Astoria Grimoire -- Wanderer [DONE]

[chelsey]

Name: Astoria Grimoire
Age: 16
Gender: Female
District/Area: Wanderer
Appearance:

Personality:

PLANTS ARE MY ONLY BFFS BECAUSE YOLO.

History:

RAN AWAY FROM THE CAPITOL BECAUSE I'M A BAMF.

Codeword:
Comments/Other:

[chelsey]

maiden of the earth.

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f i r s t a n d l a s t // Astoria Grimoire

a g e o f i n n o c e n c e // sixteen

b e d s o f r o s e p e t a l s // female

f o r e s t s a r e h o m e // Capitol Wanderer

t h e m e s o n g // Cosmic Love by Florence and the Machines

f a c e c l a i m // Rachel Roddy

s t a i n e d w i t h d i r t

a p p e a r a n c e

The clash of white against brown makes my skin seem bright - glowing, even.

There is brown everywhere I look, there is brown everywhere I turn. Brown dirt. Brown bark. Brown animals. Brown fur. Everything is dirtied - the innocence of youth is gone, the memories of our childhood tainted, the naivety of life poisoned. The only thing that seems to not be bruised or rottened is our luminous pale skin - our ghostly flesh colliding with the broken fragments of our lost and ancient lives, only speckled with childish scars from wounds that all healed in due time. The purity of the white brightens against the dark atmosphere, it’s authenticity reminding me of days where innocent virtues still roamed the world.

Maybe this is what Anais sees when she looks at the stars - maybe the divine sky glitters against the glistening green orbs of her eyes and whispers to her fairy tales of places far away from where we are now. I can almost see myself staring at a bed of flowers or stretches of trees the same way she stares at the stars. The way we’d both timidly tuck back a strand of our waist length, bright, red hair behind one of our ears, and let a small smile carve a valley into our lips. The way our thin (almost skeletal) bodies would bend over to examine the sources of our interest. The way we’d both allow our sea green eyes to illuminate with the enthusiasm of knowledge, even if the knowledge we both seek come from opposite ends of the universe. The way we are constantly digging, constantly looking, constantly craving for more and more and more. Her image mirrors mine, exactly.

But why search for things beyond our reach, ideas far away from our touch, concepts our minds cannot comprehend - intangible existences? What is the use of it? How do you find something so bright in something so dark? Anais dreams of things she does not know, wishes for things that she will never know. Anais looks for a hidden heaven hiding beyond those stars, looks for a way out of here, looks for a way to escape, looks for a way to leave me. I’m losing my grip on her, losing my grip on my own sister, and while I remain stuck and anchored to the moss covered ground, I can only watch in awe as my sister flies straight into the haven of all of her imaginable desires. Don’t leave me here, Anais, take me with you, let me fly with you - help me fly.

I don’t want to fly. The ground is my nest, the forests my home. The scents of rich soil and budding blossoms give me a sense of completion and wholeness that no city lights or star lights could ever offer. This is my home, and this is where I belong - for only in here, only in the visible and definite parts of the Earth, is where the Sun is allowed to wander. Here, light reaches through between the rough bark and filters through flimsy green curtains of foliage - in here, the light will guide me, and I will never be lost without it.

a b o v e t h e r o o t s

p e r s o n a l i t y

If there is anything that I could ever possibly hate about the woods - it is the darkness that surrounds us at night. The vivid splashes of red, orange, yellow, and pink fade with the setting sun, the bright lights that are supposed to guide me, that are supposed to always be with me, that are supposed to keep me from becoming lost

[/s][/color] lowering themselves into the curve of a hill - until they become no more. It leaves behind a cold shadow, a somber environment, an extinguished candle. Night creeps into the grounds - without all of us even realizing it that is, not realizing it until the abhorred creature blows out the flame of our candles itself. And what are we then? We are vulnerable, defenseless, lost[/i] - We are nothing.

At night, terrific nightmares come out to play with us. The night sky is their playground, and we their victims. They nag at our skin, pull at our hair, scratch at our eyes - until we, too - just like the light - become no more. "Run, Astoria, run!" "What good will running do when you cannot ever escape us?" "Astoria, you are nothing, and you will never become anything." "Run, Astoria, don't dare look behind you." The darkness plays tricks on me when the light isn't there to protect me, the darkness leads me astray - until I am left cold, shuddering, and lost - waiting, waiting, waiting - for daylight to arise and lead me back home. Darkness means a departure, an end, an extinction - death. For what life can thrive in the dark? In the day light, such terrors cease to exist. Light means growth, life, immortality - rebirth.

Out here, birth begins with something so small and so tiny and so obscure that is almost invisible to those who care not to see - a seed. Even the trees, whose roots pummel the Earth's crust and branches scrape against the roof of the never ending sky, originated in the shell of a seed. Nature is beautiful like that - nature has the will to survive, the will to fight against all odds thrown against them, the will to weather all obstacles, the will to stand strong despite all that may occur - nature can grow just from a seed, water, and sunlight. How does something so magnificent and intricate as the patterns on a petal or the points of a thorn sprout from something so simple as a seed? It's a sign, maybe, that something so plain and simple as me can also grow into something so beautiful - because I am no Anais, who glitters with just as much - and maybe even more - light as the incandescent stars. If my twin is the stars, then I must be destined for an alike fate, too, right? If Anais is the stars, then maybe one day I can finally shine as the radiant sun.[/i]

The origins of a plant's life is imprinted into the dainty and slightly yellowed pages of my leather bound note book, whose spine is cracked from over use and edges creased from constant folding and unfolding. My words spill across the page in excited and rushed writing, "Seeds are very diverse in size. The dust-like orchid seeds are the smallest, and some of these seeds spend the first few years of their lives deriving energy from fungi..." Flowers blossom upon a thin green stem, branches of a tree stretch out over horizons, colorful buds swell into plump fruits - all forever captured by the ink of my pen and between the crisp pages of my notebook.

Kindness exfoliates through the roots of Anais' veins, it flows through her blood, spreads through out her skin. She is my twin, but why are we nothing alike? For I am anything but kindness, I am timid, shy, paranoid, scared[/s][/color] a sorry excuse for a human being. [/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

t h e r u n a w a y s e s c a p e

h i s t o r y

The petals of a daisy once opened up to me when I was still a little girl. Mama placed the pot full of something rich and soft and brown, with one small green stem poking through the outer layer. The simplicity of it all contrasted deeply with it's surroundings, something so pure and humane didn't make sense in the artificial and fabricated environment it was thrusted in. My fascination for the plant drove me to the stool by the window sill everyday, staring at the tiny and foreign spud, eyes wide with curiosity. "What is this, mama?" "That, love, is a flower. Have you ever seen something so beautiful before?" I shook my head, no, I haven't. My mother bent down over next to me, resting her elbows on the sill and her prim and delicate fingers carefully pointing at the budding petals and small haired leaves. "All it needs is some water and sunlight, and after that, it'll grow into something more bigger and beautiful than it was before." She turned to me, smiling slightly, poking me in the nose while I laughed. "Sort of like you, sweetie."

The flower was my prized possession, my treasure. The stool became a permanent fix by the window, while I watched the plant grow before my eyes. Sometimes I imagined the seat growing around me, too - just like a plant - it's wooden limbs wounding around my fragile body and wrapping me in thick vines and leaves until I was no more than just another part of Mother Nature herself. When night came to collect me - "Come along, now, Astoria, it's time for bed." "I don't want to go to bed, Mama." "It's time, Astoria." - the soft leaves of the flower seemed to wilt at my departure. Barely audible voices - almost like whispers muffled by a blanket of soil - emerged from the tiny pot, hushed words exchanged between us. "Come back tomorrow, will you, Astoria?" "I will, I will, I promise!" And I did, I kept coming back, and back, and back, and back - until, one day, there was nothing to come back too.

The flower died.

Who knew that something so beautiful could waste away at the hands of Death? The dried up petals shrunk and the long brown stem withered, sinking into the dirt - sinking, sinking, and sinking - until the voices could no longer be heard. I cried so much over the empty pot, cradling it in my tiny hands, the tears bursting forth as if my own sadness could water the plant back to life.

The window sill sat empty. The light shined less. The water ran colder. What good were these things when they supported nothing?

The streets of the city transformed into mere shades of grey - everything dull and lifeless. I wandered the city with glazed eyes, seeing, but never really looking. Things no longer made sense, the tall buildings scraping against the sky, the smell of burnt rubber against a concrete pavement, the sound of pointed heels clicking against polished tiled floors, the taste of the bitter Capitolistic foods. For the first time, I finally realized: humans had lost their humanity.

It began with the weeds poking through the cracks on the side walk. Because, even with the artificial and mocking and synthetic land it was entrapped in - nature still prevailed. This was the beauty of nature, wasn't it? The will to survive despite what may come against it. The fresh greenery was like stubble on my father's chin - short and barely visible against their grey, grey, grey surroundings. "Astoria!" They whispered to me, "Astoria! Run, Astoria! Run!" "Where? Where do you want me to go?" "Run to the forests, Astoria, run to where the Earth is never oppressed!"

[/i] They told me the secrets of the forests, told me how wild life was embedded into every inch of that land, told me how me and my sisters could thrive there, told me how so much more of their kind existed in that world, told me how I belonged in that world. "Run, Astoria, run!"[/i] And I did - we did.

We ran.[/color][/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

c o d e w o r d

odair

c o m m e n t s a n d c o n c e r n s

I got the information about seeds and stuff from wikipedia w00tw00t

NORMAL // 217336
EMPHASIS // 61CC7D
SPEECH // 3ACC61
THOUGHTS // 02631C
HEADINGS // 1C3C27 and 17502A

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You left me in the dark.
No dawn, no day, I’m always in this twilight.

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[chelsey]

FINALLY DONE YAAAAYYY. Astoria is one cray cray girl.

[Rosetta]

This looks beautiful! The only problem is the codeword has only words in it, so no symbols such as dashes (-) or slashes (/) or whatnot. When you have it correct, a little symbol will appear that tells you that it's correct. Also, your writing is gorgeous, but please try to be a little more straight-forward with things such as appearance and personality. I'm not exactly getting a clear picture of those things. Fix that up and your bio will be reviewed again! Thanks!

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[chelsey]

Alright, I fixed the codeword/appearance/personality. Tell me if there's still more I need to add onto!

[Lulu]

Beautiful, accepted!

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