Elijah Harper -- District 10 [DONE]

[chelsey]

Name:
Age: 17
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 10
Appearance:

AARON JOHNSON, MY BABY

Personality:

DREAMER WITH A CAPITOL D, BUT HE BASICALLY, KIND OF, SORTA, REALLY, BUT NOT ACTUALLY HATES HIS FATHER AND DISTRUSTS EVERYONE EXCEPT CORVAN AND ZARIAH

History:

DEAD MOM. LIVES IN FAMOUS ORCHARD TURNED COMMUNITY IN DISTRICT 10.

Codeword:
Comments/Other:

for my dying plot YAY

[chelsey]

the lonely dreamer.

f i r s t a n d l a s t // Elijah Harper

a g e o f f a n t a s i e s // seventeen

a n a t o m y o f s o n s // male

o r c h a r d s a r e h o m e // District 10

t h e m e s o n g // White Blank Page by Mumford and Sons

f a c e c l a i m // Aaron Johnson

t h e p l o t // Julia Orchards

Can you lie next to her
And give her your heart, your heart
As well as your body
And can you lie next to her
And confess your love, your love
As well as your folly

A P P E A R A N C E

Julia, do you remember that old oak piano your grandmother gave you when she died?

You wept in my arms that day, clutching the paper yellowed with time that had carefully stated that the piano was in your possession now that she passed. The tears seeped into my the fabric of my shirt, cleansing it with your sorrows and dampening the part where my skin touched the cloth. "I just can't believe she's gone, Felix." You murmured in between sobs, your head buried in the nook between my neck and shoulder. "I sometimes wake up, and think she'll still be here."

Julia, sometimes I wake up, and think you'll still be here.

Your boy looks more like you than he does me, you know that don't you? When he was small, he'd go up to that piano, his little feet dangling a good few inches over the bench as his tiny fingers skimmed over the white ivory keys. You never learned how to play, now did you Julia? Except for your grandmother, no one in the District ever really knew either, so who could've even taught you? But, you loved that piano like how you loved summer afternoons and the smell of fresh baked apples and the way moist soil felt against bare feet. I'd say if you were ever thrown into an Arena, you'd sure as hell find a way to bring that damn piano with you. Your fingers hopped over black keys and skimmed the surfaces of the smooth white ones, and sometimes there'd be days where you'd take a seat before the ancient instrument and glide your hands over the aged surface, singing along while your hands smashed into notes and crescendos that you never really understood - and I'd laugh, Julia, as I was seated by your feet. Your brown hair became honey from the sunlight that filtered through the window and your smile shined like gold, and your voice, especially, fell nothing short of imperfect - but I swear, love, that I could listen to you sing for days and days and still crave for more.

Elijah, he's a silly one, that kid, but he looks exactly like you. From his brown, curly locks that turns to honey in the sunlight, to his blue eyes that turns green in the fall. And when he smiles Julia - God, I wish you could see it - because he smiles brighter than gold. Everything about him reminds me of you.

Julia, would you forgive me if I told you that I punished our Elijah for something he didn't deserve? He was only six, darling, and by then he'd already forgotten he'd ever even had a mother. The Orchards were still under construction, but the piano was in the house I built, already, and Elijah loved those days where I let him crawl into my lap and curiously press the keys while his fingers roamed the unknown territories. Oh God, Julia, he reminded me so goddamn much of you. And then, one day, he smashed the piano. Darling, the piano was already old and worn out and falling to pieces as it was, and he knocked out one of the white keys as his little fist connected to the piano.

[/s]

I think that's the day he noticed something was wrong with his daddy.

I was painting walls, then, and the paint was dirt cheap and even after a few good layers the color still never seemed to stick. Today, Julia, those walls are still unfinished, although I'm not really sure if it's cause of the lack of extra paint I had or just cause of the events that ensued. I grabbed our boy by the collar, Julia, leaned my face a breath away from his and screamed at him [/color]("Don't you ever dare touch this goddamn piano again, Elijah! You hear me boy?! Don't you goddamn dare!") oh darling, how loud my screams must've pierced his ears. He didn't understand what those curse words meant back then, but he must've known that they weren't good. His bottom lip quivered and his eyes flooded with tears as wails bursted from his mouth. But my fists balled the fabric of his small cotton t-shirt, shaking his fragile frame as scream after scream poured from my mouth.

Nothing was ever right, since then, Julia, our boy never looked at me quite the same after that. Always cautious, careful, and - it kills me to say - angry. He's tall now, darling, taller than me - ha! - can you believe how our kid grows? It's amazing really. He's also gotten very strong, I swear I gotta buy that boy a new closet because the muscles he's gained from running around The Orchards are bulging through the thin fabric of his shirt. He's bronzed, a little, too, because of how much time he spends outside. Christ, Julia, if only you saw him today. He looks just like you, Jules, exactly like you.

But whenever I see him, Julia, my mind always drifts back to the boy who wept as his father - his daddy - shattered his young purity. ("Get outta here, Elijah, get out now!")

He never did touch that piano again.[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

P E R S O N A L I T Y

I know, Julia, I know that you hate the fact that I don't talk to our child. That me and Elijah - we're not even father and son anymore - darling, we've turned into strangers. I don't know what to say to him, this boy who speaks like you and thinks like you and looks like you (this boy who never even knew you and yet mirrors all that you ever were). After the people came piling in, I stopped. I just stopped. Our boy, sweetheart, didn't need me anymore now that he had all of them, come to think of it, I don't think he ever really needed me to begin with. And so I locked myself behind the oak door of my study, where I could be weak, and vulnerable, and crumble - and no one would ever know. Though that's not entirely true, now is it sweetie? I think they've all must've cracked my secret by now, and know that I talk to you in that room. But, there's so many good people in these Orchards nowadays, sweetie, so don't worry about him, cause he's always surrounded by good company. Helena and John take good care of him; Nana, too, especially. Treats him as if he's one of their own - treats him better than I ever could. Maybe I should feel guilty for being this way, for never being a good father. But, I'm numb, Jules. You made me numb

He was fourteen the day he told me he hated me.

It was winter, and the snow battered at my study's window as a warm fire crackled in it's ashy hearth. Old books with cracked spines filled the battered wooden shelves that covered the walls of my study, and in the middle of the room was a frayed red rug that's lost it's color, but it was soft and durable. I sat at my desk, speaking to you about how The Orchards thrived off of our fall crops, staring at you through the glassy surface of a frame that held our one wedding photo. One, two, three knocks at the door and I sighed and told the bearer to come in.

Elijah, his jacket damp with melted snow and the tip of his nose red while the rest of his face white, entered, gently closing the door behind him before turning to me. I hadn't seen the boy in a few weeks, (he was always out while I kept to the confines of my study) and a small smile lifted at the corner of my lips. He didn't return the smile.

"Who're you talking to, dad?"

"Elijah! Just the boy I wanted to see. Julia, see how our son's grown?" He glanced around, as if confused, and looked back at me. "Well, don't just stand there, Elijah, come greet your mother!"

His face hardened as he took a step closer to my desk. "My mother's dead." My smile twitched. "Who are you talking to, dad?"

"Jules, look at your boy! All grown up already!"

"My mother is dead, you know that dad, she's fucking dead."

"He's got quite a mouth on him, honey, probably inherited that from me," I threw my head back and laughed.

"Look at me, dad, at me! Listen to me, for once in your life, will you just listen to me?!"

"Darling, you won't mind reminding me later to fix those leaks in the pipes later on, will you? Nana's been nagging lately and -"

"You're fucking crazy!"

"- I think I better get started on patching them up."

He stepped closer to my desk, then, his fists balled up tightly by his sides. "You know, dad," He said, speaking over me as I talked to the photo of you. "I'm exactly like you. I shut people out. I don't trust others, I can't trust others. And, I'm scared to love, so goddamn scared, dad. But, you know who made me this way?"

"Julia, it's gonna be a cold winter this year, I ought to buy a few more wool jackets for some of the other kids and maybe -"

"You did. You made me this way. "

"Nana or even Helena could knit a few scarves, but Helena never really enjoyed doing that work, oh, darling, remember that scarf you knitted me as a present once? It was lovely, thank you, I wonder if I still have it. . ." When I looked up, Elijah was staring down at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Oh. Elijah, you're still here? Julia look how our son's grown! Come say hi to your mother, Elijah -"

I'm jolted back to the day when Elijah's tiny fists knocked off one of the keys of your piano, except this day, his fist connects with the glass frame that contains the photo of our wedding day and glass crashes to the wooden floor and, I swear, I can hear every crack and shatter as it lands and the loud beating of Elijah's heart as the veins in his neck pulse out with anger and hatred and -

[/i]

"I hate you."

I didn't see our boy for months.

I don't blame him for hating me, sweetie, I really don't. Don't be so distraught with him, because the fault is all on me, and we both know that. To be honest, I think I hate myself too. The only reason to love myself was because of you, darling, and now that you're gone. . .

He doesn't talk a lot, from what I've heard. Nana tells me he only talks to Corvan and Zariah, and stays silent to the other kids unless asked something. "Probably shy is all, Felix," Nana says, but I know better. Elijah isn't shy, he's a boy hung up on bitter distrust and insecurity - because if he can't even trust his own father, who can he trust?

Corvan is a bad influence on him, I think. More than once Helena's caught them getting in trouble with the law, the boys creating chaos and havoc almost everywhere they go. They enjoy that adrenaline rush of pushing past boundaries, of creating their own rules, of going against what's "legal" and "illegal." Elijah, he craves danger - solely needs it - like how his lungs need oxygen. He needs it to live.

There's a fine line between danger and dangerous - and, Julia, our son is definitely not the latter. He's kind when need be, helpful when asked, not the smartest or wittiest in The Orchards and definitely not the most patient, but I assure you, Jules, that our son's a good boy. He sure as hell is different, but he's good.

Oh, but best of all, Jules - our boy's a dreamer.

I can see it in the way his eyes glisten against starlight, or the way his lips purse when he blows out the wisps of a dandelion. His blood runs through his veins like streams of silver and his heart pumps out beams of sunlight. And when he runs down these grassy plains, he must dream that feathered wings sprout at the heels of his feet and - off he goes - he can take flight. He must dream of flying through summer painted sunsets, of diving down cliffs and plunging into crystal clear oceans, and with a smile he'll emerge from the waters, lapping up the sweet seas before drying his wings and taking flight again. He must dream of leaving this place behind.

But, most of all Julia, I think he dreams of finally having a real family. And I am so, so, so sorry that I will never be able to give that to him.[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

H I S T O R Y

I was a dreamer, once.

Julia, I had a lot of dreams back then. I dreamt of getting a new bicycle, or of becoming the team captain for the wrestling team at school, or of being able to have a cake to celebrate my birthday. But, mostly darling, I dreamt of you. I had a dream for you - the rich merchant's daughter who would never notice me, the poor farmer's son. But when your daddy met my daddy and, together, created a business partnership to last a lifetime - my dream flourished. Oh, your daddy would've sent me to live on the streets had he known that almost every night I'd throw rocks at your window and beg you to come down (And each time you'd say, "Go home, Felix," with that smile that I loved plastered on your face, and each time I'd say, "Julia, I think I'm in love," and that'd make you laugh and roll your eyes because I wasn't the first to say it and then you'd always leave me after that, until one night right before you closed the window I told you, "I really am in love with you, Jules,"

[/b] and then you smiled - really smiled - and I smiled too and we just stared at each other for a real long time, and how much I wanted to climb the vines laced up the brick walls of your house and just kiss you right then and there, but then you whispered, [/color]"I'll be right down," and closed the window gently)[/i][/color]. And we'd sneak past the fields of corn and wheat that your daddy produced and my daddy planted and enter a world that became ours - the abandoned apple orchards.

The place was full of dead grass and withering branches that fell to the ground with a sick thump, and I was scared going there first, but you dragged me along until we were resting in the middle of a field surrounded by dead trees and it all seemed so beautiful. It was beautiful because it was ours - because that lack of life gave us the opportunity to fill it's blank canvas with color, passion, and - best of all - dreams.[/b][/color]

Cause that's all we ever really were, Julia. Two lovers caught up in their own dreams.

I remember that sweet summer day where we lay on that certain patch of grass (which had miraculously turned green over the year, and you told me because it was "Watered with our love, Felix," and I just kissed your forehead thoughtfully because you couldn't have been more true)[/i] and you rested your head on my stomach, your face turned upwards as you watched the clouds and dug into the warm soil beneath you while my hands braided your honey-turned hair. We had stolen a few strands of licorice from the candy shop while the clerk wasn't paying attention and dashed right out of there once he caught us and waved his fists at our retreating forms, his livid shouts inaudible under our loud laughs. I could still taste the sweet delicacy lingering on my tongue as you looked up at me with a small smile. "Felix," you said, "We're gonna buy this place, one day."

I laughed as my fingers brushed a strand of silky hair behind your ear. "Sure are."

You lifted your head and craned it so you could give me a look, resting your upper body weight on your elbows. You must've thought I was being sarcastic, cause next you told me, "No, Felix, I mean it. We're gonna buy this place."

The determination laced through your face made me want to grab your face between my hands and kiss you, but instead I told you, "Okay, Jules, okay. Whatever you say, we do."

And that must've satisfied you because a content smile settled on your face and you lay back down, folding your hands over your stomach as my hands continued to brush through your hair. "We’ll buy this abandoned farm after we’ve passed Reaping age." You said after a bit of silence. "We’ll raise a family here, with two dogs and one cat. We’ll build a house, right here," And the palms of your hand thumped the ground we laid on as my left hand found it's way to yours, while my other reached out for the sky, my index finger painting out your words as you spoke - as if I could carve our destiny, right then and there, and make it solid - permanent[/b] - just by tracing it into the sun and clouds. [/color]"Filled with more rooms than both our fingers can count, and anyone can come here and stay - as long as they help the farm to thrive. As long as they do their part, they can stay as long as they want. Forever, even.”

You must've known it was a silly idea, Julia, a dream brought on by the fading rush of adrenaline from stealing red licorice and the excitement of summer filled kisses and smiles. But that dream was so bright, Julia, and as each passing word left your lips that dream seemed to grow even brighter between us - brighter, and brighter, and b r i g h t e r, a n d b r i g h t e r . . .

Once you became pregnant, we married and abandoned our silly dreams in hopes of pursuing a new one - raising a family. You wanted a big one, Julia, you liked the idea of little hands grasping onto your fingers or a mob of quiet footsteps following yours or having that magical ability to wash away tears and kiss away boo-boos. Elijah was born and as I cradled his tiny body in my arms, cooing as proud tears rolled down my cheeks, you touched my arm and I looked up. Your hair was frizzled from the painstaking hours of labor and your face sheen with sweat and your eyes tired from lack of sleep, but that smile, Jules, it still shined like gold. "You're gonna be a great father, Felix." You whispered, and I smiled through my tears and bent over to kiss the crown of your head.

It was a year after Elijah that you asked me for more. "I've had a lot of dreams in my lifetime, Felix," You sighed happily as you rocked on our porch swing, holding Elijah in your arms as he slowly fell asleep to the sway of your two bodies.

"I'm well aware of that," I chuckled, taking a seat next to you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

You met my eyes and smiled a small smile. "I think I have a new dream."

"And what's that?"

"I want Elijah to have a baby sister."

Elijah stirred in his sleep at his name, as if telling us that - even though his vocabulary was still limited - he agreed with his mommy. And, I couldn't have agreed more. "You sure, though, Jules?" "Positive." And it was always, "Okay, Julia, okay. Whatever you say, we do."

You know, Julia, I love you, you know that right? But I will never forgive you for leaving us.

The day you died Elijah was just two - motherless, and without siblings. I couldn't stand to be around our child, darling, couldn't stand listening to him cry for "Momma! Momma! I want Momma!" "She isn't ever coming back, Elijah, she's gone, don't you understand?!" And he cried into the night when I left him alone in his crib, because, no, no he did not understand, and maybe he never really would.[/i] And his cries would echo through the empty house as I laid down on the ragged couch that night, head sinking into a stiff pillow as my tears flooded our home.

My father died a few months after you, Julia, but we all already saw that coming. He was sick, already, and as I stood by his death bed, his hands clasped in mine - I knew his time was dwindling into zeros. He looked me in the eye as he gasped for his last breaths, struggling to speak - "F-Felix, you. . . you can't-" He never did get to finish his last sentence.

My tears flowed thoughtlessly, and - yet - I was immune to the pain, Jules. I was immune because the greatest pain I'd have ever felt was already spent on you. I inherited the riches he made by collaborating with your father, but the check sat lonely in our home-turned-wreck's kitchen, like a dead leaf resting on the counter. Money lost any meaning for me, what good was money when it couldn't keep you alive? Because, if money had the power to resurrect, darling I'd pay thousands of thousands and waste away with debt if that meant you'd return to me. If that meant I could make your dreams come back to life -

And, this thought, my love, is what created Julia Orchards.

Julia, I bought the abandoned orchards. With the money my father left, I bought the land, and from some pleading with your father, we rebuilt the farms. ("Okay. Okay, I'll do it. I'll give you the money for my baby girl, Felix." Your father told me in his office the day I came to ask for a loan. It took thirty minutes of explaining and persuading to get him to change his mind. He had his head in hands when he spoke, his elbows resting on the edge of his old wooden desk. I imagined he was crying. "Whatever she said, we'll do. Just promise me that." His familiar words clogged my throat and I could only nod as I stared at him with teary eyes.)[/i][/color] It took silent years of dedication to restore it back to health - until all the grass was green again and until the apple trees thrived and until the house I built was shackled and nailed down. The house was just as you said it'd be, "filled with more rooms than both our fingers can count." But it was empty, Jules, so, so empty (how I craved for your touch every night, yearned for your warmth and what I'd give to hold you one last time, Jules, just one last time)[/i]. Elijah lived those first few years in The Orchards alone, while I rotted away in the too-large-and-too-empty house, he roamed the rows and rows of trees alone as if searching for something out of reach - something intangible - as if searching for you.

The people who snuck into Julia Orchards came sneakily at first - slowly, one by one. They were lost people, Jules, you would've loved them. [/color]Lost people looking for a home. Nana was first (no one really calls her by her first name, darling, we all just call her Nana, and Nana only), and I suppose Nana had a friend, who had a friend, who had a friend, who had a friend, who had a . . .

Some people stayed and some didn't. They were weird people, Julia, weird people with weird occupations and weird dreams - but don't worry, love, I welcomed them all, cause you would've welcomed them all. Our son, darling, grew up raised by the residents of this orchard-turned-community, never lacking in love or affection, but somehow always lacking in the concept of parents. (Look, Jules, I'm sorry I abandoned our son, but you gotta understand honey, I can't do this without you.)[/i][/color]

Julia, honey, your orchards became a popular place in the District. We became a region talked about with great charm and admiration, even locals began to nickname us "Julia", and just "Julia."It became a home built of dreams upon dreams, a community within a community - a village of individuals who helped and that was all. No one tried to convert anyone to anything. Some cooked meals, some cleaned the house, some raised the live stock, some tended to the apple orchards. But everyone, not some, did something. But, it didn't matter what they did or for how long they stayed, as long as they helped to contribute to your dream Julia, they were always welcomed.

Sweetie, our boy got those siblings you dreamt for. He found them here, in your Orchards, found them in Corvan, and Zariah, and Esme, and Gwen, and Elias, and Jordan, and Raven, and Odell, and Branden, and Simon. . . The list goes on, darling, it goes on and on.

And with that list going on and on, my dear Julia, so do you.

So do you.[/justify][/blockquote][/blockquote]

A white blank page
And a swelling rage, rage
You did not think
When you sent me to the brink, the brink
You desired my attention
But denied my affections, my affections

c o d e w o r d

O-DAIR

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

Aaron Johnson faceclaim is already worked out between me and the current person whose claimed him. also can we all just admire the fact that Aaron is playing Elijah and Elijah's mother's name is Julia and Aaron played John in Nowhere Boy whose mother's name was also Julia omg fangirl moment.

Also, I'm definitely imagining Ramin Karimloo as Felix and Sierra Boggess as Julia, nbd. ugh just had to point that out because IT'S ALL SO PERFECT OKAY MORE FANGIRLING WOW

oh gosh and another side note wow this is a long comments/concerns this is hugely inspired by Martha McPhee who wrote the book L'America go read it, it's brilliant and tempted me to write this.

[/justify]

NORMAL // 54495c
EMPHASIS // 402f4d
SPEECH // decca0
THOUGHTS // b8a984
HEADINGS // 6e5962 and d1c0b0

[/size]

CAN YOU KNEEL BEFORE THE KING AND SAY

i'm clean.[/color][/font][/I][/center][/size]

[chelsey]

DONE ~

[✨]

PERFECT<3