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Hal Boromir

If this is to end in fire, then we should all burn together

0 · 261 views · located in Panem

a character in “The 65th Annual Hunger Games”, as played by Not that awesome




{” If this is to end in fire
Then we should all burn together
Watch the flames climb high- into the night”
i see fire x ed sheeran

[center]|[ size=120][ Full Name ][/size]|
Hal Lachlan Boromir.

|[ District ]|

|[ Age ]|

|[ Sexuality ]|

|[Preferred weapon]|

“And if the night is burning
I will cover my eyes
For if the dark returns
Then my brothers will die”

|[ Appearance ]|
“Do you remember that boy you used to play with when you were only small? No? Are you sure?

Hal, he was a silly one, that kid, but he looked exactly like you. From his dark brown, curly locks that turned to honey in the sunlight, to his blue eyes that turned green in the fall. And when he smiled - God, I wish you could see it again - because he smiled brighter than gold. Everything about him reminded me of you.
It’s a shame what happened to his family, don’t you think?

Oh, you don’t know? I won’t bother you with trivial things, dear. In short, the boy’s eyes lost their innocent glimmer, and from staying inside, his skin became paler. Someone told me he used to sit inside reading books all day. Where he got them, I’ll never know. By this time, the boy had grown up a lot. I don’t think you would recognise him. I think he’s nearly six feet tall now, far taller than you and I, and his childhood skinniness turned quickly in to muscles. I am getting a bit too much in to this now, don’t you think? Oh well, I best stop. Hush now, I’ll tell you the story of his family later.”

#|[ Brief version][/color]|
Dark, curly brown hair || Blue eyes || Pale skin || Tall || Muscular || Defined jawline || Hardly seen without a book in his hand/cigarette on his lips

{" And if we should die tonight
Then we should all die together
Raise a glass of wine, for the last time”

|[ Personality ]|
[ Cynical | Pyromaniac | Sarcastic | Smartass | Cocky | Calm | Thick-skinned | Bookworm]

It's like a ticking time bomb, as each trivial word leaves my mouth I see a face redden, eyes darken and a jaw tighten. -there is always a trick to it, words effect people, they make them unstable. Words are like a drug and with each one that slips from my lips, it enters the air and pushes the bomb closer and closer to the point where it explodes. But you have to know the right words that makes a person tick, the words that make their breath quicken. Anger is so easily shown in the way people act. It is always the eyes though. At first people try to hide it, they attempt to let the words slide off of them, shrugging them off with an impatient lift of their broad shoulders -yes I always aim for the big guys. The guys with the muscle and the strength to break my nose in one careless strike. But anger simmers in the depth of their eyes, cold and unwavering and at that moment I know I have them. As soon as their is a spark it only takes time before it ignites into a full on storm. When you hit the right note it is evident. There is always that clenched jaw, the fists that ball up and the eyes that go from mocking into two intense balls of fire. At that point I smile.

There always comes a sense of control in knowing that no matter what anyone throws at you, you can overcome it. Words aggravate everyone. They are perhaps the most dangerous weapon that exist. Knives and blades dint and break. As long as you can think and speak you will always have words, (Ironic seeing as my father is an Avox, words did nothing for him) and if you know how to use them they can be deadlier then any piece of metal. I crave seeing those lines of tension being drawn taut as I pick and prod at people's insecurities. There is a definite and visible point in time where you know when people are about to snap. For a brief second they seem to become calm, as though they can control themselves and suddenly they snap. Their fragile sense of control gone. A delicate smile taints my lips, cocky and superior, the harsh tip to them is always snide, but always pleasant, the best way to get to a person is to be happy. The best way to make someone angry is to feed them everything they don't want to hear and you do it with a smile. A smile is as good as any taunt or tease, it plays with their souls, it makes them itch and boil, it makes them want to hurt you. An infuriating smile that can never be wiped off no matter how many times their fist collides with your face creates anger.

I snag their insecurities between my claws and I squeeze them, draining every bit of juice out of them until I have rung it dry. Fury races through them like a wild fire, at an uncontrollable speed where no words can stop them, where anger slips through their veins like poison and self-control is out of the question. I never stop. I never hold myself back when I see it happening before me, it is like a story and each stage, each part has a different telltale. You always know what is happening, people are like books, you have to understand it to get what is happening.

And hidden beneath a calm exterior is always a storm.

A cocky grin always lingers on my lips, bubbling just below my blue eyes. There is always a superior edge that hardens my eyes, I leave it obvious, I leave it open and visible. I want them all to see it and know how I think, I want them to be able to read me and see how I think. It makes them angrier and they burst quicker. No person can escape past a flicker of his expert eye. Weakness drifts off of a person, weakness is so clearly visible and people that try to hide it always fail. Vulnerable. Cracks stretch across their worn defenses and the bigger the bang the wider the crack gets and when you can see through the cracks that are messily covered up, you know you have your victim. No matter how hard a person tries you can never hide emotions, they always slip past. There is certainly a weakness in me for pretty girls. I have a tendency to be sarcastic and cruel, so I haven’t dated much, not for lack of opportunities. Someday, though, I'll fall for a girl - most likely someone angelic - and then I'll really find out how terrible and dark my nature is.

Some may call me a pyromaniac, but I don’t see the point of ’maniac’. Sure, I might “accidently” set my neighbours fence on fire [and blame it on some ruffians] or “accidently” blow up an abandoned school, but it’s more of a personal project to see how far I can take the simple flame. I love it’s power. It can create or destroy simultaneously. From one tiny flame, deaths could happen, ice could melt, a whole damn forest could be up in flames. I like to keep a dozen matches on me at all times. In case of emergency, or even If I have to cause one.

Words tumble from their lips. It always happens, they see no way to stop the onslaught of taunts, the tormenting comments and burning remarks [burning] . The two words are always whispered before the fight begins. In a way they are a message they tell me when a person is truly finished, when the rage boils over them and they have lost all control the cruelest smile of all tugs at my lips, I feel contempt at their weakness, their inability to be strong and my smile broadens into a fully fledged grin, because I am better than them. I have the power and strength to hold my head high and I take it, I don't flinch, cringe or shy away from the fists that pummel me. They strike me time and time again, imprinting themselves into my soul, hitting, hitting, hitting until I fall, but I never stop smiling. There fury slowly turns to panic when they hit me, they scream ,the break. There weakness is shocking, their ability to just break, oh they are so easily beaten. When they see that i will not give up they get rash, and they panic. But I never crack, not even for a moment.

In a world of chaos I dream of being the calm, the thing in which you can find safety, but to get there you must battle the storm and I have been fighting the storm my whole life. Only now have I found my way through the folds of the wind, the raging storm, the pain and agony. Chaos has escaped my life for what it seems like forever. I try to force myself to believe that I have reached the calm of the storm, the eye. The place where there is only the soft winds, nothing cruel, harsh or lying. But such trickery does me no good and I lie to myself I try desperately to tell myself that I am loud, rowdy and free. That I have the power and self-control that no other person in the whole of Panem has. I can take a hit, literally, hit me, hit me and hit me, my nose has been shattered sixteen times in my life, it is bending this way and that way, it has no clue how to stay straight, or normal anymore. My eyes hide the signs of the pain that it sometimes offers me, but they clearly show the joy that lingers in their dark depths as a torment another living soul.

I find comfort and pleasure in others pains, I am the calm of a storm.

However, every storm ends. And I find myself in a continuous circle where this storm never ends. I strike out day in day out, hitting my enemies, pushing them and pushing myself and at first I never noticed the small lines, the cracks, the dints and dents that began to surface. At first they stayed skin deep, in places where I would never look, they stayed away from my eyes and my mind hide them from me. An anger dwells deep within me. I can feel it as it tries to push its way through. As it tries to defeat the so carefully woven defenses that I have placed in its way. My self-restraint keeps me sane and my anger keeps me going. It stays withing the deep recess of my mind and I know that one day, something or someone will crack it open and all hell will break lose. The self-control that I have is all that stands in the way of that anger and I have spent my whole life building it up, making it stronger and preparing myself for everything. But one small push the wrong way and I know I will be thrown into the storm I have continuously avoided. A storm that threatens to take me each day. I defy it and I keep going, egging those other people on, making them hit me and force me to fight myself and my inner turmoil. My wall is the only thing that stands between total destruction and the oasis of calm.

There is only so much you can prevent before it becomes too much.

So many people have tried ti wipe the no-shit-laugh-in-your-face smirk from my lips. Everyone in the district knows I'll never fight back, they all know what happened to my dad. (They all whisper it, they all call him the traitor when they think we can't hear it.) Sometimes I believe that it never effects Olivia, sometimes I chose to ignore the tight strain that is puts on our small family. I always do it to keep me sane, to keep me going. I push myself because I know that if I can take myself one step further I can push past the boundaries that are settled by mankind and I can become a person, a thing that one one else is. I want to be able to withstand everything, basically I can, mentally I know I will one day. I draw my strength from each fist that collides with my safe, from each insecurity that slides pf my well-practiced tongue as I'm bashed and beaten.

With each day I take control a new crack appears in my wall. It slips higher, higher and higher. It deepens, widens and thickens and I truly believe that it will break, but I hope that when that happens I will be ready. Whatever is hiding behind that wall is beyond dangerous.

But then I'm not really the eye of the storm, the peace on all the hell. I am the calm before the storm hits and when that storm hits I will shatter.

{"Calling out father oh
Prepare as we will
Watch the flames burn auburn on
The mountain side
Desolation comes upon the sky

Image|[ size=120][ Likes ][/size]|
Books | Riling people up | Words | History before the dark days [you can find it if you know where to look] | Home | Fire

|[ Dislikes ]|
School | Punches to the nose | Avoxes | The Games | Careers | Peacekeepers | Narcs | The Capitol

|[ Quirks ] |
Often doesn’t light the cigarette between his teeth, keeps it there for something to do || Whistles while doing housework || Reads extremely fast || Is a pyromaniac || Likes to explore around the district || Hates clothing, lives in a clothing district || Has tons of illegal films, books, history books, textbooks, comics, mangas, you name it || Smartass || Writes random phrases from films and books anywhere- walls, tables, napkins, paper - if he is lucky. || Drinks coffee before bed

{". Now I see fire
Inside the mountain
I see fire
Burning the trees
And I see fire
Hollowing souls
I see fire
Blood in the breeze
And I hope that you remember me


|[ Family ]|
x Olivia Boromir, sister
x Calypso Boromir, mother
x Dorian Boromir, father

|[ History ]|
A middle class family in District Eight, the Boromirs have had a bit of a tough time in life, so their friends and neighbours find it difficult to judge them for making their own trouble in return. Even though it has been ten years since their father, Dorian Boromir, was declared a traitor, avoxed, and sent to the Capitol to live the remainder of his life in servitude, the event remains fresh in too many minds to be forgotten. He had been a good, honest man... too good and too honest, in fact, and met his own demise while trying to help a man falsely accused to murder escape the District. The man escaped, but Dorian received his punishment in his stead and his family has yet to come to terms with these misfortunes of history.

Hal has always been a bit of an outsider. Different. It’s why he was picked on, why he became who he is. He wasn’t always a cynical smartass, but his life shaped him that way. Especially his father’s capture. Sideways glances and hushed whispers on the playground, to taunting and beatings, it gave everyone a chance to pick on the kid. It made him who he is today.

So begins...

Hal Boromir's Story