


Name: Marvelos Strong. He has no middle name.
Nicknames: Marvel. Strong.
Age: 18 since the day of Reaping. His birthday falls on the exact day.
Sexuality: Pansexual. (If I understand it correctly, it means he loves a person, not their gender.)
Birthday: (Whatever the date of the Reaping was)
District: District Five - Power
Weapon of choice: Hammer
Talent: General Survival
Weaknesses: He doesn't 'believe in' killing someone. He will use self-defense, and he will protect others who appear obviously unable to help themselves, but he will never be the one to strike. He is very difficult to 'get to fight back', we'll just say. He is also very slow, when he DOES use his hammer, because he's packing the punch and pulling the weight. Without a hammer, though, he's very quick, but he sucks with just about anything else. No experience.
Hobbies: Studying history, be it from a lost book, a tall tale from an elder in the community, or just about anything not written by the Capitol. He also enjoys dancing of all sorts, even slow. He has such confidence, he doesn't even mind you know that part of him.
Likes:
-Lemons and the sour faces from them.
-Himself just the way he is.
-Knowledge and having plan B's.
-Love. Everyone should have the opportunity to have love in their life, be it a friend, family, or significant other.
-The Human Anatomy. Not sexually, just as far as pressure points, relaxation points, and the art form of the body.
Dislikes:
-The fact that he's never been kissed. Yeah, my first and only crush was reaped the day I decided to tell her. I didn't even have time to give her a kiss before they took her away to die. I'll never forget that.
-Tension.
-Unspoken expectations, or expectations in general.
-The Capitol and President Argent.
-The Games and the very idea of them.
Fears: Dying before having a relationship. Not death itself, just... not being able to have that in my life before I go.
Token: The warmest pair of socks he's ever owned. Striped with white, red, and yellow.
Personality: Marvel is true to himself, and does his best to remain truly neutral to just about everyone. He doesn't feel there is a good enough reason to blow steam off on most people. He'd rather not waste the breath. He has no self-esteem issues, and thinks highly of himself. He doesn't flaunt it, he doesn't use it to pick up chicks/guys, and he doesn't feel the need to let any or everyone know about his very rich family. They can already tell by where he lives, so why should he spit it in their faces? He's humble. He's modest. He's a little bit naive, as well. He sees the world in one way and feels it is all he has left to remain true to what he believes and how he feels. He believes that everyone has the potential for greatness, and that every kid sent to the Games has this stolen from them. He's always felt this, but has always held his tongue. Until it got personal, and then the white color of his conscience began brewing in darker combinations.
The Capitol sure does make it hard not to go from a completely innocent, kind young man in to a raging lunatic seeking revenge.
History: Lifestyles of the rich and famous... Well, famous to his district, that is. Marvel Strong, the youngest Strong and heir to their reign as one of the richest in the district. His father? None other than the mayor. Not that this guarantees Marvel a place in the politics, because that's just not how it's done, but Marvel has never had to want for much, but raised in a diplomatic household (of sorts), he learned patience, proper mannerisms, much about the Capital, and how to please just about everyone with genuine, heart-felt honesty.
His mother is still around, unlike some; a kind, soft-spoken lady who never raises her voice. He taught him the most about treating everyone with the benefit of the doubt. "There's always two sides to every story, darling." She kept him level headed while his father was out and deep in political business. She educating him with books, she taught him how to treat a lady, and gave him ideals and imagination passed on from generations. The woman also knitted him the warmest pair of socks he's even had, which he keeps as a 'security blanket' of sorts when darker things try to fight his poison-free lifestyle and beliefs.
He used to be naive enough to think everyone had as charmed of a life as he, until his eyes were no longer blind from the TV during the Games. Yes, he'd seen the reaping, he'd seen people crying, but for some reason, things never 'clicked' for him. Maybe it was his charmed life fighting to keep his ignorance around. Who knows? However, once that door was open... He dove in head-first, rereading every book he'd ever seen of Panem's history, of the rebellion, of the Games, and ... everything under the sun of that topic that he could get his hands on. When he visited the public record hall that the Capitol so generously bestowed upon his district to educate the closer districts, he met Her. Kaylianna Nestriondes.
It was puppy love, but it was still at first sight for him and as true as he'd ever felt for anyone but his family. He'd admitted it to her, she'd responded in favor to his confession, and they held hands on many long walks to her home. (He'd walk her.) The day he planned to confess his intentions of a future with her, (as naive as a seventeen year old assumed his future would be, since you know everything when you're young and stupid), it was her last reaping. She'd turn 18 before the next, so all she had to do was miss out on this one.
Fate would have it that she was reaped. He never told her. He never kissed her.
Then his mind began to wonder... How many other lives full of so much potential were shattered due to these horrifying games? Entertainment for the world at the price of innocent lives? Children, no less? Yes, he'd lost his own potential in her, but it started a fire that began to char away at his naive and honest soul. He holds on to what he has left of his sanity, of his innocence, but.... It's only a matter of time.
This year, it's his turn. He's called. His parents weep, How could this happen? But Marvel was ready. He looked up after a moment's hesitation. His face was ... determined in a way, and his strides were confident. When he reached the stage, he nodded his head upward in recognition to his district, bringing up a hand to the air, then his waist, bowing there in a grand gesture to them all. No one cheered, they wouldn't dare, but when his eyes rose up to stare them in the eyes, their fearful gazes was all he needed to see.
If one action can cause a district to panic silently.... I can make a difference.
Anything else?: There is no white or black. Everyone has both. It's what you choose to do that determines what 'side' you're on. This applies to Marvel as well.
Your reaction to being chosen for the Hunger Games: Expression. Acceptance. Really, this only helps my imagination of every dream I've had of the girl I once knew who was also reaped a year ago, and then died on the television screen. To know what it was like for her, to feel how scared she was... This must have been it. But I'm not scared, strangely. No, I'm pissed.