Lorenzo Moon | District Eight {FIN}
Jan 15, 2018 9:49:33 GMT -5
Post by kap on Jan 15, 2018 9:49:33 GMT -5
My son, Zagreus Moon, was raised to be a victor. Instead, he turned out to be a failure. He died a tribute, having been selected to do so. I feel that that means he deserved it. If he didn't survive, he wasn't meant to. Some say I'm cruel for not caring that my son is no longer alive. Hell, my niece, Destriianatos, punched me in the face, breaking my nose when I said that I didn't care about Zagreus's death. It didn't make me care any more or any less, though. It just put me in some pain and gave me a bit of rage towards the girl. Getting one's nose broken by an eighteen-year-old girl isn't the best ego boost when you're a forty-seven-year-old, well-built, attractive man.
I suppose my son looked a lot like me. I didn't have him to have a mini-me, though. I brought him into this world to make a name for the Moon family, and he screwed it up. He made us look weak by dying to one of the Capitol's muttations in the arena they'd created. He had the same dark hair and pale skin as I do. My eyes, however, are a light, gray-green color, whereas his were of a darker hue. I dress to impress, and I made sure that while my son was alive, he did too. I couldn't have him making a bad statement about the Moon family with the way he looked. At least he didn't give Charlotte and I any difficulties about that.
I'll admit that I used to yell at my son quite frequently while he was alive. I never hit him, though. No, my strong hands never made contact with him. My wife was the one to do that- not me. Sometimes, I feel that I was Zagreus's favorite of his two parents, even if he truly seemed to despise us both. I would say that I was the lesser of two evils. His hatred toward us was obvious, but he clearly tried not to show it when he was around us. It makes me wonder what he told his friends about his home life. Surely he had to have known better than to spew all the details to his buddies.
I've always been a confident man. Some people choose to tell me that I'm a bit too cocky- that I'm full of myself and don't know when to stop bragging. Even if they're right, it doesn't bother me. I'm not affected by the criticism of others, as it's easy for me to brush it off. I'm usually the one criticizing other people, if I'm being entirely honest. I'm very blunt with what I say. I don't hold back my words, and I'm not afraid to hurt people's feelings.
I'm also a business man. I work as a tailor, which brings in a lot of money, due to the high quality of my work. It's not uncommon for people to choose the Moon family to mend their clothing and other fabrics when something tears, a button falls off, a zipper breaks, or some other dilemma occurs that can be repaired by me. I bring in the family's money, for the most part. Zagreus never did much to support the family, as he was never able to find a job. Admittedly, this still quite frustrates me, as I feel that he wasn't trying hard enough. My wife, Charlotte, brings in the rest of the money, as she designs clothing for the people of the District to make.
People around the District recognize me now, much more than they did before Zagreus was reaped. They see my bulky build, as well as the distinctive, long and thin nose shape that I have, which make me look a lot like my son did, and they try to give me their 'condolences'. I don't want their sympathy, though, and sometimes it makes me wish that I didn't look so similar to my son. We were both very similar in height, too, with me being about six feet and two inches tall, and him being only about half an inch shorter than me. The main difference between us in appearance was that his body was littered in scars and bruises, and mine wasn't. Instead, my hands are dry and rough from all the work I do as a tailor.
There are days I wish I could erase that boy's memory from my life, too. I hate being reminded of him whenever I look in the mirror.
When I look in the mirror, I feel regret for ever even bringing Zagreus into the world. I know that sounds like a terrible thing for a father to say, but it's truly how I feel. My wife and I wanted to raise a child to be a victor because the two of us were never brave enough to volunteer when we were of the age to do it ourselves. Sometimes, I wish I had taken that step at the age of eighteen or younger and gone into the Games to fight and survive. Charlotte tells me that she feels the same way. Regardless, it's too late for that now, and Zagreus was unable to fill those shoes in my place.
I'm very serious about everything I do. I'm hardworking, I never give in and it's hard to catch me lying. I suppose that's one positive thing that people see in me- I'm very honest. It's almost impossible to recall a time that I lied- of course, I'm sure there are some times that I did, even if no one can remember them. It's inevitable. Everyone lies from time to time. I just don't do so as often as others.
When I was growing up, my parents were very different from how Charlotte and I were towards Zagreus. They were very lenient, giving me a lot of freedom in what I wanted to do. I started working as a tailor at approximately sixteen years old, and haven't stopped since. My parents taught me the life skills I needed to know for living in District Eight, such as sewing. My father taught me self-defense, too, which made me want to be strong. It made me want to go into the Games and prove myself- prove the family name. I never did, though. That's why it became Zagreus's job, but he failed.
Zagreus Moon failed the only task he had in life- survival.
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