District 5: Arthur Cooney

[Sockie]

Arthur Cooney Sr.

[Sockie]

Arthur Cooney Sr.

[ District 5 ]
[ Age 95 ]

    The war.
    The dark days.

    I was born a year before the war started. My family lived in District 5 but I recall my brother saying we had a cousin we regularly corresponded with over in Four. That's not allowed now, and I'll never know what became of her.  I was the youngest of six by about ten years. When the war started, my two eldest brothers joined the fight against the capital, but the rest of us stayed in Five, stayed loyal, and laid low. Rationing, raids, interrogations. I missed most of it.

    (And this is the story I always tell.)

    "Paw-paw, you don't remember anything?"

    No dear, I was too young. 

    (Just like you are now.)

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    "Mr. Cooney, what do you remember?"

    I remember plenty enough. The hunger and distrust, especially. Aside from my two brothers my family took the capital's side for safety, but that didn't exclude us from being regularly pressed for details on the rebels. One of my most vivid memories from the times before the Games was being eight years old and asked by a soldier to show him where my family keeps the runaways. I asked him what a runaway was, and he hit me with his gun. The scar, although faded now, still sits above my left eyebrow, see? Ah, maybe not, but I know it's there. Between some wrinkles maybe. The soldier is dead now, but I think it's important to mention I forgive him. The capital, however, I do not.

    I remember my mother's dark blue eyes, not unlike my own, and the fear they always held. Fear for me and my siblings. Fear for my father. Every time they entered our home we proclaimed our innocence, and somehow we avoided ever being accused of treason. I'd heard of people being dragged away for keeping too many rations in the cupboard - they could have been saved for hidden rebels. Eventually, that fear extended to me. It took a while. Growing up in a war-torn country desensitised me for a time, but as the war came to an end and news of District 13's destruction came to light, things became all too real. It took time for the Capital to decide on it's punishment for the disobedient district, and for the first time, I would be pulled into what my parents had tried so hard to keep me away from. 

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    The Reaping.

    No one quite understood what was going to happen. It was talked about on the television enough, but in District 5, at least, it was not yet real. We never asked how the capital could be so cruel - we knew. We had experienced it for years during the war and even more during the horrible in-between of the Dark Days. No, the questions we asked were much different. What was tesserae, how much of a difference did it make... and could the capital really be trusted to give the promised provisions? I don't believe more than two families in our pocket of houses took any. 

    I was eighteen, and the only of my siblings to experience a Reaping from where I stood. I didn't know my father would die shortly afterwards, and supposedly, I should have been one of those most likely to enter these new "Hunger Games" mandated by the capital. 

    The silence was unbearable. The panic was inescapable. For a moment, my life ended, when the male tribute's name began with "Arthur-" and yet, by some twist, ended with a different name. I will not forget that feeling. And from every Reaping I have attended since the very first, I remember that moment. It doesn't matter the name. I remember the feeling.

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    The Hunt.

    My father taught me one of my most important skills: how to hunt. It was, all at once, a source of food, a source of money, and a time away from the chaos to find a retreat in myself. The hunt was quiet, and that is just how I like it. In my youth, I preferred the bow to the trap, but as I've gotten older trapping has become one of the few ways left that I can hunt. 

    District 5 relies increasingly less on hunters, but nonetheless I carry on, and I have passed it on to any of my children or grandchildren who find an interest in it. I sell my rabbits and turkeys, and the occasional boar, to merchants. In the past I tracked deer, but it's been many years since I was last able to take them down, and I mostly just track them to look at them now. Perhaps one of them is a great-grandchild of a deer I once knew.

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    Love.

   I was married. Her name was Miriam and she was quite adorable. We met when I was sixteen. Imagine it: I, the hunter's son, and she, the veterinarian's daughter. Forget Dark Days and war and feeding your family and shit. Her biggest goal in life was to become a professional cat breeder - once the chaos settled down. We didn't have organised school in those days; more people were concerned with keeping their families safe than risking teaching something the capital wouldn't approve of later. So I had to pay her a visit a few times a week to make sure she knew I was making fun of her "dream."

    It took a few years, but I finally realised what I had in front of me and married her. Never looked back. She started that damn cat breeding business and I swear some months she brought in more than I did. She gave us five children before she died, right around her 50th year. Arthur Jr. the year of the 4th Games, when I was 22, Ephraim and Jenny, the twins, the year of the 6th. Malcolm came the year of the 9th and Rachel the year of the 12th. I lost Rachel to the forest when she was fifteen. If I could know anything, it would be what happened to her, where she is, and if she's safe. I like to imagine her an old wanderer by now, but like the rest of my children today, she is more than likely dead. 

    The last time one of my children was alive and speaking to me was seventeen years ago. I outlived my wife and all of my children; old age is not exceptionally common in the Districts and I have become painfully aware of that. Jenny was the last to go in the year of the 60th Games, and it's her children and grandchildren that have stayed the closest to me. 

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    I opened the shop when I was 28, the same year my 12-year-old niece died. My sister killed herself not too long afterwards. My nephew stayed with me for a time - he was a good carpenter - but was killed by a peacekeeper at nineteen.

    The shop has been family-run for the past about sixty years, and several of my grandchildren and great-grandchildren keep it working while I do mainly management activities. It's a good way to pass the time, and we're now a well-trusted business within the district. One of my grandsons opened a butcher's shop right next to us so we pull in plenty of customers. A baffling thought - my great-great grandson Arthur V just turned thirteen. 

MEL @ ADOX

[Sockie]

and that's that

[Deleted]

Hey Sockie! I love this bio, but there's one issue -- we aren't allowed to write any past tribute relations (other than 54th+ roleplayed tribs). This means Arthur's niece couldn't have been in the earlier games, but besides that everything looks crystal clear. Once that's switched up, let me know and I'll come back to accept!^^

[Sockie]

Okiedoke, changed it ^^

[Deleted]

gotcha! thanks for the fast edit