eyes have no emotion, but they do. The eyes are the windows to the soul. At least mine are. Above my brown eyes sprout a pair of full eyebrows that I have to pluck to keep in control. Males don't usually do that, but I do.

I am handsome but not as perfect as Quinine thinks. I don't have girls swooning over me and I don't have a girlfriend, either. I've never had one because I've never been interested in anyone before. With my gangly figure and lack of muscle, I am not the ideal "hot guy." The ideal "hot guy" has muscles and a nearly perfect face, and I do not have either. But for a lower district, I guess I could be the ideal "hot guy," but I just don't see myself in that way. Maybe because I'm not in love with myself.

personality ✖ Being Sherlock Abbey isn't hard. My half-sister, Quinine Yellowbrooke, often tells me this. Yes, being Sherlock Abbey isn't hard, but it's not as easy as Quinine assumes. She looks at me and sees a gorgeous, incredibly perfect boy who gets everything he wants and gets all of the girls he wants and is deeply adored by everyone. Quinine exaggerates, which is one of my pet peeves. Exaggeration is pointless and silly. It is meant for children, and I am not a child. Not anymore.

I act much older than I am, which is probably a result to my mother's childishness. She is naive for a woman of her age, so my step-father and I have always been the ones keeping her in line. She always told me that I'm so much like my father. She said it with a smile on her face - a genuine smile. But I don't want to be like him. I never met my father, but I know his name is Gareth Prather. He left my mother when I was a mere infant, too young to remember him. But why would I want to remember Gareth Prather? His name means nothing to me. Nothing at all, even though I carry his surname. But why should I hold feelings for nothing but a name, a name of someone who left me, who abandoned me? I shouldn't care. I shouldn't and I don't.

Gareth Prather isn't of my concern. I have made it very clear towards everyone and my mother that Gareth Prather's blood may run in my veins, but that doesn't mean I have to honor him as my father. My step-father, Lennox Yellowbrooke, raised me. I hate the saying blood is thicker than water. Whoever made that up is a moron. Blood may be thicker than water, but blood is meaningless. Love makes a family, not blood. A lot of people don't understand that. I have never called Lennox "Dad" or "Father" or anything that indicates him being my father. I just called him by his name - Lennox. It's the same with my mother. I call her by her name, and only her name, which is Merida Yellowbrooke.

Although I display little affection for any of my family, I care deeply for them. Even Quinine, who has rejected me and thrust me aside, refusing to let me be her brother. Chase doesn't have a problem with me, but Quinine is a different story. Ever since we were little, there has been rivalry between us - it was started by her. I know she thinks I'm without flaws, but she's wrong. Oh, Quinine is so, so terribly wrong. I've done bad things and I keep on doing bad things because being bad is like a drug - it's addicting. But just because I've done bad things doesn't make me a bad person. Your choices do not define you.

I base everything on logic and pure fact. My strongest subjects have always been math and science. I am a problem-solver and I like to do everything myself - no help at all. I think logically and I plan out the several different ways my plan can go and I always make a pros and cons list before I make a big decision. If you think hard enough about something, you can always find a logical, scientific reason. Although I would like to think there is something after death, I can't. When you die, your body goes into the ground and feel nothing, see nothing, hear nothing. I've always imagine death as a black void swallowing you up into nothingness. Because once you're dead, you'll never be anything again. Your body will decay over time and the world will move on without you.

That's a grave, dark way to look at life but people must face the stark reality that everyone dies at some point. We all die, but we should make the most out of life before that day comes - and it will come. Unfortunately, no one was immortality. Everyone who fears death needs to face the fact that they will die no matter what. Since I die anyways, I would be fine with being Reaped for the Hunger Games. If I did, though, I would try my best to survive (and I could with my clever mind) and I would try hard to make the most out of the rest of my life, which would be short considering that only one tribute comes out of the Games alive. Maybe I think this way because my parents raised me not to mind the Hunger Games. They told me it is something we must put up with.'

I am determined. I will never give up on anything or anyone. My compassion and determination work alongside each other. I love my family and I am determined to keep them all safe. If Chase was ever Reaped, I'd volunteer for him right away. I like to help people. I can't stand seeing the hungry (luckily I don't see much of that in District Six) or the poor, so to aid them, I give them food and clothes. I'm not always a giver (in fact, I can be quite selfish), but in this case, I am a giver.

I am patient and calm with an incredibly long temper. My temper has always amazed Quinine. If I didn't have that long temper, I probably would have punched Quinine by now. I am patient with her and I hope that one day she will take a liking to me. We're family, whether she likes it or not. My serenity often astonishes many people because the typical teenage boy will want to go party and kiss girls. Not me.

history ✖ As a young child, shortly after Gareth Prather left Merida Yellowbrooke (Merida Abbey at the time, since Abbey is her maiden name), Merida set high expectations for me. She wanted me to be the perfect child and she adored my brown curls and honey-brown eyes. Merida always tells me how much I'm like Gareth, but deep down, although I never met him, I loathe Gareth. I don't want to be like that bastard, but I guess I am. I guess that makes me a bastard, too.

Merida taught me to be a good boy, do what I'm told, not to question adults. I was a good boy for the longest time. Not anymore. That good boy is gone. When I was a few months old, Merida married Lennox, my step-father. Shortly after their marriage they had Quinine, my half-sister. She is only a year my junior. Quinine and I had never been friendly towards one another. We screamed at each other and kicked each other 24/7. Merida would scold me and tell me that she's raising me better than that. She expected too much of me, always.

As I grew older, Quinine's jealousy and hatred for me only grew. I thought it would die down overtime, but it never has and probably never will. I wish we had a healthy sibling bond, but that is unrealistic and illogical of me to think that a sibling bond between Quinine and I is the slightest bit possible. Chase was born four years after me, but unfortunately, I don't have a bond with him, either. He likes Quinine more than me. I can tell by the way he looks at Quinine, and the blank stares he often gives me. I have always been the disliked one amongst my siblings.

But not my parents. Oh no, Lennox and Merida adored me and they still do. They pushed me to make friends and pursue my growing dreams of becoming a scientist. Of course I would never get that far - I would have to work in District Six, and the Capitol is where the high pay in money is and the good schools are, and I suspect that I'll never lay eyes on the Capitol. I did make lots of friends, but I don't interact with any popular teens at school. I'm with the normal, average people who are intelligent enough to be pleasant company.

Time went on and on and nothing changed. I still hung out with my friends, Lennox and Merida adored me, Quinine loathed me, and Chase mostly ignored me. It was like that for years and years.

Until I turned sixteen.

I got into my first fight this year and I have the marks to prove it. Luckily my face only received a scratch, but the rest of my body was in poor condition. A long, deep angry red scar mars my flank (thankfully my shirt covers it). Black and blue bruises have bloomed on the skin on my legs and torso and a little on the arms. The kid I fought - I don't even know his name - received worse injuries than me. His arms, legs, torso, and face are covered in bruises made by my fists. There are cuts where I took his knife and ripping his skin with it. I even broke his wrist when I threw him down on the concrete.

If only I hadn't intervened in the fight the kid was already having. He was beating up Johanna Blue for a reason that's unknown to me. I know the girl - I beat her in chess once. She's clever and sweet, undeserving of being beaten. So I threw the damn kid off of her and beat the shit out of him. That was the one time in my life when I let everything go - my anger, aggression, everything that's been building up inside of me. if my parents knew, if Quinine knew . . . I'm screwed.

posting ✖
b08a61 - main
f0b57a - dialogue
a3825f - other dialogue
e8d088 - thoughts
dec3a6 - emphasis