Celexa Devereaux :|: D6 :|: FIN

You are born of kindness, selflessness, and wisdom. You had the face of an innocent soul, but the heart of the wicked. It wasn't always like this, it was "them" that had changed you. Your skin was a pastel ivory, rejecting the suns rays, and neglecting the ideal of tan. Your eyes brimmed with the murky blue that filled the melting puddles of snow at your feet. Your hair falling past your shoulders, radiating a color almost that of snow. This of course wasn't white, but rather tainted. It flowed with strands of blonde, curled through the spring air, like the swaying leaves above. Distracting from your almost invisible eyebrows. So faint, so afraid of the world around them, that they are almost non existent. But they were, and you had been sure everyone was aware of this. Your lips were a stained olive. Too pale to be pink, but to pink to be olive. It looked as if someone had spread raspberry jam across their white clothing, and scrubbed desperately for it to come off. Leaving nothing but a stain, just like your lips had accomplished. 

Your height was tremendous. Standing at nearly six feet, you tower over most girls in your district. Well really most girls in general. It made you strange, it toyed with the fact that you were different. This of course mad it hard for anyone to find you attractive, at least not the people you had hoped would take a second glance. What time is there for meddling in things like lovers anyhow? Your body was thin, almost sickly. Boned protrude, like they want a way out, your spine rivets like a keyboard done the frame of your back. Your hands skeletal like the legs of a spider. Your nose pointed like that of a mouse. Most wouldn't describe you as beautiful, though you wish they had.

--

You love the thought of torture, of remorse. Watching someone suffer made you warm. But how could you tell anyone this? They would thing you are crazy, they would throw you away and no one would be left for him. You cant do that to him, he deserved so much better, he deserves so much better. Your heart was a fighter, it didn't back down, and in some cases it went to the extremes to keep its owners satisfied. All those that you have given a piece of it away to, but now those numbers are becoming lesser and lesser. Your heart beat not because you wanted it to, but because it had to. There was no leaving this world any longer, that was long gone, washed away with the blood of your loved ones. You were left, alone, with only the responsibility of someone else. How could you fend for them, when you were worse them a mess yourself?

You loved no one in this world, no one but him. He was the only pure soul you had ever met. He was the only one that knew that once the snow was gone, the daisies would return. He was the only one that kept you from ending whatever the hell this is. He was your salvation, your comfort, and your piece of mind. And piece of mind was becoming much harder to come by. Your eyes had seen things no one should have to witness, and that may be why your heart is so black, so filled with hatred. Half the time your words were to venomous to be spoken. This left you quiet, this left you speechless. Why talk, when he could always understood anyway? He read you like children's book, predictable, knowing every which way you would turned. But for some reason, whenever you looked him all of your pages were blank. You didn't understand why, or how, or when, but you understood that your love for him ran deeper then the oceans of district four. That it stood higher then the trees of district seven, and that it radiated brighter then the fires of district twelve. 

You worked day and night to keep him, and yourself fed. It wasn't like before with ma and pa, but it was the best you could do. He was your sun, you revolved around him like the planets. There was nothing else that you mind found time to think up. Companionship was far from what you wanted, and even more so far from what you needed. Your skills made you fly up the ranks in your career, and this made you happy. It was a slight quench to you never ending thirst for peace. Understanding yourself was something that seemed near to impossible, but it didn't seem as if anyone else wanted to take a shot at it either. You were broken, no longer fragile because what was left to be protected was no longer intact. But this made you strong, fearless, there was no assurance of tomorrow, but there was assurance that you would go out fighting. 

--

You were raised so normal, or the nearest to normal there was. A mother, father, and younger brother. He was only four when the innocent occurred. So young, so helpless and unaware of the world around him. Both your mother and father were well known surgeons. They could stitch unbelievable wounds. Remake entire limbs, putting the pieces together like a puzzle. They of course taught you how to do this yourself. You were amazing at it as well, years of training has made you some what respected for your skills. Well about as much respect someone of your age could muster up. Your brother was young when the "incident" happened. He never got much of a chance to discover his talents, and you had no time to teach him. Not with the amount of work you had under your belt. He would learn one day, if only mom and dad were here to show him, like the once showed you. 

Your mother and father were people with strong believes. These believes landed them in trouble one of which to their death. They help the rebels, those damn rebels tore apart your family, and without a single thank you. They didn't waste their time saving her, nor him. They were rats, and you hoped they all burned in hell. You would rather play in a thousand games before you ever caught yourself helping one of those vermin. Your parents had very high medical experience, and they would sew together the dismembered rebel, and send them back out to keep fighting. Things went on like this for a long while, until they were caught. Your father was executed before your eyes, and your mother taken away. Probably tortured, turned into an Avox, and left to rot in the household of some rich prick. 

You felt no pity, and you wanted no pity of your own. They deserved this, both of them. They metaled with the wants of the Capitol, and now they are both gone. You don't blame the Capitol, the only ones to blame are them. The rebels, and you parents themselves. They were ignorant, unaware of the harm they had caused you and your brother. And now neither of them are here to comfort you in your time of need, and neither of them are here for their own god damn children. It was their fault, not the Capitols. Day in and day out you watch his little body grow, you watch his words become sentences, and his walks become runs. He was growing before your very eyes with no mother and father that he remembers. He was nearly five by now, and you had taken care of him, and kept the house in order. This was your life now, there were mouths to feed, a child to love, and a place to care for. Your only thankful that he wasn't dragged into your parents stupidity, and that he was still here for you to hold, for you to call your own.