Cailin Matheson {D7/FIN}

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cailin {♔} matheson My brothers, especially Ian and Russell, took it upon themselves to define me at every chance made available to them, and more often than not, their choice of words left me feeling childish and disregarded, my opinion looked upon for a time no longer than a second at most. Of course, the only real reason I considered this a problem was due to the fact that my thoughts on any given subject, really, were always of utmost importance, and their lack of interest fueled some hidden anger that only made itself known at the times in which the discontentment was unbearable. I tried to keep these times to as low of a count as possible, for their smirks and high fives at the sight of my boiling blood only furthered their actions. The defining factor was due to the fact that my intentions were to follow in their footsteps, though I looked to Russell most often as a source of wisdom and understanding, as Ian was too tired or lost in thought to even know his right from left. I expected to receive the same respect I gave, but for the most parts he pushed me aside, telling me to “save it for another day,” or “when you’re older, Cailin.” I was fifteen now, and that meant I was practically an adult. For I had more maturity than the two of them combined, and while their faults stacked up to the clouds, I could find little to none in myself. I was hot-headed, true, but other than that I was everything they were not: gentle, compassionate, and most importantly, willing. I was willing to take the job they so despised of keeping the household in order, and it angered me deeply to realize that the task they so monotonously went through day by day was not fulfilled to its greatest extent. They could do so much more, yet they settle for mediocre. They were quite possibly the worst people to hold as role models, yet the world is filled with bad and worse, so I suppose you must pick your poison. Mine had come in the form of humanity. Russell had always told me I was too soft, that even a bug in my path would cause me to stop and think about consequences of not waiting for it to finish its venture across the road. He wasn’t wrong, necessarily, for I spent many a time dwelling on the nature of the world and the beautiful things that filled it, green eyes turned upon wonder that resided in the clear, blue sky and the swaying grass, and every area in between. I had a heart for the world, and it was one thing I refused to apologize for. Ian had filled my head with the thoughts that compassion and mercy were wrong, that to survive you must have a heart protected by stone, and he was a living example. A smile never crossed his face in the same way it did mine, and his eyes never truly lit up with joy. I can’t imagine a world like that, where I couldn’t stretch my small hands to the sky and feel the warmth of the sun’s rays upon my skin, residing in the hope that despite the atrocities that lay in the world (and yes, there are many), there was something else. Something that couldn’t be defined by man’s simple word, but rather by hope in the unknown. Danny had told me too much hope was quite indeed a bad thing, but his childish tone had made me wave off the notion without a second thought, as when we’re stripped of the things we love: family, friends, a shot at glory, what are we then left with? We aren’t left with anything that can be held in the pale palm of a fifteen year old girl, that’s for sure. We’re left with everything we are and everything we wish to become, and in that case, there’s simply too many things to name for my cause. When I was younger, it was a wish at redemption, as if there was something to be done that could make up for my dingy family and the reputation (or lack, thereof) that trailed listlessly behind the Matheson name. That ideal quickly faded at Russell’s comment on the speed with which names faded, and asked me to back up my resentment to the idea by naming the tributes from the three previous games. I had only guessed one, and even then, I could hardly remember a face to put with the name. Names faded faster than the ideas that were left behind in their memory, and by the time I was twelve I was enthralled with the thought of leaving behind something that would cause me to be remembered. Of course, your resources are less than limited when you live in a house suited for four that’s rather housing eight. Within this house there was a ranking of importance, a totem pole, if you will, and I so happened to be sitting exceptionally close to the bottom. I suppose some of it stemmed from age, in which case only Danny sat in a distinguishable position below. Regardless, Ian and Russell looked down upon all of us, and though we snapped at their heels and responded with unfiltered sarcasm to any questions they asked, we never crossed them more than once in a twenty-four hour period, for though we put on our toughest faces and puffed out our chests, we never really surmounted to their level of composure (well, Russell’s anyway, Ian was apt to fall over at the slightest breeze). It was for this reason that somewhere admiration was underlying annoyance, and I followed in the footsteps of Ian and Russell as often as they would allow it, my short five foot three frame tiptoeing quietly in their shadows. It was when they turned their harsh gazes upon my own that I wished to hide behind the light brown strands that fell to the middle of my back, and regardless of how far I tried to shrink back, their eyes followed, and the words they usually spoke were neither angry nor chastising. “You’re pinning your hope on someone who hasn’t got any in the first place, Cailin.” “Suppose we’ll find it together then. Maybe we’ll all balance out, the girl with too many thoughts to fathom and the boys who don’t have any hope to give. It’s not how others define you, of course, it’s how you think of yourself.” Cailin Matheson [KAY-lin MATH-uh-sen], noun: girl whose gift is one that will most likely go unnoticed, but will surely die trying to change the oblivion of the world around her. Derived from “Cailin,” which means girl, and “Matheson,” which means gift. {other} Cailin Matheson Age: 15 District 7 Gender: Female Face Claim: Helene Grode Codeword: oDair

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[fin-ished] see what I did there I'm so funny ik

[gamemaker kelsier]

My goodness! She sure is serious for a fifteen year old! Sounds like she's got a rough home life with two older brothers like that. I loved the imagery in this piece, keep up the good work darling!