Tiger Hanson | D5 | Complete
Aug 11, 2014 23:29:09 GMT -5
Post by Death on Aug 11, 2014 23:29:09 GMT -5
T I G E R H A N S O N
F E M A L E , A G E D 1 6
D I S T R I C T F I V E
F a l l , f a l l o u t o f t r e e s
I n t o t h e s t r e e t
A l l o n m y o w n .
I ' v e f i n a l l y f o u n d o u t h o w l o n g I c a n h a n g o n .
Orange. Like a tiger. That’s the color of Tiger’s hair, not to mention how she got her name. Okay, so maybe it isn’t quite orange, but you get the picture. Ginger. Not shining ebony, or sophisticated brown or playful blonde or stylish scarlet. But ginger. With freckles. Gah, she hated freckles! Of all the things she could’ve dealt with on her face—even painful, cystic acne like her older brother or God forbid, a unibrow. But no. She gets freckles.
At least she also had breasts. She had to admit, if she had to say good-bye to breasts to be rid of freckles, she might have to think and wrestle over that one for a long while. Breasts. Long legs. But not the curvy, fleshy kind that became streaked with lines when a woman wore a pair of stylish heels. The kind with skeletal ankles and knobby knees that knocked together whenever she saw a hot guy. Those legs had freckles too. Some of them were star-shaped though. Those she didn’t mind. Those could stay.
Gangly arms. No muscle to them. Maybe if she tried to eat more and get some more exercise, she’d gain some. But, what was the use of muscle? Plus, she wasn’t too crazy about food. The more she ate, the less other people in her family got. And with four growing brothers, that wouldn’t be something that would be very fun to deal with. She could go without a full plate. She had a small stomach. She’d just snag an apple from the horse stable. The horses didn’t need apples every day.
A long scar scurried across her back. A mark from her namesake. A mark that puckered, as if hoping for a kiss. Maybe someday. She wondered if a guy would mind seeing the scar. If he would kiss the scar like he’d kiss her lips or her neck or her wrists or wherever else he’d like. She liked her lips. Fuller on the bottom and a nice pinkish color. They got chapped easily, so she’d spend her pocket money on some clear, sparkly lip gloss and pray that the brand she’d bought would work this time. Nose? Yup, she had one, despite how many times her brothers had teased her about having “stolen” it. They’d wink at her and “give it back.” Hers was straight. And even. Not odd, thank God.
I ' v e g o t t h i s a l l w r o n g .
M y h e a r t i s s c a r e d , m y h e a r t i s g o n e .
N o w , l o o k i n g a r o u n d , t h e r e ' s n o o n e h e r e t o h e a r m y f a l l .
W h i t e , w h i t e a s a s h e e t .
I s a w a g h o s t , I t h i n k i t w a s m e .
She’d often had her mouth washed out with soap for her foul mouth. She’d since learned to hide it deep within her, but keep in mind she’s probably cursing on the inside. Worse than a District Four fisherman. She loved to shock people with her words. Like a punch to the gut, but lasting longer. People were fun to mess with. Unless, of course, you could get something from them. Then they were to be treated well.
Her mother called her heartless. Her brother called her strong. She calls herself something between those two things: e m p t y. When you’re empty, your heart doesn’t matter. Your strength doesn’t matter. You’re naturally heartless—emotionless. You’re undeniably strong—independent. Who cares what they think? Not Tiger. Tiger don’t care. Tiger don’t give a damn.
She felt ripped open and raw at one point. When her father had been ripped open and laying like raw meat across the tiger pen. Going in to his body was a mistake. She learned that when the tiger had lunged. Now she just felt afraid. Trembling. Weak.
No. She was strong. She was confidence incarnate. She had the strength and heartlessness and beauty and grace of a tiger. Poised for the kill. She would push aside her weakness while the sun was awake. She’d smile and be happy. Tomorrow she’d be even stronger.
In the words of Loony's character Karina, "I'm sure more than anything that this girl is insane, but I'm also sure that at this moment she will be the best thing to ever happen to me."
Tiger was born August 13th to Liona and Squirrel Hanson. As a middle child, but the oldest (and only) girl, she was expected to be the peace-maker and the care-taker. Ha! There's where they went wrong. Oh sure, caretaker. Not too shoddy. But peacemaker? Hell no, honey. It was a common occurrence for Tiger to punch a brother's lights out and then toss him an ice bag. Momma would say, "Tiger? What happened, honey?" Tiger would shrug. "Don't know. He was being stupid."
Momma was a stay-at-home baby maker and caretaker, like Tiger was (minus the baby-maker bit, of course). Daddy was an exotic animal caretaker. He was saving up money to buy himself his own breeding stock, but it was taking a long time. Taking care of animals in a town that was quickly industrializing wouldn't earn you too much. But Daddy loved his job and he loved his family and his family loved him. Lots of love. Yay.
One day Tiger was sick. Fever. Not anything too terrible, but bad enough so that Momma wouldn't let her go to school. It had been an important day. She didn't remember why now, but she remembered it had been so important that she threw a fit and Daddy had slung her over one shoulder like a baby goat and carried her with him to work. He set her down by the gazelle they had just gotten in. It was pretty. Not very friendly, but pretty. She watched it for awhile.
And then, screaming. Lots of screaming.
And scarlet. Plenty of scarlet. Her father lay on the concrete slab of the tiger's cage, blood pooling out of him. She didn't even think about the tiger, which sat with its muzzle covered in blood, placidly licking its paws. She had run over to her father and pushed him, trying to get him up and awake and alive and not dead because please Daddy, Mommy is gonna be having a baby soon (even if she hadn't told you yet) and I had a school project I wanted to do with you and we need a daddy because... because...
The tiger had lunged, its claws outstretched. The one on the end had sliced into her before the other caretakers had taken the electric prods and zapped the tiger back into a container.
Lots of stitches. Lots of bandages. Lots of flowers and friends and food and... then home was gone and brother was gone and she was working at ten years old because Tiger had killed Daddy.
Now she was fourteen. With a few friends, a few crushes and a few credits in her pockets at the end of the day. Who knew if she'd ever get reaped. Certainly she didn't. She didn't care one way or another. It wouldn't be any different from what had already happened, except that the tigers weren't tigers but people.
She would be the tiger for the rest of the world.
In the words of Loony's character Karina, "I'm sure more than anything that this girl is insane, but I'm also sure that at this moment she will be the best thing to ever happen to me."
I ' v e g o t t o g e t o u t ,
O u t o f t h i s t o w n .
I t ' s s c a r y .
S o m e t i m e s w h e n I s l e e p ,
I m i s s m y h o m e , I m i s s m y t r e e .
A n d n o w i t ' s u p t o t h e m t o c a r r y m e b a c k u p t o t h e t o p .
Tiger was born August 13th to Liona and Squirrel Hanson. As a middle child, but the oldest (and only) girl, she was expected to be the peace-maker and the care-taker. Ha! There's where they went wrong. Oh sure, caretaker. Not too shoddy. But peacemaker? Hell no, honey. It was a common occurrence for Tiger to punch a brother's lights out and then toss him an ice bag. Momma would say, "Tiger? What happened, honey?" Tiger would shrug. "Don't know. He was being stupid."
Momma was a stay-at-home baby maker and caretaker, like Tiger was (minus the baby-maker bit, of course). Daddy was an exotic animal caretaker. He was saving up money to buy himself his own breeding stock, but it was taking a long time. Taking care of animals in a town that was quickly industrializing wouldn't earn you too much. But Daddy loved his job and he loved his family and his family loved him. Lots of love. Yay.
One day Tiger was sick. Fever. Not anything too terrible, but bad enough so that Momma wouldn't let her go to school. It had been an important day. She didn't remember why now, but she remembered it had been so important that she threw a fit and Daddy had slung her over one shoulder like a baby goat and carried her with him to work. He set her down by the gazelle they had just gotten in. It was pretty. Not very friendly, but pretty. She watched it for awhile.
And then, screaming. Lots of screaming.
And scarlet. Plenty of scarlet. Her father lay on the concrete slab of the tiger's cage, blood pooling out of him. She didn't even think about the tiger, which sat with its muzzle covered in blood, placidly licking its paws. She had run over to her father and pushed him, trying to get him up and awake and alive and not dead because please Daddy, Mommy is gonna be having a baby soon (even if she hadn't told you yet) and I had a school project I wanted to do with you and we need a daddy because... because...
The tiger had lunged, its claws outstretched. The one on the end had sliced into her before the other caretakers had taken the electric prods and zapped the tiger back into a container.
Lots of stitches. Lots of bandages. Lots of flowers and friends and food and... then home was gone and brother was gone and she was working at ten years old because Tiger had killed Daddy.
Now she was fourteen. With a few friends, a few crushes and a few credits in her pockets at the end of the day. Who knew if she'd ever get reaped. Certainly she didn't. She didn't care one way or another. It wouldn't be any different from what had already happened, except that the tigers weren't tigers but people.
She would be the tiger for the rest of the world.
| Household |
Lyona Hanson | F | 36
Eleph | M | 17
Tiger | F | 16
Froggie | M | 14
Kat | M | 13
Squirrel | M | 6
I ' v e g o t t h i s n o w .
M y l e g s a r e s t e a d y n o w .
T h e a n g e l s w a r n e d m e n e v e r t o f a l l d o w n .
Appearance: 413
Personality: 240
History: 493
Total: 1146 words
Codeword: o D a i r
Created: 67th Games
Falling Out of Trees, by Barcelona
Character (c) to Adri // Death; Hunger Games (c) to Susanne Collins
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