Hansen Southers // D4 // [FIN]

[arx!!]

Name: Hansen Cyril Southers
Age: 19
Gender: Male
District/Area: District 4
Appearance:

BELOW

Personality:

BELOW

History:

BELOW

Codeword: odair
Other:

YAY FROZEN PLOT by the wonderful Stare~

District 4 is filled with many large and wealthy families, and Hans is just a very, very, very small and insignificant piece of one of them. It wasn't his choice to have so many older brothers, he was shoved to the very bottom of the pecking order very quickly and quite rudely at that. Never has he been accepted by the rest of his family, always being too small, too weak, or too much of a smart ass to be included in family/brotherly affairs. His brothers were often cruel to him, hitting him a bit harder than they should, kicking him when he was already down, and his parents once completely forgot him when they left on a family trip to the sea. They didn't even realize they had left him behind. His family was gone for an entire week and didn't even notice that he wasn't there. You can only be kicked down and ignored for so long before something inside you snaps. And something certainly snapped inside that young Hans.

He grew in a sort of isolated chaos that was his home. His brother's were all in line to marry other wealthy girls in the District, and his families business and money and power was just not going to extend to him. He realized this by the time he was a teenager and understood. He would never have the power, never be noticed, never be recognized. There was a slim chance for him to get into the Games and come home with a crown, but that chance passed when the quell twist revealed his age would keep him out of the Reaping bowl. But, as some of his brothers had already proved, there were miracles that could occur. And those miracles are named love. All he needs is to find a little sliver of love and he could marry a beautiful girl who had everything. Love was the ticket. Love was the key that would unlock the doors ...

[arx!!]

the clouds in the sky
have covered up my life
and the day just stays gray
’till it’s night

---

His hands trembled at his sides and tears dripped down his face. The mirror showed him a broken boy - weak and pathetic - with messy hair and a swollen, bloody lip. He had already ripped his tie from his neck, and his shirt was untucked beneath the jacket of his suit. His parents would not approve. He knew this, he knew they would scold him for looking like such a fool ("And at a dinner party!") he could already here his mother's voice whispering coldly in his ear as she roughly combed through his hair and tucked his shirt back in and wiped the blood from his face. It wasn't his fault his brother's insisted on making his life a living hell. It wasn't his fault that he was born dead last behind 12 older brothers. It wasn't his fault he loved beautiful things and beautiful things loved him. After all, that had been the reason Isak (number 12) had hit him. He would try to explain this to his parents, try to make them see, but no matter how he pleaded, there was no changing their minds - Hansen Southers was the runt of the litter, and he was always wrong.

He heard the door knob twist and he began scrambling to fix himself - wipe away the tears, tuck in the shirt, lick the blood from his lip, run his hands through his hair - but by then his mother had already crossed the room and hit him over the back of the head. "Where is your tie, young man?" Hansen stood stock still, his eyes to the floor and his hands back to trembling at his sides. "Hansen! Tie!" She said with a ferocity that made him jump and then move to wear his tie hid beneath his bed. He scrambled to put it on, tucking it beneath his collar and twisting it until it was perfect when he looked in the mirror. His mother tugged at it and shifted it though when he stood at attention for her inspection. He never did anything right.

"Now quit getting beat up by your brother's." She said as she straightened again, folding her hands in front of her. She was beautiful, no matter how frightening her tone of voice. He collapsed into her, hugging her at her legs, her dress nearly swallowing him alive. She felt her hand on his head, petting his hair. She smelled like perfume, and when he took a deep breath he could feel a weight lifting off of his shoulders. "Come on, sweetheart. Let's go back." She said after a few more moments, her hands peeling him away from her, brushing off his shoulders. He may be young, only 6 years old, but he knew enough to offer his arm to her. To that, she finally smiled. "How about you just open the door?" And her voice was soft, like it was when she sang, and Hans smiled, opening the door for her, the two of them following the noise that would lead them back to their guests.

---

He shoved away from them, all of them, (three of them really, but it felt like more) trying to escape the jealous swinging fists. He could feel his pulse rising, anger swelling from inside him. He liked it better when they ignored him. His eyes shot around the room, but there was no one to be seen. They had thrown him into a dark hallway where no party goers cared to adventure. They thought this was funny, each of them laughing, each of them thinking that their fists were like pillows hitting me in the face. His stomach wrenches. "Come on Hans, I thought we told you to go hide in your room." They all laugh and another fist swings at him. He ducks out of the way. "Yeah, no one wants to see your ugly face." Hans only glared at them, standing up straight, shoulders back.

"Let me pass." He said, his voice sounding too small and not fierce enough. They all laughed themselves into hysterics. Hans tried to squeeze through the 3 of them to the door, but instead they all shoved him backwards again. "Come on little brother, you know better than to try to run." And this time he was shoved to the floor, falling onto his elbows, looking up at them with tears in his eyes. He wished his mother of father would burst through the door. He wished they would just leave him alone. He hadn't done anything wrong, they only wanted to pick on him until he shattered into a million tiny pieces. If anything, they were jealous of him and this was payback. The girls that were here liked him best. And what did it matter if he liked them all back? Was it a crime to enjoy beauty? "Aw, look guys, he's crying like the baby that he is." And they roared with laughter again, the three of them mocking him.

"Now quit getting beat up by your brother's." His mother's voice rang in his ears as one of them kicked him in the ribs. He had thought she meant be the grown up, be the civil one. But now he understood what she had meant and his fists locked and his knuckles turned white. He scrambled to his feet and swung his fists at the closest face. Despite his small size and lack of strength, a loud crack! resounded through the hall. His fist connected to a nose, and he grinned when Isak fell to the floor and he began to wail. Hans turned to the twins now who stared in awe. He shoved past them, a satisfied smile creeping onto his face when his father came through the doorway and found Jens and Jacob standing over a wailing Isak and roared at them, thinking they had done the damage and not little Hansen. Something swelled inside him as he made his way back to the party, something new.

Power.

---

No one understood why they had closed their perfectly gorgeous daughters off to the rest of the world. Especially Hans. For years and years through his childhood he had dreamed of meeting them, dreamed of them as if they were angels sent from heaven just for him. Some days he climbed onto the highest roof of the Southers' mansion and peered the top of theirs on the horizon. He wondered if they even knew about him. He has met their parents, the both of them graceful and delightful to meet. He didn't even think before he spoke and asked at the age of 10 for their daughters hand in marriage. Thankfully they both chuckled. Hans heard them telling his parents later that he was the "most audacious yet respectful boy they had ever come across." He went to bed that night with a smile on his face.

He wasn't sure where he got his keen sense of fine things from, but it was apparent that he was in love with anything that was better than average. His bedroom was lined with seashells and every sword that gleamed in just the right way was on the opposite wall. Everything about them was lovely, yet each wall of objects was so different. One filled with little trinkets he found on the beach or buried in the sand, and the other held shields, body armor, swords, and the finest of all training equipment - many of which were used by the top finishers in District 4's history. This collection had started at a young age, and now it had grown to filling not only his room (the attic, seeing as the rest were occupied by his brothers) but another spare room in the house as well. This love for "works of art" stretched beyond just objects and landscapes, and during adolescence it was obvious he was more than just the average womanizer - he was even more dangerous than that.

---

Love may start most of the fairy tales, but a broken heart is the beginning of Hansen's. For a boy who loved in everything, put his trust in anyone, had a love more ferocious than a lion's roar, the land of Panem can be a cruel place. (Or crueler than it is to the average crestfallen youth ...) He loved his family, though often he did not receive that love in return from his elder counterparts, but most of all he loved his mother. Every little boy should grow up loving his mother, thinking that her affections in return are just as powerful - if not stronger - than their own. But for young, insignificant, kind-hearted Hansen, this was not the case, though not evident to him until he was older.

A child can only take so much abuse before something inside them snaps and their heart twists into dark knots that will only constrict tighter and tighter, becoming more and more difficult to unravel, as they grow older and the the lack of love in their lives slowly begins to make them unreachable. Cut-off. Lost.

---

"If only we loved you, Hans. If only I loved you-"

"What?"

"-if only someone - anyone - loved you, then maybe-"

"Mom I-I'm sorry, I didn't- whatever it was I-"

"-just maybe you would have a chance in this world. But guess what, son? No one ever has or ever will."

"Please, Mom-"

"You have no power, no inheritance, and no spine. You were born with your name and that is all you will ever have."

"But-"

"No. No one in this house has ever truly loved you. It was only pretend."

"I hate you."

"Hate? Hate? I have a better word - I despise you."

---

The need for all things beautiful never left him, and after he quit training for the games he had more time to focus on prettier things than practice dumbies and bloody lips. He learned to play piano, paint, and perfected his dancing skills by attending various balls, using the name Southers to emphasize his superiority. Only the first of his growing fatal flaws. The dark knot was constricting blood flow, all of the goodness that had once pumped through his veins was disappearing and being replaced with coldness. The warmth that had once filled him up to the brim was gone, and his heart was freezing solid.

But no one gets to see that. Not since he has realized what the power of love can accomplish. His unconditional love for his family may have drove him into the ground, but now that he knew love did not exist, he could use it to his advantage. He would prove his mother wrong. He would become a somebody - he would become much more powerful than she ever was. He may not inherit any of the Southers's money or enterprise, but he would create his own. And he would use the deadliest weapon of all - love.

---

and the darkness outside
is a mirror to my eyes
‘cause my soul
won’t reflect any light

Hansen Southers

district 4 - nineteen - i don't wanna build a snowman

plot: stare|lyrics: freezing by mozella|words: 1807

[arx!!]

finished^^

[cass]

Yessssssssss beautiful ily so much omgggggg

stahp being so perfect, love no jk jk be as perfect as evaaaa

Accepted! <333