Poppy Epoxy // [Peacekeeper - D1]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

Poppy Epoxy

twenty-nine
district one
ex?peacekeeper
plant station trainer
partially paralyzed by poison
odair

"Plant Identification; (MamaKay) Though I would prefer this role to be filled by a male, I am flexible. This person is normally quiet, and shies away from any sort of attention now. He himself never wanted to be in the games, but everyone around him pushed him past a breaking point. He caused his own injury, whatever the player chooses it to be, though he's never revealed this to anyone. It would absolutely ruin him if anyone ever found out. "

"oop, I started to ideate on this and came up with a 30-something female, but I think I could switch it to a male, if you'd like! Anyhow, s/he grew up a little smarter than athletic and had a difficult time translating that skill into Career status. Probably also she spent a lot of time in a garden as a child. S/he was certainly of a qualified pedigree, but something never quite fit. After s/he turned eighteen, it was time for Peacekeeper bootcamp. There, at least, s/he could focus on the forensics track, after basic. Or at least, that was the plan. Turns out there's a lot more physical training when becoming a Peacekeeper, including rotations in the district. That's when she realized how far she'd gone. The first day out, her training partner killed a citizen in a scuffle. The next week, she watched her mentor gun down a woman who had stolen a loaf of bread. She wanted to grow things, preferrably in a lab, not kill people. She tried to quit. That wasn't an option. She asked for a transfer, and ended up back in One. It was quieter, if only because her fellow district mates were used to their privilege. But she still had to oversee people being hauled off to the Detention Center. She still had to level her weapon at bystanders. The only way she was ever going to be removed from duty was retirement or disability. That's when she started dosing herself with aresenic. It was slow, painful, a year's worth of suffering to induce tremors, and then seizures. They dismissed her, but she'd already burned up her insides. The left side of her face sags, her right cheek twitches. She can't speak properly, and her left side aches when it rains. She takes a bevvy of medicine to reduce the pain. She works as a trainer to afford it, and she's worth every coin. Even if you can't always understand her through the tics, she knows every plant, mushroom and tree."

probably changing arsenic to mushrooms + this shit: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lathyrism

also plot with lalia with ella because eeeee

chasing the unobtainable plot

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

POPPY EPOXY

When people stare at my face, I want to tell them, "I'm not trying to frighten you." But if I try to speak, I will surely scare them off. Who wouldn't be afraid by a woman in a white uniform, her face mangled, her words slushed and slurred? I would, if I met her anywhere other than a mirror. It's not so much that I crave silence, that I seek isolation. But it is easier than facing the constant, penetrating gaze of the stranger.

Not that I was ever especially good with people, or with myself. Even as a child, I was shy. I kept to the back of the classroom, spent my breaks hidden in the bushes, digging up worms and inspecting plants. When that became unacceptable, I holed up in the library. I didn't love books; I don't believe in fairy tales, and there's only so much you can learn from a textbook before having to put it into practice. I always wanted to be out in nature (later, "in the field,") learning by doing. With my hands in the earth, I feel whole.

Things got a little better at the Academy. Forced proximity meant I made a few friends, and no one thought I was too weird for being into plants. I was almost always ranked at the bottom for physicality, but I made up for it in other areas. Enough to barely make the cut, year after year. Our instructor used to say to me, "one of these days you're going to eat the wrong plant and I'll finally be rid of you." I always thought, someday I'm going to feed you the right plant and I'll finally be rid of you.

That's when I knew I wasn't just training to be a Peacekeeper because I had to. I was training because I wanted to.

The rest of training was a blur. I passed the written exams easily enough, the physical ones with some difficulty. It took me three attempts at the mile run and strength tests, but in the end I was assigned a field rotation. I was excited. I pinned back my long blonde hair, buckled the patent belt around my tiny waist. I tried not think about how the uniform tugged at my overly round hips. And then, I was grateful for the helmet to hide my average face. As though that wasn't beautiful.

How little I knew.

Now, I would give anything to run my fingers over unblemished cheeks. To be able to walk to the store without attracting stares. But I was young, and to be normal seemed like such a curse. So I wore the uniform as a shield. I met my mentor the first day in the field. I loved her. She was ancient but fierce, totally unafraid of anyone. She talked me through the guides, and on the third day, we ventured out into the district.

That day, she shot a young boy for stealing a pound of sugar. I wanted to grow things, preferably in a lab, not murder people in the street over a bit of flavor. I'm no longer ashamed to admit that I tried to leave. I turned in a letter of resignation. That wasn't an option. I requested for a transfer, away from my mentor. I'll never forget the twisted look she gave me, as though I were the disappointment.

I ended up back in One. It was quieter, if only because my fellow district mates were used to their privilege. But I still had to oversee people being hauled off to the Detention Center. I still had to level my weapon at bystanders. It took me over a year to realize the painful truth: the only way I would ever be removed from duty was by retirement or disability. That's when I started being extremely selective with my produce. It's hard to come by the right combination of legumes to induce lathyrism. Luckily, my memory is much stronger than my arms.

It was slow, and to be completely honest, yes, it was painful. I could feel the root of the poison my organs. A year's worth of suffering to induce tremors, and then seizures. The Captain dismissed me, but by then I'd already burned up my insides. The left side of my face sags, my right cheek twitches. I can't speak properly, and my left side aches when it rains. I take a bevvy of medicine to reduce the pain, and to afford to the medication, I work as a trainer. I'm worth more than they pay me, but no one else will hire a woman with a ruined face.

Even if you can't always understand my through the tics, I know every plant, mushroom and tree. There's a comfort to knowing that no matter how far I pushed my body, it still is resilient. It still left my mind intact. Sometimes I stumble, usually over social etiquette. But I have not forgotten that arsenic can kill, that mushrooms are the best charlatans in nature.

My days are much quieter. I do not have a weapon; I do not even have a holster. I spend my days in the training center, and my evenings in my quiet, tidy apartment. On the weekends, I tend to the rooftop garden. I grow tomatoes, kale, carrots, peppers, mint, thyme, rosemary, lemons, oranges, limes. In the car corner of the garden, I have a little grove of apple trees. Someday, they may produce enough cyanide for one pill. Someday.

[Noah Vau - D2 (Cato)]

Omg. This bio <333 <///3

Accepted!