


Name: Keeth Amory Diggett
Nicknames: None heād prefer to share
Age: 17
Sexuality: Timidly Gay
Birthday: October 1st
District: 6th
Weapon of choice: Sharpened Boomerang
Talent: General Survival
Weaknesses: I'm not very strong. Iām useless up close. Really. I hit like a little girl. Youād think I would have gotten better at this, but, no such luck. I really donāt have much self-confidence either. Thereās no way Iām winning this thing, Iām probably going to be the first one to die.
Hobbies: I didnāt really have time for a lot of hobbies, or many friends to do them with. When I wasnāt taking care of things at home, cooking and cleaning and mending and all, I liked to go out and run. That always calmed me down, and I needed to be quick. That and messing around with my ārangs. I used to play the piano, before we had to sell it. Most of my alone time is at night, so I do some star-gazing. I donāt know any of the names, but I can pick out some patterns I like.
Likes: Freshly baked bread ⢠Running, when itās just for the sake of running ⢠Figuring out new tricks with his boomerang ⢠Quiet conversation ⢠His herb garden ⢠Playing the piano ⢠When things are neat and orderly ⢠Rain storms ⢠Being surprised by human decency every so often ⢠Thinking
Dislikes: Being chased ⢠Untidiness ⢠Being called names ⢠Hot days, or worse, hot muggy nights ⢠The Capital and its inhabitants ⢠Big groups of people
Fears: Iām afraid of⦠so many things. Spiders, bugs in general, actually, and especially butterflies. Theyāve always freaked me out, thereās something so alien about them. Iāve gotten pretty good at recognizing bullies, and they terrify me. I just know theyāre going to choose me to pick on, because they always do. I really donāt like traveling by train, which is silly considering where Iām from, but I just canāt help but imagine a derailing. Iāve seen them, and it isnāt pretty. Oh, and blood. I hate seeing blood. My own doesn't bother me so much, its when other people bleed that I start to get a little dizzy. I forgot about birds! Birds just creep me out, and they're so filthy. I would have been afraid of my curse hurting anyone else... but I think we're all cursed, if we wound up here.
Token: A long brass sewing needle, usually worn stuck through his collar. It was his mother's.
Personality: I⦠Iām a coward, when it comes down to it. Iāve never stood up to anyone in my entire life; not my father, not my brothers, not any of the boys who teased me or worse. I just donāt like conflict. Iād rather stay out of view and keep everyone happy than rock the boat and risk falling out, I guess. Iāve learned to accept my limitations. Iām never going to be strong, Iām never going to be a leader, but⦠Iām really okay with that. Iād rather be who I am than become some jerk just so more people like me. Maybe thatās brave, in a really stupid way? I donāt know. Iām no good at this stuff.
I like structure and routine. I like things to be where they belong. I can be sort of compulsive about that, but maybe I canāt help it. Iām used to being screamed at if everything isnāt perfect, so, I keep things as perfect as I can. Iād rather be productive, you might say?
I get really nervous around people, but especially boys who are bigger than me. I think they can⦠just sense something about me. That Iām different, that Iām weak, and that makes me a target. I just never know what to say, so I donāt say anything, and somehow that makes things worse instead of better. Iāve never had any close male friends, many friends at all, really. There are people I talk to every day who I really donāt know the first thing about, but I like them well enough.
People are always saying Iām sensitive, or even over-sensitive. Iām not very good at hiding my emotions like some people are. People always know how Iām feeling, which usually isnāt all that happy. They never see me when Iām doing some stupid little thing that makes me happy.
History: Iām cursed.
It all started with my mom. She died bringing me into the world. I never even had the chance to know her, but itās almost like she haunted us. Me and my brothers and dad, I mean. Not literally, just⦠there were always these pieces of her, everywhere. Her apron, her hand-written cookbook, her sewing kit. They would start to say something about her, nice things, but then realize how much it hurt to do it and stop. We couldnāt bring ourselves to get rid of the little pieces of her left behind.
My dad blamed me, and to make matters worse, I was never a son he would have wanted. He and my brothers, they were strong. They could work. I took after my mom, I guess, slight and kind of sickly. I didnāt do myself any favors reminding them of her. It also didnāt help that I gravitated toward kind of⦠girly stuff. Cooking, cleaning, sewing. I was good at it. By the time I was six, I was pretty much doing all of the house-keeping. I just⦠I wanted to do what I could. To get them to love me, rather than see me as this weird little kid who looked too much like his dead mom. It was all I had to offer, but it was never enough. If dinner wasnāt ready when they got home, or if their clothes werenāt clean⦠well, it never happened again after the first few times.
Things werenāt any better at school. My curse⦠well, I think people knew about it just by looking at me. Or maybe it was just the way I was. Soft-spoken, gentle, afraid. Whatever it was, people recognized something in me that they didnāt like. Usually it was boys, older boys, stronger boys. They teased me, chased me⦠worse, when we got older. I learned of another talent: running away. I could be quick when I needed to, and I needed to every day. I probably could have had some friends, I could recognize pity when I saw it, but I didnāt want to⦠infect them with my curse. They would have become targets just by associating with me, so I couldnāt bring myself to let anyone in.
The worst happened when I was a teenager. Reaping day was always terrifying. My family had to take a lot of tesserae compared to most, so I knew the odds werenāt in my favor. They werenāt in my older brother Karryās, either. When his name was called, some little voice in my head was saying volunteer, just volunteer, then the curse will be over. I couldnāt though. I was paralyzed. Even though my brother was one of my tormentors, he was still my brother. The thought of losing what little of my family I had left made my lungs feel like they were filled with ice-water. I said nothing, he took the stage, and a few weeks later he was dead, the first death of the games.
Itās weird, but things got better after he died. Somehow, I was the strong one. I kept cooking, kept cleaning, made sure that my father and remaining brother were off to work with a lunch packed. My father broke down a few nights later. He apologized for being unable to see my mother in my face and for hating me for it. My brother as well. Somehow, loss had made us a real family again, and I thought just maybe that the curse was broken.
I was wrong. So wrong. When I heard my name, I realized that it had just been a lull. The peaceful months spent putting the pieces of our family back together were a lie, just the curse biding its time, only this time there isnāt going to be a bittersweet ending. I couldnāt help myself. As sucky as my life was, I didnāt want to die, eviscerated in some strange arena for the pleasure of The Capitol. I couldnāt hold back the tears, couldnāt move toward the stage. A Peacekeeper āescortedā me up, and our escort was saying how I must obviously be weeping with gratitude at the honor of being chosen, but everyone knew the truth. I was just a scared, cursed little boy who knew the end was coming.
Anything else?: Keeth is built for speed rather than strength. He's quite fast, able to run for a good while before tiring, but his ability to take or deliver a hit is all but non-existent. He's never actually used boomerangs in combat, more as toys, since they aren't all that practical for anything but hunting which he's never tried his hand at. The sorts of tricks he's learned to perform are remarkable, though, and his accuracy within 15 meters is frightening.
Your reaction to being chosen for the Hunger Games: Expression, and then. "Everyone in Panem saw me crying at the reaping. All the other tributes are going to be gunning for me. This living-together thing is going to be awful. Hopefully theyāll decide Iām not worth bothering with."