Katrina Ivansoka // D5 \\ FINISHED

[Ella]

Name: Katrina Ivansoka

Age: Thirteen forever and always

Gender: Female

District/Area: District 5. Full of the red-headed power-hungry freaks

Appearance:

Red hair, gray eyes, light pink lips, pointy nose

Personality:

Fiery, smart, blind, 

History:

mom, dad, a sister, poor, 

Codeword: Odair

Other:

[Ella]

O D A I R  I T  I S

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KATRINA IVANSOKA
DISTRICT5 | THIRTEEN | FEMALE

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I don't know. How should I? "It's you. You can tell." This is my best guess, really. I have orange-red hair. The color of a vibrant, bright orange sunset. It goes down to my elbows (That part I know, I can still feel) and it's always messy and tangly. My appearance has never bothered me, as I can't see it. "So far so good. Keep going". My eyes are a light gray, kind of blueish. But sky blueish. They have pitch black dots in the center of the sky blue that change size, taking up the beautiful colors that make my eyes. Good, good. My lips are... light pink. They nearly never pull up, as I can't see anything that makes me laugh. Jokes are never very funny to me, but occasionally they make me laugh. Everybody needs to laugh, even when something isn't funny.

"Correct, Kat. Now what about your body?" Well this I can feel. I have a thin body and I'm a few feet tall. "How many?" A towering 5'0. I'm the tallest one in my village. My home. My imagination. I'm as tall as the tallest Capitol building. In my dreams. In reality, I'm probably short. Short and small. I can't compare. Taller then the clouds. My hands can reach through the highest of all the clouds, the king of clouds, and pick up the sun, illuminating my vision, even if not to the real world. The real world is overrated. It's full of sadness and sorrow. Pain and loss. I have none of that in my village. My village is full of happiness. Joy and fun. I have pale skin, well, I have skin a bit darker then pale.

I'm fiery. Like my "fiery" hair. People make me mad... even if they're being nice to me. I don't hurt them when I'm mad, or anything like that, I just storm off dramatically. Of course, occasionally that dramatic part is ruined by me bumping into something or going the wrong way. Also, when there's something I believe in or something like that, I won't give up on making it happen. I'll try until I die. Oh hey, that rhymes. It sometimes gets the best of me, though and I work a bit to hard for it.

I have a big brain full of lot's of knowledge. On my bedroom floor, are little scribbles representing letters. I feel them and I can read. Write. Nobody else knows what they mean, though. So I can write all the hatred I like without people finding out and telling on me. My knowledge seeps through me and comes out of my hands and mouth. It makes people jealous, though I can never tell when they are jealous, people just tell me.

My imagination is my life. It's where I live. Not in reality. Well, I do, but mostly in my village. My small village filled with happiness. I'm the "fearless leader" and hero. That's how I imagine myself. Because hey, why not? There's nobody to tell me not to. Some people I'm oblivious to the world around me, and naive. It's true, I guess, I'll admit it. In the middle of a conversation, somebody in my village might shout to me and I'll zone out to talk to them, completely ignoring the other person. Even in the middle of a sentence. Village comes first. Always. No matter how fake it is. Not at all. I love to talk, though. Meeting new people and stuff. Not many people are willing to give me a chance, though.

Where to start? I was born and raised in a middle-class District 5 family to Lydia and Matthew Ivanasoka. They loved me, very much. I have 4 older brothers and a younger sister. My sister is six, right now, and my brothers are fifteen, two of them are sixteen years old, twins, and eighteen. They bullied me a bit, though. Funny, considering they're my brothers. My brothers loved me, though. Somewhere in there small hearts deep down, I'm loved. I had a best friend, Jazzy. We were with each other all the time. But when I was about 8, she died from a small house fire. It was my fault, really. If I let her come to my house that fateful morning she'd still be alive and breathing.

I wasn't blind my whole life, ya know. It happened when I was 3 years old. It's hard to remember it, though, as that was years ago. 10, to be exact if you can't do math. The last thing I remember, though, is my mother worriedly looking over at me, her long red hair That's where I get mine flowing down her shoulders as she kneels down. Then the whole world went black, and I haven't seen anything since.

"Go meet somebody! There are a bunch of kids your age out there, wanting to play with you!" mother would always tell me. I was fine with just staying where I was though, in my bedroom. They always made fun of me, and whats the fun in that? Jazzy would've played with me, and wouldn't have made fun of me. I spent my whole life in my bedroom, basically. I rarely left, except for school and meals and stuff like that. "They don't want me, mom." I'd always reply. Every time. I wasn't lying, as it was true. They didn't want me to play, so I sat. And sat. And sat. Writing, sitting, eating, sleeping, pooping. Cycle of life, right there.

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template by chelsey

[Ella]

Finished her!!!! Sorry if I'm not allowed to make her blind and stuff... BUT YA IM FINISHED I THINK

[Sunrise Rainier D2 // [Thundy]]

Accepted!