Robyn // Wanderer

[Penny]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=style, background-image: url(http://i42.tinypic.com/25ahlwo.jpg); border-right:0px solid 000000; border-left: 0px solid 000000;] And you once said I wish you dead you sinner, I'll never be more than a wolf at your door for dinner, And if I see you 'round like a ghost in my town, you liar, I'll leave with your head oh I'll leave you for dead, sire. (You're a liar. You decieve people with pretty colors that hide a blackened soul.) (No. I prefer to think of myself as an illusionist. The perfect lie is beautiful, in its own twisted way.) Innocence is a mask. Robyn has never known a deception better than her own face - big blue eyes peer out from beneath thick black lashes, and the lines and angles of her face are delicate and childlike. It gives the impression of fragility and purity. (False, of course.) (It wasn't always.) Her pale skin only adds to the effect. She is a porcelain doll that belongs in the arms of a rich young girl from the lower districts, or perhaps a fairy from one of the untouched meadows beyond the fences of Panem. Willowy limbs, broken grace - she is harmless. Or at least, she pretends to be. There are flaws in the facade, little cracks that reveal the rotting (blooming) soul beneath. The most recognizable is probably her hair. Dark as night, the inky locks tumble and crash like waves upon her back. Robyn takes great pride in her mane. It makes her look wild and perhaps just a bit crazy, and she loves it. Beyond her hair, there are other aspects that give her away if one were to look closely enough. She holds her head up with a distinctive tilt of arrogance, a self-assurance that is hard to come by, and if she is only among those she trusts she often couples it with a wicked smile. It's a horrible tilt to her lips, one that reveals her true nature. She is a trouble maker, a twisted individual seeking pleasure in the havoc she wreaks. (You smile at destruction and chaos. Why?) (It's not chaos. It's just a little fun.) (People know you now. They know what you bring. They fear the sight of you.) (Good.) She's wild. There is a rumor among the Keepers that she isn't even entirely human, though of course anyone close to her knows that isn't the case. While she sparks confusion, trouble, and destruction wherever she goes, her true intentions are innocent enough - Robyn just wants to enjoy the freedom and life that she has. (By robbing rich houses and tricking the Keepers?) (Causing chaos is the only way to have fun anymore.)

[/i] She's quick, clever, smart, and maybe a little bit crazy, but somehow she turns insanity into an admirable trait. Some say she is a fox, others a wolf, and others still the bird for which she was named. Regardless of her title, she's a Peter Pan at heart - she never wants to grow up.

And yet, partially masking that overabundance of childish energy are the leadership qualities she seems to naturally possess. She's confident to the point where it seems like arrogance, with a certainty in all of her decisions and a persuasiveness that instantly assures her followers that she is indeed always right. (You're leading them right to their doom.) (Oh, please. Stop being so dramatic.) She hides her mistakes and flaws so effectively that most don't even realize they exist, painting herself into the image of perfection. Wild, exciting, fun perfection. Her abilities to escape the consequences of her illegal actions only make her all the more impressive, and the few morals that she does possess (don't rob the poor, don't harm the defenseless, don't kill the innocent) add complexity to her character.

There is more to Robyn than she lets people see, though. (You're far from perfect, darling.) (They don't have to know that.) Within her she harbors a layer of darkness - her enemies might even claim that she is evil at her core. Her hatred toward the Capitol is well hidden but occasionally evident in the flashes of anger that pass through her eyes when she devices a plan to cause trouble for Peacekeepers. Perhaps even more disturbing, though, is the lack of guilt at her actions. Deep down she loves watching people crumble at her fingertips. She enjoys manipulating them, toying with them. (You could be great, you know. If you tried, you could be better than you are.) (Liar. Destruction is the only thing I'm good for.) Her intentions are always tainted and her hands only break - in truth she is not a fun-loving bandit but a lying thief desperately trying to understand how to make others feel. (You could have been loved.)

(I could have been many things.)[/i]

(It was a long time ago. You were still very young. What do you remember?) (I remember a dress. It was white silk with lace on the skirt and the sleeves. There were flowers all around the waist. It was my favorite.) (What else?) (Monsters. There were monsters in the city.) She used to live in the Capitol. It's hard to belief that the wild child was born into luxury, but she was. Her parents were rich and life was easy for her. She was happy. But happiness was something that wouldn't last for Robyn. It couldn't.

(We ran.) (Why?) (Something about money. I don't really remember.) Her father was not a smart man - he had tried to gain power through the rotten underbelly of the Capitol, and in doing so he had angered some very dangerous men. He acted rashly, doing the only thing he could think of. One night, he gathered his wife and child and fled. But they were Capitolites, and so of course they knew little of the woods. They learned, slowly and painfully, though not without a price. (Mommy didn't know about the berries. We were so hungry... but she didn't know.) (Is that how she died?) (Yeah.)

It was easier for Robyn. Memories of her easy lifestyle faded, and each new lesson easily embedded itself easily in her young mind. By the time she was eleven she knew the ways of the woods as if she had been born in them, and was beginning to teach herself how to throw knives in order to hunt. Her father adapted, though not as well as she did. He couldn't move as though he was a ghost like she could, and when he hunted he didn't always hit the target. He wasn't as good at hiding as she was, either. That was why the Keeper found him, and not Robyn. (What happened?) (They were going to take him away. He pulled out his knife, and they shot him. I hid up in the trees. They didn't see me.) (You didn't try to help? You could have hit them with your knives. You could have - ) (No. What happened that day wasn't my fault. It wasn't.)

Robyn had to survive on her own after that. At first it made her practically ache with guilt, the way she found things to be so much easier without the burden of her father. Eventually, though, she learned to move on, though she wouldn't do so without extracting her revenge. (It was a small building that held some of their uniforms. A shed, really. Nothing huge.) (What did you do?) (I lit it on fire, and it burned. It was beautiful. But then I heard them. There was somebody inside. I hadn't meant to - they were screaming and I - I didn't know...) (You killed them?) (I didn't mean to. I swear, I didn't.) Destruction, she learned after that, was her talent. It was what she excelled in. The days were going by and she had no purpose - if she couldn't avenge her father, what could she possibly be good for? Trouble-making was he outlet. She robbed houses just to see the jewelry glittering in the air when she tossed it into a nearby creek. She smashed windows because she loved to watch the glass fall. She replaced Peacekeeper ammunition with animal droppings and laughed when they realized what had happened. There were others who came eventually, joining her in her antics. They looked up to her and saw a leader who was doing something, which sure beat the nothing that filled their days. And best of all, Robyn knew how to have fun. Fun was something a wanderer knew little about.

She formed a group, a band of her own. They built houses up in the trees, far from the reach of the Capitol, where they reside to this day. (They'll find you eventually. You have to know that.) (They won't.) (How old are you now?) (Nineteen, I think.) (Nineteen. Far too old to be emerging yourself in such fantasies.) They are the bandits, those who cause trouble just because they can. Her need for destruction is a disease, and it spreads among them. (You're just pretending. You want to feel like you've finally found people who are like you. You want to believe that you've evaded the Capitol, that you're better than it.) (I am better.) (You can't lie to yourself forever, sweetheart. It's not good for you.) (Shut up! I'm not lying. I know exactly who I am.) (Who?)

(I'm Robyn. I'm the wild child.)

odair

Her song is The Wolf, by Phildel

Faceclaim is Emily Rudd

She's... Robin Hood, Scarlet, Peter Pan, and maybe a bit of Jet from Avatar: The Last Airbender? I don't even know. Anyway, she was a ton of fun to write, and I hope you like her <3

I know my way through the night to your door,
You know the blood that I'm owed is all yours
The wishes I've made are too vicious to tell,
The devil already he knows me so well

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[Penny]

[Deleted]

She's lovely!

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