Clove (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
shenevermisses) wrote2012-04-25 08:56 pm
shenevermisses) wrote2012-04-25 08:56 pm
(no subject)
Mun
Name: Lynn
Dreamwidth Username:sepiaepiphany
E-mail: dreamsofharlequin@gmail.com
AIM/MSN: celia0sword [AIM]
Current Characters at Luceti:
Horatio Hornblower -captainhornblower
Jonathan Hollom -awhitecrow
Sherlock Holmes -notquiteheartless
Character
Name: Clove
Fandom: Hunger Games
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Time Period: post Hunger Games
Wing Color: Outside- gold; inside- black with red tips
History: History here!
Personality:
Clove is, ultimately, a product of her environment and upbringing.
She is part of the priviledged class of District Two and has never known want. She has never worked or known hunger but she has been trained from early childhood to compete in the Hunger Games, a "contest" where two young people (one boy and one girl) from each of the twelve Districts are put into a constructed Arena, where they fight to the death until a lone Victor remains. Those trained in District Two are considered "Career Tributes," and they view competing in the Games as an honor. Clove was brought up in this environment and trained from a very young age to compete in the Games.
Her training has made Clove a determined fighter and a ruthless killer. She shows no sympathy toward her victims, and she takes pleasure from her kills.
Because of her bloody mindset, Clove does not take to civilian life well. She was brought up to either compete in the Games or join the Capitol's Peacekeepers after she was nineteen, a twenty-year commitment. Even thoug she was sixteen-- rather than the maximum age of eighteen-- Clove's enthusiasm or skills or a combination of the two saw her enter the 74th annual Hunger Games.
Clove shows disdain for most of her fellow Tributes. She tolerates her fellow Careers (from Districts One and Four), but she has no concern when they are picked off. The only person she shows any connection to is Cato, the boy from her District. When Clove is attacked, she screams for Cato. He arrives too late to save her but stays with her for at least a few moments.
Clove has a sadistic streak, possibly born out of the showmanship Careers are taught, useful in keeping aid flowing from the bloodthirsty sponsors of the Tributes. She tells Katniss she intends to carve her face up while pinning her down, explaining further that she promised Cato she'd make it a show if he let her kill Katniss.
Clove also tends to be impersonal in her forms of address. Only Rue, mentioned in her taunts, and Cato are called by name. Peeta, despite having been part of the "Career pack," is always "Lover Boy." Katniss is called "District Twelve."
Clove operates easily in a pack setting. The Careers band together in alliance, and that is maintained even when only Clove and Cato are left, and it is likely strengthened when the Game rules are changed to allow two winners-- provided both are from the same District.
Clove was raised to be a killer, and she becomes one. She is responsible for her actions, but she is not fully responsible for the thought processes that allow her to justify her actions.
Strengths:
Clove is a combat-trained, intelligent young woman who, armed with knives, "never misses."
She was born and raised in District Two, known for its quarries, weapons, Peacekeepers, and Career Tributes. Children from the upper ranks of District Two society are trained from a young age to compete in the annual Hunger Games. The Games are seen not as an obligation (as other Districts see them) but as an honor. While training is supposed to be against the rules, a few Districts get around this, likely by calling it something else. Clove was trained in District Two's Academy, taught to fight and kill so she could excel at the Games.
Clove is smart. Her size puts her at a disadvantage, but her intelligence evens the odds. She is likely responsible for the net that captures Rue, as Marvel is the one to kill the young girl, yet Clove later uses the word "we" to Katniss. It may be the sake of the taunt, but it is highly possible she rigged the trap, thus making her feel entitled to a share of the credit.
Katniss claims that Clove never misses when she throws her knives. Even when the blow fails to be fatal, Clove usually draws blood, as when she cuts Katniss on the face. Her aim, naturally, is not perfect, but her skills are honed enough to make her deadly.
Her training allows Clove to fight and kill with no remorse. For a combatant in a battle to the death, this gives her an edge. She is focused, too, allowing her to keep coming as long as she is physically able.
Weaknesses:
Clove can fight, but she has minimal ability to survive. Career Tributes are well fed while they are trained, and they generally can take command of food and medical supplies in the Arena. Generous sponsors also mean that they rarely need to know more than killing opponents. When deprived of supplies, however, they have no skill at hunting, fishing, or trapping. Clove is also unable to climb well, as she makes no attempt to pursue Katniss up a tree. She may be able to set a net, but she cannot make one.
Her emotional distance from violence can hinder her socially. She seems unable to empathize, taunting Katniss about Rue's death. It is not until Thresh overpowers her that we can really see her as a sixteen-year-old girl, frightened and screaming for help.
Even trained and well-fed, giving her a weight advantage over Katniss, Clove is still small. Thresh lifts her easily and physically overpowers her without difficulty. She is entirely human, prone to all injuries and diseases.
Clove suffers from tunnel vision, which feeds into her emotional disconnect, and arrogance. She focuses in on the one thing she wants and ignores her surroundings to do it. This combination, ultimately, is what gets her killed. She pins Katniss, intending to torture her to death with her knives. For added effect, she taunts Katniss about the death of Rue. Clove disregards Thresh, who was from the same District as Rue, perhaps thinking he would not care. Had Clove killed Katniss quickly or retrieved her District's pack and gone immediately back to Cato, she likely would not have died by Thresh's hands.
Her violent life and, most importantly, death will have a marked effect on Clove. She will suffer from nightmares based on the Arena but mostly focused on the manner of her death. Her habit of sleeping with a knife in her hand, developed to protect herself in the Arena, will not be abandoned or lessened. She will strive to learn the survival skills she needed in the Arena but did not possess, yet she will neglect learning many skills that would assist her outside combat and survival. She will seek out "sanctioned" fights, such as drafts and missions for the Malnosso. Her startle reflex will be exaggerated, particularly when approached from behind and especially if picked up. She also will misremember the manner of her death: rather than knowing Thresh killed her with a rock, Clove will be under the impression that he dented her skull by slamming her head into the Cornucopia.
Samples
First Person:
[Introspection:]
"Why are we fighting their war?"
I've heard that question a lot, and I don't understand it. The selection process is random, like a Reaping, and there is no chance for a volunteer to take the place of someone useless. If someone resists, they are dragged. Their droids, our Peacekeepers. There isn't much difference.
They feed us and house us. We manufacture nothing for them. Even the Capitol requires labor for the goods they ship to the Districts. They arm us before we fight; they don't expect us to scramble for weapons the battle starts. We have a common enemy, too. We are not expected to fight one another. There is real cooperation, not temporary alliances.
Is it fair? Yes and no. Everyone has equal chance to be called on. One name is not in five times while another's is in fifty times. Maybe substitutions ought to be allowed, but that's its own unfairness. What happens to the ones who don't have anyone to speak for them?
A whole population is often asked to fight the battles of those in charge or support those who do. Why should we be any different? I would rather fight and pride myself on doing something than take what they give and cower when asked to do anything to repay them. Protest and cowardice are an insult to those who provide for us and a disgrace to those who engage in them. Better to fight and die than do nothing.
Which is an option. If you're sent and you don't want to fight? Then don't. And die. Or watch those around you die because you are doing nothing to help them. That's what it comes down to. They cannot make you fight but when it's between losing your life and taking someone else's? Or watching someone on your side-- someone who is doing the fighting you should be helping with-- die? If you don't fight then, you deserve whatever people say about you. And it won't be complimentary, not most of it. You get dragged into it, sure, but once you're in it, you have two choices: fight or die.
Why are we fighting their war?
Because we have to.
Third Person:
Clove stared up at the sky. Sitting by the lake, a wooded area to her back, away from the town, and with her knife in her hand, she could almost pretend like she was calm. No doubt others found it unsettling, being in an area that resembled the Arena. For her, though, it was a comfort. She was more in control of her surroundings here than people milling about everywhere. It was easier to watch her back here.
Maybe tomorrow, she'd bring a few things: a couple boxes, sheet, poles. Make a proper little camp, see if she couldn't catch a few fish. Pretend like she thought that if she just fell asleep, she'd wake up to find Cato teasing her for wasting time. She'd be back in the Arena. Maybe even back at the Academy. No more nightmares, no more wings, no more Luceti.
Her stomach growled. Fourteen hours since her last meal. If she ignored it, maybe it would give up. District Twelve was tougher than that. Bitterly, she reminded herself that District Twelve wouldn't have to scurry back to the town to find something to eat.
Clove glared at her reflection in the lake. She saw nothing better than a weak coward.
The girl she saw deserved it. Not just the hunger pains now but the humiliation in the Arena. She'd done it to herself. A girl from the Academy of District Two should be better than to die screaming to be saved. She had been armed. She could have-- should have-- fought. Her training might not have prevailed over Thresh's brute strength, but she could at least have made him bleed. She could have done her District and family proud. She could have done Cato proud.
She heard footsteps. Coming or going? She couldn't tell. She realized she was on her feet. And screaming. Inarticulate, high sounds. Hearing herself, she thought it sounded like an animal in its death throes. Her eyes stung. She shifted her knife to her right hand so she could press the left to her mouth to silence herself. Blood. She tasted blood.
Her hand was bleeding. The gash was sizeable, but she hadn't felt the blade press into her flesh. Yet, there was the thick red on her hand, weapon, and now lips. She snak down to wash it in the lake, and her chest shook with choked sobs. Weak. Pathetic.
She was better than this. She would prove she was better than this.
Name: Lynn
Dreamwidth Username:
sepiaepiphanyE-mail: dreamsofharlequin@gmail.com
AIM/MSN: celia0sword [AIM]
Current Characters at Luceti:
Horatio Hornblower -
captainhornblowerJonathan Hollom -
awhitecrowSherlock Holmes -
notquiteheartlessCharacter
Name: Clove
Fandom: Hunger Games
Gender: Female
Age: 16
Time Period: post Hunger Games
Wing Color: Outside- gold; inside- black with red tips
History: History here!
Personality:
Clove is, ultimately, a product of her environment and upbringing.
She is part of the priviledged class of District Two and has never known want. She has never worked or known hunger but she has been trained from early childhood to compete in the Hunger Games, a "contest" where two young people (one boy and one girl) from each of the twelve Districts are put into a constructed Arena, where they fight to the death until a lone Victor remains. Those trained in District Two are considered "Career Tributes," and they view competing in the Games as an honor. Clove was brought up in this environment and trained from a very young age to compete in the Games.
Her training has made Clove a determined fighter and a ruthless killer. She shows no sympathy toward her victims, and she takes pleasure from her kills.
Because of her bloody mindset, Clove does not take to civilian life well. She was brought up to either compete in the Games or join the Capitol's Peacekeepers after she was nineteen, a twenty-year commitment. Even thoug she was sixteen-- rather than the maximum age of eighteen-- Clove's enthusiasm or skills or a combination of the two saw her enter the 74th annual Hunger Games.
Clove shows disdain for most of her fellow Tributes. She tolerates her fellow Careers (from Districts One and Four), but she has no concern when they are picked off. The only person she shows any connection to is Cato, the boy from her District. When Clove is attacked, she screams for Cato. He arrives too late to save her but stays with her for at least a few moments.
Clove has a sadistic streak, possibly born out of the showmanship Careers are taught, useful in keeping aid flowing from the bloodthirsty sponsors of the Tributes. She tells Katniss she intends to carve her face up while pinning her down, explaining further that she promised Cato she'd make it a show if he let her kill Katniss.
Clove also tends to be impersonal in her forms of address. Only Rue, mentioned in her taunts, and Cato are called by name. Peeta, despite having been part of the "Career pack," is always "Lover Boy." Katniss is called "District Twelve."
Clove operates easily in a pack setting. The Careers band together in alliance, and that is maintained even when only Clove and Cato are left, and it is likely strengthened when the Game rules are changed to allow two winners-- provided both are from the same District.
Clove was raised to be a killer, and she becomes one. She is responsible for her actions, but she is not fully responsible for the thought processes that allow her to justify her actions.
Strengths:
Clove is a combat-trained, intelligent young woman who, armed with knives, "never misses."
She was born and raised in District Two, known for its quarries, weapons, Peacekeepers, and Career Tributes. Children from the upper ranks of District Two society are trained from a young age to compete in the annual Hunger Games. The Games are seen not as an obligation (as other Districts see them) but as an honor. While training is supposed to be against the rules, a few Districts get around this, likely by calling it something else. Clove was trained in District Two's Academy, taught to fight and kill so she could excel at the Games.
Clove is smart. Her size puts her at a disadvantage, but her intelligence evens the odds. She is likely responsible for the net that captures Rue, as Marvel is the one to kill the young girl, yet Clove later uses the word "we" to Katniss. It may be the sake of the taunt, but it is highly possible she rigged the trap, thus making her feel entitled to a share of the credit.
Katniss claims that Clove never misses when she throws her knives. Even when the blow fails to be fatal, Clove usually draws blood, as when she cuts Katniss on the face. Her aim, naturally, is not perfect, but her skills are honed enough to make her deadly.
Her training allows Clove to fight and kill with no remorse. For a combatant in a battle to the death, this gives her an edge. She is focused, too, allowing her to keep coming as long as she is physically able.
Weaknesses:
Clove can fight, but she has minimal ability to survive. Career Tributes are well fed while they are trained, and they generally can take command of food and medical supplies in the Arena. Generous sponsors also mean that they rarely need to know more than killing opponents. When deprived of supplies, however, they have no skill at hunting, fishing, or trapping. Clove is also unable to climb well, as she makes no attempt to pursue Katniss up a tree. She may be able to set a net, but she cannot make one.
Her emotional distance from violence can hinder her socially. She seems unable to empathize, taunting Katniss about Rue's death. It is not until Thresh overpowers her that we can really see her as a sixteen-year-old girl, frightened and screaming for help.
Even trained and well-fed, giving her a weight advantage over Katniss, Clove is still small. Thresh lifts her easily and physically overpowers her without difficulty. She is entirely human, prone to all injuries and diseases.
Clove suffers from tunnel vision, which feeds into her emotional disconnect, and arrogance. She focuses in on the one thing she wants and ignores her surroundings to do it. This combination, ultimately, is what gets her killed. She pins Katniss, intending to torture her to death with her knives. For added effect, she taunts Katniss about the death of Rue. Clove disregards Thresh, who was from the same District as Rue, perhaps thinking he would not care. Had Clove killed Katniss quickly or retrieved her District's pack and gone immediately back to Cato, she likely would not have died by Thresh's hands.
Her violent life and, most importantly, death will have a marked effect on Clove. She will suffer from nightmares based on the Arena but mostly focused on the manner of her death. Her habit of sleeping with a knife in her hand, developed to protect herself in the Arena, will not be abandoned or lessened. She will strive to learn the survival skills she needed in the Arena but did not possess, yet she will neglect learning many skills that would assist her outside combat and survival. She will seek out "sanctioned" fights, such as drafts and missions for the Malnosso. Her startle reflex will be exaggerated, particularly when approached from behind and especially if picked up. She also will misremember the manner of her death: rather than knowing Thresh killed her with a rock, Clove will be under the impression that he dented her skull by slamming her head into the Cornucopia.
Samples
First Person:
[Introspection:]
"Why are we fighting their war?"
I've heard that question a lot, and I don't understand it. The selection process is random, like a Reaping, and there is no chance for a volunteer to take the place of someone useless. If someone resists, they are dragged. Their droids, our Peacekeepers. There isn't much difference.
They feed us and house us. We manufacture nothing for them. Even the Capitol requires labor for the goods they ship to the Districts. They arm us before we fight; they don't expect us to scramble for weapons the battle starts. We have a common enemy, too. We are not expected to fight one another. There is real cooperation, not temporary alliances.
Is it fair? Yes and no. Everyone has equal chance to be called on. One name is not in five times while another's is in fifty times. Maybe substitutions ought to be allowed, but that's its own unfairness. What happens to the ones who don't have anyone to speak for them?
A whole population is often asked to fight the battles of those in charge or support those who do. Why should we be any different? I would rather fight and pride myself on doing something than take what they give and cower when asked to do anything to repay them. Protest and cowardice are an insult to those who provide for us and a disgrace to those who engage in them. Better to fight and die than do nothing.
Which is an option. If you're sent and you don't want to fight? Then don't. And die. Or watch those around you die because you are doing nothing to help them. That's what it comes down to. They cannot make you fight but when it's between losing your life and taking someone else's? Or watching someone on your side-- someone who is doing the fighting you should be helping with-- die? If you don't fight then, you deserve whatever people say about you. And it won't be complimentary, not most of it. You get dragged into it, sure, but once you're in it, you have two choices: fight or die.
Why are we fighting their war?
Because we have to.
Third Person:
Clove stared up at the sky. Sitting by the lake, a wooded area to her back, away from the town, and with her knife in her hand, she could almost pretend like she was calm. No doubt others found it unsettling, being in an area that resembled the Arena. For her, though, it was a comfort. She was more in control of her surroundings here than people milling about everywhere. It was easier to watch her back here.
Maybe tomorrow, she'd bring a few things: a couple boxes, sheet, poles. Make a proper little camp, see if she couldn't catch a few fish. Pretend like she thought that if she just fell asleep, she'd wake up to find Cato teasing her for wasting time. She'd be back in the Arena. Maybe even back at the Academy. No more nightmares, no more wings, no more Luceti.
Her stomach growled. Fourteen hours since her last meal. If she ignored it, maybe it would give up. District Twelve was tougher than that. Bitterly, she reminded herself that District Twelve wouldn't have to scurry back to the town to find something to eat.
Clove glared at her reflection in the lake. She saw nothing better than a weak coward.
The girl she saw deserved it. Not just the hunger pains now but the humiliation in the Arena. She'd done it to herself. A girl from the Academy of District Two should be better than to die screaming to be saved. She had been armed. She could have-- should have-- fought. Her training might not have prevailed over Thresh's brute strength, but she could at least have made him bleed. She could have done her District and family proud. She could have done Cato proud.
She heard footsteps. Coming or going? She couldn't tell. She realized she was on her feet. And screaming. Inarticulate, high sounds. Hearing herself, she thought it sounded like an animal in its death throes. Her eyes stung. She shifted her knife to her right hand so she could press the left to her mouth to silence herself. Blood. She tasted blood.
Her hand was bleeding. The gash was sizeable, but she hadn't felt the blade press into her flesh. Yet, there was the thick red on her hand, weapon, and now lips. She snak down to wash it in the lake, and her chest shook with choked sobs. Weak. Pathetic.
She was better than this. She would prove she was better than this.