Zrum Cauterline: Devotee of The Games

Initial Entry

Name: Zrum Cauterline

Age: 18

Gender: Male

District: Three

Appearance: His eyes droop naturally, the bags under his eyes last unnaturally, and his dull black hair drops to his mid-section. His skin, although naturally bronze, holds the ashen effects of living in district three. His fingers are long and nimble and his body is just long. Unsurprisingly his face is also rather long, with no extra fat to pad his bones and an aquiline nose that does him few favors. His eyes are monolids their color is a rich whiskey brown.

Personality: Zrum is quick to trust and faster to spurn, devoting himself wholeheartedly to a person only to crash his own expectations of them when they cannot grab the stars out of the sky for him (like he would for them.) His loyalty in organizations and groups is therefore unfaltering because there is no one person to uphold, and he truly believes in the cause of the Games. Even if his district ended on the rebellious side. He prefers cunning to brute strength since he can achieve the latter and quickly panics if he cannot come up with a plan.

Four skills: A tactician to his core, excellent with rewiring existing electronic, able to create/frankenstein new electronics, able to wave off pressure most of the time.

Weapon of choice: Broadsword

Reaping

Had the districts not rebelled, Zrum wouldn't have had to bother with dressing up today. While in theory the entire thing was a small price compared to what the Capitol and true panemians had to face at the start of it all, he truly wasn't made to wake up on three hours of sleep. Yawns consistently interrupting him excused him doing his hair in anything more fancy than a bun, sleep fumbling fingers stopped him at a button up and a hungry cat stopped him from a full breakfast for himself.

He did keep his sleep addled wits about him, stepping lightly to avoid waking his parents who slept in the apartment below. Not that they're weren't likely up already or that they'd yell at him during their afternoon tea, but he didn't have the energy to deal with their banter over his elephant steps at the moment. In hindsight, he should've stomped around to focus the conversation to the square on that instead of his horrendous ex-boyfriend and how his parents were so sure it'd work out this time, and that he'd find the right guy one day sweetie.

At the very least, he was swept away one last time into the crowd of awaiting participants. He took extra hours at work instead of extra tessarae, his name didn't need to be in their so often, he hadn't belonged to a rebelling family. The weight of his ancestors not doing more to quell the rebellion was covered just fine by the obligatory entries, in his humble opinion. Getting away from his family and into his age group held the oh-so-unfortunate consequence of standing next to said ex, and having a different unrelated ex on the other side.
"Are you still pissed over noth-" the most recent ex, James, tried to say. Zrum interrupted with a swift and meaningful look to the stage.

Grumbling could be distinctly heard as the anthem started and the colorful representative took the stage. She embodied everything glorious about the Capitol, heavy metals draping across every available surface, bright neon peeking through plating, it was all so lavish and bright-- just like the district's future when paired with the Capitol.

Sweet words drifted from her cheery smile, riding on the heavenly Capitol accent and Zrum had heard the words so many times he didn't bother listening for it's content. Only two things changed each year and both of those were names.

Names of people who bore far greater sin and entered above and beyond for atonement. People like the girl just called up. Still, perhaps he should try to talk to their representative today, after everything. The Capitol lilt was ever so lovely and he'd give anything to hear-
"Zrum Cauterline" Her voice actually spoke, outside of grand fantasies.

Admittedly, it was a lot to digest and few could blame him when it turned to the less recent ex to ask "Pardon?"

"Your turn hotshot," he nudged Zrum, jolting him to move towards the stage.

His turn indeed, and the short path to redemption compared to the others --had to be compared to whoever else picked -- would make winning a breeze. Their love for their country would hold him through, after all, that was the entire point of these games.