ashley youngblood | district 2 | wip

[lucid]

Ashley Youngblood

17 | District 2 | Tragedy

"I am not your Queen...
I'm your Dictator!"

Trigger Warning: Mentions of Parental Abuse, and Body Image

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Pride

Youngblood. A name that held a legacy. Known for their Athleticism, combat, survival skills, and controversial training methods. Your family was an infamous tribute family that arrogantly demanded respect.

Despite your family's history, none of them were lucky enough to be given the honor of being picked as a tribute for the games. Instead, your Mother and Father became founders of a Tribute Preparatory School. An institution known to indoctrinate mold and train young students into ruthless potential career tributes for the annual Hunger Games.

Wrath

Your Father is an unforgiving egotistical perfectionist. His philosophy of pushing people to their limit using rather questionable practices would make any Drill Sergeant in the Peacekeepers blush. The man had little time for patience and it showed.

"No words in the English language carry more greater harm than 'I'm proud of you' or 'Good Job'"

Unfortunately, your Father had a vision for you that came with heavy expectations and outcome. When you were born, he never really saw you as his daughter. No, instead he saw you as nothing more than the perfect product to be created for the purpose of the Capital's entertainment and money.

Lust

The product of your environment made you enjoy the concept of power -- rather, more specifically, the enjoyment of overpowering someone. There was just something so special about it to you that couldn't put a finger on it. It was a sorta high you enjoyed chasing for oh so long.

Was it how you could turn someone from fight to flight in a few rounds what made you like it so much? The feeling of finally securing a guillotine choke as they try to fight for air. They looked so helpless, weak, and pathetic before submitting to the tap. Once it was all over you held an air of superiority, as blood sweat and tears stained the octagon ring, yet none of that was yours.


Your air of superiority was a veil of arrogance wrapped in insecurity.

Envy

Your sister outshined you in everything you did. The difference between you and her felt impossible to ignore. Whether it be in fighting in the arena where she would beat you in every sparring match you had, training at the gym, or even in communications where she shined so brightly.

You felt like you were always behind her like a shadow, and your Father knew that. The way he spoke so highly of her and would always compare the two of you made you spiteful. The outcome was a strain on your relationship with her. You were distant, bitter, and resentful. Though, even with these things, there was a burning desire that you had to beat her.

The consequences of jealousy had a toll on you physically and mentally. The crimson red blood stained on your mouthpiece as you fought relentlessly in the areana as you push past the pain. The sweat poured from your brow during the countless hours you spent on your free time at the gym. And the tears you silently wept in your room to conceal any vulnerability that came with the burden of spite...

Gluttony

While you Father was stuck-up asshole, who took everything seriously. 

Sloth

WIP

Greed

g

Your Father was talking to a man around his age, an old friend more likely as the man had his daughter half your age by his side.

"You know who she is?" Your Father says looking at you then back to the girl. The girl looked at you for a moment before shaking her head. Your Father lips formed in a devilish smile, as a puff of air escapes his nose.

"That's my daughter and I'm very proud of the woman she became..."

CREDIT: ELEGANT