Marshall Dunn || District Four || FIN

[esther kim d3 {lance}]

Name:

Marshall Dunn

Age:

Eighteen

Gender:

Male

District:

Four

Faceclaim:

Ben Hardy

Codeword:

Odair

Bio:

Below

[esther kim d3 {lance}]

Marshall Dunn

For as long as you can remember, your life has been the epitome of lies and deceit.

Ever since you were a little boy, your life has revolved around the sea. You lived a mere couple thousand feet away from the beach, close enough that the endless pounding of the waves became a soothing lullaby to your ears. Almost every day as a small child, you would beg your father, one of many local fishermen, to take you to visit the white sands and sparkling waters that would captivate you for hours on end. You would frolic in the surf and play with other kids in the sand, under the watchful eye of one of your neighbors, until your mother arrived at lunchtime bringing a picnic lunch. It was a happy, simple time, as you thrived in your paradise, eventually joining your father on his fishing at age twelve.

As you grew older, you started attending school, and concurrently, you quickly learned that your so-called "paradise" was simply a fabrication. An illusion set up by your parents in their own desperate, futile attempt to shelter you from the outside world. But like the districts had been destined to fall over half a century prior, their illusion crumbled apart like a wall made of sand. After that, it took little effort to piece things together: That the "raffles" in the square were not, in fact, raffles, and that the startlingly lifelike death games that aired on the television every summer were actually real people dying real deaths.

Your parents, when confronted, said it was to protect you. That by not telling you about the Games until as late as possible, they would be able to delay your training in the academies in Four in hopes that maybe, just maybe, someone would happen to volunteer for each of the seven years you were eligible. Somehow, their infallible logic didn't quite make as much sense to you as it did to them.

It was this lesson that taught you that maybe, being the one in power doesn't mean you'll automatically deserve respect, either. Though you eventually forgave your parents for their deception, you never forgot it, and as a result, your relationship forever had an edge, some unseen barrier, that had not existed before. Your ability to trust was fractured, whether it was with a cousin, a friend, or a stranger, and as such, the friendly little boy on the beach turned into a withdrawn, almost shy, young teenager.

Since you had hit puberty, sexuality had always been a confusing issue for you. In this day and age, no one cared who you liked or who you fucked or whatever (surprisingly, being put in a setting where death from lack of nutrition was fairly common on a day to day basis, even from a wealthier district like Four, more minor details were overlooked), but even with that knowledge, hitting on someone who wasn't interested in your gender was a risky business, one that quickly taught you the virtues of caution and carefulness in areas outside of the romantic department as well as in.

The issue was finally decided, for better or for worse, when he entered the picture on the eve of your sixteenth birthday. As a way to celebrate your "sweet sixteen," a few of your fishing coworkers decided to throw you a wild party at one of their houses, obviously without the knowledge of your parents. As the party transformed from wild into chaotic, you bumped into each other for the first time. He was an older guy, somewhere around eighteen or so, and worked on a boat on the opposite side of the District as you. Yet there was something about him that just felt right, and it wasn't long before the small talk became flirty in nature.

After that, it wasn't long before you were furiously making out in the guest room, all rational thoughts having flown away like delivery words on a mission. It was one of the most magical nights of your life, but like many other things, it was not destined to last. In the morning, the mysterious boy had disappeared, seemingly vanishing into thin air. To this day, you have no idea what became of him.

Now, you are eighteen. You have survived six years of reapings, avoiding being sent into the death trap for the majority of your period of eligibility. Yet despite that, you have maintained a sense of diligence and determination, keeping a steady training schedule on top of fishing duty and school. It's not an easy life, but you'll take that over dying in an arena any day, as the will to live fuels the determined mindset you have to maintain such a schedule.

Like your mind, you have also physically matured as the years went by. Several years of maintaining an active lifestyle have given you a lithe, muscular build, nourished by the modest amount of nutrition your family receives. Though you may not be as bulky or as muscular as a more "traditional" Career district such as One or Two, you are definitely in better shape than the majority of outer district teens.

Your facial features are perhaps the only thing to have not visibly aged as much as the rest of you, for by looking at your face alone one could mistake you for fifteen as opposed to eighteen. The youthful features are a source of teasing from your crewmates, and the only physical aspect of yourself that you actively dislike. Blond hair and blue eyes, a common trait of your father's family, complete the picture, making you look more like a youth model as opposed to a fisherman.

However, you know better than almost anyone never to judge by looks or intent. And as you count down the days to your nineteenth birthday, you can only hope you can furfill your parents' wishes and avoid being sent into the arena.

[esther kim d3 {lance}]

Finished yo

[brad bradford ★ d5b [arx]]

like delivery words on a mission mhmm (;
[googlefont="Euphoria Script:400"]Accepted!