Fienn Redseam

[fαllεη •]

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[cs=2][bg=0a0a0a] statistics
[atrb=width,40%][bg=111111]NAME »	[atrb=width,60%][bg=0F0F0F] Fienn [fee-yen] Redseam
[bg=111111]AGE »	[bg=0F0F0F] 14
[bg=111111]GENDER »	[bg=0F0F0F] Female
[bg=111111]DISTRICT »	[bg=0F0F0F] 8
[bg=111111]OTHER »	[bg=0F0F0F] Played by Liana Liberato I'm So Sick - Flyleaf (Also I would love one of her brothers to be potentially chosen with her (assuming she is XD), if anyone wants to role-play them ^^)
[cs=2][bg=0a0a0a] physical description
[bg=111111]HEIGHT »	[bg=0F0F0F] 5"0
[bg=111111]WEIGHT »	[bg=0F0F0F] Normal
[bg=111111]HAIR COLOUR // LENGTH »	[bg=0F0F0F] Brown, long and straight.
[bg=111111][cs=2]FULL DESCRIPTION » There's no doubting that Fienn is lean and willowy-- two factors that make her an obvious target. She's also a girl of opposites: rounded face, pointed eyebrows; brown eyes and very pale skin. Like most of her district, her time is spent inside, stiching and sewing anything that could possibly be sewn. Her hands are soft and rather weak, but the fingertips are calloused from years of accidental impalement. Although not tall by any stretch of the imagination, she tends to wear her father's and brother's old boots in preference to her sister's, and these give her an extra inch or so. Clothes are, ironically, hard to come by in the textile district, but from the cut-offs and the botched jobs, she has herself a wardrobe of every possible colour. Because she spends most of her time fantasizing about the outside, her clothes are fairly immaculate considering their origins and the different shades and colours all stitched together give her a highly patchworked, scarecrow appearance. But however comical her clothing, Fienn's face accepts no amusement. She was a sheltered child, a separated child, and this comes across in her inability to understand (and therefore her stubborn refutal of) any humour. These humourless eyes are windows to an equally serious mind, and yet many see her refusal to 'lighten up' as childish stubbornness and chuckle at the sour expression.
[cs=2][bg=0a0a0a] mental evaluation
[bg=111111]STEREOTYPE »	[bg=0F0F0F] The creepy, holier-than-thou child.
[bg=111111]LIKES »	[bg=0F0F0F] Carving Privacy Darkness Colour balance. Fienn is very firm on her colour preferences: single colour on white or black, and one colour only.
[bg=111111]DISLIKES »	[bg=0F0F0F] White noise Being made to speak Strangers Mundane questions
[bg=111111]STRENGTHS »	[bg=0F0F0F] Needlework Keeping her mouth shut Logical thinking Loyalty-- she owes one hundred-percent of hers to her family, and not a soul else.
[bg=111111]WEAKNESSES »	[bg=0F0F0F] Emotional contact Physical ability Gentleness Conversational ability
[bg=111111][cs=2]FULL DESCRIPTION » Fienn has an unfortunate habit of presenting herself as the shy, empathetic sort. Her younger siblings tend to come to her when they need advice; the elder two know better and give her a wide berth. Her advice is almost always stilted and recovered from another source-- and although she can appear to be looking straight at the seeker of wisdom, she's ignoring them entirely. When her siblings want advice or when she's talking to family, her mouth bypasses any thought processes-- they're simply too intent on whatever else she's thinking about. If she doesn't know who she's talking to, fear is probably occupying her mind-- if she knows them well, she's comfortable enough to think about something else. The few people who get past the fear... Well, it's only in the middle ground that she speaks and actually focuses on what she's saying. And it's at this mixture of fear and growing trust that she generally slips up, says what she's really thinking, and repels the other person for good. Truth be told, Fienn is a slightly confused, slightly twisted individual. Ever since she first watched the Hunger Games, part of her was repelled but the other immediately wanted to go. She saw the competitor's faces just before and after the kill. Those who didn't hesitate and let fly were winners at heart. But she especially noticed those who did hesitate, those who felt that another's life was more precious than their own, and she would wince whenever these tributes came. Not because she particularly empathised with their victims, but because she couldn't bear to watch them being so weak. Her father shares the same view. "Hurry up an kill'im already," he'd growl under his breath. And the little girl on his shoulders couldn't help but nod in mute agreement. Her parents, like their daughter, are great sticklers for the rules. They'll do everything by the book, even when those around them don't, and it's this distinction that makes Fienn feel proud for who she is and of her family. It's the 'us vs. them' attitude that she loves, the feeling superior because they are lawbreakers and liars, while she and her family stick to the straight and narrow, even when the path gets rough. Unfortunately, Fienn doesn't come from a wealthy background, and she's drawn tesserae six times every year since turning twelve... but her father is such an apparent lover of the games that his daughter is too, and while she thinks she's fully aware of the risks in going, if she were to be reaped... Well, she wants to make him proud.
[cs=2][bg=0a0a0a] background
[bg=111111]ENTRIES »	[bg=0F0F0F] 14 (
[bg=111111]FAMILY »	[bg=0F0F0F] Raon Redseam (Father) Elsa Redseam (Mother) Maze Redseam (Sister, 19) Rayn [rain] Redseam (Brother, 17) Wyr [wee-r] Redseam (Brother, 13) Neir [neear] Redseam (Sister, 13) Fern Redseam (Brother, 10, would be 20)
[bg=111111]WEAPON/S OF CHOICE »	[bg=0F0F0F] Needles, 23/50 Club, 4/50
[bg=111111]FIGHTING EXPERIENCE »	[bg=0F0F0F] Fienn hasn't been trained in fighting for the Games--that's illegal: of course her law-abiding parents would forbid it-- experience with needles has taught her that they can be highly deadly little things, and she knows that any thin, long and sharp object could be put to use in a similar manner. She hasn't tried out any of her methods since she was punished for it at seven (and is now fully aware that it's wrong to injure others outside the Games), but she does lie awake some nights, bored and unable to sleep, when she imagines how she'd win the Hunger Games, given only her needles and some basic supplies. The training in clubs came from her mother after she was beaten up on the way home from school. She didn't take to it, and is still weaker than a green twig.
[bg=111111][cs=2]FULL HISTORY » Fienn has often thought it a bit ironic that, in a world that purports to so treasure human life, parents have huge families and then need all their children to draw tesserae in order to feed them. The large number of tesserae and the large family leads to at least one of the family being led to the Games. As such, she's got a cynical, negative response to being part of a large family. Her point isn't helped by the fact that her elder sister lived past the games, her brother is about to and none of her siblings have been reaped yet... But she still thinks it's only a matter of time. But, moving on. Fienn was born the third child of Raon and Elsa Redseam, and has had a moderately comfortable life ever since-- provided she and her siblings keep drawing their tesserae, of course. She had her lessons, studied hard, learned her father's love of the Games, grew to dislike those who didn't. Her pride in her parents and oldest sister is really her biggest failing-- she believes that none of them could do any wrong, that the face they present to her is exactly how they feel inside. Tactically-minded she might be, but Fienn is still a child and she still believes that her father loves the Hunger Games. She believes with all her heart that whenever he exhorts the tributes to 'just kill them', it's because he wants to see the blood, not because he doesn't want them to suffer, because he would rather a quick death than some of the brutal maimings he's seen. But, of course, Fienn's faith in those she's loyal to extends only to her family because no-one else ever really liked her. She vaguely remembers having 'childhood' friendships with boys and girls when she was six and younger, but doesn't believe she was ever capable of befriending the 'sewer rats'. No, she's now the girl who buckles down and does her share, answers all the questions when she can. The only time she ever makes a fool of herself is when she tries to answer questions... questions when her lack of emotional attachment causes her to make a fool of herself. For most of her life, that's who she's been: sat at the side of the class, drawing when she'd already taken her notes (generally not flattering and certainly not comfortable for her subject).
[cs=2][bg=0a0a0a] surveillance
[bg=111111]ALIAS »	[bg=0F0F0F] Fallen
[bg=111111][cs=2]WRITING SAMPLE » Funnily enough, the ground was the first thing to hit her. "Still feeling cocky, Deadseam?" The bullish laughter rolled over her, pinning her to the concrete until someone grabbed the back of her shirt. She felt thin, sharp fingers in her back as he dragged her to her feet. Stupid South Siders. She had never, not once, been caught. No-one had ever found her drawings before. No-one, it seemed but the lean, sharp faces of the boys who'd followed her home --well, not quite home. Just through the supply dock, and then dragged her around a corner into the stuffing room. The perfect soundproofing. They were clearly sharper pins than her drawings had given them credit for. "Deadseam! You got cottonwool in your ears?" They must have been talking to her-- another mistake, one to add to the growing list to be tacked beside the mounting panic in her chest. One of the girls pushed her, spitting in her face as she did so. Another pulled out a clump of her hair as she reached to wipe it off, and she couldn't help it-- she shrieked, a hand shooting to her head. It came away bloody and went back bloody, her favourite colour seeming to echo their laughter. "So, she does have a voice!" Sharp faces with sharper grins leered at her: two her height, girls from her class, and three taller boys-- their brothers, or their boyfriends? But for once, the snarking didn't warm her or replenish her pride. Her hand was still clamped to her head as one of them seized her wrist and thrust a floorboard into it. Then the slow chanting began. "Fight. Fight. Fight. Fight!" 'Stupid boys,' she wanted to scream. 'Who do you want me to fight, my shadow?' And then a huge, lilac-purple pain burst open at the back of her knees. She crumpled like an unstuffed doll, the cheers growing louder she hit the ground again. Something warm trickled down her cheeks as the beatings rained down, letting loose more purple fireworks as they exploded against her chest, her back, her legs. They crashed down on her, beating her against the floor again and again-- and when she tried to rise, someone else let loose a firecracker of stabbing pins. 'It's against the rules to put pins in your shoes,' she thought, with no breath in her lungs to speak. 'It's against the... the ru...' Her thoughts were getting whiter and whiter, lost under the constant explosions. She was losing them in the violet ocean. She couldn't hold onto them. The final explosion was all it took for them to disappear entirely. Slowly, the crowd dispersed from the crumpled form, her patchwork clothes hiding what would soon be purple and black bruises, reminders of the dangers of paper, pencil, and honesty. Not even Fienn could be bothered to pay attention to the mottled mess... She'd come back. But for now, she was burnt up, blown away on the wind like so many ashes of useless fabric; just twisting in the wind.

[seafeather]

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-ACCEPTED!!!!!!-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.- As if I could give any less for this!! XD