



Name: Reutruse Ferran Haervic
Nicknames: Reu, Truce
Age: 17
Sexuality: Bisexual
Birthday: November 5th
District: Eleven-Agriculture
Weapon of choice: Bare Hands
Talent: Hand-to-Hand Combat
Weaknesses: Self-Sacrificing, Clumsy Climber, Horribly afraid of Heights, Unwilling to Strike First, and moderate allergies to pollen and other like dander.
Hobbies: In the occasional free time he manages between field work, sleep, and school, Reutruse occupies himself with combat training, attempts at painting using found berries and the like for dye that always end up...interesting to say the least, and wandering through the fields of District 11 without much purpose.
Likes: Fresh Produce, Temperate Weather, Most things defenseless and tiny, Being able to protect others, and Dawn.
Dislikes: Dusk, Extreme Weather of any kind but especially cold, Anything Predatory or cruel, Failure, and Fire
Fears: A crippling fear of heights and an absolute dread for any form of failure or offense.
Token: A miniature Knight carved of wood
Personality: Fiercely protective of the weak and suffering from a chivalry complex, Reutruse aims to be the hero he never had himself as a child. In doing so, he's unnaturally considerate of others, constantly fretting over the sake of those around him. He forces a smile on his face no matter the situation, for he feels anything else burdens those around him with his troubles and speaks weakness to those he needs to protect.With anything pertaining to romance or immodesty, he's a complete and utter wreck, nothing more than a pile of incoherent, flustered goo as he struggles between repressing and expressing a multitude of emotions. In conversation, he does his best to completely avoid mentioning anything at all personal, paranoid of both its use as a weapon against him and it once again being a bother upon others. A bit vindictive and the type to hold grudges, anyone who stumbles upon Reu's bad-side, is likely to stay there permanently. Overall, he's a fairly amiable, impassive guy, so long as there' s no reason for him to employ his strange misconstrued concept of morality.
History: Born the youngest of three boys, there'd rarely been a moment growing up that Reutruse wasn't defending himself from the blows and kicks his brothers practiced on him, or fighting to escape some new and innovative grapple hold they had devised in their seemingly limitless free time. Constantly the three of them fought, day in and day out, Reutruse always the unwilling participant in his brothers' arena. His parent's never much cared that their son hated playing with his brother's, or that he cried and begged to be saved from their painful grasps when they played far too rough; they were too exhausted from their grueling work in the field to care much for anything beyond food and sleep. To some degree he resented them for his hellish time with his brothers, mostly he just wished they would notice he still existed.
Whether he enjoyed their time spent together or not, his brothers' skirmishes still managed to teach Reu the basics of fighting; by the time his first actual fight rolled around, it took only a few quick fluid strikes before the bully of a boy was curled to the ground, sobbing as he held his throbbing chest. The sniveling bully of a boy had been tormenting another, a malnourished twig of a thing some half foot shorter than Reutruse and the bastard son of a former Peace Keeper, his name was Herrot. Like a lost puppy Herrot followed Reutruse everywhere after the fight, trailing a few yards behind without making so much as a noise. At first, Reu was apprehensive of Herrot's intent, half fearing him to file a Peace Keeper Report; as time wore on he grew accustomed to the constant companionship the boy offered even distant and silent as it was, his worry growing into curiosity. When the boy had been following him for more than three months daily, without word, Reu stopped, turned around, and lunged at the boy, grasping his wrist tightly in his grasp. He'd tried before to call out to him, and approach, but the boy normally darted like a frightened deer away from him, this time, he refused to present that option.
For the first time they talked that day, and a friendship was born. They'd only been seven when they first met, eight when they first truly became friends, and for the next ten years, they were inseparable. In the tiny Herrot, too weak to stand up for himself and ignored by all the world, Reutruse saw the child he was so long ago; what Herrot saw in him he could only guess was protection. Fitting, considering all he had done, and would do for the boy.
When the reaping came round and that all too familiar name of "Herrot Mareu" billowed through the square, the flashes of previous years tributes in his mind, all so weak and tiny, so fragile, he couldn't stand it. They'd had no chance, he wouldn't either, no, the only one who would... To volunteer was practically suicide, yet with trembling voice, he proclaimed it to all who watched.
Anything else?: He's got the biggest little-kid-type-crush-thing on Knights ever, he's obsessed with them. He's also surprisingly, not romantically interested in any shape or form to Herrot, he's seen more as the little brother type.
Your reaction to being chosen for the Hunger Games: Expression Well, if I'm going to die a Noble Idiot in an act of self-sacrifice and stupidity, I guess it's nice to know I'll at least have the best damned nine months of my life before that.