Takyn Osric {D1}

Name: Takyn Osric
Gender: Female
Age: 25
District: One
Height: 5’4

Roles, seems like everyone has one in the Panem. Without a proper placement the worst is bound to crumble before us. It’s up to each individual to acquire and welcome our own specific part. My Mom, for instance, assumed her responsibility quite early as an alcoholic, causing me to be too quick at deciding on mine. Years back I was determined to be a successful career; predicting that I could never be anything more, just like my Mother. Didn’t turn out quite as planned.

When I was really young, I was convinced to be capable enough to help my Mom. Those rare weeks of her sobriety I held onto like nothing else, constantly striving to return her back to those times. Bottles were hidden, talks were had, and promises were made; yet, the next day was always the same. To this day she’s either passed out, or drinking away whatever pain she claims to have. And even as a selfish career I was desperate to fix her.

On one particularly freezing sunset, I arrived home from training to see her in a deep hibernation on the couch. A half bottle of wine stood untouched on the coffee table she pulled closer to her for an easy grab. By this point I no longer stashed away the alcohol I didn’t want her to consume. What sixteen-year-old plays hide n’ seek with anything of that substance? I took it for myself, and a relaxing time alone in my room.

I remember glancing into the mirror on that very night. Music blasting around me as I finished up my Mother’s wine. My blue eyes were especially bright from the dropping temperature outside, and shaggy blonde hair hung to my shoulders. Focus dropped past my locks, lacking any more interest in my facial features. Since I was little it’s held the appearance of an angry porcelain doll, one that was too intimidating to ever play with. Always preferred to pay attention to the muscles growing around my body, no matter how slow the process. It made me feel better to have a purpose, a role. I was a career like the rest.

“Where’s my wine!” The shouts began a second after I placed down the empty bottle, my tongue wiping away the remaining dark red liquid staining my upper lip. Should of known that was going to happen. Just figured it wouldn’t of been so soon. Instinctively I was upon my feet to face the problem straight on, two options laying ahead of me: argue with her that she’s had enough, or get her another bottle from the kitchen. ‘Course I went with the latter.

Didn’t take me long to realize why my Mother’s voice sounded fuzzier then usual. Once in the kitchen, I realized the wine rack was empty. “Crap.” I muttered to myself before crossing the tile floor to get to the living room.

“Yeah, we’re out.” She complained as soon as I was in the open framed entry. “Stop being lazy, and go get more!” To think I was worried about being a hypocrite by telling her not to drink when I had the rest of her wine. She was calling me inactive. Last time I checked, she still doesn’t do nothing more then exactly this to this day.

“There’s practically a blizzard out there.” I informed her of, with a bit of an attitude. Sixteen for damn sakes! I’m surprised I wasn’t any worse!

“Then you better get a lot and leave soon, before it really gets cold!” She advised loudly, though still too incompetent to sit up. “I brought you into this Panem! I can take you out!” Not once in my life had my Mother ever been violent, or physically punished me. But that sounded like a threat. And at that time, I would of loved to see her try. “Now make yourself useful!” She demanded, and without thinking I stormed out in a rage. If only it were a smarter rampage, that involved a thicker jacket.

Can’t recall much from that brutally brisk walk that I took. I do remember the copper flavor in my mouth from chattering against my inner cheeks so hard. Trying to concentrate on that taste to distract myself from the icy feeling deep down in my bones. Then there was Mr. Jones, whom sells us alcohol, questioning how I got there, and whether I was okay. Of course I lied to him, told him I came from a friend’s house and wasn’t too far away. He only told me to be safe with the wine; and I warmed myself up in his garage, prior to returning back to the harsh weather.

Thankfully I made it home, though I’d be lying I said in one piece. Not entirely sure how I even managed, but I went stumbling into the house. “Here’s your damn wine.” I was nearly wheezing, and just hardly balancing on my feet. I wanted to throw the glass bottles across the room, listen to them shatter against the wall or anywhere for that matter. But I simply sat them down in reaching distances of my mother, with no energy to chuck them, even if I was daring enough to. The only thing I could do is stagger into my room and fall into my bed.

“Really Takyn? You’re going to play sick now as some kind of revenge?” Words formulated through my ears at one point, and I could barely open my eyes. Even breathing felt difficult, and all I wanted was to drift off again. That voice was indisputable though, and I knew exactly who it was. Assumed she was probably in need of another run for alcohol, overlooking my obvious lack of qualifications. “Fine, if you want to play sick, have fun convincing the hospital!” And with that I willingly followed the slumber that was calling for me. Next thing I knew, she actually got me to the hospital, where I woke up feeling even worse.

Guess I might as well throw it out there that being a Career didn’t get me very far after that. My doctor said it was a good thing my Mother sent me in, that my life was apparently on the line, due to a bad case of pneumonia. Doesn’t mean my recovery got any faster with their help though. And if I hadn’t of met Mizell at that very time, I’d have wished my life were left swinging on the line back at home.

~~~

All of that is in past tense though. Now I'm the one that's grateful my Mother shipped me off to the hospital, and for all the crap that brought me to such a point. Might have an odd fear of winters, but it's worth it. If it weren't for her, I'd never of met the love of my life or my drive to help the willing. It's quite enjoyable being older, more mature...in some ways. Most importantly, not having to be dependent on the one that raised me to be a person I'm not. As the years went by I learned I'd rather repair, then destroy, precious lives. Mizell taught me this, and even more so when I became pregnant with our first child.

Without telling either of my boys, I cut my hair extremely short when Aiden was a couple months old. Having a baby in my arms just made me look too feminine, and weak. But the short appeal simply reprovides my tough appearance. Mizell finds it humorous that I believe this, though it is true. Plus I don't need any eyes looking my way, not when I already have my other half and family. Quite prefer the intimidating approach anyways, despite my nurturing qualities. Most even assume I must be into the same gender. Whatever keeps their minds off of me, my husband's waiting at home.

In order to remain busy, I became employed as a nurse at the gym Mizell's a trainer at. There's nothing like a good fight, and patching up the kids afterwards. Can't deny my love for a good battle, even if I prefer nurturing the wounded back to health. Those enlarged grins on both of our faces, when they're able to spar once again. My chuckles when they return back to my office. Wouldn't change a single aspect of my life now.

To this day these two men in my family, both little and grown, are everything to me. That craving for adventure will always remains in the far back of my mind, but I’m content with the few moments I get of it. I’ve learned my role within this district, love it to no end, and that’s as a mother and a wife.


Code: O'dair
Other:
Face-claim: Will announce when claims open...no one may steal her!