jules blomgren // d4 // fin

Young eyes rested above on the subtle cheekbones of her matured face. In the loosest sense of the word, hazel was the way to describe them, pale green disks sitting under crowns of brilliant gold. They stared boldly ahead, but there was a haziness behind their masks of clarity, hiding something underneath opaque panes of jade. Above, stubby lashes jutted out in directions unpredictable. Her dark, thick brows seldom relax, usually knit together in frustration and concentration, or drawn into a scowl. If you looked close enough, you could see faint creases traced onto her glabella.

Her face was a compilation of two opposite parents. A narrow nose, broken a few times over, rested in the middle of her broad face, perched right above full lips. Relaxed, she looked friendly and approachable, the majority of her features soft and smooth. But she had a way of turning it all to dust, curling her lips and darkening her eyes, giving her near constant wolfish qualities. Her ears were elfish, small, but they stuck out from beside her head noticeably, something she had hated since she discovered ponytails. She often pulled out lengths of her hair to cover them.

Her locks were honey-colored, thick and wavy. They reached to about her mid=back, the ends bleached out by the sun. Despite her life as a career, she preferred to keep the soft tresses down. If placed right, it covered the collections of ever-present acne grouping around her temples and covered the majority of blemishes and scars on her shoulders and back. Her creamy skin was broken by bits of scabs and birthmarks all over the place, dotting her lithe frame like a canvas. She was small for a career, standing at 5'4", but lean, spry muscle still rippled underneath thin limbs. Although it made for a great agile body, Jules still found herself disliking the shapelessness of her curves.

To put it nicely, Jules was not the humblest person to walk the earth. She had the confidence some people yearn for, yet she had a way of exuding it a little to well. Her chin would lift slightly, her eyes glinting in superiority. For most people, her cavalier disposition got under their skin. While she was decent at training, she really had nothing else to brag about. Yet, she still found words that boosted her ego, blatant lies or not. Jules lashed out often at criticism and people calling her out, her haughty behavior a mere veneer for a self-esteem built on salt and sand.

For most, Jules was a brick wall. Her lips were sealed, pressed together in tight smiles and slight frowns. She kept her words, saving them until the right time. She wasn't shy, per say, but with her selective speech, most seemed to get the impression. The girl never did care about being unpleasant, finding that if you didn't say anything, they wouldn't say anything back. It was a fairly good strategy for not being pulled into things unless she wanted. She was more of an observing person, analyzing the people around her for entertainment. The only time she ran her mouth was when she was bristling, the irritation shoving defenses and arguments out of her lips.

Although she had a sort of "my way or the highway" kind of attitude, Jules was a pushover with those she was close to. All too often, she found, did people slip away from her life due to some annoyance. She placed a deep trust and loyalty in the people she combed from the crowd, having the same fierce protectiveness over loved ones as she did herself. To those patient enough to become friends with Jules, the girl was an unlikely pleasant person. Friends were the only people she'd seem to value the opinions of, and hoping to gain approval, she would often change herself to fit into different molds around different people. Her cocky facade to the outside world came apparent as she scrambled to get praise from those she cared about.

Jules built a life on the pillars of performance.

Since she was two years old, she was competing for love with her younger brother. Since she was seven years old, she was competing for the approval of her mother when she trained her in their backyard. Since she was ten years old, she was competing for the praise of her trainer at the career academy. Since she was twelve years old, she was competing for the appreciation of herself

Her brother, Cedric, would eventually get along with Jules in their later years. But before they become teenagers, it was safe to say that they loathed each other. Cedric was stock full with potential, gaining slowly on his sister in height as well as charm. Jules wanted nothing to do with the little princess role her parents were already punching out. Eventually they gave in, her mother training her in their backyard until she was old enough to attend the academy. Her father was almost always gone, off to work at a fishing outpost. Unlike most careers, the Blomgrens were not swimming in wealth. They sat comfortably in the middle class, living in a small house and only enjoying a few luxuries.

Jules was a dedicated career. Every morning, since she was about thirteen, she jogged laps before heading off to academy. She harbored an affinity for knives, and she would spend hours with her blades. Over the years, she had become skilled in close range combat and throwing. She dedicated little time to other weapons, but she had built up a mediocre skill level in most of the other options out there. She loved the way training let her zone out and relax. Generally, upon feeling frustrated, Jules could be found at the academy, stabbing her agitation with a dagger.

Her parents were supportive, but had habits of pushing their children too hard. Often, Jules would tear herself apart after lectures, and although she never said anything, she saw Cedric doing it also. She was so eager to please, to see their keen approval in their hard eyes. The girl kept launching forward, spurred on by insults and looks of raw disappointment. She ran endlessly after the admiration of everyone, aimlessly following around bad advice and outrageous expectations to a dark place she pushes into the crevices of her mind every time it dared to show its face through the cracks in her heart and the tears in her eyes.