| Author | Topic: Mirabelle Aida Himura of District 1 [Fin] (Read 2,176 times) |
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"Family not by Blood but by Bond"
Joined: Apr 2010 Posts: 1,650 Location: In your town, killing your men Karma: 65 |  | Mirabelle Aida Himura of District 1 [Fin] « Thread Started on Oct 9, 2010, 6:36pm » | |
Mirabelle Aida Himura.] "In a mad world, only the mad are sane" Colors -- a9b394; main text -- 8d9992; speech text -- cdd396; thoughts; other speech?
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"I Love Little Pussy"
I love little pussy, Her coat is so warm, Birth record states her name is Mirabelle Aida Himura
On her school papers, she puts down her name as Mira, Mirah, or Jack
Official documentation suggests she is 19 years old, as she was born on: November 5th, Year of the 36th Hunger Games
Ask her gender? She will give you ♀; 女; or this They all say she is female
Of gems and jewels, her image resembles District 1 brilliance
And if I don't hurt her, She'll do me no harm. <(In Your Eyes)> “Art expresses man”
[justify]Striking out most for Mirabelle is her very distinct background; she is fully of Japanese descent, from head to toe. Ever since her ancestors came onto former American soil, they have been rather selective of people; and, as the natural disasters wore and tore the nation, her people were especially cluttered together to keep the 'clean' Japanese blood pure. Mirabelle sticks out from most District 1 denizens due to looks and even, sometimes, the mention of the surname. While one would think that keeping the Asian line would also consider sticking children with matching titles, they also considered leaving behind petty traditions with names; and, so, Mirabelle has gotten strange looks when her application and papers state only her first name and their eyes set on an Asian girl; a rather mature-looking Asian woman to boot.
Going against past stereotypes of Asian culture, Mirabelle looks particularly older. This is further established when comparing her and, say, her elder cousin by five years. Her image of herself is cemented by comments she has received in the past concerning her slender face, expressing that she appeared to the be the head of her family females not the matriarchal figures. Less fat has presented to let the nineteen-year old act as some leader in group situations. Members of her family whisper under their breaths how such a child could be born from such youthful-looking parents and grandparents; they would toss up the possibility from some ancient kin with similar maturity. When paired with her mother, Mirabelle would sometimes get confused as Raine's older sister.
To get the point across, Mirabelle's face is extremely narrow in contrast to Raine's. Some cellulite is in the cheeks, but they are minor and hardly considered by her extended kin. Practices dabbling in baby-making unfortunately leave Mira vulnerable to breakouts when hormones go rampant, despite her extra cleansing techniques in skin and pore treatment. Scrubbing hard does nothing but turn the flesh red and tender. Her practices have gone to the extreme of Mira attempting to avoid touching her face except the occasional itch or removing of hair strands; otherwise, she tries to steer clear, like it is a phobia to do so. In-hand of the 'flawless' quality, Mira does not have scars or marks in existence for the face or head. Overall tone of the skin is described as a tanned peach or apricot, thanks to the Japanese gene inheritance.
Her sharp but rounded chin is properly fitting, and she would not replace the feature for anything else. Oddly, other than the eyes in the sockets, she likes her chin most when it comes to structures of the face. Favoritism is the former-girl's excuse to wash this hardly-noticed section more, keeping the pores unclogged. It tilts slightly upwards, which - in in downward light - causes a small shadow to form under the bottom lip. Mira's prized possession, she would not like the one to scratch or bruise her chin; and, if such an event were to occur, the mind will concoct ways to severely torture the person in all possible methods before ending their life. This is not to be taken easily, she thinks. Shaving off barely visible hair follicles leaves the human facial hill naked and polished.
Full lips are graced to Mirabelle. Trained to kiss well, they present a wide - and opposing - array of emotions, stretching from delirious romantic happiness to suppressed cruel clenches. She expresses on the outside a good girl that control over matters; but, when she is by herself, the inside is tight and seemingly always angry with the world and its citizens. Mira especially smiles best in front of children and small kids, to top off the offers of candy and delectable sweets. Dyed a mesh of natural burnt sienna and cardinal reds, her mouth is not exactly that prominent from the rest of the organs. No part is chapped, scarred, or strangely colored - in terms of there are no patches of new flesh - for these lips. Applying beauty products will imbue the machines of 'love' with luscious hue and underlying intention; usually glosses and lipsticks of a darker, vibrant red color, Mira hopes to capture the essence of romanticism when painting on such lavish shades and shines.
Due to corrective gear and surgeries, Mirabelle has nearly-perfect whites in her mouth. Heads of the nuclear family presented her the opportunity for marvels as a child, implanting braces and molar removals to achieve that perfect smile only off by the curvature of the lips. Of course, they are still susceptible to yellowing, staining, cavities, and the works if brushing with proper methods and tools were removed out of the daily life, yet she would never let dental health deteriorate. In certain occasions, Mira will brush her pearly whites up to four times throughout the twenty-four hours, depending on meal time and the conditions of those 'certain occasions'. Gums a healthy pink, chompers mostly bright, the Asian-American girl will not scrub too hard to make anything tender or bad-looking.
Button nose, minute nostrils, whichever wanting to call them, Mirabelle did not inherit a hawk or hook nose. (Like it existed in their family, anyways). Overall, the structure made of flesh, nerves, and cartilage is small and short. This is prone to blackheads and the occasional whitehead, but breakouts for those are a rarity - reserved for other facial areas. Without nose support devices, glasses would fall of her bridge, if she were to wear any; and, she cannot even keep a finger at the start of the structure without having to close her orbs or brush the eyeballs. Again, there are no deformities. Her nostrils are a bit narrow and tiny much like the rest of the nose; skin is smooth and pearly as can be, in terms of human surfaces. Odors and smells are picked up sensitively; when Mirabelle puts forth all concentration on detecting distant scents, she is able to do so, but not as often as her ears perking to delightful, fresh screams and bloodcurdling cries of anguish and pure torture.
Repeating once more to cement the concept, the ears are always out to receive waves of pain and misery in audible noises and words. Mirabelle is a hearing hunting dog - or perhaps a ravenous wolf, as she likes to imagine herself. Being that the ears are taller than wider or rounder further accentuates the feral canine appearance - and mentality. They are on full alert twenty-four-over-seven, a built-in radar to potential victims and prey. Both ears have a single petite hoop accessory of genuine silver - metallic or basic gray a favorite color of hers. Mira has other ear piercings, but she is often found with these clipped in; she may switch between earrings of trinket wings or actual feathers and ear cuffs - all having to do with silver. As they are looking to tuck in backwards and hide away in strands of hair, only in certain angles exposes the organs of hearing and the man-made decorations that gleam little in the sunlight. Short lobes - almost to the extent that they do not exist - give them a pointed expression. Long hair does not allow the ears to tan or absorb large amounts of light, thus the organs are lighter than the general skin tone. Other than the negligible holes made for the earrings, no blemishes or markings manifest. If eyes were to fall to the back of the ears to identify dirt, they would find little or hardly any particles; Mira keeps her hygiene intact even behind the hearing stations.
Cheeks could hardly be called be plump, if the definition of 'plump' for one is 'not anorexic skinny'. One of the locations of the face that are more prone to acne and the works, the filth and sweat seems to collect most in the two fleshy areas; but, even with such discouragement to those of weaker self-confidence, Mira does not give in to the petty problem and continues to exfoliate the pores to the best of her ability. Skin is soft and warm to the touch; and, though they do not hold as much cellulite as others of her racial background, one can still pinch a good amount in their hands. Near the nose exists semi deep crevices that disappear as they close in towards the mouth and lips; if she is facing forward, they are not noticeable and seem to blend in with the rest of the face. Darker shade of the peach color mentioned before rests at the center of the cheeks in a natural fashion, presenting itself to the hue of Persian orange. Any blush gently put on will most likely be that of a kiss of crimson or a dash of ruby, just to perk up life or the night rowdiness.
Moving onto the irises and pupils in the sockets, Mira's eyes are almost pitch black. They are actually of brown coloring; but, in the angled light or from a distance, the appearance of blackness or an abyss manifests in the orbs. Sometimes, the pupil itself seems to vanish behind the void her irises create in attempt of an illusion. Perhaps it is best to say the pigmentation for them is something like auburn swirled in beautiful darkness. No pretentious red streams show in the white areas, except if a person were to look real close; the only real times they present themselves is in moments of pure tiredness or immense stress - the latter hardly a worry, if any. To find the shine would require to be up close, for Mira does not particularly like to be in the direction of the sun. Even behind slanting eyelids, enough shows for the world to perceive and record her existence in the desolate but future country. At the times where Mirabelle is most excited and on the verge of crying enthusiastically, the colored circles appear to grow as she squints a small bit in the obsessively gleeful moment. Combined together with a signature wide smile is a dangerous combination.
Fine eyelashes were inherited by Mirabelle, injecting plenty assumptions of 'small' back into her character. Such thin, black strands are also short, if not lengthened by mascara. Everyday there is a period spent to curl and straighten the small follicles for the sake of impression. They flutter more like bug wings than feathers of a bird, quick and - with little 'wing span' - only enough to moisturize the glassy orbs. Mira will slow down the beating in the utmost romantic occasion - or give a flirting blink, either or. Little care is showcased if one eyelash falls off - as it is a natural occurrence; she will just have to fix up in front of a mirror later, as a precaution to look best. Otherwise, the loss is negligible.
One operation altered the eyelids to a look the family thought the rest of Panem would prefer. Besides, her family - they justified - had undergone the surgery and shared the same mentality for double-lidded eyelids. Mirabelle and her clan - almost all - were born with a single eyelid, and the family members coerced - under much subtle persuasion - for young Mira to also partake the cosmetic effect instilled in Asian blepharoplasty. (At that moment, not like Mira actually cared as long as it got the members to silence their tongues). Event aside, the existence of blemishes, wrinkles (outside of those forming now due to increasing age), and marks leave no tracks on the flaps. Colors picked for eye makeup are softer browns, if she chooses to do so; more likely will the Asian woman to draw eyeliner than swab a brush above the eye.
Plucking any thickness that naturally goes there, her brows have lost some of the coarseness due to tweezers and - once in a while - the wax and paper. They are not busy in any way and are formed into trapezoids softened at the corners. Much like the eyelashes, Mira occasionally tends to them to make certain there is uniformity and kindness to even the tiniest of details. With years of experience, the Asian girl will never mess up on how to pull out hair follicles - and if anyone dared to touch here in such horrible intention, she might resort to offensive maneuvers to get rid of the possible threat. Her eyebrows match the color of the hair on the top of her head, not one shade off.
Second and last place for the bacteria army in the pores, the forehead has tendencies to gain a pimple or two in spots, once in a while to the size of a dot that could be made by a pencil. Natural skin coloring might be off due to application of cover up, but underneath the powder and liquid will exist the hue Mother Nature intended for her. Setting off the frequent breakouts, her forehead is generally not rough, preferring to rub some lotion up there. In no fashion is the head structure large or protruding. (At least in a sense hopefully not enough for people to notice; if they do, oh well). Scars and other skin marks will not be present at this site.
Akin to the eyes, the hair strands on Mira's head are a dark brown - auburn, perhaps, again - which, under certain lights and darkness, will drop to a licorice black. Naturally, she has organic red highlights - once more - depending on the shine of the room or the outside; these highlights, however, are not a vibrant color like an apple but more on the crimson side. Tussle through the strands, one will find that each strand is soft - almost feathery - and extremely thin like needle thread. Light striking causes the spots to become plain brown. With the assortments of shampoo and conditioner washed through, any comments about these characteristics are expected by Mirabelle; and, if anyone were to deviate, she could glare or pass them off. On that matter, of course there would be no grease to detract the vibrancy; she also rinses well enough to not leave dandruff or lice to live on her scalp.
First off to say about Mirabelle's hair uniformity or style is that there is no widow's peak or bald spots - just to state off the bat. Traits dictated that the strands will be perfectly straight; but, Mira likes to curl the ends with an iron during parties and extravagant special times. Parting hair is slightly off when trying to be in the middle, edging to the left side of her head. Mira tends to put the majority in the front, leaving some to sway in the back or find themselves on the shoulders. Length goes to the chest area or down the middle of the back; this has hardly changed from the time she was little. Having hair reaching down to the butt - she finds - is uncomfortable and having not enough weight on the head - from short strands - has its own awkwardness, Mira thinks. Her hair does not seem to clump together in groups, instead, if grabbed, the follicles would break off into their own individual pieces. She never rubs gel in, for the Asian does not find need in having another style besides the natural way or endowing the ends with a gentle curve.
Gripping the neck would not be hard, due to the size being quite diminutive in length or width. Rarely do pimples tread on this section of the human land; Mirabelle does a good scrubbing that washes away the grim and athlete perspiration. After the chin, Mira does not have much care instilled for the other body parts for touching, so she 'allows' herself to scratch the neck when it calls for an itch. One might find that along the center and around is a faint lighter line where the skin should continue to be the tanned peach color; they might only find it depending if she actually takes off the accessory. She heavily adores and adorns the neck with a metallic collar band composed of the colors black, silver, and red. Redness shows up in built-in lights that blink upon the touch of a button in a plastic screen; otherwise, the entire band is black with silver plating. In actuality, the 'necklace' is a dog collar that she bought because it looked 'cool'.
Since Mira is a gymnast, her limbs and connectors (like shoulders) are sufficiently strong. Used to twists and turns, they are flexible enough to give more leeway to the arms and the moving radius. Much conditioning prevented major injuries to the scapulae and retain total rotation possibilities. Marks or acne will not be on the shoulders. With lotion application and less sunlight absorption, the blades will be a normal peach color - or lighter when a shine comes on. During her training, Mirabelle frequently straps on a guard to prevent soreness and support the joint, in total.
Muscular - not in the sense of exposing actual brawn - can describe the arms. Strength, though, is skinny; they are used to lifting Mira's own weight as she swings around uneven parallel bars or obtains equilibrium on balance beams without much sweat. As already stated from the shoulders, the limbs are flexible and can rotate and bend in various abnormal positions - unless enduring through the same training. Perhaps a bit unusual, Mirabelle removes follicles along the arms, gaining the naked look for appeal. Hairs are small, but, nonetheless, Mira shaves or waxes them off. Because the upper limbs are exposed in the open - during gymnastic training - they are only a shade or two lighter than the general color - a carrot orange, maybe. Underside of the arms are expected to be a peach-orange or orange peel.
Bony hands hold the gymnast power. Without the assistance of the hands, the arms would not be able to implement the feats of body balance, so they also have their own reservoirs of spirit. Perfection goes across the hands: No scars, blemishes, any of the sort. One problem is with her left hand, for now it always looks off or damaged though the appendage works fine. Result of an athletic accident which smashed and shattered bones within, only the best of technology of the highest District doctors could mend the hand to a state where the function was restored but not the cosmetic or beauty. Upon inspection, even at rest, the fingers are oddly positioned, and the hand itself contorts to a strange direction, tilting to the left of its natural accord. Pigmentation of the hands is the same as the arms: Tanned peach on top, softer carrot orange on the underside. Friction of bars and other gymnastic equipment alike has formed calluses on the hands; though they are not considered ‘pretty’ to Mirabelle, she will attempt to cover the proof of athletic endurance with moisturizers and hand guards – only when she actually feels like wearing guards. She does not particularly like or dislike to slip on hand equipment, so most times will be the lotion and skin smoothening application. (Gloves are not that ideal in gymnastic training, anyways; Mira has not tried chalk dust, for she heard that the particles cause even more friction and may form blisters instead).
Fingers, long and just as skinless. When Mirabelle stretches out the digits, they curve out a little at the ends, almost like a wave. Nothing on the colors has changed, and neither are the existence of scars or skin discrepancies. Mira continually shaves off any hairs on the fingers; even the tiniest matter to the nineteen-year old. Only the left hand’s fingers are off in terms of position – due to the accident. Her left index shapes to an awful hook, the pinky is further spaced, and the middle must be extended to ensure less awkward looks; if not stretched out, the longest digit will naturally connect the nail to the surface of whatever it rests on. These resting places are the best Mirabelle can do without experiencing stares – as often – or little bouts of pain. Silver rings of light weight and intricate design, sometimes worn; she has to feel like slipping on finger bands rather than it being a compulsive need as she knows some higher girls seem to possess.
Balms prevent the cuticles to dry or transform into jagged structures. Should any skin near the nail want to become loose and ugly, Mira always carries around a pair of cuticle cutters to snip them off – with disdain. With her tending, the dead cell layer on top of the hardened structures stay near the base of formation, not spreading to the center or going a centimeter away. Filing and weekly cutting make the nails uniform, round, and touched with articulate eyes and care. There are no chips or signs of wear and tear; also, the nails are healthy underneath, a shade of wondrous pink. Mirabelle bans from dirt and grime to line and stick to the whites of the nails; she usually will chop them to a considerable length, enough to peel anything that needs to be peeled but short to become talons or claws. Rare is it for the nails to be painted.
Though the back can bend and reflex to amazing directions and curves, Mira has made sure to keep a straight spine while sitting. She may slouch at times, but the moments are brief and private. Conditioning has forged a powerful backside, where a lot of weight originates from. Shoulder blades protrude from less fat intake. One can follow the small trail of the back with instilled curiosity and glee, gently stroking the section. During training is when the back is to the open, to show to the public in shows. Lighter shades of peach are found here – with not much show time to let sunshine in – but, in exchange for the tanning, pimples are a blue moon. While there are no monsters called scars, there does exist a tiny mole at the bottom, nearing the gluteus maximus, on the right side. Beauty mark, more like, for the blemish is not a jutting structure or has a sprout of hair popping out.
True to the Asian genetic tree, the chest is rather miniscule; however, putting Mira next to her mother, the comparison is great; she has the bigger rack. Her gymnastic uniform covers from the top of the collarbone to the area between the legs, so there is to be expected more saturated hues of orange – lighter peach, again. Below the breasts is a healthy stomach, durable and able to take on many feats. Unfortunately, no such conditioning has yet to bear Mirabelle any pack, and she does not intend to receive any. She is grateful and content with just the flatness of the abdomen. Not much flab will be found; not enough to pinch, at least. Hairs removed – the normal routine – and an inwards belly button, Mirabelle has for the pectoral area. During pregnancy, the fat will increase to about twenty or thirty pounds; then, after the baby is born, Mira tries to reduce back to the normal poundage again – even as the hormones are on the rage and extremely not in equilibrium. These areas – under normal conditions – are ultimately curvy.
Thighs are much like a horse: Big, powerful, and ready to kick around to the stars. They are thick and extremely muscular and flexible. On the vaults, the thighs are ready to swing and direct Mira’s body to various forms and directions to ensure to land perfectly on the feet. Thickness is about the amount fitting for the Asian girl. Shaving around the between area of legs and on the thighs are common; there is a line of a lighter tan at the top, due to Mira’s leg clothing preferences. Her hips are wide, curvaceous, and ready for touching. Stroking the thighs will get a smile out of Mira. No scars or markings are located on the thighs. From the thighs down, the skin is really smooth from continual daily reapplication of lotions and skin moisturizers. On the surface, the skin is the tanned peach shade; on the bottom half, it is the saturated carrot orange. Wrinkles along the patella are the normal sort, existing since birth.
Calves are tight and better to bend to a multitude of rotations. Such smooth legs shine brilliantly in the light – the same color rules applying. With no blemishes or possible acne, Mira’s lower extremities of legs are also hairless – more waxed than shaved in these regions. If they were not removed, they would be little black stubs much like her usual hair. Sometimes, the legs will be scented a nice aroma; only those she has contact with would know the reason behind the fragrant lotions and sprays. Trying to grab cellulite from the legs would be fruitless, unless one were to attempt to snatch pure muscle with little fat.
Calluses and toughened hide have formed over the years on the bottoms of the feet. Much flooring experience knows the dances - macabre - and forms judges value and die for, and they had to harden for the ever dangerous vaulting. From the balance beams, Mira knows how to keep herself upright should the ground be narrow. (But she is nowhere near perfect of balance compared to a ballerina dancer). Her feet take the coloring of all the parts that are under fabric more than on the outside. These bony parts curve and are a powerful enigma. To polish up - a tad - the underside of foot, she is recognized to use a pumice stone and rub gently in a circle to scrape off excess skin cells.
There is nothing out of place for the toes. Her little stumps of digits has the big toe being taller than the rest, the others going smaller in sequential order - from big to small digits. Not including the biggest, all toes curve slightly when relaxed. There are no scars or hair strands to see; she makes certain that no one would be able to detect a follicle without the aid of a microscope. Even her digits are soft to feel and present no roughness - outside of the calluses. Pinky and large toes direct inwards to the three middle ones.
Rounded toenails shine proudly in the glow of day. They have much care tended to them as much as the fingernails, even though they are not as exposed as often. Cuticle cutters are implemented here just as well at times where overlapping or falling off skin disobey the wishes of the Asian woman. Throughout the years, Mira has - so far - been succeeding the war against foot fungus, riding any chance for the disgusting growth to emerge from the cracks. Again, nail polish is an infrequent phenomenon; if she does plan to, the colors and hues have to be something of subtle distinction - not clear but close to that concept.
Not mentioning the top accessories or stated gymnast equipment for the second time, let us start from the first layer and work the way up - corresponding to seasons of no drastically cold weather. (Which will be mentioned later). Mira's choice of underwear can be considered high-class, fancy, slutty, whatever the masses and their opinions are. She actually has a wide variety of bras and panties - to suite the tastes of her 'partners'. In most cases, however, the wear are of lace or silk fabric, composed of the finest materials and produced by the greater hands. Any dye will do; all it matters is that it excites the man in the bed. On the question of type of underwear, the panties have to be semi bikini or less; no grandma panties will do here. As for bras and protection, anything 'sexy' and supporting will do. Comfortableness is second to appeal.
Nightwear contains only a simple gown of fine material. Straps that brush over the shoulders are a swipe away from full exposure of the body. Stretching down to the knees and flowing to the drifting winds, Mirabelle will usually entice her 'contacts' with the gown, asking to be gentle of its gray-dyed threads as they play with it. Underneath, there is nothing; not even a chest supporting device. Usually, she will cover the feet in cozy socks to ward off the heat; however, in those times where she is feeling a bit obsessive, she allows the counterpart to 'unwrap their present' ever so slowly. Overall, what she wears at night is simplistic in nature.
Upper portion of daytime clothes depend on the mood of the Asian woman. Mira's normal attire is commonly a white dress shirt; the characteristics of the shirt consist of a short collar, button-less cuffs (simply white), and nothing decorative. She will button - which are clear or pearly - the main shirt to the second to last one, keeping a flap open to sneak a peek within. Wrinkles are always ironed out by a matriarchal figure - or even Mira herself. If the shirt gets dirty, it is no detrimental matter. (Unless severely stained; then it is trashed). After Mira outgrows (or is too skinny) for her clothes, they go straight to charity by the demands of the family heads.
Often accompanied is a tie around the neck, nice against the skin. Colors of red, gray, or yellow - though the latter looks completely horrid - couple with the plain dress shirt, but she sometimes plays with other shades and hues if she is really feeling the change. Patterns are limited - sometimes non-existent. It flows down and stops at the start of the abdomen, unhinged not at all by her small cleavage. Mira loves her ties to a sentimental degree, never allowing to rest them on foreign surfaces unless extremely desperate. (Though she would not know when she would be desperate to do so, considering these ties do not hold much weight to bear).
Those leg garments that want to slip off - without Mira's help - are worn with a belt. Most - if not all - of them are a brand of leather or durable fabric, polished and straight enough to be like a whip; in the past, Mirabelle used to own beer belly belts in the closet, but they are now limited thanks to charities and donations; if they do still exist in her life, one is probably under an assortment of trinkets and boxes. Plain, patternless browns, blacks, and grays make up the collection, discriminated on the racks to be grouped with their shade and color peers. Belts - in general - are a small in number and not having much care placed upon coveting them, as it is uncommon for Mirabelle to give up such short waist bands - considering she bears a tiny waist in comparison to the Panem average. Cracked leather - from years of wearing - are discarded or donated, whichever institution is at a higher demand for damaged products.
For the bottom half, Mira basically wears short shorts or skirts that cease halfway down the thighs. Drafts of wind hardly tug on the skirt fabric to flow to the breezes, stiff cotton ignorant to the air calls. Dyed on the threads - for a good combination against the white dress shirt - is a dull green, a grassy color losing luster and vibrancy alike to asparagus or a camouflage pigmentation. Other colors exist, spreading out to most skirt possible shades and hues, but Mira finds the green one to spruce up her image pretty. For the short shorts, these are plain denim blue. Any blue will do, but they must be that primary. Though both choices are rough on the skin, Mira has found that wearing anything softer than cotton or denim material to be rather uncomfortable - for daily wear, of course. Which she will choose - between skirt and shorts - depends on the situation she plans for the day: No games, skirt; games, shorts. Evidence as to the reason to wear shorts for games - rather than it is easier to run or sprint in them - may be in her demand to have decently big pockets in the front or back - preferably front and back. Adding onto her unspoken criteria is that either of these have to be tight-fitting; any loose garments are to be supported by a belt and wrapped around as close to a humongous bear hug. Preventing any to slip down the hips is number one - good for when she wants to play with the children.
Wrapped around the feet as a first layer, the socks have to be either comfy or best to ward the toes from bitter cold. All dependent on the shoes she is wearing, Mira has two types of socks, Pantyhose and athletic brands, that she wears most times. Pantyhose goes with fancy shoes, and athletic socks go hand-in-hand with sports shoes - rightfully so. Mirabelle has many lengths of pantyhose - only to the ankle, to the waist, up to the knees, etc. - to go with dresses, dress pants, and other party or special occasion type clothing. White can only be the athletic socks, much like her dress shirt. Mira does not particularly care on athletic sock style - stripes, plain, whatnot - she only has attention for its comfortableness and ability to deflect the chill of the environment. These kind also can go up to a good chunk of leg. (Not halfway, but certainly past the ankle). Leniency is guaranteed for anything shorter than the length condition, but past the limit is undesirable. Loose socks - the third she actually has - are only worn when she really feels like slipping them on, perhaps also as a fashion sense.
Pairs of shoes consist anything stylish - in her eyes - that do not include laces, a tight emphasis on a fitting and supportive footwear. Venetian, Mary Janes, and athletic shoes - with any lace removed or tucked in - are the best bets to be worn by Mira. Same reason why Mira has to have tighter shoes or omit strings and knots has to do with the pockets for her shorts. Any that are in good enough condition are donated to charity; damaged ones are discarded, and the process of sorting out can take a bit of time from the selection she has. What the Asian woman chooses for her normal footwear between black, brown, and - surprisingly - white. From time to time, Mira will polish her Venetians or Mary Janes should they need some brilliance.
Fancy wear is especially considered by the Himura family. With the line of thinking Mirabelle should be dressed up pretty to bring home more recognition, they might spend many a dollar to such lavish. Mirabelle's tastes do not lick the gowns or masticate frilly dresses splendidly; instead, where her eyes lie on are chemise and cocktail dresses - informal clothing, more or less. While she prefers grays - surprisingly - and less distinct coloring, the family heads adore the elegance purples, blues, and other rich shades accentuate the Himura woman and her presence. Although they are not her favorite, Mirabelle, for the night or occasion, deals with them for the time being, repeatedly thinking that she is saved by her silver accessories. (She can never clasp on her neck collar band, however. Her family forbids such a notion to come into her head for parties and social events). Down to the knees the dresses go, printed flora, leaves, and wood ingrained on the fabric, etched in beautiful arrays of color - to the family eyes. Going for a tight look, there is much emphasis on closure and 'second-skin' dynamics. Only straps or no straps are allowed for Mirabelle, exposing the arms fully and some of her back. No matter what, the chest will be covered; cleavage prominence is out of the question.
Winter gear snuggles Mirabelle in hugs of warmth and comfort, a swirl of individual joy brought forth by satiated need. Commonly, the Asian woman of nineteen years wraps the ears in black fabric or ear muffs, fuzzy, toasty, defend against the descending white flake menace and their chilly presences. When the snow falls in horrendous amounts to endure, the hooded coat is raised to the head, attempting not to mess up a single strand of hair or give birth to knots during the struggle. Rimmed with cream faux fur of excellent softness, the beige winter coat - having the same material within - is all Mirabelle needs to maintain sufficient heat. She can be seen often embracing herself with mitten-covered hands, the multitude of buckles and buttons clicking when they strike each other. Fingers within hot pink gloves move as nimbly as they can. Her silver accessories are reserved to the ears, because metal provides a biting frost against the skin. Even against the cold season, Mirabelle demands that any winter coat consist of big pockets - better if sewn with warming material inside. At the times not hugging lonely, she will ball up the fists and push them in the pockets. Wool - any color - shirt keep the main body covered like in covers, hidden away by the coat so she will not have to expose any clashing shades.
Trailing a bit past the base of the hips the end of the coat is, the start of the winter-guarding bottom half underneath. Dark colors - between gray and black - trickle to the feet, the wool pants protecting the slender legs. Only tight at the hips - by an elastic band - and sneaking out of a clandestine environment - the monstrous coat's reign - the pants are pretty loose, creating many flaps after Mira's behind. They are about the only type of clothing she will allow to be free and hanging, despite her yearly demands of pockets - which they do have. If she has to warm the thighs, sometimes Mirabelle will shove hands into the pants pockets, rubbing over multiple times. She is, again, not one for much creativity or patterns, considering the pants come in one color to be used throughout. Valenki shoes that will cooperate or compliment the rest of the winter outfit are a must. Though not historically her own culture, Mirabelle has compromised with herself that wearing Valenki are exceptionally toasty to her toes, which ideal than slipping on her other seasonal footwear.
Purses do not exist for Mirabelle; instead, she likes the satchel design. Bulking, practical, swung to the side, satchels are her favorite type of bag, perfect for hiding away many objects not to be seen to the public. Chestnut brown is the choice for the carry-on, and there is one pockets besides the main bag which holds chloroform and candy. Main bag holds all her 'wonderful' items, cluttered with her dearly loves and things to show the children to make certain she is no stranger or in the clear to bring them along for 'games'. Extremely large and seemingly heavy enough to bring down the Asian woman, it holds her preferred weapons and anything else she deems necessary to the cause. There is some space left after filling it with malicious intentions, but the space is hardly enough to be considered 'half-full' or 'half-empty'. Latches and buttons are metallic gray, much to her pleasure.
Gymnastics calls for skin-tight material and aerodynamics to be secured for the individual. Mirabelle's outfit during showings and performances is more or less simplistic, the colors of crimson red and darkened gray - almost black - wrapped around the body. Her entire legs are out in the open, untouched by outfit, as are the arms. Thick straps hug the shoulders and stick to Mira till hitting the nether-region, caving in to cover the back and unnecessary part exposure. Designed to go for more 'prominent' red than gray, little patches of the latter color can be seen throughout in the form of abstract art - formless and having no bounds. For whichever activity she must perform in, Mirabelle might put on special shoes for gymnastics, these being a shiny white. During any athletic period - conditioning or real show - the flexible woman will tie back her hair into a high ponytail in a concrete gray band. These periods are where she smiles - naturally, in not the 'craziest' sense - the most frequently, showing off her pearly whites.
Hygiene protocol as articulate and compulsive - at times - as Mirabelle's asks for an explanation. Aside from the multiple washings and avoiding to touch the face, her bizarre methods extend out to daily interactions. Anyone that reaches out to touch prominent skin that has no intention close to being in a bedroom together is reacted with avoidance and dodging the casual, wanting attention poke; however, she is a bit partial to the same gender as her and feeling a nice brush of her skin. Fleeing away from unnecessary physical contact is an attempt to lessen the breakouts and beauty deflecting marks - the less time spent on cleaning, the better, in her case. Mirabelle does not exactly possess a phobia of germs, but she steers clear of dirt, which can be associate with germs to some. Dropping a fork on the floor, for example, is met with Mirabelle taking a napkin and picking up the utensil. In her house, she can wash up to two or three times a day - one for the morning and one at night, most cases - to send the daytime and nighttime potential acne causers down the drain. With her habit to not touch the face (unless, maybe, some man persuades her to), Mira resorts to cotton balls and handkerchiefs to take care of what needs to be done. Shaving practically everywhere that is not on her head makes her a very naked person, but she thinks the cause is better than the post awkward reaction. Everyday she checks for new follicles and longer nails to tend to. Often not her family do do not worry for Mirabelle's time in front of the mirror, because they all do desire for her to be at her best appearance potential possible.[/justify]
So I'll not pull her tail, Nor drive her away, <(Heart Luster)> “A flower falls, even though we love it; and a weed grows, even though we do not love it”
[justify]Sadism is the core of Mirabelle's character, 'justifying' many other traits for the Asian girl. Loving the screams, the sounds of torture, the wails and bloodcurdling cries, the obsessions for human pain and suffering drive her to perform 'insane' and ridiculous actions, inflicting ranging malaise. Easy to say, is it, that she likes to 'play' with her victims to incite more screaming; killing them off left and right would not get her goal, and death itself would only disappoint her. Due to not always knowing the individuals, most of her tactics resort to physical or psychological torture. To lead the mouse to one end of a maze while giving chase but having the poor creature scurry to the other end and repeating, so to speak on her behalf. Immediate or complete dissatisfaction arouses Mirabelle to fatally slash at her playmates, a never satiated sadism. Though she is willing to reap sadistic pleasure from anyone, children feed her better, thus the preferred victims of younger age from Mirabelle. If knowledge is granted to her, she will thrust fears into the victims' faces, hoping to salvage scares and scrambling reactions out of them. Usually the Asian likes to hold the reigns for torture schemes and protocols, but sometimes she will need the help of others or let people not herself take control of the scare factor. (Obsession of pregnancy can work the other way, so to speak. Male assistance would and will be hired should she have intelligence that a girl or man do not like men to get 'close').
Aside from spending on lavish clothes - for the appeal attraction peak - Mirabelle is thrifty, practicing a semi-strict economical ethic. Future and current torture schedules cannot and should not be spent so expensively; spending on any materials and tools would have been of barest necessity - in terms of quality and freshness. On occasion will the Asian girl indulge herself on something she wants, but only on an impulse. When her eyes seek out forgotten dropped changed on the streets, she will attempt to discern the amount on each piece or coin of currency. She will easily lose interest if the monetary amount is much too small to be invested. (Obviously so for about everyone, especially the poor). Cheap men will expect Mirabelle to pay for the extravagant social outings, but the young woman will not tolerate a notion and ditch them. They have to pay a little to 'get' a little from the Himura woman. Paying for such crude men is a major turnoff.
Obsessions run her life, but she does not fight them off. Mirabelle embraces the compulsions with glee, as they give her joy when they are complete. Children's games never presented her such pleasure. Prominently, there are two core obsessions that rule her days. Ever since she was little, Mira was overjoyed with people getting themselves hurt. Squealing with glee as a girl, but now she cackles silently or shouts when the game is on. Gifting fears or a chase are the rising action; the actual screams are the climax. Second on the list is pregnancy, which seems to contradict the eventual process of hurting said child. How such a loving process of forming the fetus leads to the hurting (and killing) of an infant is nothing to be considered by the Asian woman. Pregnancy, although, cannot be for others; the procedure should only be for her. Asian eyes glare when females not herself have conceived a small being. To ask her the reason for being obsessed with this particular thing, she might shrug; she might say that the result will give her something to look forward to (more sadist actions). All Mirabelle knows is that she ravishes both of them - to an extreme case. Nothing, she says, should stand in her way to obtain either. Neither can ever be satiated for long; Mirabelle is always craving for more, becoming numb to previous events. (Pie to the face used to give her the giggles; only the cutting of flesh and the scream to come after can satisfy her nowadays - for now).
Everyone thinks, but on their own separate levels. Mirabelle's brain complexity can be considered linear - not, per say, simple as in thinking up strategies, but she is very concentrated on the goal, which can lead to her using one method until she cannot salvage much pleasure out of the activity anymore. She only knows to keep the eyes on the prize of sadistic happiness by prolonging the pain, and the Asian female will keep to that by repeating what she knows has worked in the past Her mind is always noting the satiety of her two obsessions, with a mild thought going out to her gymnastics. In academics, she is decent or above par, B's and A's the goal, pushed on by her family. Crunching methods and formulas were always better than factual-based intelligence, and she shrugs when someone asks why she cannot grasp facts more than formulas and equations. Plans as simple as Mira's can be foiled easily if the victim is smart and has the supplies to escape with easiness.
Never can the explanation for Mirabelle's apparent hatred for men be found so easily. On the outside, she acts seductive, wanting to garner their attention by hinted words and arousal-exciting actions; but, deep inside, she loathes them going near her, them wanting to get so close. Partly because her interests are in the same gender, maybe, yet she only liked one male in her life to the point she did not feel like she had to put a guard up. She gets along better with the males solely for her goal. There is nothing beyond that. Her thoughts for the opposite sex are, for the most part, negative, saying to herelf that they are vile creatures that are piqued to have women fall behind. Women are always put down for what they lack, she felt, and she would not accept the males so easily due to the notions. Most of them were conceived from just inspecting the world, watching people interact with each other, and her opinions for men - which started as nothing as a child - grew to be dark. Outside is light, and inside is black.
Women, on the other hand, are treated with more kindness. Mirabelle acknowledges that there could never be a scarceness of available males, so there should be no conflicts with 'her own kind'. Other than the nice personality she has taken a persona to to get future victims, the Asian female can be much pleasurable - and preferable - to females, being a bit more cutesy. Flirty comments are not reserved just for males; she is definitely more biased, more positive to girls. She looks forward to being around her same gender; and, although she can try to be cute and vulnerable to them, she will never put down her dominating personality, acting like the despised males in terms of protecting her 'property'. To the one that she has the interest in, she expects herself to protect them to the best of her ability. Nothing matters if they want her to or not; she will do whatever she wants, even to their chagrin or disapproval. Sometimes, she can let go of her favorites with ease, for she thinks they are not outside from her 'torture pickings'. Not to be too biased now, she thinks. Any girls that are pregnant, though, will not receive the good reception; she does not like that others can be in their states when she cannot be. They are basically lumped together with men, her jealousy fostering rage enough for her to want to cut them open - but not yet, for to salvage the screams and cries.
On her feet, Mirabelle is sneaky, cunning to a considerable degree. She has to be sly and smart - in terms of 'outside of school' and out of factual knowledge - in order to trick the children. Some kids, she has encountered in the past, could be wary of her intentions, suspicious of strangers and older people like herself. Even with her plan in mind, the Asian female will need to think of ways to draw children to her. Various tactics and ploys are conducted, but she will not do a trial-and-error enactment for each of them; instead, the nineteen-year old will try the one she thinks works best for the victim - to not waste precious time for sadistic pleasure. She cannot bother to learn people that she wants to torture beforehand - if she does not know them prior to wanting to use them. If she does, good for her; if not, too bad. Gathering intelligence on personality and behavioral habits while chitchatting with them is part of her thinking.
By observing the environment and contemplating the possible usages, Mirabelle can be resourceful. She tries to think outside of the usual purpose of objects, attempting to not be constrained to functional fixedness. Her practical puzzle-thinking mind can allow her to think outside of the box; but, thinking differently than the practical usage does take some time. Giving pondering periods will eventually yield an odd result. Utilizing the surroundings and all the items is rare, actually, as Mirabelle usually has the materials needed to initiate the torture process; however, she might use a flexible tree limb as a whip, as an example of her resourcefulness. From time to time, the Asian girl might salvage materials in the wild to conserve money, pleasing her frugal self. Reason for why she does not collect materials so often if such a cheap labor would be her inability to fully trust materials not made by human hands. Once in a while, though, can faith be put into natural objects, especially if she is low in her store-bought 'necessities'.
Previously stated, Mirabelle is not the most intelligent in terms of facts and academics; but, to add in, she is not the most wise. Thoughts do not go to understanding deep concepts of the universe or 'silly' sayings that are common knowledge; she just knows how to do her actions correctly and nothing more. In school, her best subjects would be mathematics and classes on language, but 'trivial' topics like history would be forgotten easily. Facts do not appeal to her, and partaking in classwork and homework is tiresome to the Asian woman. In order to pass with decent or good grades, she has to invest plenty of time to study - except for the best subjects, which might go without any practice and get by exceptionally. Asking her questions on the material will usually go with a shrug, unless she happens to completely understand the concept and be able to articulate(?) in layman's terms.
Unusual as the notion sounds, Mirabelle actually loves people, but the type of admiration - in of itself - may be distorted. As they are the source of her sadistic pleasure, she has come to adore the creature known as 'human', telling herself that they are able to provide her with her need for torturing. She appreciates the 'gifts' they give her in exchange for her 'actions'. With her pain-seeking nature, Mira likes to be around people, fascinated by their emotions. (Just not as much as her own). Because she derives mirth from their pain, safe is for someone to say that the love is corrupted, 'abnormal' in context, and horrible; however, the Asian accepts the wishes of her heart with a shrug. Life is life; pain is pain; her infatuation with humanity for their screams should not be explained, she thinks. Everything is what everything is, to her mind.
Although her love for people may be off from 'normal' - a torturer-prisoner relationship, more or less - her pique in interest for gymnastics is genuine. When she is not thinking of the torture, the screams, the subtle strives for physical perfection - minus the displacement her left hand presents - the rest of thoughts are given to the art of reflexes, flexibility, and talent in the body flow. Expending energy in the sport relieves Mirabelle from any pressures outside of those satiated by screams. Concentrating in gymnastics actually puts her in a very calm state, one that almost leaves her null of feeling urges for sadism. Both fatigued physically and mentally afterwords, she is vulnerable from her violent side, surprisingly happy and serene. (Acting more 'normal' - as in not so violent - some might say). Following any gymnastic training, she will be left incapable of planning torture scenes or wanting to satisfy her scream lust. (Not that she objects). Urges to do the sport will come when they want to appear, but she trains on a bi-weekly basis, now not able to train for the reason of being a Career. No matter what, her best effort is applied in.
Neither Mirabelle's abilities or looks are her vain points, and she does not exactly like to be pretentious. She does think her talents are good - not willing to downplay them - but she does not regard herself as the absolute best. In her mind, the gymnast will think that she could improve; but, she does not think, per say, modestly. If someone were to ask her about her skills, Mirabelle will say that does think she is above average, but she will not say she is the best. Even when desires for pregnancy are high, she will say her caliber honestly, not knowing if guys would like their girls 'modest' or 'confident'. For her level, the showcase of pride is medium, and she likes the balance. Her intentions do not result in more drama or need for attention.
Crushing people under her feet is one of Mirabelle's prides, and she likes to do so very much. Though she cannot literally stomp on others (like a large man, for they are hard to topple by shoving) all the time, showing her dominance turns into the power she also wants. Pride and fairness do not affect who she is willing to tower over, so she gets the same pleasure from stepping on a child as she would a full-grown man or woman. Just the act of being master of her surroundings and people is enough to salvage superiority from. This trait does not fall under the 'abilities' that she should not be so prideful, for she does not consider dominance to be something to brag about openly. (Must be kept discreetly). Only a few moments would she let her small lust for overpowering be led by someone else - someone she must trust.
Power is the preferred topping on the dominance and obsession cakes. Though not as much wanting than for pregnancy and sadism, Mirabelle likes to have some sort of power in her hands, proving that no one - especially a man - can be greater than her. This does not particularly apply to being a group leader, however. She has discriminated between the types of 'power': One acknowledging that the control eventually is given up after a job is complete (like a school project), and the other not returned so easily. Definitely, Mirabelle wants the one not taken back, also wanting the reigns more on a clandestine fashion. Similar to her overlord-like issues, she does not particularly like to give out the 'latter' type to anyone, but on occasion will she let them - if she trusts that they would do better than her in the same position. No matter what, though, the Asian will not want to be ordered around akin to a slave or messenger; she would rather be a co-commander if anything. If ordered around as a peon, she will get bluntly angry, glaring and expressing her 'distaste' of being commanded as such. With this, Mirabelle might rebel socially; she will not get to the point of doing things her own way, in the case that her actions cost her a chance for some screams.
Added on her distorted love for people, Mirabelle is a sociable girl, the type to randomly strike up a conversation out of an urge. She is not the life of the party, but she has her discourses at her pace. Her tone is actually a bit quiet in a sense, talking in a series of short sentences in casual English. With talking, Mirabelle feels that she can get closer to individuals - to gain their favor when she does her 'private invitations' with rope and weapons. Subjects can range to anything she feels to discuss about, showcasing her variety and willingness to be around an assortment of people; and, as she talks, she will throw in smiles depending on the aura of the group or person. Gaining favor is her goal, after all. During times where she is fatigued, Mira is significantly more silent but not incapable to carry out a word exchange. While her focus normally is great, Mira after gymnastics practice is sloth-like by far comparison.
Linear thinking can make Mirabelle a dangerous foe. Brash, rushing in, and playing with victims, the Asian girl is an relentless one that can be full of bold energy. When chasing after the tortured, Mirabelle will not give up - as long as they are in her grasp. If tied to a rope, she will tug and tease; if being encountered head-on, she will also charge forward. Though not meaning that she has no fears, Mirabelle just has her goals so set on that she is willing to do a lot of actions to instill fright in the victims. Dangerous ploys give her the courage to march onward, smiling creepily all the while.[/justify]
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![[image] [image]](http://i53.tinypic.com/a176gh.jpg) 8/8/10: Made moddemon (666 pc) pH: f*** that s**t, luna! ***** bitch douche.  ALICE: Remove these shorts of obfuscation and let us gaze upon it-this so-called "hose"!
Alice, I hate you, but this quote is so... so... *dies* |
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F*** YEAH, FIRE EMBLEM Capitol Resident
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"Family not by Blood but by Bond"
Joined: Apr 2010 Posts: 1,650 Location: In your town, killing your men Karma: 65 |  | Re: Mirabelle Aida Himura of District 1 [Fin] « Reply #1 on Dec 1, 2010, 4:47pm » | |
[justify]Former Career potential-Tribute of District 1, her family has prepped her for the Hunger Games and to win - should she be picked. They had prepared Mirabelle in the case of either scenario - getting reaped or not. Brainwashed to appreciate the Capitol for their compromise of participating in the show, winning, and receiving lifetime money, Mirabelle has a - more or less - liking for the Capitol. Though she is not pious solely for the Capitol, her notions are positive. When younger, the young Asian woman would occasionally dream of being in the Hunger Games - not for the money but to cause some mayhem. Strategies would not be thought up, because she had only pondered on how to torture the Tributes the best ways possible, keeping silent cackles to herself. On the day of the Reaping when she was 18, not reaped, Mirabelle had to suppress the apparent anger on her face. All of her dreams were ruined; but, with brown eyes locked on the people in her group, Mirabelle bounced back easily, smirking the closest action she could do to her signature creepy, toothy smile. Now when she watches the Hunger Games, she listens closely for the screams; and, in her room, her family moments will comment that she watches the program religiously, outside of mandatory watching, practically staring with glee.
More or less, Mirabelle - in public - gets irritated often than angry; however, in her private affairs, she lets the emotions manifest in childish fits, screaming, shouting words. Occurrences for the wild mood will happen in seldom moments of emotional weakness; however, when coming around someone expressing that her 'games' are not fun, Mira is likely to begin shouting, denying that they are not joyful simply because they - as in the 'playmate' - are not energetic enough. Easy is to say that she highly disagrees with people stating that her entertainment is not fun. She understands that individuals do not appreciate her sort of games, but she does not care in the least when in her sadistic state. When really furious - which is extremely rare - Mira will forget to prolong for screams and go straight for the kill. Otherwise, pure ire is uncommon, usually replaced with her childish glee for the expressed pain. For the most part, she is hard to anger; but, to remember, she is easily irked when someone disses her games. Taunting will have to be at full to get enraged to the point she does not want to inflict malaise anymore.
Almost to the point of neutrality, one thing going out for Mirabelle is that she cannot be truly happy unless she is filling the emptiness her obsessions present upon her. Enjoyment of life cannot be complete without the bliss screams and pregnancy give, the highlights of her life she thinks. Much like accounts of her classmates retelling the joys abusing morphling (when and if they could get their hands on the substance), there is nothing that can please the Asian girl as well. She may smile from time to time without the personal euphoria malaise and pregnancy give, but they are significantly neutral by far comparison - and extremely apparent to tell. On occasion, her family will wonder the reason for days where she seems 'greatly' happy, cheerful, and full of life; and, they correlate the mirth to times where she is out later than usual, raising brows, concerns, and the need to put an increased amount of restrictions on the nineteen-year old. In the state of happiness - when not deranged - she is more lively, focused, and 'high off of life'. During the chase of the 'games', though, the signature smile shows through, eyes wide, and cackles slipping through the mouth. Her face in madness is akin to the stereotypical scary expression a child gives when a flashlight is shined under the chin and upward, casting eerie shadows.
Living a semi-secretive lifestyle of 'giving and taking' from others, the Asian woman attempts to be organized with her questionable objects and purchases, storing them in many inconspicuous locations of her residence, in the case the family members begin searching around common hiding spots. Even in the trusty satchel, she has to place the items in certain spaces, as not to reveal them suddenly while digging around in the bag. In an effort to uphold not being extremely suspicious in the eyes of the family members, Mirabelle maintains cleanness and openness with her room; this does not exactly allow her to fly by them easily, though, but a good habit is essential for possessing, she thinks, for the future. In the forest, the shack also stores her possessions, and they are organized and sorted there as well. With how much Mirabelle time spends to keep her surroundings to a spacious condition, some acquaintances have suggested that she is obsessive. (Definitely the only 'obsession' Mirabelle will openly show to the public masses). If she had no need to store away odd items from the Himura family members, though, perhaps her 'obsessive compulsive disorder' for orderliness and organization would not be as needed; however, Mirabelle does say to her classmates that she does not like places with such mess and clutter, left to be an uncertainty of her fate if she had not gone down the path of obsessions.
With some Japanese traditions upheld in the Himura household - watered down by many generations of living in pre-Panem establishment and after, though - Mirabelle has learned to speak a little of her ancestor's tongue - better writing, however - as a means - her family would say - in case she was reaped and could teach her alliance phrases as strategy. Shaped up by past customs, the Asian girl takes off her shoes in the house, bows, speaks to the superiors politely without much thought. Her opinion of ethnicity is neutral; as expected to keep these traditions in any person's household, she would either receive praise for such manners or get embarrassed remarks - a double-edge sword. She is neither proud or ashamed of her heritage, shrugging more or less. If asked the question of she loves her past 'country' (having lived in Panem for so long, Japan is merely a fairytale to the folk), she would respond that learning such details has benefits and disadvantages, twitching a half-smile to support her balanced views. Not common is for Mirabelle to actually speak in the tongue; and, as her family has lived in post-America for a long time, the formerly-known high-pitched accent can never be obtained, lost.[/justify]
But pussy and I, Very gently will play. <(My Storybook Dreams)> “When you do something, you should burn yourself up completely, like a good bonfire, leaving no trace of yourself”
[justify]District 1 turned Raine Tsukiuma and Wallace Himura into Careers - with mannerisms of the Japanese intact. (More so prevalent in the mother than the father, the traditions were). They had actually known each other since childhood - by family ties - and had been set up to wed after both (Raine was five years younger than Wallace) were incapable of being reaped for the Hunger Games, in the interest of breeding Career children. Not only were the two families the few ones they knew were purely Japanese - the intention of their 'clean' heritage prominent - the two worked together the best, having a wide assortment of ranged abilities while sharing one or two talents, to teach onto their children. None within the Himura and Tsukiuma households disagreed with the arranged marriage a month after Raine's final reaping, and the couple were brought together, despite never showing a fostering love.
Growing into early (for Raine) and late (for Wallace) twenties, the two held a mild tolerance; though they worked together well in Career training of childhood and through the teen years, their personalities were off. Wallace was a man that believed in rigid training, a higher adoration for rules and order, and any rebellion would be straightened perfectly - he thought - by the belt buckle, taught so by the same procedure of his father and grandfather; Raine, on the other hand, was, more or less, loose by comparison. She was still persistent in tasks, but deadlines were relative - in her honest opinion - and thought that some drops of 'affectionate shaping' (as she called the term for implementing minor encouragement in scrimmages) would do wonders for people, displaying that she was flexible than her male counterpart. First, the new Himura nuclear family rubbed against each other the wrong ways; and, only by the time their first child was born could they put differences slightly behind them - for the time being.
23-years old, Raine gave birth to Tristan, a small baby boy. Birth of their son pleased the families, expressing that men would be more successful in the Hunger Games - in terms of physical feats. With urgency, the families - especially the Himuras' - bluntly told the two that more children were necessary for success. Though they desired offspring, they also said to limit to three, as there was a minimum investment both were willing to give for each child. (Both families, though never won the Hunger Games once, were above-average in finances, possessing their own lavish companies). Begrudgingly, Raine and Wallace followed the orders of the superiors, thinking they knew what was best for the possible bright future of winners. No losers - both thought - were permitted under their reign. While encouraging little Tristan to excel other potential Career children in primary motor skills (always making him stand and walk with their guiding hands, for example) and other essential abilities, three years after his birth, Mirabelle made her first appearance in the world, a crying, plump child.
Uncle Bryce, Raine's brother, was the pronounced 'failure' of the Tsukiumas', always falling behind the rest of his siblings, even the girls. In his youth, he was not able to pick up fighting and tactical concepts as fast as the family wanted him; and, his inability to catch on fast led him to be a horrible Career, turning away the other families (not even the Himuras' were willing to set up a girl to him) for arranged marriage proposals. Reduced to solely providing income through work, Bryce had more time on his hands; and, upon request, the older brother of Raine was pretty available to babysit young Tristan, Mirabelle, and other family children as parents would go to establish future bonds for the offspring, with a tired frown on. For six years, balancing babysitting and work was fatiguing the man faster, and a small Mirabelle would watch her uncle sigh to the side as her playmates and brother wrecked the scene, pretending to be Career Tributes in the Hunger Games.
Watching the Hunger Games together, surveying the other children as they wailed from scratches and falling, they all made a small Mirabelle laugh with glee as she was growing up. Family elders thought that her pleasure was a normal period; after all, children tended to snicker at the shortcomings of people not themselves, and the Asian girl seemed to reflect their thinking. When she was reminded of her failures, she would frown immensely, glare, and be in a fit, only to then throw a punch at the insulting individual, laughing right after as they howled with pain. Minor phases would be put out in time or applied to something productive, like training for the Hunger Games, the Himuras' and Tsukiumas' continued to think. Though noting, none realized - at the time - the severity of Mirabelle's action growing; what a punch used to instill the fits of laughter from her did not so later in her life. Remaining constant, however, was the wide smile exposing pearly whites from ear to ear following the crying, screaming, laughter, and pain.
Bryce seemed to interest child Mirabelle to the nth degree as he stumbled around, looking weary. Laughter came from her and the other children as he would trip from time to time, and he would only avert a tired glance at the group. (Mirabelle would say now that he was about the only man she liked - a fake side note saying she also loves her father, just to ease the people she talks to that the family superiors are appreciated). Getting older - to Mirabelle's six - Uncle Bryce, when the children to babysit had dwindled to Tristan and her, started to go out, telling the two he would be doing a quick errand and for the brother and sister to fend for themselves for a bit. To be grown adults, he would say, a goal that the two would get excited for. Upon return - an hour or two later - tired Bryce became energetic Bryce, and Tristan and Mirabelle were left to wonder the cause of the results.
Raine's brother had met himself a woman that he had taken fancy to, and he went to pursue the naive female with outings and gifts - to the displeasure of the family elders. Much negative feelings rose as the families held meetings (children to be thrown outside to play) and hammered out differences; however, there was no contrasting opinions about Bryce's situation. He was getting involved in an affair that both thought was 'dangerous', 'deceptive' and overall a 'stupid' choice on his part. For they did not set up the marriage for the most potential child-bearing and passing of skills, for Bryce was a 'failure' of a Career, for the woman was oblivious of his feelings anyways, these were the 'reasons' the families threw at the man, and they forbade him to see the woman again. Only by word, at first.
Continuing the outings, Bryce eventually got closer to the heart of the woman, much of a 'failure' Career as himself. They had similarities and grew fondness, something Uncle Bryce dreamed - as shunned of both families and not having a living outside of work. He had even proposed to her one night, receiving a hearty reception, and planned for the ceremony soon; but, during one of their post-proposal dates, Wallace had caught sight of the couple as he was out doing errands. Strict Wallace reported immediately to the elders, and they - of course - were severely not pleased with the events. Next meeting to come, Bryce Tsukiuma was further restricted to not see his lover, practically confined to specific schedule formed by the families. Though he had shouted out that a reason of theirs - the one of her being oblivious to his emotions - was struck down, they had only replied back that she was using him for their wealth. Thrown to a new heck, an enraged Bryce gritted his teeth, never the type to fully rebel against the family heads.
Over time, without his prized woman, Bryce grew to be sickly. Only allowed to wrap his head around work, income, catering to the more gifted family members, and other benefits to the two families, his health was deteriorating. Earlier stumbles that most children laughed at turned into occasional keeling over, which Mirabelle was the lone laughing child. Visits to the doctor said he was fatigued and needed to relax; but, behind the curtains, the families would not let Uncle Bryce cease, for he had disobeyed them many a time with the woman. He had to persevere for now and regain trust, they thought. Eventually, though, the man fell to a terrible disease and was confined to a bed, coughing and hacking every direction. His lover - during the ban - would try to fight the families to see him, but their prestige and monetary power would shoo her away. Bryce was alone, falling into mild bouts of sadness, bound to the bed for a month or two prior to the final moment; and, before taken, his loneliness transformed gruesomely into complete hatred for the Himuras' and the Tsukiumas'.
Final moments of respect to the dying brought the Himuras' and the Tsukiumas' to the house of Bryce Tsukiuma, gathering everyone in the families to the young man about to pass on to the realm of darkness. Children congregated to the front, asking to themselves the reason Uncle Bryce now laid with such a disgusting appearance. Mirabelle watched on, gazing at the sunken cheeks, the black eyes, chapped lips, weak limbs and digits, and the overall paleness of his skin. Parents and elders stayed in the back, showing their 'respect' by being draped in amusingly morbid colors of dark shades and the common black. Raine was the only one crying, but Bryce could not let the prominent frown and furrowing of brows depart from his face, watching the two families 'pay their respect' to their dying kin. In fact, behind the chipping lips, teeth clenched hard, almost to the point of grinding.
His sister went to step forward, but he had swatted anyone coming near away with a nearby cane. Fury in the eyes turned into a fire widened by further opening of the eyelids. Bryce began to shout 'crazy words' after Raine wanted to get closer to his body, and he had finally snapped, watching everyone - in his perspective - keep denying him of his rights, the children laughing at his shortcomings, and everyone just plain picking on him. All because he had met a woman he had passion for, he was punished till confined to a bed and unable, still, to see her. With anger behind the breath and continuing to swat the wooden support, Uncle Bryce - with his ultimate moments of life - cursed the two families, placed great misfortune and generations of misery onto each of them. Nothing would exorcise the demons that would haunt them, he continued to shout, and forever will their lives be burned in a metaphorical fire - for their greed is and will be the coals and gasoline to spur the flames to lick their feet and climb up. Not a single action will purify their deeds, and the families will crumble to a madness that cannot be contained. After the cursing, Bryce Tsukiuma let go of life, resting his head on the pillows. One roar of hysterical laughter followed amongst the parents. Six-year old Mirabelle only wished that her uncle had gagged a little more before his death; now he would not be so entertaining, she noted.
Life went on after the death of Bryce, as though he was never there. Despite Raine being affected by the final breath escape of her brother, she also had to put behind the emotions for the interest of the family. Without her mild form of entertainment, Mirabelle had to salvage for opportunities amongst her peers, towards her brother (not without getting smacked back), and family children. Still, life went on without a worry, the shouts of a dying Bryce put behind each of the family members as mumbles to the wind. Until two branches shared by the families went down into the figurative gutter, none of the words of Bryce returned. At first, the coincidence was a minor mention; though, after Tristan's death, the connection dug out the words to be remembered. Misfortune was bringing out slight panic.
Tristan was with his friends after school, hanging around as usual. Near the District fence, they sat around in the alleyway, on the trashcans. Young boys, the group howled with laughter about jokes and references, being boys. Upon the mention of having a little fist fight training in proximate distance of the electric fence ("For better practice," one lad said), the boys went at each other, laughing and commenting to another as they would watch the one-on-one skirmishes. Few came close to touching the lethal metal, which got some of them more riled up, grins on their faces. For Tristan, however, he was coaxed into thinking he would win easy against a smaller - but just as determined - boy. Throwing fists, dodging blows, taking hits, Mirabelle's older brother was smacking down on his friend badly. All games ended when - in retaliation and instinctive defense - the tinier child pushed Tristan hard towards the fence; and, though the 11-year old did not automatically hit the bars, he had lost his footing and fell backwards. Retelling the tale, the boys would say that Tristan's eyes popped out of his sockets, his body stuck on the fence due to the electrical shocks, and the skin was turning dark. Surely, the event readied them for the Hunger Games; the moment also presented grief to the Himuras' and the Tsukiumas', a potential Tribute wasted to electricity and such a horrible fate. At his funeral, eight-year old Mirabelle did nothing as she went up to the open casket, muttering that she wished she could have been there, a frown plastered on.
Long not after Tristan's funeral, Mirabelle at ten years of age, baby Lexi appeared on the earth, the final child that the families wanted Raine and Wallace to have. Other children, they said, could make up for the deeds Tristan could never fulfill, so his death was not so much of a worry. Money to invest was starting to decrease as the companies fell to a poor state, but the Himuras' and Tsukiumas' were still wealthy enough; the elders suggested that the individuals not spend willy-nilly - a clear statement anyone should know - in case the superiors needed to borrow a coin here and there to give rise to business again. From time to time, the curse presented by Bryce was mentioned as a few children total in both families had gotten into conditions that made them unable to compete. (May they be medical difficulties and disorders or plain death). By the end of the unusual death period, five - including Mirabelle - of the main children (cousins) key to Mirabelle survived. Not even Lexi was spared from the cruel fate, the reaper coming for her when she was merely four months of age, to crib death. Silence of a death did not comprehended well for a schoolchild Mirabelle, now the living 'lone' middle child of Wallace and Raine; and, in order to not waste money, the elders requested that the couple not bear anymore children. Mira was left to be the lone child.
Reports back from the District school detailed Mirabelle's general good behavior and decent scores, and the elders were pleased greatly for her success - not only in living but in being a sociable, likable person, despite her tendencies to laugh at others' pain. Though there was Career training prior to her being ten-years old (actually starting when she was seven), the years before are not that important to the current her, for there was no gymnastics. Introduced to the sport as a means to further make her body flexible and strong (she was always naturally more dexterous than the other children), Mirabelle did not have any solid initial opinions at first; and, only through many sessions did she grow to appreciate - and love - the exercises and sport, in general. She liked being in power of her body, and the concept of being over others - in dominating skills - filled her head, to which she would secretly grin at in her private quarters.
Observing others' pain dulled Mirabelle's senses. Eventually, she evolved to be someone who could only pretend to smile genuinely when not around people's screams. She felt a void in the heart, and the Asian girl did not like the emptiness. Feeling the pressures of the family elders to do well in school and be kind to her classmates turned her to be discriminative. Outside of the academic institution, Mirabelle started to exhibit behaviors that deviated from her outside personality and mannerisms suggested she was - though being extremely sneaky about the operations. Behind their backs, Mirabelle would throw larger rocks at the heads of smaller children among a high tree, to silently snicker as they would cry to their mothers. Abusing each tactic led her to get numb, though, and she would have to repeat the process of reaping pleasure through other methods. (One time, she had tried to test if she would be able to salvage the same amusement from torturing animals; but, even though there was some entertainment, the mirth was nowhere near as satisfying as the human torture, so Mirabelle had to ditch animals - a waste of time, she thought).
Concern was roused when a teacher reported that Mirabelle had actually punched a student hard in the gut when he had accidentally bumped into her in the hallway, and that her cackles could be heard under her breath by some witnesses. With having no prior evidence to Mirabelle's violent attitudes, the family elders dismissed the matter from their minds, but not without telling Mira to keep being in her good behavior - for possible sponsors in the future. Hearing the words "Hunger Games" got the Asian girl to nod understandably. That day while she was still a younger child, Mirabelle realized the potential opportunities in store if she were to be reaped for the show on the television set she used to adore - and still continued to adore. Afterwords, she had said her apology to the punched student and went on her merry way, cleaning up her behavior a tad and becoming really friendly to anyone. To herself, though, she was snickering on the inside, replaying scenes of the Hunger Games in her head where she was a Tribute.
Quite hard was the task to hide and suppress the sadism for Mirabelle. Trying to do so for the possible future sponsors, the Himura child upheld the mannerisms she was known for in her family and presented herself better, sneaking a snicker to the side. Further suppression ripped her heart apart, having to 'survive' on the 'whittles' of other children beating each other up and emitting screams. Not getting her 'daily dosage' of pleasure was tearing her heart apart; and, eventually, just watching kids causing pain to others was not enough to satiate the void in her internal engine; she received thoughts to be the one causing pain, the eternal bliss - she thought - that would come out of her causing the pain of her classmates, much like dreams of being in the Hunger Games for that very same reason. In order to get the big dream, though, she was suppressing the immediate, which was 'not doing good' for her psychological and emotional mentalities.
Lusting for the pleasure was crazy work, and carrying out the means for the joy was worse. Mirabelle's thoughts occupied some of her concentration in studies slightly, the voids clawing the soul. Past pranks and throwing objects were starting to lose their interest, their luster after much repetition. Evolution and moved her rock-throwing days to times in the Training Center, performing 'kidnappings' and 'murders' during the night, where she was allowed to train in the gym. In her amusement, Mirabelle would grab wooden blunt objects and sneak up behind people that were alone. (Most often, the cases were that the children were going to the little boys' or little girls' room). One quick swipe at the head light enough for a temporary blackout, hiding the body for a short period of time, and applying a red substance (crushed berry juice, ketchup, whatever Mirabelle could carry around with her at the time) on the 'victim's' skin, and the young Asian girl got her fits of pleasure as the people would scream from finding a 'dead' child placed in the locker room, a bathroom of the opposite gender for the victim, and other spacious areas. She received both excitement and practice in the District 1 Training Center, a win-win situation in her case. Much pleased for that, Mirabelle was. 'Play' murders let out the nervous energy in her body and filled partially the emptiness of the heart; and, for then, she was happy as she could be. Screams out of fear and horror than for pain did not quench the thirst as well, but pranks such as the fake murders would have to do.
Horrendous tricks and additional beloved gymnastics sessions aside, training for the Hunger Games was another chore to Mirabelle. Gifted with the higher change of winning, the young girl continued to think ahead to the future, not for the prize but for the 'opportunity'. She wen through rigorous scrimmaging, dodging projectiles, and going through set-up sections to ensure the better percentage of taking the first place of the 'game show'. Nothing on her face said she particularly enjoyed or despised the practices; they were just to be done in Mirabelle's head, as like homework to prove that she was smart and competent to work in the District. In the rankings of the District Center trainees, the Asian girl was among the top twenty-five. While not the most hasty or physically powerful - to her chagrin - of the Careers, Mirabelle excelled in her ability to be resourceful and cunning, to use her environment and common knowledge to the others' disadvantage, incorporating observations to work against the individual's personality. Each win presented Mirabelle either with a slight pride or confidence boost; but, each loss got the other a glare, and the ten-year old to consider what to do to get the most - intentional - sadistic pleasure out of them during training. Once she hit eleven years of age, the family elders put Mirabelle through extensive exercises tenfold as difficult as the earlier years of training combined. While the girl was not the first child of the current generation to go through the seven reaping day tries, her cousins either were reaped and were among one of the ones killed at the Bloodbath or the second day, or they were never among the picked - sadly.
Months spent in the Training Center - with added observations from school - Mirabelle's views on boys and their older counterparts were starting and continuing to turn negative. Such brutes throwing punches at each other, making fun of the girls for no odd reason - from what young Mirabelle could tell from her perspective. She saw outdoor conflicts: A man stealing from a wealthy woman, a boy tripping over animals and throwing items at girls, a young teen male smashing any object around him due to being laid off (from a date or a job, not like she know), and the sort. With each event Mirabelle saw, the dark brows would furrow downwards; and, eventually, a deep frown would accompany. From her view, the supposed half of humanity categorized under the 'male' title were dirty, brutish, and unfavorable people that held no interest in her eyes. Despite watching females do the same type of actions, her opinion was biased, saying to herself that girls - oppressed by the male - had to do the corrupt actions in order to get by in life, to survive under a local tyranny of 'man'. Starting here and continuing on during her life, Mirabelle would (and will) be 'oblivious' from what the ladies did and focus on what the males, solidifying her opinions and turning irritation into spite.
Passing days for the eleven-year old Mirabelle towards her first reaping got the girl intensely excited. Thoughts of her just causing pain got her giddy in the private chamber. While keeping in mind that her own death would serve no purpose and would disable her from being able to hear the sweet rhapsody in a painful cry, the Asian girl was determined to wreck the most havoc in the Arena, even at the cost of a few scratches here and there. Such a violent-filled, dangerous mind was what the family elders and her private members wanted, though with more consciousness of not sustaining hits. Pain to herself would be paid back in double - or triple - Mirabelle thought; in her mind, no one would go without taking a hit from Mirabelle Aida Himura. She wanted to be the one that dealt the bloodcurdling screams in the air; she wanted to be the one to listen to the 'angelic songs' Tributes produced when they cried; she wanted to have some dominance in the play area prepped by the Capitol. Not to be a Hunger Games winner, but to be a winner of dealing the most damage and inflicting fear into many hearts. Her goal was set since she was ten, and nothing was going to stop her from getting to that dream.
Much disappointment followed on Mirabelle's first reaping, where she got to see another girl taking the District 1 girl Tribute place for the 48th Hunger Games. Wallace and Raine patted the utterly disappointed girl snarling under her breath that there would be six more chances at the Hunger Games and, with each time, a greater chance. With reassurances that she would be able to compete no matter what, Mirabelle had tried to calm down that day, solidify her goal of entering in the Capitol television show, and be at better ease - despite the entertainment of 'fake killing' starting to lose luster finally. Nothing, she thought, would satisfy her now other than the godly Hunger Games, those wonderful and magnificent Hunger Games that was dedicated to slaying teenagers and barely-adults as a testament of the power of the Capitol overly the lowly Districts (except prized District 1, she was taught from a small age). Reaped for the Hunger Games would be the only time Mirabelle Aida Himura would be legally able to apply her common knowledge and natural brains and skills to deck out pain - and cackle, if she will.
Training to continue learn new abilities and enhance current ones was the plus side to not being reaped at the younger ages, but the information of the statement never mattered to Mirabelle. Not being reaped on her thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth years of life turned a mild irksome mood into an anger that could not be controlled. Three years, she had to keep herself positive of the future opportunities, hoping for the dream of holding onto a weapon and being able to harvest sadistic pleasure in a way the Capitol was pleased and tolerated of, but each year coming was a flop in plans; and, the Himura and Tsukiuma elders and families were further being worried, the words of Bryce seeming to come true - that misfortune would rise and their greed would make them fall hard on their faces. By the time she was fifteen, Mirabelle was so enraged with the fourth reaping results of no participation that she wanted to release the emotion into something - anything - that would bring out immediate pleasure. Hopefully, something that would satisfy the Asian girl for a long while.
Fan of Mirabelle's skills, one of the odd ducks of Career children, a girl nearly the Asian teenager's age used to watch her performances from afar, in total admiration. In one day, the girl had gathered enough courage to approach the young sadistic one and become acquaintances and - hopefully, in the near-time future - friends. She - to Mirabelle - looked so fragile, innocent, and pure, like a child. Such high expectations to win the Hunger Games in her family's honor, ensured that she was able to snatch the victory, confident, prideful of skills, an overall determined but outwardly nice personality, this girl was. To this day, Mirabelle cannot really say if she was more or less irritated with the girl, rather than wanting to sink into the skin and make her scream. Inside the Asian girl's head was the thought to hear the wonderful music; and, with the girl's high-pitched voice, the pleasure might even triple.
Woods, Mirabelle told the girl to come after school the next day, alone. When she said, "To do something special," the fan became gleeful and sprinted off (but not after Mira bade warning that if she told a soul or wrote down the plan, the meeting would be called off). Going to school that day, the Japanese girl was to be careful of the extra load in the satchel, holding books in her arms. While acquaintances and friends asked about the increased load, she would only shrug and continue the current conversation of the group. Nobody questioned audibly after. In the hallways, the fan would snatch a glance at Mirabelle and give off a wink before turning back to her group. Reciprocated from Mirabelle: A toothy smile.
They - Mirabelle and the fan girl - met up at the scheduled location, not being together before. Together the two girls talked, passing the time, laughing away, until Mirabelle suggested to do the activity she had planned right from the start. Although the girl giggled at what was suggested, Mirabelle's serious face silenced her. One game of tag, a modified version that was "good for Career training." Persuasion included the prospects of increased awareness, adaptation, focus, strategy improvisation, resourcefulness, and all sorts of other traits the Japanese girl named off from the top of her head. She wanted a training buddy outside of the Training Center; she said she wanted a dear playmate that would give her the utmost pleasure of participating with. Adding widened eyes, the girl agreed to the game almost immediately, and Mirabelle got to smiling the toothy smile.
Volunteered to be 'it', Mirabelle explained the modified rules of tag to the fan girl while tying one leg with rope. All the game of tag was was to speed off while the 'it' person held tight on the other end of the rope, to pull back, giving some advantage to the one that 'was the slowest'. At sundown, the game would end, and they would go home. Nods of agreement came from the fan girl, and Mirabelle would smile her signature smile. Mira could feel the anxiety and excitement rise in her stomach; and, before the game began, the Asian girl made sure to tie the knot on the girl's leg tighter. "In hope," she said, "that she would not be cheating in the slightest."
Telling her to start running, Mirabelle waited for the 'friend' to begin the game, to start the training exercise. Running into the heart of the forest, the girl did, treating the entire ordeal seriously. While sprinting further in, she could tell that the gymnastic person she admired was also giving chase, for the rope did not cut her progress off - despite the length being extremely long. In the game's own respect, the 'program' was fun, and the fan girl got to laughing a little through the mouth, exposing teeth to the woodland creatures. (Though softly, if not to get in trouble with any wandering Peacekeepers in the area). Many trees passed by her; and, wondering how the Asian sports girl could not have caught up to her yet - with her skills and all - the girl whipped her head around (after making sure that she would not hit a tree in front of her), and the smile was wiped off almost immediately, replaced by a confused open-mouthed frown.
Gleaming in the sunlight, an implement that the fan girl had only heard in classes of Panem's past (such minor history that she had forgotten and had not bothered to jot down) was gripped nicely in Mirabelle's hand, the Asian girl smiling the toothy smile, brows furrowing downward as pupils seemed to narrow in the sockets. No trace of implied friendliness was etched on the gymnast's face; and, the fan girl could tell that Mirabelle was going at her with full force. (While that was not bad in purest form - as the game was 'supposed' to be a training program - the emotion expressed on Mirabelle's posture, running, and face turned the game into a deadly playtime). Silent laughter turned into fast-paced questions requesting for the reason for the weapon; and, when the fan girl only got a cackle and something along the lines of to have her scream and cry and beg, she had only went to run quicker, brushing tree limbs in the way and not caring for bushes to grope her legs to trip her. When the rope started to pull, though, was the moment the screaming came in.
Praise in quickness was a ploy. In all seriousness, Mirabelle's agility and strength was higher than the fan girl's. (After all, she was a gymnast and had much of the same lessons of the admiring girl). Mira had stopped chasing, snickering under her breath as the rope drew the prey in closer for her 'long-curved metallic tooth' could finally have a chance to sink in (or cause more screams from faking slashes to the body). Heirloom to the Tsukiumas', Mirabelle thought, would have the opportunity to taste blood instead of grain - the product the tool was used to for the ancient Japanese farmers. She felt struggle with the bond that connected her and the victim; but, the screams of help, for her to stop, and otherwise was the crayon that drew the smile on her face. Mirabelle grinned even wider as the fan girl was brought to cutting distance for the small sickle.
Distance became miniature; and, to Mirabelle's dismay, the screams dipped to deep, silent breaths of anxiety and fear mixed in a blender. Sickle slashes closed in on the fan girl, not harming her but trying to entice a few more cries. Mirabelle put in her entire effort to salvage fright out of her 'playmate'; not even attempting to slash at the girl was to be enough, and she got to actually cutting. Blood dripped, slid, danced in the air before the fan girl mustered courage to kick Mira at the leg and attempt dashing off once more. Mirabelle would not stand for such 'betrayal' of playing; she regained the distance easily, the fan girl limping from the multiple and scattered wounds. She had landed herself on the 'friend', crashing onto their sides together, Mirabelle grasping from the fan girl's backside. Nothing came out from the girl, and the Asian teenager spoke softly how fun the game was while hearing gurgling and desperate sounds. Sharp metal pierced the side of the girl's neck. Eventually, Mirabelle had muttered that she wanted more screaming, more signs of misery from the girl, and then expressed that she did not do enough to satisfy forever. One quick, powerful tear summoned a violent spray of crimson liquid to rain in the forest area, staining clothes and grass, painting nearby trees in such a gooey mess. Watching, Mirabelle did, as eyes grew vacant, muscles relaxed, and other oddities almost instantly. Though she wished for more screams, Mirabelle grew to have an important opinion that would influence future actions: Death brought more of what she wanted dearly; death was integral to get what she wanted.
Cleaning up the mess was primitive. Mirabelle merely left the body and packed up everything that would have left major suspicion, such as the tied rope. In the wonderful satchel was an extra set of clothes in a bound plastic bag; she change out of stained, slipped on the clean, and stuffed the bloody clothes into the plastic bag, so as not to leave crimson marks on her bag she adored. Water that the Asian girl carried for exercise was used to clean off warm, thick, and red liquid off her body and hair to the best of her ability. She made sure to pick up her act rather than than hide away the new corpse; before Mirabelle departed from the area, she had taken a glance at the fan girl's lifeless body, and shrugged shoulders. Reaping her 'fun', Mira walked away from the scene, leaving the body to be found. (By animal, by human, did not matter; apathy was not a part of her, per say).
Nobody could figure out the reasoning behind the killing of an 'innocent' District 1 girl, whose interests lied in watching other people work on their talents. She had done nothing wrong to deserve a fate; but, Mirabelle would shrug off the questions floating around school and some parts of the sector, much too concerned with the pleasure the death gave her. Mira craved more. Death after so much screaming and crying was the best exhilaration she had in a while, about 2000% better than the fake 'murders' committed in the Training Center. Cravings for the 15-year old grew to be too much for her to handle within the span of a week, and she went out again for another person willing to 'gift' her.
Regret never came across Mirabelle for the eventual deaths. She followed the general formula of the last one: Invite, warn not to tell others, and meet up at another location. (Prior to establishing her current code of abusing procedures until she could not gather excitement anymore, Mira was more willing to try different methods of torture). For this girl, the Asian one told her they were going to surround a metal bush and - based on trust and reflexes - Mira would fake push her partner into the sharp barbs, and they would guess at her reaction times. Everything went along well in terms of pushing, but Mira was very dissatisfied with her personal results: The girl was taking the 'training' seriously and did not mind being thrust in the bush, as long as she was not touching. Mirabelle tried harder to incite what she wanted, but the girl would not 'gift'. Never would the Asian girl try the metal bush method again after giving a final shove to her partner, watching the blood drip down the body and eyeballs punctured deeply. Blood was not what she wanted; she was not a 'murderer', she said; she just wanted their screams. At all costs.
Dissatisfied greatly with the last attempt, Mirabelle took a two-year absence from attempting another 'raiding' of screams until she had compiled a list of new 'games' and 'training' for her lovely 'friends'. Besides, she figured, Mira was - once again - looking forward to being in the Hunger Games, now with renewed hope thanks to the pleasures the deaths gave. She was much more perked and prepped for the Hunger Games she knew she would be in, and this was good news for the Himura and Tsukiuma households. More than ever, they wanted a child that would be able to bring home the glory and debunk the suspicions Uncle Bryce's dying words made the members shudder and shiver in fright. Mirabelle and any other remaining competitive child, they thought, would be their shining hope.
Giving herself a present for the final year she could join the Hunger Games (an incentive to keep hoping), Mirabelle targeted a child. Dreams of the neighborhood boy consisted of riding a cart, and 'Aunt' Mirabelle was going to give him a push to remember, he was promised. She had built the contraption in the forest, found the perfect spot, and invited him. One push down the hill, angle adjusted, the Asian girl of barely eighteen years - at the time - sent the young boy to his death wish; and, there, she learned she loved the sounds of a child screaming more than anyone else's. His hands clutched the sides of the transportation, screaming his head off as the direction of the cart lead to a large tree. Crash, bam, boom, the cart hit the tree and sent the boy flying, his head making contact with another trunk hard. Though the impact was not enough to kill him upon contact, Mirabelle - upon rushing after him - could hear his whimpers of pain, with a toothy grin. After the low cries ended, she ended him; the detached - by her hand - handle of the cart went to bash his head in. (Not like she put that much effort in something she would have to destroy anyways).
Eighteen-years old, the final year for her to enter the Hunger Games, Mirabelle watched as the bowls with multitudes of paper slips held her name - the normal ones and the tesserae ones all in with the other girls. (Inside, on that day, she grinned at the thought of the two females she killed in the past, and how they would be unable to compete for her rightful place). Oh, the screams! How they would be coming in soon with her participation! Her parents and the family elders would be proud of how much damage Mirabelle Aida Himura would be causing in the Capitol's games; but, most importantly for her, she had twenty-three other people to freely, legally cause pain to, to reap the sadistic pleasure out of without law to disrupt her. Mirabelle watched as the mayor of District 1, smiling, pulled out a slip of paper. With her name, she knew! Teeth slightly biting on the bottom lip, the Asian woman watched the mayor solely for him to read her name. Her name.
"Sapphire Ross!" Mirabelle blinked. Muttered: "Sapphire... Ross?" Her name was Mirabelle Aida Himura (Mirabelle Himura on the slip of paper), not Sapphire Ross. Asian eyes searched around the groups of girls, desperate. There had to have been a mistake in the mayor picking this Sapphire Ross. She had been waiting for seven years for the opportunity of the lifetime (literally), and this Sapphire Ross had cheated Mirabelle out. This was hers. Slips of Mirabelle's name must have been right next to Sapphire's, and the mayor must have mistaken Sapphire's for hers. Faces of the Himuras' and Tsukiumas' confirmed her disappointment. When Mirabelle saw the girl get stopped by her supposed sister, both rage and irritation existed in the Asian's heart. District 1 chose Sapphire Ross, and then she was replaced by a Topaz Ross. Fact was: Sapphire could have stepped down for Mirabelle to compete, but Topaz busted her way through.
Forever to this day, Mirabelle will always hate Topaz Ross for snatching away her last year to be in the Hunger Games. Dreams to be in had to die; imaginations on how to perform the best tortures had to cease. Mirabelle was left to only take up gymnastics as a hobby and begin towards being a jewel cutter for the Capitol.
Frustration and being in public would not allow her to vent out in public. Days later of the Reaping, Mirabelle came across a classmate she knew had different tastes than in women, and smirked. Even if she had to offer herself for the torture, Mira only wanted to place blame on the man and get some cries out of him. Desperation. Anger. Pure hatred for the way events happened. Knowing of his academic prowess, the Asian woman asked him for a session and proceeded with the plans. Before meeting up with him in a secluded location (because, as she put it, "I like it better when people aren't around to disrupt my learning."), the butcher knife and a protection device were stored away in the satchel along with her books.
Completion in the plan ended with the guy's death, and she got rid of all evidence. (Even a part that was attached to her study partner). Her work was sloppy in many ways more than one, but she tried her best to clean the work up. Nowhere near as clean as the other three deaths, although Mirabelle was not caught. There, with how bad her work was, Mira had to lay low for then. Where the corpse was located (in an abandoned house Mirabelle told the deceased was one of her best study places), hardly anyone lived around. Mirabelle commented on how successful she was, but she would never attempt such an act without someone else to accompany and cover up the evidence with her.
Paying for what she would have had to do in jail or the District Center, Mirabelle paid with her body. Her plan did not go fully according to plan, and something must have broke. She went a while without noticing the physiological changes within. In about sixth week, the Asian woman was emptying her stomach in the mornings and felt horrible throughout the day. Elders of the family were outraged with one of their possible members being a 'slut', even though she was not able to be in the Hunger Games anymore. In her fake defense, Mirabelle pleaded that she was hiding the truth: That she was raped by someone days after the Reaping. Actually, she went on, by the man that died six weeks ago. For the family, between each other, they had thought that perhaps the murder of the guy - despite accounts from his classmates that he had no interest in girls - was done for Mirabelle. They did not bother to bring the matter into law; but, for the young woman known as Mirabelle, she knew now she was in the clear for her family. Her family would protect her for anything that could possibly happen concerning her last kill.
Pregnancy was, actually, a good ordeal for Mirabelle. She found pleasure in having the procedure of life-giving happen to her, rather than have love for the little life in her. Her family would wonder why their member was smiling and patting her belly as a cause of rape, but they were concerned for their finances a bit more. Everything seemed to be tumbling down for the Himuras' and Tsukiumas' further. Mirabelle did not care in the slightest for what happened to the families or their reputation; what mattered to her at the moment was being in the procedure of pregnancy. To her, pregnancy was almost as much of a high as causing people to be in pain and screaming. In a way, the Asian woman craved for more pregnancies, for nine month periods of mostly inactivity and having leeway in how much one ate; but, sad for her, Mirabelle realized that having so many pregnancies would keep her away from gymnastics and gaining the upperhand for torture sessions. Elders were already worried for one pregnancy; she would not be able to cover up any future ones so easily.
Men could fuel both her sadism and potential pregnancies; and, to the facts, Mirabelle was even more conscious around the half of humanity. If she had to pop up more evidence to the men doing true sexual harassment to her, the Asian woman would have to pick out the ones that were prone to being abusers of women. Perhaps people that had already had a record of being a sexual assaulter; though, the plan would backfire from the start. She had and continues to have no concern for someone's past unless spread around and somehow found way to her ears. Possibilities, though, if they do manifest to her. Still, Mirabelle began to be extremely conscious around males during and after the pregnancy of baby Rufus.
Rufus was named by Raine, as Mirabelle had no interest in naming a child. Mixed reactions came from both families. Elders saw Rufus' birth as another new hope for a potential winner; a few said that Mirabelle was lying about the sexual encounter and had willingly gone along with the 'fling'. Raine or Wallace did not care; they saw the baby the same as the elders, and they were willing to dote on the child and raise him to be a future winner of the Hunger Games. No matter what. Failure in keeping Tristan or Lexi alive to compete in the Reaping renewed their determination to have Rufus be who Mirabelle could not be: Reaped and winner of the Hunger Games. He would be the one to bring glory back into this nuclear family and garner the adoration of the elders. Very much happiness from Raine and Wallace, indeed.
Someone possibly obtaining what she dreamed for and having to care for the baby, Mirabelle was nowhere near as blissful as the rest of the family. She would not show the irritation on her face, but she was utterly disgusted with the child. Rufus was nothing more than wasted space, having her be his grown-up servant, much like Raine and Wallace had to do for Mirabelle. No care for the family plans; Mirabelle had no incentive or feeling of duty towards caring for the child. While thinking any action she could do with him, the Asian woman turned to the past as a solution for her plausibly desolate future. Big smiles grew on her face. Something could be gotten after all from such wasted, puking, crying (not in the way she wanted) space of a baby.
Dropping Rufus to death was simple. Covered by a blanket over his mouth, he was screaming his head off as his mother was not treating him with the proper care. Mirabelle had to put up with everyone thinking she was tending to him like any good mother, and now she could get back at him for making her the servant. No way would she want to be a servant or act less superior to someone so inferior again. Right after school, before any of the members of the house could get back, Mirabelle had ended the life of her 'beloved' son. (Being out of school and going straight to jewel cutting as an apprentice gave her such ample time to do what she wanted to do, even if that was killing her own son). When people got back home, she chalked up his life departure to crib death, much like Lexi. Certainly, she had been taking care of him, left him in the crib to have a nap, and went to do chores around the house! Suspicions were flying around about Mirabelle's actions, how she always seemed to be involved with the cases of the deceased, but they still gave her the benefit of the doubt. With the family members starting to throw wary eyes at the Asian woman of nineteen years, Mirabelle really began to see that she had to be more careful, more sneaky of who she visited for her pleasure raids. Perhaps people that she had never known in the first place. Though doing any sort of torture session was going to be less fruitful and funny without knowing fears and having their acquaintances beforehand, having her family and the law off from her trail of absolute crime has some occupation in Mirabelle's mind and awareness. Just less than collecting sadistic pleasure from time to time. That is always more important.
Nowadays, she kind of has to lay low from the Peacekeepers and others that are watching out for the law-breakers, such as herself. Mirabelle cannot stand the fact that the combination of Sapphire and Topaz (more Topaz) stole away her chance to legal tortures and killings. (After all, as she has viewed from all the Hunger Games she has ever watched, the Capitol adores when the Tributes get a little gritty, and she would have been able to do so for the Capitol fine if not for the Ross sisters getting in her way). Bryce's words still ring true throughout the families, especially with Rufus' death following much like baby Lexi's. Everything is ruined for the two families, they say to themselves. Not only to add that Mirabelle is one of the strangest cases of children that have been born in any generation of the Himura and Tsukiuma families.
But not like Mirabelle would care, would she? Mirabelle Aida Himura just wants her fun out of life, and anyone should be ready to play with her. Especially the young, for they tickle her heart ever so.[/justify]
<(Secret Password)> Odair
<(Lasting Words)>
[justify]Her FC is Kou Shibasaki. She always seems to have candy, a butcher knife or sickle, and rope. Sometimes there will be chloroform. She is a total lesbian. Don't ask, don't tell. Mirabelle is dangerously obsessed with pregnancy and torturing people, especially children.
Her tastes are in salty foods. 影 「SHADOWS」 call out to her in two tongues 「ENGLISH & 日本語 (JAPANESE)」[/justify]
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ƠᴥƠ
![[image] [image]](http://i53.tinypic.com/a176gh.jpg) 8/8/10: Made moddemon (666 pc) pH: f*** that s**t, luna! ***** bitch douche.  ALICE: Remove these shorts of obfuscation and let us gaze upon it-this so-called "hose"!
Alice, I hate you, but this quote is so... so... *dies* |
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F*** YEAH, FIRE EMBLEM Capitol Resident
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"Family not by Blood but by Bond"
Joined: Apr 2010 Posts: 1,650 Location: In your town, killing your men Karma: 65 | |
Basically Ke$ha Moderator
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agile galloping black girls
Joined: Mar 2010 Gender: Male  Posts: 1,306 Location: ur plesd igot hit by a blckgrl Karma: 54 |  | Re: Mirabelle Aida Himura of District 1 [Fin] « Reply #3 on Dec 20, 2010, 11:33pm » | |
[justify]
It needs to be longer.
OMFR ACCEPTED. [/justify]
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this is the best thread ever click me!
Kay: dude if i could just print a book inside of me and birth it i'd be set
Danny: [Stare] is like the angel gabriel that came down to tell mary she's pregnant and then lulu was pregnant with this site |
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