Laurel Penzig || D10 [FIN]

There are just some things the Penzig family cannot control when it comes to appearance, such as the shape of one’s nose or the color of their eyes. Laurel carries the more masculine side of her family—long face, dark hair, blue eyes, and pallor skin. Everything else is determined from class to whether or not a Penzig is married. Braids indicate youth while ponytail indicates maturity; in Laurel’s case, she wears her black hair in two braids whose tails rest on her kidneys.


She often wears her favorite color, which to no surprise is yellow like the sun. Laurel spends all day in the heat with her family cutting and peeling crops for the Capitol and covers as much of her fair skin as possible to avoid sunburn. Long overalls, a yellow buttoned shirt without a collar, worn-down gloves and a pair of old brown boots which were most likely belonged to her older cousins. When they don’t fit in the tiny house, it’s obvious when she’s sleeping in the tool shack because of all the dirt she rolled onto during the night. It’s safe to say that her clothes and the dirt have a very intimate relationship.


She’s an average five foot six (and a half) in height and weighs about 120 pounds without her boots. But unlike most farmers, her skin is smooth rather than rough. This is due to her skin oils made from herbs and plants on the farm.

Laurel is something like a grandmother whom loves to cook and tend for her loved ones whatever the cause. This is her outer shell, the face she puts on towards everyone in town, at school and at home. If you asked her family and friends, they would vote her for being most unlikely to survive in the Hunger Games.



But they don’t notice when she stabs a crow with her pocket knife for trying to steal some of her labor. They haven’t seen her kick a fox or rabbit for jumping over the fence to get a little nibble on their best products. And they certainly haven’t seen her “You-are-dead-to-me” expression. The smug expression she gives to her parents’ skulls when they say how proud they are to be working for the Capitol. The angry scowl she’s making in the kitchen while everyone’s making bets on which Tributes will survive tomorrow. They take her kind face for granted, and in a way, she takes that as a tool to live as a citizen. She knows that no one will talk to a cold-hearted brat, and the few that do aren’t worth her time.


Laurel’s something like a workaholic. When she’s done with her work, she begins to work on others’ projects. Outside of her world, others see her as slow and lazy. They only catch her when she’s on hours-worth of a break and “still not done” as she puts it. She’s often scolded by her parents, but tunes it out because she knows they aren’t paying close attention. Only good farmers know what to pay attention to. Like where the clouds are facing during a certain time of day, which often tells her when it’s going to rain. When she’s gazing in the sky she’s reading the signs, which is where people assume she’s drifting off into space probably wondering what to cook for dessert. 


Which isn’t to say Laurel doesn’t have fun.


When she turns-off her work mode, Laurel is adventurous and mischievous. She often plays tricks on her family with harmless traps, which often end up to be prototypes for her produce thieves. Laurel gets a kick out of shrills and squeals of shock from family in other parts of the house. The best part is that she often gets away with it because of her pseudo-grandma personality.

Although Laurel is an only child, she lives with her parents and various cousins and relatives in one average-sized home. 


The home is located near the fields she’s been working in since the age of twelve. When she was younger, Laurel was full of life and emotion. She’d cry if a vegetable die and would blow up out of anger if a varmint stole her crops. Her parents’ response was to spank her. One time they spank her so bad she could hardly sit in a chair. She’d often cry to her aunt whom would stroke her beautiful ebony hair and coo her to sleep with gentle words. Her aunt was her favorite person in the world and no one in the entire family had any idea that her life would have been cut so short. 


When Laurel was fourteen her aunt was noticeably ill and would often volunteer to take care of her while the family would work outside. Her aunt would always smile sweetly and say, “You’re going to be a strong girl one day.” Laurel, however, doubted this. She was scrawny and had too big of a heart to let go of things. “Auntie I’m nothing like the Victors.” This was when she found a different side of her aunt. Cold, distant, and angry. “Let me tell you something sweetie, the Victors are nothing to be proud of—” but she would then compose herself and show her warm smile. “I simply meant you’re going to be a big help in this family, my darling Laurel. Now kiss Auntie good night. I think I need a nap.”


This was the first time Laurel had ever seen a dark side to her aunt. When she passed away her whole life turned upside down. She began to pay more attention to what her family meant by “lasting in the arena.” Often times the family would censor things and say that the children were only pretending to be dead and were lifted up by the Capitol to go back to their homes. She realized how lame this explanation was once she learned the true meaning of death. She also began to understand more about her aunt and why she decided to be so kind. Her aunt was trying to survive in a political game amongst family members. The older Laurel got the more she learned about her aunt through journals and letters to no one. This was the birth of her pseudo-personality.