Roman Rakes D7
Jul 21, 2013 17:37:58 GMT -5
Post by phoenix007 on Jul 21, 2013 17:37:58 GMT -5
Name: Roman
Age: 18
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 7
Appearance:
[/blockquote]Codeword:odair
Comments/Other:
Age: 18
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 7
Appearance:
[/font]Looks
I don't enjoy speaking of myself... I always feel so prideful when I do. And pride gets you killed. But if I must… My hair color is brown and dark. The lighting determines it exact pigment. On a normal day my hair is full at the top and falls over the left side of my forehead meanwhile the sides are trimmed short. My everyday clothes are some jeans, a tank top and some brown lumberjack boots. I work with the lumbermen and help transport wood from the forest to the delivery trucks. My job keeps me somewhat fit. My arms and my core are definitely my main source of strength. My legs aren’t the most muscular part of my body but they work.
If I had to describe my face I would say its shaped square and the jaw and oval on the rest… I guess you could say its squoval. My lips in which very little words come out of are full and slightly tinted dark red. My nose protrudes from my face with round nostrils and a stubby point. My light blue almond-shaped eyes are sharp and vigilant. Along will there light color they do acquire some flecks of darker turquoise. As far as facial hair goes I do seem to sometimes grown the slightest bit of scruff, but if it gets even the slightest big long I am sure to shave it.Persona
Do you want to know why I stay silent and think before I speak? Because a running mouth gets you killed, and I will survive. I love those closest to me, like my brother and sisters, my mother, and my widowed aunt Ridis. I wish my family were more united then they are… It always makes me sad when they fight. It makes me feel so helpless. I guess that’s one of my many flaws: always feeling so helpless in more unappealing situations. But I love them and will do anything to keep their stomachs full even if that means entering my name in a few times to acquire some extra food. I’ve been fortunate enough to not have my name reaped yet, but there is always to crucial chance I will be drawn. But one thing is for sure; if I do get picked I will survive as long as possible. Don’t get me wrong I will never kill for the fun of it, but if or when the time comes I will eliminate to survive. I’ll do whatever it takes to win so that I can take care of my family, unless of course a career kills me. That would really suck.
Everyday it’s the same here. Depending on your age you either go to school or work. You start work early and the education is crap. Everyday I walk to work. And walk back and forth to the pile of wood or paper and place it in the back of the delivery truck. Nothing different ever happens. But I do what I have to. My family needs fed. I don’t talk. I just do my job. When I get home I have to wrap my hands because of the blisters that build from the day. I hate it. I just wish there was another way I could feed to family without doing the same thing every day.
I guess can become insecure at times. I guess that’s why I usually isolate myself from most people. Or is it because I’m afraid? I guess both. But I’m not afraid of the Games or of the Reaping. Strange; I know, but it has never really frightened me, neither has the factor of death. I guess that part of reality just hasn’t sunk in yet. What I’m really afraid of is if I ever get reaped, will the games I turn me into something I’m not? I will never kill in cold blood. You can count on that. I only kill if I’m attacked first. I want to stay myself. I’ve heard the games change you; make you commit crimes you never really commit. Yet they do all this just to entertain the wealthy. Disgusting.
My Past
My past hasn’t been all that bad. As far back as I can remember was when I was about eight or so. That’s when I began going to work with my father. I was still young and couldn’t do much so often had to stick by his side. But I remember how much I loved watching the big trees fall as the men cut them down. My father Arnold uses to laugh at all the questioned I would ask about where they sent to wood. He used to say to me, “Son, you’re going to e doing this the rest of your life.” I never gave it much thought until now where I can actually see that reality. Those are the only memories I have of him. The day I turned nine he passed away with a sickness that ate away at your system until there is nothing left. My heart broke.
The one who took the fall the hardest was my mother. Ever since they met they were madly in love and almost never fought. She used to tell my siblings and I that they met at one over the annual reaping’s. They both described how stunning each of them looked in their formal wear. After the reaping, they started to talk a little bit everyday. They spoke about their thoughts on the Hunger Games and how horrible it was, and about how horrible the Peackeepers treated everyone. These talk over time flourished in love. They soon got married and started having children, me being the first. She loved him very much and was desperate for a way to make him better. What made it worse was that there was no cure we knew of, and if there was certainly couldn’t afford it.
It was hard on all of us: my mother Elaine, my younger brother Caleb, and my too little sisters Annabelle and Joslyn. Now that he’s gone I am the one left to provide. Caleb words too now that he turned 15 and Annabelle and Joslyn do their part to help my mother at the market, but it’s still difficult. That’s why I NEED to enter my name in as much as possible to provide. There is one down side… Getting reaped. Before he died my father left me a gift. It was a knife arsenal; all different kinds. I will never forget the note he left me: “Just incase.” From then on I started practicing with the knives to the best of my ability and I’ve gotten decent over the years. I know now that he prepared me if the day ever came, and for that I am eternally grateful.
[/blockquote]Codeword:odair
Comments/Other: