Autumn Cleaver-Newark || D7 || DONE
Aug 17, 2014 22:03:33 GMT -5
Post by Death on Aug 17, 2014 22:03:33 GMT -5
[googlefont="Life Savers:400"]Autumn Heather Cleaver-Newark
Female, Aged 16
District Seven
t a k i n g o v e r t h i s t o w n ,
t h e y s h o u l d w o r r y .
b u t t h e s e p r o b l e m s a s i d e ,
i t h i n k i t a u g h t y o u w e l l .
t h a t w e w o n ' t r u n ,
a n d w e w o n ' t r u n ,
a n d w e w o n ' t r u n .
t h e y s h o u l d w o r r y .
b u t t h e s e p r o b l e m s a s i d e ,
i t h i n k i t a u g h t y o u w e l l .
t h a t w e w o n ' t r u n ,
a n d w e w o n ' t r u n ,
a n d w e w o n ' t r u n .
Lips curl into a cutting grin. Lips like a sheath for a tongue like a knife. Teeth that flash for the knife that can't. Canines that're sharp, like if you ran your arm across it, the skin would burst and blood would snake its way across your flesh.
Youshould fear her. The girl whose face is always angry. Her eyebrows always furrowed. Her eyes always flashing. Those orangeish amber eyes. Or maybe they're just a light brown. You'd like to think they're amber. Being amber would make her less human, somehow. Less accountable for the action of acting out of fear and insecurity. She'd be a pitiable wounded animal, rather than a vicious young woman that was all points and needles and prickly porcupineness.
Her nose is strong. Fine for her face, but very strong and pointed and not willing to give an inch for fear you'll take the next mile from her. It's her mile to traipse along, with her long/slender/pointed feet that are a size too big to get hand-me-downs from her older sisters anymore. Her sisters that have passed down the responsibility of dodging the reapers. Her sisters that are married with babies in arms and on legs and in swollen tummies that cause back pains and crankiness. Her body is too thin to have babies. She'd never bled and you have to bleed to gain spawn.
She has long, thin legs. A long, thin torso. Long, thin arms. She feels like a spider. Wanted to be a spider. A black widow. But she didn't want to have a trillion babies. Or kill people. Maybe. Sometimes she wanted to kill people. She could imagine her large skinny mannish hands closing around someone's throat, her small but obvious biceps constricting and bulging as she exerted enough force to end their life.
Sometimes, Autumn will have trouble shopping for clothing. What do you do when you're 5' 11" but your hips are only fitting you at a 2-- 4, if you're lucky. She'll often save herself the trouble and buy stretchy clothing whose size won't matter as much. Either that or she wears exceedingly baggy clothing in order to be sure everything fits. Thank God for belts.
She'd shake her head more often than nod. Shake her hips more often than stand still.
She'd smile and wink as often as she'd snarl and scowl. Her mother was convinced she had some kind of hormonal imbalance. It would explain why she'd never gotten her bleeding. She would oscillate between moody brooding and high-energy laughter and play. It had never affected her too much, though. She was a teenaged girl and that was that. She closed the book at that point. She'd never listen any further.
Autumn loves a good party, especially ones where alcohol is abundant and she can drink more than she really should. Her father owns a small lumber yard. She can afford the drinks if she wants them. But it wasn't like she drank more than a couple times a week and only socially, like parties or bars. She loved the drinking games. She was good at them, if being able to play so you don't have to drink much means you're good at them. She was a lightweight. Didn't take much to make her forget the night in the morning.
Courage. Courage is the one thing she strives for. Yearns for. Thirsts for. She wants to be a hero. Be courageous. But what hero in her right mind would engage in drinking and partying. At least she still had her virginity. She was thankful for that much. Maybe there was hope for her yet. Maybe she could save somebody someday. She had never been presented with the chance to be a hero, but once she was... watch out world.
She's snarky. It's gotten her in trouble. A lot. Now she just whispers her sniping under her breath and dodges the punches thrown. She used to get black eyes. Not anymore. Now she was quick. And she could throw an axe. She carries a smaller one around with her all the time, especially when she was wandering and/or partying in the rougher parts of town.
Autumn was born October 17 to Medley and Obadiah Cleaver-Newark. Saying that she was a surprise would be an understatement. Although her parents would never tell her this, they considered aborting her, since she was so much younger than her other sisters-- the closest sister in age being 9 years older-- and they weren't sure if they could provide for her. But, they brought her into the world anyways.
She was a capricious, willful toddler who was difficult to handle. Practically an only child, but also the baby of the family, she was spoiled by her sisters, but not so much by her parents. She has been used to getting her way for quite some time. As a child, Autumn was a social butterfly who had more friends than she had fingers and toes. Progressing into middle school, however, those friends began to fade from her side. Most of her current friends are guys who she enjoys going and partying with on the weekends. She finds she has little tolerance for the pettiness of most females, like her sisters and mother.
Definitely taking after her father in nearly everything but gender, Autumn is closer to Obadiah than anyone else. They share jokes, drinks-- heck, sometimes Autumn will nab an over-sized shirt of his to wear over a pair of leggings. He is a strong, stable, silent-type with few friends and an incredible work ethic. He works twice as hard as most men and does well because of it. Autumn has never truly wanted for anything thanks to him.
Traipsing her way from boyfriend to boyfriend, Autumn has never been satisfied with the "arm candy" relationships she's so often found herself in. Although she's not going to say this out loud, she is looking for that special spark-- a bit of sing with that special someone. She still has her virginity until that person does come along, and she's going to be careful to not get her heart broken until then. But, then again, she is a bit of a drinker... and she mostly hangs out with guys who also drink... mistakes happen, no?
You
Her nose is strong. Fine for her face, but very strong and pointed and not willing to give an inch for fear you'll take the next mile from her. It's her mile to traipse along, with her long/slender/pointed feet that are a size too big to get hand-me-downs from her older sisters anymore. Her sisters that have passed down the responsibility of dodging the reapers. Her sisters that are married with babies in arms and on legs and in swollen tummies that cause back pains and crankiness. Her body is too thin to have babies. She'd never bled and you have to bleed to gain spawn.
She has long, thin legs. A long, thin torso. Long, thin arms. She feels like a spider. Wanted to be a spider. A black widow. But she didn't want to have a trillion babies. Or kill people. Maybe. Sometimes she wanted to kill people. She could imagine her large skinny mannish hands closing around someone's throat, her small but obvious biceps constricting and bulging as she exerted enough force to end their life.
Sometimes, Autumn will have trouble shopping for clothing. What do you do when you're 5' 11" but your hips are only fitting you at a 2-- 4, if you're lucky. She'll often save herself the trouble and buy stretchy clothing whose size won't matter as much. Either that or she wears exceedingly baggy clothing in order to be sure everything fits. Thank God for belts.
A n d i n t h e w i n t e r n i g h t s k y s h i p s a r e s a i l i n g ,
L o o k i n g d o w n o n t h e s e b r i g h t b l u e c i t y l i g h t s .
A n d t h e y w o n ' t w a i t , a n d t h e y w o n ' t w a i t ,
a n d t h e y w o n ' t w a i t .
a n d t h e y w o n ' t w a i t .
W e ' r e h e r e t o s t a y , w e ' r e h e r e t o s t a y ,
w e ' r e h e r e t o s t a y .
w e ' r e h e r e t o s t a y .
She'd shake her head more often than nod. Shake her hips more often than stand still.
She'd smile and wink as often as she'd snarl and scowl. Her mother was convinced she had some kind of hormonal imbalance. It would explain why she'd never gotten her bleeding. She would oscillate between moody brooding and high-energy laughter and play. It had never affected her too much, though. She was a teenaged girl and that was that. She closed the book at that point. She'd never listen any further.
Autumn loves a good party, especially ones where alcohol is abundant and she can drink more than she really should. Her father owns a small lumber yard. She can afford the drinks if she wants them. But it wasn't like she drank more than a couple times a week and only socially, like parties or bars. She loved the drinking games. She was good at them, if being able to play so you don't have to drink much means you're good at them. She was a lightweight. Didn't take much to make her forget the night in the morning.
Courage. Courage is the one thing she strives for. Yearns for. Thirsts for. She wants to be a hero. Be courageous. But what hero in her right mind would engage in drinking and partying. At least she still had her virginity. She was thankful for that much. Maybe there was hope for her yet. Maybe she could save somebody someday. She had never been presented with the chance to be a hero, but once she was... watch out world.
She's snarky. It's gotten her in trouble. A lot. Now she just whispers her sniping under her breath and dodges the punches thrown. She used to get black eyes. Not anymore. Now she was quick. And she could throw an axe. She carries a smaller one around with her all the time, especially when she was wandering and/or partying in the rougher parts of town.
H o w l i n g g h o s t s -- t h e y r e a p p e a r
I n m o u n t a i n s t h a t a r e s t a c k e d w i t h f e a r
B u t y o u ' r e a k i n g a n d I ' m a l i o n h e a r t .
A l i o n h e a r t .
Autumn was born October 17 to Medley and Obadiah Cleaver-Newark. Saying that she was a surprise would be an understatement. Although her parents would never tell her this, they considered aborting her, since she was so much younger than her other sisters-- the closest sister in age being 9 years older-- and they weren't sure if they could provide for her. But, they brought her into the world anyways.
She was a capricious, willful toddler who was difficult to handle. Practically an only child, but also the baby of the family, she was spoiled by her sisters, but not so much by her parents. She has been used to getting her way for quite some time. As a child, Autumn was a social butterfly who had more friends than she had fingers and toes. Progressing into middle school, however, those friends began to fade from her side. Most of her current friends are guys who she enjoys going and partying with on the weekends. She finds she has little tolerance for the pettiness of most females, like her sisters and mother.
Definitely taking after her father in nearly everything but gender, Autumn is closer to Obadiah than anyone else. They share jokes, drinks-- heck, sometimes Autumn will nab an over-sized shirt of his to wear over a pair of leggings. He is a strong, stable, silent-type with few friends and an incredible work ethic. He works twice as hard as most men and does well because of it. Autumn has never truly wanted for anything thanks to him.
Traipsing her way from boyfriend to boyfriend, Autumn has never been satisfied with the "arm candy" relationships she's so often found herself in. Although she's not going to say this out loud, she is looking for that special spark-- a bit of sing with that special someone. She still has her virginity until that person does come along, and she's going to be careful to not get her heart broken until then. But, then again, she is a bit of a drinker... and she mostly hangs out with guys who also drink... mistakes happen, no?
