Imi Marling, District 5 FINISHED
May 28, 2011 16:41:44 GMT -5
Post by Ally is tentatively back on May 28, 2011 16:41:44 GMT -5
Imriahl Violetta Marling
My name,~~~~My life has been spent,~~~~~~~~~I am,
~~~~~~Is Imi.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In district five.~~~~Fifteen.
----------------------------------Appearance----------------------------------
I really don't want to describe myself. But of course here I go anyway. Oh well right? My brother always said I was pretty, but wasn't he obligated to? And of course he never said "You and Ink." he referred to us separately. He was always the only one. To all others me and my twin sister Inkling are one entity. But not our big brother.
People tend to tell me and Ink apart by our hair. Ink takes great care of her hair, it's silky and shiny, while mine looks like burnt spaghetti. It really does! It's black and long and super tangled. Neither of us actually tend to let others touch our hair though, I think Ink does it because she's afraid they'll mess it up... I just have personal space issues.
Another great way to tell us apart? Ink wears makeup most of the time. She cares too much about other's opinions. I honestly don't care at all. My shortish eyelashes are free of mascara, my lips have no unnatural gloss, my caramel-colored skin is free of blush. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister to death, but she cares too much.
One thing you can always tell about me is that I worry a lot. It's reflected in my shadowed hazel eyes, my pursed lips, the ever-present wrinkle between my thin black brows. Want an example? Alright, one time when I was little, Ink had just started getting interested in tree-climbing. I refused to come with her, but you could see me through the house windows, cringing every time my sister's hand or foot slipped even a centimeter on the branches, shouting up repeatedly "Ink please get down before you fall!" Obviously she didn't. But that's just... Who I am really.
My cheekbones and chin are prominent, very angular. My nose is pretty cute, maybe a little flat and too small for my face. My forehead looks too long, as my eyes are set pretty low on my forehead. Speaking of my eyes, they're long and wide, eclipsing my face when I'm startled. My brother always joked that while Ink's eyes look like they're sucking you in, mine look like they're pushing you out.
I'm pretty tall, and I have an athletic build, but I'm not insanely tall, and I don't have huge muscles. My hands and feet are calloused, as I boycott shoes in the summer, and I do yard work often, more to keep an eye on Ink than anything else. In contrast to my sister, my nails are ragged, always with dirt trapped under them, and the cuticles are majorly torn up. Whatever.
I always dress casually, in dark t-shirts and ripped-up jeans. I tend to wear raggedy sneakers, and really the most dressy parts of my wardrobe are my charm bracelet and a black dress, which matches a white one my sister has.
-----------------------------------Personality----------------------------------
As previously stated, I'm a worrier. I worry even when there's no reason... and I've always been this way! Ink, she's always had her head in the clouds, me, I've had my feet on the ground. I anchor my sister, even though we've grown so apart. I stabilize her life, as I am the only one to see even glimpses of my sister's inner turmoil. She never realizes what I do for her. She's never seen me creeping back to my bed after she has a nightmare and staying awake, keeping the darkness away.
People always say I don't care about my sister. Lies. My sister is one of the few things I care about. It's not my fault she turned away from me! Not my fault she would rather be an individual than be close to me, her sister, her twin, and as much as she says otherwise, her other half. Because that's exactly what I am. When I look at Ink I see the mirror reflection of myself. As much as I wish to cling to my sister, to make her understand, to go back to being the happy-go-lucky sister, and for us to be "Joined at the hip" as everyone used to say...
Oh excuse me I had to pause, I started crying there. I was going to say, As much as... I know she needs to find her way, even if it's without me. I scream in the night after a nightmare... but I'm screaming because the dream's real... I'm losing Ink. More every day. I'm screaming my sister's name. Supposedly I'm in charge? Because I'm older by less than ten minutes? So I'm stronger, less dependent, and in charge? Hardly.
Neither of us does well in school... only because we don't pay attention. Sometimes I manage a private, strangled laugh that, as much as Ink claims to be an individual, even the swirling designs in our absent-minded doodles completely mirror each other, only mine are drawn from the left, and hers from the right. Just like our handwriting used to be. Now it's different, just like us. here's a sample...
Imriahl
Inkling
So school... not good.
I'm a picky eater, when I have any appetite at all. I love spicy foods, contrasting my sister, who shies away from anything spicier than cinnamon. I absolutely hate ice cream, with the exception of mint-chocolate chip.
I don't have many friends, preferring to be alone inside my shell. Even before Luke disappeared, I was a loner. By choice of course, while my sister expanded her circle of friends, I stayed invisible in the back corner.
My secrets are all but non-existent. I'm the negative, quiet girl in the corner sketching in a notebook and keeping a watchful eye on my sister. Making me happy is easy enough, give me a good book or an empty canvas, and make sure I know Ink's occupied and safe, I've got all I need.
Well... onto the subject of my nightmares. They star my sister, and occasionally my brother. Lukey being hit, beaten up. Ink walking away from me. Ink being pulled away from me. Ink dangling over an edge, me be unable to hold on to her, her screaming as she falls... I hate to think about it.
Me and Ink, our relationship took a turn for the worst when our brother left. My fault? Ink's? Who knows? I sort of closed myself, and Ink gave me the cold shoulder. Ink, the only person who can help me, refuses to even look at me. My Ink, my poor Ink. Absurd to feel sorry for her you say? I disagree. How much must she have been hurting to turn away from me?
-------------------------------------History-------------------------------------
Me and Ink were born July seventh, at approximately 7 in the morning (me at 7:04, Ink at 7:10). coincidences? Ha, ironically, sevens are supposed to be lucky... yet the two of us, born just before a storm shook the house, were anything but. Our brother though... Lukey thought his doll-sized sisters were perfect. He was young though, and the names "Imriahl and Inkling" came stumblingly to his 4-year-old lips. So he decided we were "Imi and Ink".
Life was good when we were really little. We were inseparable. Then we started going to school, and were extreme introverts. We sat and whispered to each other, shying away from the other kids. Our parents decided to put a stop to it. Bad idea. Our nightmares were worse than ever that night. I remember waking to Ink's voice out of the darkness, her having heard me scream and creeping in, and of sighing and falling asleep, exhausted and comforted by the knowledge that my sister was there.
Lukey's running out of the house... why's that? Ah. Another fight? I exchange knowing glances with Ink. We both silently rise and walk over to our brother, who has stopped at this point. We sit down, legs crossed, knees just barely touching. "What happened this time?' Ink asks gently. We tilt our heads together. He shakes his head "Nothing." we sigh and simply reach out our hands out and touch his knees lightly. We say nothing else. We don't need to.
I didn't pay much attention to the fighting in the beginning. But it just got worse and worse... until he finally disappeared while we were in sixth grade.
I wake up suddenly, feeling Ink's distress through the mental bond we've never thought to question. I speed into the kitchen. I see a silver bracelet, sparkling in the light from the window, fall to the ground. I see the note and stop. Struck dumb by horror. No. It can't be true! He at least would have said a real goodbye! Nottruenottruenottrue! Me and Ink both start sobbing, her loudly, me silently. I have to be strong while she can't. Oh god I have to be strong.
I became increasingly distant and negative as all information on my brother dried up and blew away. Ink hid everything behind a fake smile. She now looked at me with angry, hateful eyes. It's not my fault! I wanted to scream. Still want to scream. God why can't she see? She's oblivious to the fact that I need her more as life spirals more out of control. I need the reassuring arm around my shoulders while I tremble. The smooth thumb rubbing my tears away. But she's aloof. I still need her.
I'm still negative and distant, and my parents give me worried glances sometimes when I look at Ink with pleading eyes. If she would only listen to me... But no, my protests and pleading fall on deaf ears. I'm half a person alone in a lightless world.
Odair
My name,~~~~My life has been spent,~~~~~~~~~I am,
~~~~~~Is Imi.~~~~~~~~~~~~~~In district five.~~~~Fifteen.
----------------------------------Appearance----------------------------------
I really don't want to describe myself. But of course here I go anyway. Oh well right? My brother always said I was pretty, but wasn't he obligated to? And of course he never said "You and Ink." he referred to us separately. He was always the only one. To all others me and my twin sister Inkling are one entity. But not our big brother.
People tend to tell me and Ink apart by our hair. Ink takes great care of her hair, it's silky and shiny, while mine looks like burnt spaghetti. It really does! It's black and long and super tangled. Neither of us actually tend to let others touch our hair though, I think Ink does it because she's afraid they'll mess it up... I just have personal space issues.
Another great way to tell us apart? Ink wears makeup most of the time. She cares too much about other's opinions. I honestly don't care at all. My shortish eyelashes are free of mascara, my lips have no unnatural gloss, my caramel-colored skin is free of blush. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister to death, but she cares too much.
One thing you can always tell about me is that I worry a lot. It's reflected in my shadowed hazel eyes, my pursed lips, the ever-present wrinkle between my thin black brows. Want an example? Alright, one time when I was little, Ink had just started getting interested in tree-climbing. I refused to come with her, but you could see me through the house windows, cringing every time my sister's hand or foot slipped even a centimeter on the branches, shouting up repeatedly "Ink please get down before you fall!" Obviously she didn't. But that's just... Who I am really.
My cheekbones and chin are prominent, very angular. My nose is pretty cute, maybe a little flat and too small for my face. My forehead looks too long, as my eyes are set pretty low on my forehead. Speaking of my eyes, they're long and wide, eclipsing my face when I'm startled. My brother always joked that while Ink's eyes look like they're sucking you in, mine look like they're pushing you out.
I'm pretty tall, and I have an athletic build, but I'm not insanely tall, and I don't have huge muscles. My hands and feet are calloused, as I boycott shoes in the summer, and I do yard work often, more to keep an eye on Ink than anything else. In contrast to my sister, my nails are ragged, always with dirt trapped under them, and the cuticles are majorly torn up. Whatever.
I always dress casually, in dark t-shirts and ripped-up jeans. I tend to wear raggedy sneakers, and really the most dressy parts of my wardrobe are my charm bracelet and a black dress, which matches a white one my sister has.
-----------------------------------Personality----------------------------------
As previously stated, I'm a worrier. I worry even when there's no reason... and I've always been this way! Ink, she's always had her head in the clouds, me, I've had my feet on the ground. I anchor my sister, even though we've grown so apart. I stabilize her life, as I am the only one to see even glimpses of my sister's inner turmoil. She never realizes what I do for her. She's never seen me creeping back to my bed after she has a nightmare and staying awake, keeping the darkness away.
People always say I don't care about my sister. Lies. My sister is one of the few things I care about. It's not my fault she turned away from me! Not my fault she would rather be an individual than be close to me, her sister, her twin, and as much as she says otherwise, her other half. Because that's exactly what I am. When I look at Ink I see the mirror reflection of myself. As much as I wish to cling to my sister, to make her understand, to go back to being the happy-go-lucky sister, and for us to be "Joined at the hip" as everyone used to say...
Oh excuse me I had to pause, I started crying there. I was going to say, As much as... I know she needs to find her way, even if it's without me. I scream in the night after a nightmare... but I'm screaming because the dream's real... I'm losing Ink. More every day. I'm screaming my sister's name. Supposedly I'm in charge? Because I'm older by less than ten minutes? So I'm stronger, less dependent, and in charge? Hardly.
Neither of us does well in school... only because we don't pay attention. Sometimes I manage a private, strangled laugh that, as much as Ink claims to be an individual, even the swirling designs in our absent-minded doodles completely mirror each other, only mine are drawn from the left, and hers from the right. Just like our handwriting used to be. Now it's different, just like us. here's a sample...
Imriahl
Inkling
So school... not good.
I'm a picky eater, when I have any appetite at all. I love spicy foods, contrasting my sister, who shies away from anything spicier than cinnamon. I absolutely hate ice cream, with the exception of mint-chocolate chip.
I don't have many friends, preferring to be alone inside my shell. Even before Luke disappeared, I was a loner. By choice of course, while my sister expanded her circle of friends, I stayed invisible in the back corner.
My secrets are all but non-existent. I'm the negative, quiet girl in the corner sketching in a notebook and keeping a watchful eye on my sister. Making me happy is easy enough, give me a good book or an empty canvas, and make sure I know Ink's occupied and safe, I've got all I need.
Well... onto the subject of my nightmares. They star my sister, and occasionally my brother. Lukey being hit, beaten up. Ink walking away from me. Ink being pulled away from me. Ink dangling over an edge, me be unable to hold on to her, her screaming as she falls... I hate to think about it.
Me and Ink, our relationship took a turn for the worst when our brother left. My fault? Ink's? Who knows? I sort of closed myself, and Ink gave me the cold shoulder. Ink, the only person who can help me, refuses to even look at me. My Ink, my poor Ink. Absurd to feel sorry for her you say? I disagree. How much must she have been hurting to turn away from me?
-------------------------------------History-------------------------------------
Me and Ink were born July seventh, at approximately 7 in the morning (me at 7:04, Ink at 7:10). coincidences? Ha, ironically, sevens are supposed to be lucky... yet the two of us, born just before a storm shook the house, were anything but. Our brother though... Lukey thought his doll-sized sisters were perfect. He was young though, and the names "Imriahl and Inkling" came stumblingly to his 4-year-old lips. So he decided we were "Imi and Ink".
Life was good when we were really little. We were inseparable. Then we started going to school, and were extreme introverts. We sat and whispered to each other, shying away from the other kids. Our parents decided to put a stop to it. Bad idea. Our nightmares were worse than ever that night. I remember waking to Ink's voice out of the darkness, her having heard me scream and creeping in, and of sighing and falling asleep, exhausted and comforted by the knowledge that my sister was there.
Lukey's running out of the house... why's that? Ah. Another fight? I exchange knowing glances with Ink. We both silently rise and walk over to our brother, who has stopped at this point. We sit down, legs crossed, knees just barely touching. "What happened this time?' Ink asks gently. We tilt our heads together. He shakes his head "Nothing." we sigh and simply reach out our hands out and touch his knees lightly. We say nothing else. We don't need to.
I didn't pay much attention to the fighting in the beginning. But it just got worse and worse... until he finally disappeared while we were in sixth grade.
I wake up suddenly, feeling Ink's distress through the mental bond we've never thought to question. I speed into the kitchen. I see a silver bracelet, sparkling in the light from the window, fall to the ground. I see the note and stop. Struck dumb by horror. No. It can't be true! He at least would have said a real goodbye! Nottruenottruenottrue! Me and Ink both start sobbing, her loudly, me silently. I have to be strong while she can't. Oh god I have to be strong.
I became increasingly distant and negative as all information on my brother dried up and blew away. Ink hid everything behind a fake smile. She now looked at me with angry, hateful eyes. It's not my fault! I wanted to scream. Still want to scream. God why can't she see? She's oblivious to the fact that I need her more as life spirals more out of control. I need the reassuring arm around my shoulders while I tremble. The smooth thumb rubbing my tears away. But she's aloof. I still need her.
I'm still negative and distant, and my parents give me worried glances sometimes when I look at Ink with pleading eyes. If she would only listen to me... But no, my protests and pleading fall on deaf ears. I'm half a person alone in a lightless world.
Odair
