Mist Scorchil

'''NOT DONE, STILL IN PROGRESS. ONCE THIS MESSAGE IS DOWN THEN THE PROFILE IS FINISHED'''

Basic Information
Name: Mist Scorchil

Age: 15

Height: 5'11



Eyes: Brown

Hair: Brown hair with gold highlights on his bangs that reaches down to his neck. During the games he has inner parts of it groomed while the ends are messy.

Zodiac Sign: Virgo

Birthday: August 24

District: 7

Alliance: Neutral Good

Story (Reaping-Last day in the facility)
Reaping Story (From his POV): I'm stuck here, I can't say a single word in protest. I might just be the one they're sending off to the games, but then again I might not. The District 7 escort stands there, a fake smile across his face. He looks like a clown, the long black coat and white tuxedo with hints of purple on it is the reason why, and the top hat doesn't make it any better. "Why hello there boys and girls, I think I don't need to say much except lets get started!". He makes me sick.

He dips a hand into the bowl for girls, and the name that is called doesn't bring tears to anyones eyes. Then it was the boys' turn. I recall all the tessera I have gotten, which was zero. I'm not really that needy to be honest, you could say I have my ways on not starving. But what happens next is almost like a cruel joke. The escort reads the card, then locks his eyes on me. "Does this f***** know me or something?"

"Mist Scorchil". Goody, everyone is starting to turn to me with mixed faces of sorrow and relief. You see, I'm a unique one out of the boys in 7. I have some aztec roots from a civilization that worships fire, which isn't ideal for a woodcutting district. I stand there quietly, thinking things over and hoping I would hear a "I volunteer" come out from somewhere. It doesnt take long until my friend Shade taps me on the shoulder and points at a peacekeeper ready to tranquilize me in case I don't get moving. My feet slide and stumble a bit as if I was wearing concrete shoes as I walk over to the stage.

"Good luck to the chosen tributes and..." Blah blah blah, you know you don't give a rat's ass about seeing two kids  kill each other or get torn apart. Oh wait, you do. That's because its your sick twisted fetish. You're just in this for the money, am I right? I glare at everyone in the crowd, they'll see this face glare once more, but with a grin.

After the goodbyes...

The escort sticks close to me as we get onto the train. I take a seat and look around, the room is made as if I had it custom made for the occasion. The furniture is black and gray, the walls are a dark green and the floor is a nightmarish purple. Perfect, I'm in the mood now.

I sit down at the desk when I hear a knock at the door, its the escort. I'm tired of his shit already.

"Well well Mist, what a surprise that YOU'RE the male tribute. It took them long enough, to be honest I've been wanting you in this for a long time pal." What the hell is he talking about? "What do you mean?" "I mean that I've been watching you even after the games. I know you have potential kid."

Is he telling me that he's my fan or something? "Explain it all to me in just two sentences using normal english" I tell him, angered. "You heard me, I've been wanting you in the games because you have potential. You might just bring victory to District 7 this time." He must believe in prophecies or some loony shit. "I'm done talking, get out. I'll be coming out for dinner but until then I'll only talk to the mentor and the girl. Got it?"

He pulls out a horn and honks it before exiting the room. I was right, the guy IS a clown.

Talking to the mentor