Iris Arcobalena

This is a tribute of misytmolla (made by Aria) please don't use.

Iris is in the Tier of Unbroken Hearts

"I'm not insane"

Basic Info
Iris Arcobalena

District 8

Age: 16

Weapons: Chain whip & throwing knives

Personality: Iris is a strong-willed but slightly damaged girl. Iris is slightly sarcastic and can come across as rather strange, as she has spent a long time in an asylum. Iris may be a bit hot-headed as she has had enough abuse from her life and will stand up for herself and does not let anyone push her around, but she is a caring and kind girl. Iris can be slightly sad as she has done things she regrets and she regrets a lot, sometimes she can randomly cry. Iris has become very protective of those she cares about and she will never let anyone who she feels she needs to protect get hurt, she will fight mo matter how bad the odds look because she can't live with herself and the regret after losing someone she cares about. Iris is quite tough, she has been through a lot and it has given her a hard shell. Iris is very smart, she is quite logical and will not take risks that will lead her to an early demise and will usually think about all the possible options before doing things, and she is more of a realist than an optimist, and she does not think negative things because she knows that will only get her killed. Iris is quite shy, she is usually quite quiet and is rather independent, learning how to fend for herself from quite a young age. Iris is quite mature and is not arrogant or cocky, she can be rather hard on herself and she does see her weakness more than her strength and she always wants to improve and she despises her own weaknesses. Iris is very determined and it is hard to make her give up, she appreciates life and does not see the point of going through life if you are just going to give up and drop dead. Iris is a strong girl and she is not afraid to fight for something she believes in.

Strengths: Iris is small at 5,5 and she is quite nimble and swift as she is thin, she can easily dodge attacks. Iris is tough and is not afraid to fight. Iris is also very athletic, she is fast and has amazon stamina and it is hard to wear her out.

Weaknesses: iris does fail to draw attention away from herself with her eyes and she has never been in water before and she can't climb. Iris is also slightly impulsive, because she always wants to defend the people she cares about she can tend to make rash decisions.

Fears: becoming insane, Iris has been around so many insane people she does not know if she has become insane, she is afraid she really is and that she will become something she is not.

Reasons for Winning: Iris accidentally was not able to save her sister from death and pert of herself blames her for it so she wants to win for her deceased sister.

Alliance: Anti-careers or Small Alliance

Looks


Iris has long and glossy white hair falling down halfway down her back. Iris has ghostly pale skin due to her being nside most of her life. The main feature of iris is her eyes, they are a clash of bright and beautiful colours, and they stad out due to her rather plain and lifeless features and they draw attention towards her while being every beautiful. Iris is a beautiful girl and is small at 5,5, she is very thin.

Backstory
I wasn’t always insane (well, I’m not insane at all). My life was exceptionally good. Compared to, what, six years ago? It was almost heaven. Almost.

I was born into the family of Arcobalenas in District 5. I had two loving parents, Mara and Dirk Arcobalena, and a fraternal twin sister named Celeste. Our family had light hair and sapphire eyes. Celeste had the blue eyes, but her hair was chocolate. That was the same with me, but vice versa—while I had near-white hair, my eyes had a crazy shade of rainbow. You can see all the neon colours merging together. No wonder I’m in a mental asylum, right?

Anyway, back to my story. My parents weren’t so concerned about Celeste’s hair—even though absolutely no one in our ancestry had any other hair besides blonde—but multicoloured eyes that no one in the whole of Panem had? That was an issue. They took me to the doctors, but they said, and I quote exactly, “We don’t know what’s wrong with your child, ma’am.” So I was labeled as a problem child. There was something wrong with me. And everyone in town knew it.

Of course, my parents pitied me and paid all their attention to me. Remember how I said my life was almost heaven? The reason I said almost was because of Celeste. I was our parents’ favoured one, the child who they cared about most. One day, Celeste and I both walked downstairs for breakfast and our parents both swarmed me in hugs. It was as if Celeste was invisible. I glanced at her and there was a look between outrage and tears on her face. I wanted to say something, but I couldn’t while being crushed with hugs. Celeste’s lip trembled and her nostrils flared before she walked straight upstairs.

Celeste hated me.

So, at an early age, Celeste and I had fights. She would call me Ms. Crazy Eyes and send me bawling to our parents, only so that she’d get a nasty scolding—and sometimes a beating—as I felt a guilty pleasure. But we were only kids then, and we matured quickly. Then, when Celeste did something nasty to me, I wouldn’t go crying only to have her call me weak again. I didn’t hate Celeste, but she sure hated me. There would be times I wanted to scream at her and make her feel the pain she gave me, but I never did so. She already suffered so much. It wasn’t worth making her feel worse.

The years didn’t go by fast. Around the age of thirteen, I got bullied in the grounds, with Celeste as the ringleader. Can you believe that? Your own sister trying to make you miserable enough to completely break down in public, just to be even more humiliated. Of course, everyone joined in with her and called me names and whatnot. I was about to break down. I couldn’t handle the torture anymore.

As a single teardrop rolled down my cheek, Celeste taunted, “Are you gonna cry now? Come on. Cry. Let it out. Looks like you got a problem. Oh wait! You are a problem chi—”

Out of the blue, a smacking sound left a huge, bloody mark on Celeste’s cheek. Her eyes watered in the pain. Everyone around her backed away and stared in shock. Celeste staggered a bit and couldn’t even look at whoever just slapped her. But I saw that expression on her face. She knew exactly who her attacker was.

I looked up to see my father with the most furious look on his face I’d ever seen. Even though I knew he’d never hurt me, that look made me falter. It was that intimidating.

“We’re going home,” he muttered. “Right away.” He looked at all the frozen students around him. “Get out of here!” None of them moved. “Now!”

My bullies fled the fields as my parents dragged Celeste and me home.

“Sweetheart,” my mother smiled at me, “why don’t you go to your room and do your homework?” I knew exactly why my apparently caring mother said this to me. It was because even she thought I was too weak and problematic to be able to see Celeste get beaten so badly that… I can’t even describe how bad. I feel so bad for Celeste.

Nodding with a vacant expression, I quickly left to my room and forced myself to sleep. I had nightmares. I’d constantly hear screams of pain and anger, desperate pleas, the sound of objects crashing on a body until it all finally stopped.

I heard a creak in my room as Celeste walked in. She probably thought I was asleep. I peeked through the covers and saw her dragging her limp leg to her bed, tracking blood all over the floor. Parts of her were swollen up and she had a black eyes. Her hair was an absolute mess. I couldn’t feel any guiltier.

“I hate you,” she muttered as she glanced at me. Then, she continued her way to the bed and crashed on it as I silently wept into my pillow.

My whole family had breakfast in silence that day. I went to school as usual and no one said a word to me after glancing at Celeste’s bruises and me. They knew exactly what happened, and didn’t say a word. The whole day went like that—unreadable glances at me but no words at all. Nobody had the guts to talk to me. That was good, because I didn’t, either.

Celeste hadn’t spoken a word to me for the whole year, and it was worrying me. I was too afraid to try to talk to her. She was my sister, after all. Even though she hated me, I still loved her.

It was our eleventh birthday that day, but my parents were only celebrating mine. Celeste failed to show up at the dining table, so my father, annoyed, told me, “Iris, dear, could you call your sister here?” I nodded and went upstairs, but didn’t find her anywhere. Where could she be?

I looked out the window and saw a familiar figure walking down the unlit streets. I went back downstairs, and, without telling anyone or making a noise, I crept out through the backdoor and followed Celeste.

Through my course of following the mystery that was my sister, I found more details as to what she had in mind. First, I noticed the place she was heading to. She was headed to the square. Why would Celeste go to the square in the middle of the night?

I found more clues—she was carrying a pointed object. As I grew closer to her, I could tell that it was a dagger. I was getting a little paranoid, but I followed her anyway, just more cautiously.

I noticed she left a trail of blood. I was guessing our father beat her up again. That was odd. There hadn’t been any conflict—or any words—between us throughout the whole year.

All the puzzle pieces joined together when she reached the square and took off the cloak she was wearing. I noticed that she hadn’t been beaten up at all, and there were only four small slits in her wrists. That was the reason for the trail of blood. And the dagger she was holding was tinged with red. And Celeste didn’t mind, because she raised the dagger, this time to her own throat.

She was about to kill herself.

“Celeste, don’t!” I screamed. That caught her attention and she lowered the dagger, looking around for the source of the voice.

Taking a risk, I ran down to the square to face her. “Celeste,” I pleaded, “whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”

Anger replaced the sadness in Celeste’s eyes. “And why shouldn’t I?” I didn’t have an answer for that. Celeste took a deep breath. “Do you know how my life has been for the past six years? ‘Oh, poor troubled Iris. We need to care for our special child.’ I’ve been invisible for six whole years. Shunned by those who called me their daughter. Miserable my whole life, all because you had a problem in yourself. All because your eyes were different.”

I didn’t know how to respond to Celeste. All these years she tried to shove all her misery into me, and I chided myself for wanting to make her feel the pain I felt; Celeste carried more sadness than I could ever imagine.

“What did I ever do to anyone?” Celeste continued with a shaky voice, but it felt like she was talking to herself. “I… I could’ve been living normally with a caring mother and a loving father and a twin sister who could’ve been my best friend. But all because of the freaking colour of your eyes, Iris, all of me changed!” Celeste turned back to me, and there were tears streaming down her face, even though she’s infuriated. Her tone softened as she continued. “And now, I realised that I have a choice in life. I could let myself live through this torture only to die on my own without anyone who would ever love me, or I could end this torture now and finally get some peace.” She looked back at me, and her expression slowly started to harden. “If you hadn’t been born, my life would’ve been okay. If you hadn’t existed in the first place, I could’ve been the one cared about! I could’ve gotten the love and attention! I could’ve lived the life that I deserved! But I couldn’t, all—because—of—you!”

Celeste charged at me with her dagger, no longer wanting to kill herself and instead focusing on me. I shrieked, which obviously got some attention, as I tried to back away from my sister, but she pinned me to the ground and raised her dagger for a final blow. In this moment, I processed everything Celeste said to me. What my parents had done to her. What I’d done to her. It would be completely equal if I died just now. If I let her stab me and let her get her deserved revenge. If I stopped existing, just like she wanted.

But another part of me screamed at me to fight on. Maybe we both could live without fear and loathing. Maybe we both could be set free alive. Maybe we could both be happy together. Maybe, but only if you fight on, Iris!

I took my remaining strength and flipped Celeste over. She was surprised that I showed this strength. I tried to take the dagger about to impale me away from her, but she fought back. She was intent on killing me. I could hear footsteps coming towards us—they were still far, though—and I realised the two of us were in more trouble than ever. All I had to do was get the dagger out of her hands.

The horrible incident that occurred next still confuses me. I still can’t tell how it happened. In a flash, the dagger was in my hands, and Celeste’s hands wrapped around my wrist. I don’t know if she was trying to take the dagger back or pulling the dagger to her throat, or if I by accident caused it, but all I remember is that there was blood. Blood coloured the dagger red and it spewed out of her throat as the light left her eyes and I, dropping the tainted blade, let out the loudest scream I could ever manage.

Peacekeepers grabbed my arms and legs and dragged me away from my sister’s lifeless body. Other peacekeepers lifted Celeste and took her away to somewhere else.

I screamed and thrashed to get out of the Peacekeepers’ grasps. They took me all the way to some place with a doctor or scientist of such. I kept trying to leave, but the Peacekeepers held me down tightly. The doctor approached me with some needle. “No!” I shouted. “You don’t understand! I didn’t mean to—wait—”

He injected me with something and the Peacekeepers immediately let go of me and started to walk out the door. I felt groggy. I tried to move and get out, but my limbs started to go numb and I fell to the ground, scrambling for something—anything—but I gradually blacked out.

I don’t know after how long I awoke. I felt dizzy and I realised I was tied to the bed, so I couldn’t get out. I saw a door in front of me, and two people talking. One was a doctor and the other was someone who looked like a peacekeeper. They were talking about me. I didn’t hear much, but I did hear a few things:

“This is girl we were talking about? The problematic one with the multicoloured eyes?”

“Yes. And I believe her state is much worse than I feared. I never knew she was in such a condition like this. The Arcobalenas have been informed of the incident and they know we’ll be taking her to the asylum.”

“Good. And what of her sister?”

“Celeste Arcobalena? The poor girl was murdered two days ago? Well, that is up to the Arcobalenas. We just hope she won’t try anything today.”

“Alright then.”

The peacekeeper left and the doctor shut the door and approached me. I awoke fully and tried to get out, but he said, “Don’t; it only makes it worse.” I stopped struggling as he sat down next to me.

“So,” he started soothingly, “what is your name?” He obviously knew my name, but I guessed he was trying to calm me.

“Iris Arcobalena,” I replied.

“Iris, what a pretty name. Tell me, Iris, what is the last thing you remember?”

I didn’t want to say anything. It brought too much pain. “I remember talking to Celeste, and…”

“Yes?”

I decided to lie. “And then I woke up here.”

“Ah.” The doctor scribbled something in his clipboard, probably about me not remembering the havoc I caused. “Would you like to know what happened that day?”

Before I could shake my head or say no, he started explaining how I brutally murdered my twin sister in the nicest and least violent way as possible, although I didn’t kill her. At least, that’s what I’m assuming.

“Your sister is now in a better place,” the doctor concluded. A place away from you, his eyes stated.

“Oh,” I merely said, trying to stop my voice from quivering.

“Now, Iris,” the doctor started again, “you are about to be sent to a new home away from your parents in District 8. Don’t worry; you’ll make new friends who have gone through exactly what you’ve gone through. You’ll be alright.” He talked to me as if I were a lost case. He thought that I was insane just like the others that I’ll meet in “my new home”. I was perfectly aware that I was being sent to this mental asylum—Eichen House. If I could, I would’ve run away at the first chance, but being strapped to the bed didn’t help.

“Can I get out of these metal straps now?” I asked.

The doctor chuckled, and left the room, locking it.

I gave one last failed attempt to struggle out of the metal straps binding me to the bed and I sighed as I gave up. I wondered about what happened. I didn’t know anything except that I had no clue what my parents felt about this. All along everyone believed that there was something wrong with me just by looking at my rainbow eyes. And Celeste was dead. All because of me.

I closed my eyes and silently cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I was woken up by a team of Peacekeepers who cautiously unstrapped me from the bed and led me out of the room by my arms.

“Where am I going?” I asked as the Peacekeepers roughly dragged me outside.

One snorted. “To your ‘new home’, kid.”

I let them take me to the van grimly. I’d given up all hope, anyway.

As they opened the back, I saw a four other people in it. It was like a prison van, except we were being taken somewhere worse.

I sat in the corner and saw the crazy people I was surrounded by. They were all my age. The first person I saw was muttering something of how no one believed him about being able to see the ghosts determined to haunt mankind. The next was a guy with dark hair who looked like he was about to murder the surrounded-by-ghosts guy. The next was a blonde girl who couldn’t stop crying about something, and finally, beside me was a redhead with a vacant expression.

The Peacekeepers locked the doors, and in a few minutes, I felt the van start moving. We drove in silence (except for Ghost Boy and the girl who cried), until the redhead next to me started talking to me. “What’s up with your eyes?”

I sighed. “They think I’m crazy because I have weird eyes.”

“I guessed that,” she continued without any expression, “but what’s up with your eyes?” I shrugged, and she let go of the question. “I’m Amber. Who are you?”

“Iris. Aren’t you supposed to be insane and not polite like now?”

“I’m not insane.” Amber rolled her eyes. “They think that because of one small thing that happened two years ago, and how it ‘affected me’. Then again, I don’t think you’re crazy, either.” She smirked. Someone understood. I made a friend.

“That guy there,” Amber said, pointing to Ghost Boy, “is Luke. He told me all about the ghosts that were planning war. I had to leave him at some point. Oh, and her?” This time, she looked at the crying girl. “Her name is Clara, and I never got a chance to talk to her. She just keeps crying and saying it was her fault. Whenever I tried to talk to her, she’d get hostile and tell me to back off. That’s alright; I don’t want to deal with crazy people.”

“Yet we’re both going to a place specially made for them,” I said. Amber snorted.

“And him?” She looked at the murderous guy. “He’s Damien. He’s kind of quiet. That’s all I know. I don’t want to go near him.” Amber lowered her voice when she said that, but her voice went back to normal. “So, why are you here?”

I shrugged and told her I’d tell her later. Even though, I trusted Amber, I wasn’t ready to talk about the incident.

Amber didn’t say anything for a moment, but replied. “Alright. I’m pretty sure you’re sane, even with those crazy eyes.”

Being called Crazy Eyes didn’t feel so insulting anymore, since the only other person who called me that was Celeste. Oh, God, Celeste. My lip quivered and I mouthed her name.

“Hey,” Amber snapped me out of my gloom. “It’s alright.”

“Yeah,” I said half-heartedly, and none of us spoke for a while, until I said something to start a conversation. “Well, you know how I got here, how about you?”

Amber shook her head. “That’s a tale for another da—”

“Shut up! Shut up about your freaking ghosts!” Damien suddenly started yelling at Luke. He grabbed Luke by the neck and Clara started screaming. Amber and I stood up immediately and my eyes widened in shock as Damien pinned Luke to the ground and strangled him right there in front of us.

Clara started crying again and Damien breathed heavily. Amber had her same vacant expression, but I was more than shell-shocked.

Damien looked around at us, but his eyes landed on me. “What’s your problem?” he snarled. “Screw off.”

I sat back down with Amber. “I have a feeling we’re going to see a lot more of this, Amber.” She nodded.

Fortunately, we arrived at the asylum only five minutes later. The Peacekeepers unlocked the door and saw Luke’s mangled body. Without any word or surprise, they dragged him out, and the other Peacekeepers took us out of the van and into Eichen House. It was a large, grey building, like the industries in District 8. Reluctantly, we were shoved into a new life.

I went through a heavily guarded introductory tour, the details of which I won’t bore you with.

We were in the middle of the tour, walking up the stairs to the rooms, when I saw an eighteen-year-old boy standing on the railing. He was chanting something that I had no idea about, but the woman who led our introductory tour merely glanced at him and continued the tour.

I wanted to say something, but I just couldn’t. Apparently all of us were watching the guy about to commit suicide. It was horrifying—waiting for someone you don’t want to die die.

“Now,” the woman was saying, “these are the rooms—”

I screamed. The jumper had landed to his death on the staircase. I couldn’t bring myself to look at his mangled body. Peacekeepers immediately flooded the room, took the body out as if nothing happened, and the introductory tour continued normally.

“Aren’t you going to do something about this?” I couldn’t keep it in any longer. The woman guiding us stopped and looked at me innocently.

“Do what, miss?”

“Someone just died, and nothing has changed?”

She tilted her head without any change in expression. “These little accidents occur all the time.”

“That wasn’t an accident,” I said, “that was suicide.” I don’t know why I suddenly got defensive. Maybe it was because I drove my own sister to suicide three days ago.

The woman glanced at my nametag. “Miss Arcobalena, would you like to spend your first night here in Solitary?”

I didn’t know what Solitary was, but it didn’t sound friendly. “No.”

“No, ma'am,” she corrected with a smile and led on with the tour. I couldn’t believe what just happened.

The rest of the tour was boring, and I was put in a room with the weeping Clara. I never got any sleep because of her, and after what Amber said about her, I didn’t want to ask her to stop. Amber and I still managed to keep in touch, what with being put in different rooms, and she became my best friend. There were more murders and suicides no one talked about, and Damien was almost always put in Solitary, so I didn’t see much of him.

And so, the next two years of my life went in an orderly blur. I didn’t think much of Celeste, and nothing new ever happened besides more people dying and my constant worry of being the next one. I never spoke to my parents again, and honestly, I can’t tell whether it was a good change or a bad one.

A day before the Reaping, I was minding my own business in the cafeteria when Damien (as usual) got into a fight with someone. A lot of us went to see who it was. I stiffened up when I saw Damien wrestling Amber to the ground.

“Is anyone even watching this?” I yelled, to get any Peacekeeper’s attention. When none came, I took matters into my own hands. “Hey! Let her go!”

“What’s your problem?” Damien snapped, and I dragged him off Amber, but he immediately pinned me to the ground instead. Damien was much stronger than how the survivors of his victims described. I almost blacked out immediately, but I kept it together. I was about to die; become one of the countless deaths in this godforsaken place. I wouldn’t be remembered.

At least I was about to see Celeste again. Celeste. The thought of her reminded me of the sudden strength I got when I tried to save her. I was not going to die in vain.

Just like I did with Celeste, I flipped Damien around and kept him down, unfortunately long enough for the Peacekeepers to get here and blame me for starting this fight.

“You’re going to Solitary, kid,” one of them grumbled and took me through a corridor I didn’t recognize as some of the people stared at me. Damien smirked. Amber looked mad.

I heard stories about Solitary, of how some people who went in there never came out alive. One of them was true. I hadn’t been to Solitary once. This was my first time, and possibly last.

They opened an iron door and threw me into the dark room. They shut the door and locked it tightly.

I immediately ran to the door and started banging on it, trying to get out, but it was useless. I sank to the ground. This felt like the time I first found out I was going to Eichen House, after being blamed for Celeste’s death. I didn’t sleep that night, and I kept hallucinating and seeing ghosts that Luke had described so long ago, and I’d been stuck in this living nightmare for what seemed like years until the door finally opened. I scrambled to it and the Peacekeepers let me out and led me to my room.

“Get ready for the Reaping,” one said, before shutting the door in my face.

Reaping Day. The only day in a year we got to leave the asylum (heavily guarded, of course). I’d attempted to escape after the Reaping, but it always failed. I planned on trying again this year, but little did I know my whole life was about to turn upside down.

I took my place with the sixteen-year-olds, planning my possible escape. I wasn’t even listening to the escort, until I heard a familiar name called out by the escort: “Iris Arcobalena!”

I froze in place. Never had I ever expected to get Reaped. But here I was, in the square, walking to the stage to take my place in the Hunger Games. After the male tribute was selected, we both went to the Justice Building, and into our meeting rooms for any family members to say goodbye. I didn’t expect anyone to show up, but you did, for some reason. And here’s my life story, just like you asked. The least you could do for me is hope that I win the Hunger Games. I don’t care if you don’t root for me. I’ll win. For Celeste.

Trivia
Iris is the rainbow goddess in Greek mythology. Arcobaleno means 'rainbow' in Italian.