Karidee Wingbreck [The Capitol]

Name:
Karidee Wingbreck
Age: Eighteen
Gender: Female
District/Area: The Capitol

Appearance: 

With skin the color of milk, egg-white against the ever-changing color of my hair-- it will differ, depending on the season, or alteration in my mood. Wild ultraviolet is expected though, for it compliments the branch-like-veins that run beneath my flesh, converting them into a society accepted form of beautiful. Rebellious with creativity, as on a dark day, there will be nothing worn but black, right down to the cream on my lips. Though if sunlight is oozing from the core of my being, there will be brightness, in any shape or form.

With every humorous smile, dimples will be exposed, as will a flash of polished teeth. Maybe a laugh will follow, and if it does, listen carefully-- some have said it resembles the fizz of champagne bubbles, or chime of royal bells. Though for what I'm most recognized by, is the distinctive difference of each eye. One has the color of the summer sky, bright blue and cloudless, whilst the other is brown, rich chocolate served with a rim of black coffee. It was once known as a deformity, though as my status of fame grew in the Capitol, it then became a signature of sorts, something to be admired and replicated as a trend of fashion; a stamp in the materialistic industry. 


Personality:

Brighter than the blistering light in Panem, and equally as influential. There shan't be a day where I'm as selfish as The Wingbreck family, nor as malevolent. In the marrow of my bones, there is kindness, accompanied with an awareness of what the right path can be, and even some sensibility. Proud behavior can be expected, as it came with the label to my chiffon inspired wardrobe, and never empty purse. Though do not be fooled by the beautiful surroundings, and assume I'm a replica of the rest. There is sourness behind the sweet, and a passion to rebel. 

The installed programming of what a lady should be only ruled my life for so long, yet the royalty that lurks in my bloodstream cannot be tested. I will kiss the cheek of someone I dislike, and scowl at the person I love, as I've learned with slow steadiness how to win. Not in my eighteen years have I managed to lower my guard-- with the exception of my grandmother, as fine as aged wine, she is --and nor do I expect to, not even for the purest of love.

Appreciative and attentive, even to those who aren't meant to deserve it. I will gladly waste my last glass of champagne, in order to put out the fire in your heart-- and even risk the notoriety of my reputation, if it's a worthy enough tragedy. Rebellious in the sense that I strayed from the path The Wingbreck family intended me to follow, yet not regretful. You will either find me in the front seat of a priceless show, or secretly in the poorest place of Panem's poverty, tending to those who need it. 

History:

The youngest of The Wingbreck clan, a misfit, or living kink in their armor, if you will. Rebelling from the precise, practically perfect regime they expect every purebred to follow, I vacated (at the mere age of eleven) to the welcoming, understanding arms of my grandmother. Paper skinned, and as beautiful as the pearls she'll usually display, I was taught over the following remainder of my youth, how to deceive the easily fooled folk in Panem's heart and soul. 

As the peak of my young youth came and went, I learnt what was expected from the female nation, far earlier than needed.  You were to remain freakishly small, and hairless, with an unyielding passion for color and culture. Food wasn't savored, just a meaning to pass the time-- yet drink, yes, it was offered in every corner, at every occasion, and even to the unwilling-est of folk. Drink, they would say, drink, you would do. 

Though it wasn't until eighteen-- as sweet and sour as everyone had promised --that I became the picture of visual perfection, fooling even those who were related by blood. I was welcomed into the mouth of the Capitol, reborn as royalty, a commendable title weighing upon my shoulders. I adapted easily to being recognized, smiled at, having emphasis being placed upon my last name.
"That's Karidee Wingbreck."
No longer, and never will I be, just Karidee.

Though now, as stone faced, and stone hearted as any extraordinaire is expected; I bury a secret no one shall ever know of. Karidee, with enough expense to shame the most royalist of heirs-- and Karidee, as kind and compassionate as an old soul, I will continue to live-- imitating the best deception known. 

Codeword: ODAIR 
Faceclaim: Rachel Mcadams