MERIWEATHER WYNNS - D6

[Raseri]

Name: Meriweather Thomas Wynns
Age: 16
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 6
Appearance:

k so try not to die from the hotness

Personality:

i think too much
look i'm sensitive boo hoo
i play lots of instruments nbd
poetry is cool
no one likes me cuz i'm weird
and prolly cuz i talk to myself sometimes

History:

my brother taught me how to wrestle
I have a sister too but she's not as cool
I don't have that many friends but oh well
oh yeah and theres all that drug stuff that happened about a year ago

Codeword: <img src="http://i41.tinypic.com/16h2ibt.png">
Comments/Other:

[Raseri]

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hello darkness my old friend
I've come to talk with you again
because a vision softly creeping
left its seeds while I
was sleeping

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❄{name}❄ meriweather thomas wynns
❄{nickname}❄ meri
❄{age}❄ sixteen
❄{district}❄ six
❄{gender}❄ male
❄{sexuality}❄ undetermined

in restless dreams I walked alone
narrow streets of cobblestone
'neath the halo of a streetlamp
I turned my collar to the cold
and damp

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♪ ♫ || A P P E A R A N C E || ♫ ♪

When I look in the mirror, I like the boy I see. I'm not sure why--there's nothing particularly special about my appearance, nothing that really makes me stand out against the black-and-white background of District Six. But when I wake up in the morning and shuffle to the bathroom to comb my hair, my reflection never gives me a bad feeling. I can smile at it and think, That's Meriweather Wynns.[/color] I can look it in the eye and say, "Good morning, Meri. You look nice today."

Although I'm tall, I'm not particularly muscular--in fact, you could probably call me skinny, bony, wiry. My shoulders aren't wide enough for a boy my height, and truthfully, I wouldn't weight much more than 130 pounds even if you doused me in water before I touched a scale. A decent Career could probably snap my femurs in half if he or she wanted to, but thankfully we have a considerable lack of those in District Six. My lack of bulk will probably only matter if I'm Reaped, so let's just hope that never happens.

An enormous mess of soft brown hair has swallowed most of my head. It looks like a giant, upside-down, feathered bird nest, but I kind of like it. I always manage to comb it in the exact way I want to, which is usually to the side in a bowl shape unless I'm feeling adventurous and decide to spike it up. Since it's so long, I've been told I look like a girl. But I've learned not to pay much attention to the things other people say about me.

My eyes are a sort of blue-grey color, like those thick storm clouds that always make you think, Man, it's gonna rain at any second. I guess they're a bit deceiving in a sense, because my eyes hardly ever look stormy unless I'm really angry, which doesn't happen a lot. Then again, I do cry fairly often, which is kind of like rain, so I guess it could make sense.

I'm told that I have a baby face, and I have to agree. I wouldn't say my cheeks are particularly chubby, but they have a fullness to them that makes me look younger than I am. Even though I'm sixteen, I've never had to shave, so a hundred freckles dot my face in the place of stubble. I've also got thin eyebrows that give my face a very feminine look. It used to bother me, but I've learned to accept that some boys look more manly than others, ans I'm just not one of those boys.

and in the naked light I saw
ten thousand people maybe more
people talking without speaking
people hearing without listening
people writing songs that voices never share

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♪ ♫ || P E R S O N A L I T Y || ♫ ♪

I think I can safely say that I'm an intelligent person. I've always gotten good grades in school, and I'm told I have an excellent vocabulary compared to a lot of kids my age. But my mother says I think too much; I tend to think too hard about things that most people don't pay much attention to. Like this one time, I saw a sparrow outside, and I wondered what it had been doing all day before it perched in that tree. Then I started to wonder if it had a family, and if it struggled to feed its chicks or if it could find enough worms every day. I wondered who its parents were, and who its grandparents were, and if the other birds liked it. Did it have a crush on another bird? I wanted to know why it was alone. Did it have any friends, or was it an outcast, rejected by the rest of the sparrow population?

When I thought about that, I began to cry. I wasn't completely sure why--maybe I was just afraid that the bird had no one to talk to. Later on, I felt stupid, because everyone knows that birds don't talk. Sometimes that happens to me--I start thinking, and then I start crying about the littlest things. There have even been times when I've cried because someone else was crying. Mom says I'm just a sensitive person, and that it's not a bad thing. But she also says that I should stop thinking so much and spend more time living.

Outside of my own home, I'm usually very quiet. I don't talk much to the other kids in school unless I'm spoken to, so I guess it's no surprise that I don't have many close friends. Most of my peers tend to avoid me, though--maybe because they think I'm strange. And maybe they're right. But truthfully, I think I just look at the world a lot differently than most people, which probably comes from thinking too much about little things like sparrows and their families. I don't ever feel like I'm different from anyone else my age, but when I think about it, I realize it's true. I mean, I don't know any other sixteen-year-old boys that cry at the drop of a hat, and judging by peoples' reactions, it's not 'normal' to think as much as I do about dumb, unimportant stuff.

I really don't know why people wouldn't want to be friends with me; I'm friendly, and I'm a really good listener. Anyways, since I don't have any many friends, it's usually hard for me to find people to talk to and share my feelings with. Thankfully, I discovered music at a young age. I spend most of my free time playing the violin (which is a very good thing to do while thinking, by the way) and writing songs. I'm not really all that good at anything writing poetry, but sometimes it helps to just write down what I'm feeling on a piece of paper. It's almost like having someone to talk to, only I have the option of turning it into music if I want to.

'fools,' said I, 'you do not know'
silence like a cancer grows
hear my words that I might teach you
take my arms that I might reach you
but my words like silent raindrops fell and echoed

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♪ ♫ || H I S T O R Y || ♫ ♪

I was born into a lower-middle class family in District 6. My parents and my older brother are medics, and they’ve always managed to put food on the table, so no kid in my family has ever needed to sign up for tesserae. My sister and brother both have solid jobs, but I haven’t been able to find one that suits me just yet, and I’m not much of a medic. I jump from job to job so frequently that I hardly make any money, but no one really gets that upset at me for it; I’m the baby of the family, and I’ve always been treated as such.

While I was growing up, the neighborhood kids tended to stay away from me. They thought I wasn't 'all there,' like I wasn't quite right in the head. But I accepted at a young age that I thought differently than most of the children my age. My Dad used to worry about me, because when I was little I used to kiss this one boy a lot. I've heard recently that it's natural for little boys to experiment like that, but I'm not even sure that was what I was doing. I've always believed that love is love, no matter which gender is loving which, and I think that's probably what I had been thinking while I kissed that boy.

When I was around twelve, I got bullied a lot, but that came to an abrupt end when my brother began teaching me how to fight. Although I'm noticeably lacking in muscle bulk, I'm small and quick on my feet, and I know how to throw a punch. There have been fistfights at my school before where I've seen kids just blindly swinging their arms at each other, and I am not one of those kids. Anyways, I was walking home from school one day when I was about fourteen and a few members of the usual bullying party decided to surround me. They thought they'd be able to give me a few bruises before the neighbors saw anything, but they never got the chance. It happened so fast that I don't really remember what I did, but I do remember that one boy ended up with a broken nose, one had a black eye, and the other one was on the ground clutching his leg. Oddly enough, no one ever tried to beat me up after that.

About a year ago, I started hanging out with a kid named Haven. He was sort of an outcast, like me. Anyways, he managed to find this stuff called marijuana--which he called "grass" for some reason--and we started to smoke it together. It always felt so good, like all the gravity disappeared, and I felt so happy. I don't really know how else to describe it. It even made me stop thinking so much. And afterwards, everything I ate tasted so good. So pretty soon I ended up eating too much food, and my parents were getting worried. They confronted me about it one day, but I didn't tell them about the "grass" because Haven said it was supposed to be a secret. Then one day, I just quit smoking it. I guess I was scared--scared that I was doing a bad thing (because if it was a good thing, wouldn't I be able to tell my parents about it?), and scared that I would get in trouble. I stopped hanging around Haven, too, because I didn't want his feelings to be hurt by my decision. That made me cry a lot, but I got over it eventually.

I got my first job when I was fifteen, at a bakery (because I'm not that good at anything related to the field of medicine). I eventually got fired quit because the manager kept yelling at me for staring out the window instead of working--there was this really pretty tree outside his window, and I loved to look at it and wonder how many little birds and squirrels and bugs and things had made that tree their home. Since then, I've been doing odd jobs wherever I can find them, trying my best to contribute to the family income.

Even though two children are killed off each year in the Capitol, I never really think too hard about the Hunger Games. Maybe it's because I try not to think of depressing things like that. Or maybe it's because if I did start to think about it, I would begin to really think about it in great depth just like I do everything else, and that would definitely make me upset. But really, I don't think I have a very good chance of being chosen in the Reaping. If by some chance I do end up going to the Capitol, however, I think I'd do my best to try and win. Hopefully, though, I'll never have to use my fist-fighting skills for anything except fending off bullies.

and the people bowed and prayed
to the neon god they made
and the sign flashed out its warning
in the words that it was forming, and the sign said,
'the words of the prophets are written on the subway walls
and tenement halls'

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❄{ooc}❄

❄{name}❄ raseri
❄{age}❄ fourteen
❄{gender}❄ female
❄{roleplaying experience}❄ almost two years
❄{other characters}❄ character directory
❄{other}❄ haha sorry I can never seem to end these things right >.>

thinking, doing, hearing, saying, other

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[Raseri]

done ^^

[pika]

Beautiful <3

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