Post by Peeta Mellark on Feb 1, 2011 22:33:13 GMT -5
PEETA O MELLARK
And looks like Hunter Parrish
And i never wanted anything from you,
except for everything you had and what was left after that too. oh.
happiness it hit her like a bullet in the back,
struck from a great height by someone who should know better than that.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - basics[/center]
full name; Peeta Owen Mellark
"My parents were not quite original when it comes to my name. Firstly, both of my older brothers have names that start with a P. Although I suppose that isn't all too weird, since it does seem to be a popular thing to have at least some resemblence between your name and that of your siblings. The not-quite-original aspect of my name though comes from the fact that my parents are bakers for District 12, and pita is a type of bread. It may not be spelt the same way, but you say it the same, so I'm basically named after a type of bread. My middle name, Owen, is the name of my father. And Mellark is his last name as well."
nicknames; Peet (by his brothers) or simply Peeta
"Peeta is a rather short name on it's own, so nicknames are enough of a rare occurence with me. My brothers have called me Peet in the past though, although it's not a very common thing. I prefer to personally go by Peeta, so other than that nickname from my brothers, I simply tell people to call me Peeta, just like I never use nicknames for anyone else."
age; Seventeen
"An awkward age to be if you ask me. I'm the youngest of third kids, my two brothers being twenty two and eighteen. I was sixteen at the time that I was reaped for the Hunger Games. It was during the course of the Games that I hit my seventeenth birthday, but who keeps tracks of the days in the arena? I sure didn't. So I didn't know myself that I had turned a year older in that dreadful place. It wasn't until we were on the train back to 12 that Effie mentioned the day, and I realized my birthday had passed. I didn't share it with anyone though. Wouldn't want them to feel sorry about not celebrating it and then throwing me a party of something of the sort."
district; Twelve
"I don't mind District Twelve. Sure, it is poor compared to all the other districts, and getting some good food is hard to come by. But all in all, twelve is a safe place to reside. The peacekeepers don't kill you for things they normally should. They are actually quite friendly with you if you take the time to talk with them. So although we may not be lucky in comparison to others, we should consider ourselves to be lucky enough to be alive and able to live."
canon or original; Canon
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - appearance
hair; Blond
eyes; Blue
tattoos; None
piercings; None
other features; Artificial right leg, abnormally nice skin (caused by the capitol doctors getting rid of any imperfections on his skin after the Games)
overall appearance; "I'm not really what you consider a hot guy. Attractive, sure. But hot? Not really. I believe that title belongs to Gale Hawthorne. In a nutshell, I have blond hair that falls in waves over my forehead, and often get in the way of my sight, but I don't mind it all that much. My eyes are a light shade of blue, described by others as sky blue. My skin is rather light, with a slight tan to it from standing in front of an oven so often. It's quite out of the norm for District 12 residents, who have dark hair, gray eyes, and olive skin. I do stand out I suppose, although I'm not the only one who stands out.
"I suppose you can say I'm rather well built. I stand at six feet exactly, and from what my prep team told me in the Capitol I weigh around one hundred and sixty pounds. Although that's probably changed since the Games. I have a rather stocky build. I've been lifted flour sacks for a good majority of my life, and that has helped a lot in building muscles. I suppose I'm bigger than a lot of guys my age, and it did give me a good edge in the Games. As of the games I also have an artificial right leg. My..normal one I suppose was irreperable after what Cato had done to it with his sword. So the capitol doctors had to replace my real leg with an aritifial one. I'm still learning how to walk and run probably with it. Hopefully I'll be able to soon enough."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - personality
likes; Katniss Everdeen. Baking. Bread. Painting. The small things in life.
dislikes;
hobbies; Baking, frosting cakes, painting
quirks/habits; His eyebrows knit together when he is deep in thought. Will constantly be looking over at Katniss when he is with her to make sure nothing has happened to her.
fears; Death (of himself, his family, his friends). Losing Katniss.
goals; Live to see a world where the Hunger Games don't exist. Convince Katniss he is actually in love with her, and not just acting.
overall personality;
“It is a little strange to assess oneself, but I suppose there’s no harm done. I guess you could say that I’m a fairly mellow person. I wouldn’t hurt the fly; just ask anyone who knows me. Although I suppose that after the Games you have to say that I wouldn’t hurt a fly unless it happened to be human like and trying to kill me. I’m not exactly the sort of fellow that gets worked up about much, and I do tend to be on the quiet side unless called upon to talk. Don’t get me wrong, I’m perfectly capable of expressing my thoughts and feelings as words; however I tend to be rather shy around people I don’t know. At times I’m even shy to go and talk to people I do know, at least somewhat. As you know, I was far too shy to approach Katniss before we were reaped for the Games. Well before Prim was reaped and Katniss volunteered. Although I’m shy, I’m not a loss when it comes to public speaking, and even Haymitch says so. I suppose that I’m rather lucky. Wouldn’t it have been awful if I were a mute and fidgeted all the time on camera? Without my being able to talk my way out of things Katniss and I would never be both alive at this moment.
"Like I said before, I’m quite shy. Even so, I suppose that I do have a certain amount of self confidence. I do have to admit to having a bold quality. I’m not unfriendly, is what I mean to say. Unlike most boys my age, I’m not afraid to admit when I feel fear, love, or any emotion for that matter. I’m an incredibly honest person, and I don’t think that I’ve ever told anything other than a tiny white lie in my entire life. My mother often comments that I have a rather good poker face, though. I’m a fairly good actor, and I can project emotion into my voice at any given time. I suppose my readiness to show emotion is some sort of bravery, although a foolish bravery if you ask me. If I don’t rein my emotions in, they can be destructive. Only once or twice have I really lost my temper, but it’s not a pretty sight when I do. I suppose that being a naturally good natured person causes people to think you are a pushover. However, they are terribly wrong, and I’m not all that embarrassed to say it. I would never willingly think that I was a berserker, however when I’m in a bad mood, or someone has upset me enough, it’s inevitable that I throw something, or smash something. Of course, I would never hurt another human being, even in these tantrums, unless they’ve done something to seriously provoke me to hurt them. Threatening myself or my loved ones is a simple example of this. I would never think myself an angry or destructive person. Ever.
"I’m protective though, and fiercely so. I suppose that’s one of the qualities I enjoy having- being loyal, no matter what. Spurn me, insult me, double-cross me, I will remain loyal to whomever I choose to devote myself to. I’m loyal to my ideals, my beliefs, my family, and those I care for. I fear as though my loyalty is derived from my stubbornness and my sheer determination. I’m not someone who gives up easily. Although I did accept that my chances of surviving the Games were slim, I didn’t just roll over and die, I’m sure you know. I actually do have some sense of pride, believe it or not. I’m someone who has a rather large heart. I don’t think that I could ever turn away someone in need of my help…or willingly insult another being without being hugely offended first. I’m just generally big hearted. I suppose that’s why I’d like to be a father someday…maybe. I’m not really brilliant as a person, and I don’t think that anyone in my family is particularly smart. However, I am clever. Naïve at times, but clever at others. I’m just your average guy, to sum it all up."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - history
mother; Macy Mellark, baker
father; Owen Mellark, baker
siblings; Peder Mellark, brother, twenty two
Pekar Mellark, brother, eighteen
other important family; Miri Mellark, sister-in-law, twenty one
pets; None
overall history; My life is not quite one that could be envied by others. I may have been born to parents who had nice steady jobs as bakers, but many factors were in place to make my life not very desireable by anyone. For straters, I was born in District 12, the poorest of the Capitol's districts. I was also born the youngest of three siblings, meaning that more often than not my clothes and belongings had at one point belonged to one of my two older brothers. Hand-me-downs would be the term that others use for this. I spent my days working hard -baking the bread, icing the cakes. It was all I knew. My body had a lot of scars from getting burned...and from my mother hitting me. We were never close, and she was pretty abusive. I think I decided early on how it was going to effect me. I could turn hard and cold, or I could accept the cards I'd been dealt and make the best of it. I chose the latter. With all the work, I never had time to learn hunting or prepare for the Hunger Games.
"Anyway most of my time was spent thinking about a girl. The first time I saw her was at school, our first day of it. We were around five years old at the time and our teacher asked us who knew the Valley Song. Her hand was the first to shoot up, eagerly seeming, yet when she was called to the front of the assembly, in her red plaid dress and her two braids, she seemed to become rather shy. And yet, when she opened her mouth to sing, I swear even the birds outside stopped singing to listen to her voice. Her crystal-clear, girl voice. It was the most amazing voice I had ever heard, and still have heard to this day. I suppose you could say that from that day forth, I was a goner.
"The next time I saw her, she was in pretty bad shape; looking in our garbage for discarded food. That was nothing new, and I had actually seen worse. Still, she was in pretty bad shape and something about her tugged at my heart. I've always been a pretty compassionate person, but my mother didn't allow us to help people. She said we had to worry about us. I never had the nerve to go against her rules, but I couldn't stop myself this time. I had to help this girl. No matter the consequences. Still, I couldn't do much. I just got a peice of bread and threw it to her. Afterwards, when my mother found out and slapped me hard enough to leave a mark, I was still thinking about that girl.
"I never had the nerve to talk to her, but I watched her whenever i could. I also learned that she pretty much belonged to a guy named Gale. As I watched, they grew closer and closer. Then came a certain Hunger Games drawing. I was chosen. To be honest, I didn't react like most of the other tributes from the past reapings have reacted. I was so used to no one wanting me I guess I stopped thinking I was worth something. I had a greater emotional reaction when they called Prim's name and she volunteered than when they called mine. She had people that would miss her when she was gone. Not to have some sort of pity party, but no one would miss me. I was--am--expendable. I think my parent's biggest concern was how bake sales would drop now that the master decorator was going off to die. The strange thing is I don't have little pity parties or crying fits about it. I just learned to accept it. Anyway I discovered I had been chosen for the Hunger Games. I'm kind of an optimist I suppose. I just focus on remaining good-natured; even when I know--or think I know--I'm going to die. Being mean and moody just isn't my thing. When it was time for our loved ones to come say their goodbys to us, my mother told me excitedly how this year District 12 might actually have a winner. And how much of a survivor she was. Not me. She. She meant Katniss. How could any son of hers win at the Games anyhow. Although my biggest surprise was when Gale came to see me. He asked me that although he didn't want me risking my life for her, if I could at least watch over Katniss in the arena. Not wanting to think of her dying instead of me, I promised him she's come back alive. To District 12. To him.
"As weird as this is going to sound, I was sort of excited about the Games simply because I would be with Katniss. Still, when we were together she kept her distance. I don't know if she just didn't like me or was afraid to get close since she would have to kill me soon. Or maybe she was just focused on the games. It was probably a little bit of all three. Anyway we agreed to train with Haymitch (an old drunk who had once won the games) together. Then, when we were judged on our skills to get sponsers (and she got an eleven) I asked to be trained by myself. She was good--much better than I'd thought--and I realized she would know all my skills and have a huge advantage. But that wasn't the main problem. The main one was I was afraid she would discover my feelings for her and the plans I was making with Haymitch. She couldn't know either of those things because I was planning to help her win the games at my own expense, like I had promised Gale. But in order to do that she needed to be fooled into thinking I had teamed up with the best people in the game. I discussed it with Haymitch (I didn't want anyone to know how I felt, but he figured it out) and prepared for the Games. You have to understand, I didn't want to die. But I knew I could never save myself at her expense. Especially since she had people that needed and cared for her. Me, I just had...me.
"The time for the Games neared. When I stepped up to the plate, I nearly threw up. Knowing you're going to die is not an easy thing; even when you convince yourself it doesn't bother you. Even if you are the only person that cares about you (and I don't care much) no one welcomes death with open arms. I'm willing to bet, when people commit suicide, they have that rush of "Oh crap." when they let go. I've always wondered if, after they jump or whatever, they wish they wouldn't have. Anyway the Games began. I saw Katniss look like she wanted to go after something, but my plan wouldn't work if she got in the middle of the first big battle. No, it was too risky. I wanted to yell "Katniss, no!" but that would ruin the rest of my plan. So I just tried subtly shaking my head at her. She was able to grab a small pack before she took off. I tried to take cover and make allies as soon as possible, but I just barely survived that first thing. Watching it on TV and going through it are two very different things. Anyway I allied myself with the Careers. I knew once they took everyone else out I'd be the next to go, but I planned to sabatoge them from the inside. That was very risky, but I was going to die anyway. I would do what I could for Katniss. It was going alright--actually better than I expected--but then Katniss had to dump the damn wasps on us. I should have known she would hate me for teaming up with the Careers. Still, I could hardly bring myself to tell her I was going to try and help her win. It wouldn't take her long to figure out why someone would do that for her. And that was sure to be awkward.
"Anyway the gist of it is I was pretty messed up. I was stabbed in the leg by Cato, and as you could assume it wasn't really a great experience. I managed to get near a stream and cover myself up. Turns out years of decorating came in handy. Eventually Katniss found me. We found a cave and she cleaned me up a little bit, but I was still in bad shape. She decided she was going to go and try and get me something. I protested. I was supposed to be saving her and risking myself, and here it was vice versa. No. But she tricked me and got the stuff. I guess after she was back and I had what I needed it seemed worth it, but she shouldn't have risked herself. We started getting closer--kissing and things sometimes. I didn't notice until later that it was always after a confession of feelings that we got food and things. I thought she was growing feelings for me. This was both good and bad. I had hoped all my life that she would care for me, but what good did it do when one of us had to die and the other would only get out with a lot of luck? We got through the games and waited for them to take most everyone out. It ended up just me, Katniss, and Cato. The Capitol sent some weird wolf-like mutts after us that had the dead Tributes' eyes. I still have nightmares about that night and how they tortured Cato. Katniss took him out with one of her arrows; he was suffering so much. Then it was just the two of us. We had been told earlier that two people from the same district could win. After it was just us, though, they said that was a lie. I wanted Katniss to kill me. Instead she handed me some deadly berries. We both would commit suicide, then. That was better than allowing the Capitol to win. They stopped us, and we both won the Games. Together. And that's where we are now. Victors of the Seventy-fourth Hunger Games."
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - player
your name; Melissa
age; Seventeen
rp experience; Five years
where you heard about us; caution 2.0
muses; none other
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - sample
Sunlight streamed through the semi-opened curtains of his bedroom window. His bedroom. No longer was it his and Pekar's room. It was his, and only his. Peeta's pale blue eyes opened slowly, adjusting to the light that was entering the bedroom. For the sun to be shining this bright through his window meant it was barely past ten in the morning. Peeta sighed softly as he got out of his bed. Another long day lay ahead of him. The Victory Tour wasn't for another few months, and since Katniss was barely speaking to him anymore, there wasn't much else he could do but go and do what he did every day. He got dressed slowly, hoping to kill more time doing so, but even without hurrying up it barely took him five minutes to get dressed. He was getting used to the artifical leg the Capitol had given him as a replacement for his original one, which had been pretty much disabled thanks to Cato, the male career tribute from District
Peeta descended to the main floor of his house. He had never been so lucky as to have his own house, let alone one of his quality. Living in the Victors' Village did have some advantages after all. Although it had a lot of downsides too. Like the fact that now that he was neighbors with Haymitch, he would have no choice but to go and check up on him every once in a while to make sure he hadn't killed him or anything of the sort. That was exactly what he was going to do. Opening the entrance closet, the blond boy took out a small jacket and put it on. It was mid-September only, and yet there was already a chill settling around District 12. The cold weather and snow would take no time at all in following soon, and the young children of the district would start running around freezing, looking for jobs to buy some firewood for their homes to keep from freezing to death. Perhaps he could offer some simple little tasks around his house for them. So as to have a valid reason to give them some money. He could make them wash the dishes. A fairly simple task, requiring no time and barely any effort, and although he would feel bad about making young children to it, it would give them one less reason to decline his monetary offers. He would be able to pay them without them feeling as though they were stealing from him. He would see to this later that afternoon.
For the time being, he was making his way to Haymitch's house. He didn't bother knocking before entering the place, since he knew Haymitch would never answer the door himself. The place smelled horrible. Although not present, a faint odor of past puke hung in the air, along with the strong smell of spirits. Damn the man, always drinking. It was a miracle he had somehow managed to stay sober enough to keep both him and Katniss alive in the arena. Although Peeta wouldn't complain. He owed his life to this man, and although he didn't respect his way of dealing with the pain, there was nothing he could do about it. And there lay the middle-aged man himself. Sitting at the kitchen table, his head lying on the wood, eyes closed, and his hand holding onto a bottle of white liquor. "Haymitch. It's lunch time. Haymitch get up. Haymitch. HAYMITCH!" Peeta cried loudly. Haymitch jumped from his chair, taking out his usual bread knife from the spot where he had been somewhat hiding it. Thank goodness he had decided to stay a few feet away, he would have been slashed for sure. "It's lunch time Haymitch. Katniss's mother invited us to eat with them, remember?" Haymitch grumbled something inaudible under his breath, but gave a short nod, surely recalling the invitation. "Go take a shower. I'll clean up a bit." Peeta offered in a gentle tone. He wasn't going to let Haymitch show up to Katniss's place like this. Her mother would never approve.
anything else?; mittens
