Re: . soyala delaire | district 1

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Soyala Delaire

Meaning of Soyala -- Winter Solstice
Meaning of Delaire -- Of the Air

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Age: 12 Years Old
Now 13.
Now 14.
Now 15.

Gender: I am a Female.

District/Area: I reside in District 1.

Appearance:

I, Soyala Delaire, reside in District 1. And I, Soyala Delaire, am 12 years old. And with that, as I am Soyala Delaire, comes a small height. I am only but 4 foot, 6 inches, and I am not cute. Not matter what my near-predecessors may state. My height is nothing, nothing to be reckoned with, because it makes me sad, and when I, being Soyala Delaire am sad, I am mad. Mad at the world, or so, the ones that inhabit, live on it. You know what that means, right guys? That means I'm always mad. Always. Unless that is, I'm close to the sky. You see, the sky, it's like the family I never had. Like the mother that never ceases to make me happy. And if you haven't thought of it yet, since my height is barely even above dwarfism, I'm further away from the sky. I'm further away from my mother. And in turn, that makes me sad, and you know what that means... It makes me mad. And so I'm a happy person, right?

Oh, and then there's my hair. Then there's Soyala Delaire's hair. I adore my hair, I do. I run my fingers through it all the day, unless I'm using them to climb a tree to get closer to my mother, who's name is Sky. It's brown, it's silky, and it reminds me of water, flowing down moss covered rocks. Oh, and it's long. Really long. Long as in, down to the middle of back long. I don't care though, it gives me more to run my fingers through. In fact, I don't even care that it gets caught up in tree branches, and I don't care that it sometimes gets caught in doors, because I know that is still loves me. It just has accidents sometimes. Isn't that right, Hair?

Oh no.. now you wish me, being Soyala Delaire, to talk about my body? I'm only 12, please don't let this... affect yourself in anyway.

I'm quite a skinny girl, pencil thin, really, and I wished that I had more meat on my bones. It's just that Sky wants me to remain skinny. I can't help it though, because despite being the youngest Career that I know, I barely get anything to eat. Anything. Mother doesn't like to feed me, only once in a while does she send a little bit of water down here to the lakes and let me catch a few fish. She's nice to me, really nice, it's just that she doesn't want me to get fat like some of the people around here..

Other than me being skinny, I've already told you that I'm short, and I'll say right now that you won't find a single hair on my body except for my eyebrows and the hair that sits atop my head. That's why I love my hair so much, because it's the only hair I have, other than that in my nose.. but who wants to run their fingers through that? Not me. So yeah, now that you've forced that out of me, I think I'll leave it at me being skinny, me being hairless, and me, being Soyala Delaire, has barely any muscle on her body.

And so with that, we move on to my clothes. My clothes. They're not yours, and you're not to touch them. The only people that touches these things are my mother, who occasionally blows on them or sends water down on them, and me. They're mine. The pale, very pale, yellow shirt that I wear is mine, the green, corduroy pair of shorts are mine, and the small, pair of white, broken tennis shoes are mine.

Mine.

And along with that is the small, sky blue, dress that I carry in a bag for special occasions. I love that small sky blue dress with white polka dots. I absolutely love it. It was a gift from Mom, who sent it down to me. We'll get to that later though. But the point is, the sky blue, polka dotted dress, is mine. And no one, definitely NO ONE will touch it. Only me, and only Mother, whom I love so dearly.

And there are, yes, Soyala Delaire's, eyes. The little green things that always look up at the sky. I don't really like my eyes, because they're too much like the ground that others love to stomp upon. I suppose they're pretty though. At least I think so. I mean, I guess they can see really good, and I guess that I get lost in them sometimes when I'm staring into a reflection into a puddle, but I still don't really like them. I deal with them though, and that's all that matters, right? It's not like I have anyone to change the color of them, it's not like I'm rich, and it's not like I have a family to turn to for things like that. I have my mother, who lives way above me, and that's it. As much as she loves me, she can't change the color of my eyes, and so she tells me how pretty they are, which makes me happy.

Finally, finally we get to my face. The cute, little, narrow thing that others fall in love with. But guess what? It's not cute. It's not pretty. It's not ugly. It's a face. So deal with it. There's no need for rude people to tell me all the time, "Aw, you're so cute!" It pisses me off, pardon my French. Or whatever language that is. But it does. I am a 12 year old girl, and I have a face, so be it. There isn't, isn't a need to come up with excuses as to why you like my face. It's just a face. That's it. If you like it enough, why don't you do me a favor? Give me a home. Don't sit there and ignore the fact that I'm homeless and go on and on about how you think my face is "cute" or "pretty".

It's just a face, that's it.
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Personality:

Hi, I'm Soyala Delaire, and the sky is my mother. She comforts me when I'm sad, she laughs when I laugh, she cries when I cry, she lifts me up when I need lifting, and she loves me. She helps me make it through life. We both are one another's life lines, if one of us dies, the other does too, so that we're never apart. And I talk to her, just as she talks to me. We have conversations all the time, and I'm always with her. If she were never to be here, I wouldn't either, because she was the one that put me into my biological mother's body. It wasn't because of some mixing of genetic stuff that made me, no. It was Sky, my mother. I'm glad I've gotten this out of the way, as it has been a large burden since I've began to talk to you guys.

And then there's the protective side of Soyala Delaire, me. I'm protective, or more so, unwilling-to-give my things, my stuff to people. No, it's not because I'm just mean. No, it's not because I don't want people to break it. It's just that the things that belong to me are the only things that belong to me. So maybe I'm protective, and maybe I don't like others touching my stuff. So what? It's just because of what I've already said. It's the only stuff that I have. What can I say? I think you and me both can agree on one thing; if the only thing you owned were 2 outfits and a pair of tennis shoes that were barely holding up, do you think that you would risk other's ripping it, staining it, or even stealing it? I think not.

Nature is my thing. I can't go a day without the stuff. I live in it, and I love where I live. Nature. To me, Nature is the thing makes all things live, no matter what it is, and to sit and watch the ones who once roamed this planet of beautiful creations destroy it, makes me want to destroy them. I just can't believe the world wishes to live in buildings, in technology. It sickens me, really. I hate technology, I really do, and I hate to see the world consumed in it. So if you will, please get off your ass and so something productive. Thank you.

Soyala Delaire loves to sing. Yes, I love the way my vocal chords can loosen and tighten at my command, I love the way my pitch can change and form something beautiful. I think my voice is beautiful, and so I love it. Mother likes to sing too. She doesn't do it very often though, only at night and when she's bathing me with water. It's fine though, because it gives me something to look forward to, ya' know? Me on the other hand, I'm always singing. Well, not always, but often. Really often. And when you hear me singing, which you probably will, I'll be singing about Nature, or Animals, or about my Mother. It's just the way it is.

And if you wanted to know, I'm a Career. Yes, it's surprising, and yes, it's true. I don't mind if I kill you, in fact, I've killed before. I'm not discussing that right now though, so stop thinking about it. I enjoy the thought of going into an Arena and killing people. Death is natural, so why be so scared about it. It's gonna come anyway, so why does it matter when? Do you see my point? Being a Career is one of the easiest things for me to be, and even though this last time around, I didn't get a spot in the Games, I know I will before I lose my ability to be in the Games. I want to kill, I want to feel someone else's blood against my skin, but most of all, I want to make Mother proud. You see, she encourages me killing others. She encourages me killing those who don't do right, and I do what Mother says. She encourages me to train for the Games, to train to kill. She encourages me to kill animals that roam the forests outside of District 1. She thinks it helps me to become more brave, more courageous when it came to death, even though I already had Mother also encourages me to run, run as far as I can, as fast as I can, as long as I can. In hopes to increase the stamina that I already have. I don't exactly think that Mother sees what I'm already capable of, but she's my mom, and I don't disobey. Because I'm not like some of the insolent people in District 1. The insolent children that don't care what their parents say. Those are the ones that I wouldn't mind taking out.

Fun.

And now we move on to friends. I don't have any. It's sad that Soyala Delaire doesn't have any friends, right? Yes, it is. It's not a surprise to me though, because most people don't associate with homeless girls that kill their parents and talk to the sky. If only they understood that the sky is my Mother, whose name is Sky. So yeah, the fact that I have absolutely no friends, that are human that is, doesn't surprise me. You know what else doesn't surprise me? That the friends that I do have are birds. They're the only thing that Mother doesn't make me kill, and I would never kill a bird anyway. They're like me. They love the sky, and and they love Sky. Birds are my sisters, my brothers, and my friends. In fact, I like to think of myself as a bird, just that I'm a human. Picture me as a large bird, well, just without feathers, a beak, and wings. When you do this, you'll have me, because that's just how much of a bird I am.
They're my family and my friends. A combination of the two.

So, if you want me to sum it up for ya', I will. So here I go:

I'm just a girl that has a sky as a mother, and she's always there for me. She loves me. And I'm protective over my things, but it's just because the things that I have are the only things that I have. You wouldn't want someone stealing the only things that you possessed, now would ya'? That's what I thought. I'm in love with nature, and I hate the people, you guys, that are ruining it. It's done nothing to you, has it? Other than a few storms every once in a while? It's not like they're happening for no reason, they're happening because of what you're doing. So stop. Other than that, I'm a Career, and my Mother approves of me killing. Encourages even, and I'm proud to say that I have not a single drop of emotional sadness for those who die. It's a way of life, and I deal with it. Just like you guys should. My brothers and sisters are my friends, and my friends are birds.

I'm interesting, huh?

History:

My biological mother and father were ones who always "there for me" or trying to make me happy. My dad was a jeweler, and my mother stayed at home, raising me. Ever since I was able to make sense of anything that was around me, I absolutely hated them. The way they acted was sickening, with their puckered lips and outstretched arms that would form on them when I were to do something good, or if I were to be a ways away, and they wanted me to waddle over to them. I obeyed, because that's just who I am, but I knew inside that I couldn't, wouldn't, spend my life with them. It's funny how a 5 year old can hate someone, some people, so much, isn't it?

* * *

My biological mother was named Autumn, Autumn Delaire, and I had taken almost everything from her, in appearance that is. Her hair was the same brown that mine is, her stature was slender like mine, and she carried her self very elegantly, just like I used to. And as I've already said, she was the mother that everyone wanted to have. Ya' know? The type of mom that would come to school during lunch time and eat with ya'.

I hated that.

My dad was named Bradford Delaire, and I loved him more than anything in the world. That was, until he joined my mother's side in arguments, or when he would shift into a state of what my mother did, with her cheesy parenting ways. Before long, I hated him just as much as I hated Autumn.

And so I killed them.

I was 9 at the time, and each day that I lived, I would become angrier at my parents. I would come to hate them even more. It was the one day that I couldn't take it anymore. It was the day, or night rather, that I ended their lives. I couldn't deal with any more of their shit, I mean crap. It was too much. They had tried to brainwash me. I was a 9 year old girl, and I wanted, and did, kill my parents.

Sky had already started talking to me, and she had explained how my mother wasn't really my mother and how she actually was. I believed her too, because it was and is true. She led me to finally realizing that both my parents needed to die, and so I did what she told me to do.

As they were sleeping, I laid in my bedroom, staring into the deep blue ceiling that was encased in night. A long, cutting knife laid beside me, my hand strangling it as they both hid under my covers. I could here them both snoring, and that was when I made my move.

I moved from out my covers, and I can remember how heavy I thought the knife was. It was like the knife was a creature in itself, trying to pull me back to my room, trying to stop me from what I was going to do. But I didn't let it.

Their door was open, and both laid on their backs, snores erupting from their schnozes. And so I reached across my mom after approaching her side of the bed, and I brought the knife smoothly over her neck, creating an incision so perfect a surgeon could've created it. It was then that she began to gag, cough up blood, and the crimson red liquid begun to pour from her neck and meld into the sheets that she lay on.

Dad's turn.

He didn't seem at all interrupted by his wife's death, and I could already hear Sky talking to me. She was proud.

I let out a small chuckle, and made my way around the bed, repeating the process that I had to my "mother".

The incision made it's way through the stubble on his neck and the liquid spilled again. And I didn't care.

The blood stained knife lay on my dad's stomach, and my feet began to move towards my room.

I gathered the things I have with me now, a pale yellow shirt, the green corduroy shorts, the tennis shoes, and the tennis shoes.

Shows you how much I've grown, yea?

I would find the bag I carry my things in later, and with a smile, a look up to Sky, and a few more steps, I exited the house and entered night.

Codeword: odair

Comments/Other:

Her Roleplaying color is 7a9939.
Speaking is bold.
Thoughts are italicized.
Others speaking is bold and in 478fb2.

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[gxk]

This is pretty neat, the way it's written. Nice job. ^^

Accepted!