Post by cameo on Jul 17, 2016 19:36:52 GMT -8
Name: Dynasty Reagan
Age: Seventeen
District: Two
Appearance:
What does any Leader typically resemble upon their features? Intimidation, a fierce, deadly glare; the expected graces the height of my cheekbones and the curl of my lips. Purely desire forms the built of my shoulders, and the raise of my chin. Sure it lacks the qualities of romantic attractions against others, but such cannot distract a Commander anyways. While most females bat their heavily painted eyelashes for a protective Companion, I’m slaughtering their luscious Fellows with the whip of my lethal smirk. Physical appearance solely concentrates on survival upon my exterior.
Personality:
And my mental attributes evidentially resemble my external reflection. With numerous eyes constantly focused in my direction, patiently waiting for a pristine example, my actions must illustrate flawlessly at every mere moment. Failure is not accepted upon the sway of my feet. Relaxation is a luxury I’m unable to afford, as I’m consistently striving for advancement across my colony of misfits. Training, planning, and maintaining my obligation of Command are exclusively the tasks that grace my woken hours.
History:
From my earliest memories I’ve been bred to be the Leader I am currently. It’s said that my Mother knew from the cry of my birth that’d I would rise into the powerful shoes I possess today…but she was not provided the privilege of witnessing her final creation. She crafted and flourished the expansive Tribe I rule over now, while it only snapped back at her in return. Despicable, ungrateful Twerps lashed at the generous hands that formed us…only to never be seen again.
The memories will forever plague the corners on my mind. Sorrow didn’t curse me as I held my decaying Mother within my cradle; hostile anger did. My knuckles stretched with authentic whiteness, and strained revenge fueled the stream of blood. The three boys that had tested my Mother to her demise, only met with my individual judgment as their punishment…and my reign of a daunting reputation began. Nothing was sheltered from visibility as I had my remaining Colony burry the Traders. My rule has been established ever since, for three years now.
Nothing will ruin my Family from that point on. Strong, cabin-like, structures barrier our Home, and provide shelter from slumbering darkness. The worthy are granted a space, while the rest are banned and casted out. A common area locates in the outdoor middle, where relationships and muscles are nurtured. Acceptance to our Tribe is rare, while enemies ills our instincts. Will the future blossom as I wish, or will I crumble just as my Creator has?
Key Word: Thomas
Key Word: Thomas
