angelina "angel" creed [d7] cbd2 fin
Dec 27, 2018 23:05:03 GMT -5
Post by Kali on Dec 27, 2018 23:05:03 GMT -5
Name: Angelina "Angel" Creed
Gender: Female
Age: Seventeen
District: Seven
She sits at a bar, a drink in her hand, fingernail tracing the wood grains beneath her palm. Her dark hair tumbles around her cheeks. Sometimes black, sometimes brown, depends what time of year it is. She couldn't afford this drink, but the bartender knows her, and he's generous on a good day. All he asks is that she keep coming back; and of course that she be nice to the lads.
"Name's Angelina, but it's Angel to you, sugar." her voice is low and sweet.
She loves making them laugh, something warm bubbles up in her stomach, but she's certain it's the alcohol and not genuine happiness. She lost that a long time ago, when she lost her brother. She'd always told him to quit talking back to the Peacekeepers. But he never really listened, did he?
She closes her eyes and takes a long pull on her drink. It burns on the way down, but it keeps her warm.
She'll be here into the wee hours of the night, sometimes drinking until she can barely make it home and has to sleep in a stranger's bed, other times passing the hours playing cards with the old men and telling them corny jokes. She got them all from her brother, but she never tells them that.
Instead she digs a hole in her heart, and buries it in the darkest corners, where she swears she'll never let the light in.
Gender: Female
Age: Seventeen
District: Seven
She sits at a bar, a drink in her hand, fingernail tracing the wood grains beneath her palm. Her dark hair tumbles around her cheeks. Sometimes black, sometimes brown, depends what time of year it is. She couldn't afford this drink, but the bartender knows her, and he's generous on a good day. All he asks is that she keep coming back; and of course that she be nice to the lads.
"Name's Angelina, but it's Angel to you, sugar." her voice is low and sweet.
She loves making them laugh, something warm bubbles up in her stomach, but she's certain it's the alcohol and not genuine happiness. She lost that a long time ago, when she lost her brother. She'd always told him to quit talking back to the Peacekeepers. But he never really listened, did he?
She closes her eyes and takes a long pull on her drink. It burns on the way down, but it keeps her warm.
She'll be here into the wee hours of the night, sometimes drinking until she can barely make it home and has to sleep in a stranger's bed, other times passing the hours playing cards with the old men and telling them corny jokes. She got them all from her brother, but she never tells them that.
Instead she digs a hole in her heart, and buries it in the darkest corners, where she swears she'll never let the light in.
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