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Lor Pellet

::ON HOLD:: Time is free, but it's priceless. You can't own it, but you can use it. You can't keep it, but you can spend it. Once you've lost it you can never get it back.

0 · 993 views · located in Panem

a character in “The 25th Hunger Games”, as played by missjmiles



Name: Loren Modicum Pellet
Nicknames: Lor
Birthday:September 1st
District: 9 - Grain

Weapon of choice: Shield - Lor has been practicing with a shield for the better part of his life, as an offense and a defense.

Talent: Shield (Lor feels it's a talent to use a shield for more than it's perceived use.)

Weaknesses: Not impulsive at all, Lor likes to figure things out from all angles before moving ahead. This inability to make split-second decisions could be the 2 seconds between life and death.

Hobbies: Lor enjoys hard labor. Having grown up on a farm he's used to it and he enjoys being tired at the end of a long day. He adores the outdoors, you can always find him under a tree with his journal. He enjoys problem solving as well, and math. He did a lot of the book-keeping for his parents on their farm. Lor adores writing and reading. He is also an avid singer and knows many songs from out on the farm, the ones that pass the time as you're cutting the wheat.

~The Rain
~Being Fair/Fair People
~Ice Cream
~Singing (his and other's)
~Hard Labor

~Loud Noises
~The Hunger Games
~The Laws of Panem

Fears: Lor is terrified of owls. It's illogical, he's aware, but he has a paralyzing fear of them.

Token: His antique journal, one in a collection of identical journals that have been with the men of his family for generations. His is only a quarter full, as he started a new one just recently. He always keeps it tucked into his pants, under his shirt, over his left hip.

Personality: Lor is a very intellectual individual. He enjoys number and logic and approaches every issue as if it were a math problem with an answer that can be found through simple reasoning. He is by no means a slow thinker. Quite the opposite, his mind moves a mile a minute, he just takes time to see every angle and make a decision based on the best possible route of action. Lor is an observer, and enjoys watching the reactions/actions of people and places around him. He kills time by delving into the deep recesses of his mind via his journal, causing him to be a rather mature and intelligent human being. He knows who he is and sees himself through eyes that have done years of soul-searching, he cannot be shaken. He's loving, sweet, and cares deeply for his family and close friends. He is friendly, and approachable, and occasionally does the approaching himself. A likable person, he doesn't tend to rub people the wrong way because he knows when to keep his mouth shut and what to say if he's speaking. He's very charming and witty, tending to draw people in with his intelligence and humor. He is quirky in his own way, loveable, very loyal and extremely trustworthy, people feel comfortable and safe around him.

Lor hates the government and everything about it. While he keeps it to himself, he journals about it often. More on that in his history. He finds The Hunger Games to be a joke, a despicable way to keep the districts in tow. Along with his father, Lor is completely positive that The Games will backfire on the idiot Capitol and lives for the day it does so. His views on The Capitol, Peacekeepers, and The Games he keeps to himself though, in his journal. He knows better than to share them with anyone ever. Even his family. The only person he ever shared his thoughts aloud with were Jot, who is in Lor's History, below.

History: Lor grew up on one of the many wheat farms of District 9, born to Silo and Sandy Pellet. Not too poor, but not necessarily well-off, Lor was never in any fear of having to cast his name into the Reaping for Tessera. The Pellet's had plenty to get by on. Lor started working on the farm with his father when he was 8, at the same age his brothers did. He has two older brothers and one younger one. Mentally having to age quickly, Lor set to work with determination and drive. While he was out in the fields, Silo took notice of how hard Lor set to work, and decided that the family journals would be passed on to him. The other boys had varying personalities, but on a whole were much less intellectual and serious. On Lor's 12th birthday, the first year he was eligible for The Games, his father pulled him aside and handed him a blank journal that looked like the ones he'd seen his father writing in daily over the years. Silo explained that the journal was one in a series of journals that had been made for his family years ago. This one was blank, as were many journals after it, but Silo wanted to have an account of his world after The Games had hit. Having been alive for the revolution and having seen the very first Hunger Games, he wanted people to know the labors of humanity. Silo was convinced that the Games wouldn't last forever, they were too deplorable to do so.

Silo created in Lor a strong hatred for The Hunger Games, because Silo's brother and father had died in the Uprising. Silo had somehow escaped the carnage, but in his own way still fought back. The Pellet family chose to only sell grain to bakers they trusted and cared about, even though they had exemplary grain and were pursued by many different bakeries around Panem. Lor knew that his family fought back against the somewhat newly-formed Capitol quietly, and was bright enough to keep it a secret at school. He made a few close friends though, in people who also didn't like the Games or the Laws of Panem. Jot Lolly had been one such friend. An outgoing, talkative, friendly, and otherwise charming human, Jot had been speaking out against the Capitol quietly and in the back of classrooms for years. The Pellet's and Lolly's had apparently been strong forerunners in the Uprising that had caused the Hunger Games, so it made sense to Lor that he was immediately attracted to Jot's friendship. They began their close brotherly friendship almost immediately and grew close swiftly. Steering clear of Peacekeepers, they would hold secret meetings and debate ways to overthrow the government once they were old enough to do so.

Every year Lor would go to the Reaping half-expecting to be chosen. He never wanted to be chosen, knowing that he was too "in his head" to be of any use in a fight to the death, but half aware that it would be "just his luck." Not one to show much facial expression, he was utterly shocked when his best friend was chosen at 14 for the games. Lor had watched as Jot, the boy that Lor had grown into his own and learned much about himself with, his childhood friend and brother, had been slain almost immediately at the Cornucopia that year. This one event had solidified Lor's hatred of the Capitol and all that it imposed on its "subjects." He writes about his hatred mostly, keeping his journal very safe and on his person at all times, hoping that someday his children and grand-children will read his journals and find strength in them, determination. His will to survive is strong because he wants to be able to continue what his family was a part of: an uprising. He wants the Capitol to burn and for things to go back to the way they were in the early journals of his family, when colors were in every district, when there was democracy and freedom. The journals of his ancestors seem idealistic, but they are hand-written by the family he is so very loyal too. Lor knows that someday, in some way, Panem will regain it's freedom.

Your reaction to being chosen for the Hunger Games: Expression. Well, alright then. Lor hadn't seen it coming, but wasn't surprised when his name was called. He just took the blow and headed to the platform, smiling for the cameras. He doesn't feel one way or the other about the Quarter Quell. He just sees it as an opportunity. If he can get to know each of them well enough he'll be able to plan ahead, see his courses of action and reaction. Knowing that he's a logical, "see every angle, then make a decision" kind of person, he can only see the 9 months as time to spend getting to know the weaknesses and strengths of each opponent. He knows what he has to do to get back to his beloved family. Keep your friends close, your enemies closer, after all.

Stylist:Silver Bee

So begins...

Lor Pellet's Story


Characters Present

Character Portrait: Lor Pellet Character Portrait: Pip Pypin Character Portrait: Magna Aerosta Character Portrait: Saffron Lockhearst Character Portrait: Keeth Diggett Character Portrait:
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I find it an extremely out-of-body experience, the knowledge that I'm hurtling past outdoor objects at a speed which would (in any other contraption) be considered ludicrous and yet, surprisingly, I feel as though I sit still. The scenery explodes and implodes from view so quickly my eyes barely have time to focus before shifting to the next onslaught of foliage. This is frustrating and makes looking out of any window quite pointless. So I sit, confined to this tiny compartment. All the riches that can be fathomed and they choose to waste it by inventing trains that move so quickly one cannot enjoy the natural beauty of our world. The luxury that is wasted... If even the smallest amount of what they spend on their grand balls and dinners could be put towards the outlying districts! I've lamented on that too much though, and what good would another entry in this journal about the disparities of our world really do? Nothing. Just the hateful musings of a young man destined for doom.

Lor sighed and leaned back, away from his desk. He tucked the pencil he'd been using behind his ear and stretched, yawning. Against his better judgement he was thankful that the pencil existed, his left hand had finally stopped carrying the signs of his writing. In Nine he'd always had to use charcoal or ink on a stick, anything that would leave a mark on a page. His penmanship was better due to this crazy luxury, true, but it was the fact that his hand remained clean that he didn't mind. He glanced out the window out of habit and a new scowl crossed his face. He'd wanted to watch the country-side, see the sights, out of sheer curiosity. The damn train moved so fast you could barely keep yourself from creating a headache if you even tried to look outside for longer than a minute. Disgusted, he pulled the pencil from his ear and tossed it onto the desk. Rising, he shut the blinds. The light outside had been beginning to darken, and it occurred to Lor that the tribute's dinner would be starting soon. He pursed his lips and looked about his room. It was the last night he'd have a room completely to himself. Sitting on his bed, he let his shoulders sag as he stared hard at the floor, going over the past few days in his head.

Lor knew he'd killed his interview, was confident that he did, but so had many of the other tributes. He wondered briefly just how many sponsors there actually were and, guessing at a number, tried to divvy them up to different tributes. He felt confident that he had a fair chance, but fair didn't keep you alive. He knew that he'd have to keep up appearances and (no matter what) never let anyone know about his deeper feelings on the Capitol and most of Panem. He looked at his journal then. If the wrong person read it... He shook his head to stop his mind from thinking that way. It was his possession, his "trinket" as it were. No one would be allowed to read it, even in the event that he was killed right off. He'd made sure to bring a new journal with him, one that didn't mention any of his family's views, but he'd been writing in it since his first train ride to the Capitol in the first place. Many of his rants about the people in the Capitol and the Games in general had already been rehashed in the first couple of pages, and could be incriminatory if found under any other circumstances. As it was, Lor felt comfortable knowing that there wasn't much worse they could do to him, he'd already been sentenced to death.

Standing, he walked over to his desk and picked up the journal. Tying it closed he tucked it into the pouch he kept around his waist, under his shirt. From now on, it was where he'd always carry the journal. Then, moving over to his closet, he looked in. A suit bag with the word "Dinner" printed on it was in the front of a row of clothing that had been tailored for him. He took it out and unzipped it. Inside he found a charcoal suit that fit snugly, but comfortably, a pair of combat boots, and an undershirt. Confused, he checked the rest of the bag. No tie, no collared shirt. His brow wrinkled and he cocked his head slightly, hadn't Silver said that all suits must be worn with collared shirts? Then he noticed a note in one of the shoes. Grabbing it, he flicked it open. He smiled as he read the four words that were scrawled on the page in such a no-nonsense hand that there was no room for a question of who'd left it:

No shirt. More Masculine.

Once again struck by how grateful he was for his stylist, he finished dressing, messed wit his hair a bit, then stood back to take in the final product. Approvingly, he nodded, then moved the blinds to get a bearing on what time it was. It was late. Time to go. He took one last moment to compose himself, then stepped out into the hallway, turning towards the dining car.


Pip laughed boisterously as she burst from the dining car into the lounge car, a large piece of chocolate in her hand. She'd made sure to befriend the Avoxes as soon as possible, and so far had not been let down. Not only had she come to love the fact that they pretended to not listen to her (even though their silent gurgles indicated laughter at her jokes) but over the short amount of time the tributes had been on the car she'd already had 5 chocolate bars, 2 cookies, and at least a dozen fruits she didn't know the name of but was already addicted to. She plopped down onto a lush couch in the middle of the room and kicked her feet up over the back of it. Biting into the bittersweet dark chocolate again, a contented sigh bubbled it's way up and out of her system.

"Yes, this. This is defffffinitely the life!" She drawled quietly to no on in particular, seeing as no one was in the room with her. She lay there for a while, lounging. Half-sleeping and half awake as she relished in the chocolate bar, eating slowly. She finally finished it and lay, hands on her stomach for quite some time, staring at the ceiling. She was having such a good time already, and still nine months awaited! She drifted then, into a light slumber. She didn't rest for very long, though, because as her eyes had drifted closed her mind had drifted back to Nine and Lua. Jerking up-right she nearly toppled off the couch as the sadness washed over her. Lua... he'd been left behind. By Jesh and now her... And he knew that she'd do anything in her power to help the right person win, whoever that turned out to be. She felt the familiar tingle/burn in the upper portion of her nose, the warning sign that tears would soon follow.

Shaking her head, she smiled and rolled off the couch. Bouncing up to a standing position she stared at the door to the dining cart... "Hmmm do I want a donut?" Pip thought aloud, then noticed the clock hanging on the left wall of the train. "Aw! 5:30 already?" She stomped her small foot and pouted prettily, "Guess I'll wait then! It's almost dinner time..." Her eyes widening, she looked down at herself. "Woooopsie!" Giggling she took two steps backwards, then turned and began moving back towards the hallway where all the rooms were situated. Matt would have her head on a platter if she showed up to the televised dinner in her bright pink bath towel. Hurrying towards her door she nearly bumped into Saffron as was standing in front of one of the guy's doors. "Sorry!" She trilled over her shoulder, bouncing past, "Gotta get all hot and sexy for dinner tonight. You know how it goes!" Then she turned into her room.

Shutting the door behind her she went to work. She'd already successfully destroyed the room by creating different piles of "stuff" for lack of a better term when she'd first boarded the train. Really, she'd just been interested in what all the compartment could hold, so she'd gone through everything, the downfall being that Pip didn't have time nor want to put anything away herself. Thus, piles of clothing, shoes, books, things she'd never seen before were strewn across her floor and bed. Her desk was covered with all sorts of things she'd seen her stylists use on her hair and face and her bed was already torn to shreds because she'd jumped in immediately and wiggled around in it, reveling in how soft the sheets were. At the memory, she giddily tore her bathrobe off, revealing her nude body and slid into the bed again. Rolling around in the sheets she stretched and smiled, making a mental note of how wonderful this sensation would feel with another human body involved.

Catching sight of the clock on the wall Pip rolled her eyes. "6 already?" She mumbled impertinently. "Looks like I'm late, again!" She sighed, took a few more minutes to enjoy the sheets, then stood and began to get dressed for the dinner. She rummaged around in the dress pile until she found a powder blue soft thing that looked like it'd be pretty cute and still help her come off as one of the "young ones." Putting it on, she mussed with her hair, found some shoes in that pile, then knocked everything on her desk onto the floor in her mad search for lipstick to finish off her attire. Biting her lip she realized that she was now at least 15 minutes late for the dinner and decided that another couple minutes wouldn't hurt, so she ran over and snuggled up in her bed one more time, letting her hands run back and forth across the silk.


Magna blew the bangs out of her face as she lay on her back on the floor in the middle of her compartment, her hands linked across her stomach and her legs crossed. It had been a long few days and now began the longest nine months of her life for certain. She sat listening to the lack of sound the luxurious train made and stared at the ceiling. To her surprise, her eyes focused on a black dot in one of the ceiling corners. A spider? She could almost laugh at the absurdity, I didn't know the Capitol allowed things like... oh, wait. Standing, she grabbed the desk chair and moved it over. Stepping on it she moved closer to the 'spider' and rolled her eyes. Of course. The creature had all eight limbs and the abdomen of a spider, but instead of the multitude of eyes Magna had grown accustomed to seeing on normal spiders there was one, large, subtly glowing orb in their place. She smiled ferally into it then, "Hey President Argent! Gonna watch me change?" She quickly smooshed the tiny muttation with her bare hand. "Pathetic."

Jumping off the chair, she turned and looked at her room. After unceremoniously dumping her onto the train earlier they'd stationed a Peacekeeper outside of her cabin door. A little while ago he'd knocked on it to tell her they were moving at fast enough speeds that she was allowed to leave the room, but she chose not to. Not long after, she'd listened as his boots had clunked away, probably bored with guarding a girl who wouldn't try anything. She couldn't say that she would have done things differently in her interview had she known she'd spend her last couple days in the Capitol locking herself into her room to avoid Keeth's expectant and worried stares, it wasn't in her nature to lie, but she had pondered what more tact might have bought her. Shrugging it off, she opened her door curiously and looked out. She'd only seen Keeth when getting on the train and he'd given her a look that reeked of pity and remorse. Well, he could save that for another time. In the arena maybe. No... not even there. There won't be time for remorse there and it's going to be hard enough for Keeth to stay alive anyway. She pursed her lips as fire grew in her eyes, then, thinking better of it, breathed out and let the emotion go again. Turning, she wandered off to the left, unsure of what she'd find.

Some way down the cars of the train she'd passed a clothing car, (Ridiculous), what seemed to be a car for the nail things (Mani-cures? Pedi-cures?) that the Capitol so loved, and a car full of boxes. She became aware that she was heading towards the back of the train and decided to change direction and come back. She knew what these trains entailed. She thought back to what Mr. Diggett always used to say, something about the tiniest crack in the railway causing the train to derail... or explosions due to poorly manufactured engines. For a millisecond she was worried, then realized it didn't really matter and shrugged to herself, That'd be alright.

Magna returned to the car with all the living quarters and was moving toward her door, overly bored with the train already, when a giant pillow monster exploded from the door to her left. She sidestepped quickly as a reflex and stared at the pillows. Suddenly, from behind them a head popped out with disheveled hair and wide, terrified eyes. Keeth. You idiot. Pillows won't save you against a train explosion. She rolled her eyes and pushed a finger into one of the pillows. It gave way as if it were made of clouds.

She looked at him then with disinterested eyes, "You do realize that no one's allowed to kill you before we get into the arena, right?" She watched as the fear spread afresh over his face and squelched the tiny bud of remorse before it even began in her stomach. No time or need for emotions, she turned and moved into her room, listening as he scurried off down the hall with his cumbersome load.

Sitting on her bed, she looked out the window. Her eyes unfocused and she sat for a moment, just letting the world blur by her vision. She knew she'd have to get dressed soon, show up for the pomp and circumstance of the dinner, but it was the last thing she wanted to do. The knock on the door broke her from her trance on the landscape. "Miss Aerosta, I'm here to take you to dinner." It was that idiot Peacekeeper again. She didn't respond, just stood and started to de-robe.

"Miss...?" Another knock on the door, this time a little louder. Instead of a response, she locked the door. She knew he'd wait outside, it was his Capitol duty, but at least he'd know she was in there now instead of rattling her door every five seconds. Taking her time, she mustered the energy to get dressed and do her make up. If anything, she'd at least look pretty at the dinner. What was two hours in front of a camera compared to nine months anyway? Gritting her teeth, she opened her door and looked up at him. He smiled, she stared blankly, he turned, she followed after.