Fitz Reed

## Bio

*Fitz Reed (he/him). District Seven Tribute. 19. Jordan Rodrigues.*

TW: death at child birth, mention of degenerate disease

For as long as he could remember, it had just been Fitz. His father unknown, mother not surviving his birth, and no known siblings, Fitz had always considered himself a lone wolf in the big bad world. Technically speaking, his grandmother raised him, but even when he was younger, she was practically immobile, a disease he couldn’t pronounce the name of taking over her body. It started with her legs, and then her arms, and then she stopped talking. It was slow, but not slow enough, and in the end, it took her heart. Fitz found out after he’d returned from school, and he never went back to school after that, at the ripe old age of fifteen, he’d become the man of the house, the *only person* in the house at all.

After a couple of months surviving on the old cans of food his grandmother had stored away in the kitchen cupboards, he found his only way to survive long term was to hunt, and trade what he’d caught. It took time, at first he could barely throw at all, but he developed skill with a spear, his main tactic was to climb a high tree and throw the spear from above. He caught rabbits mostly, but on occasion there was a deer, and on those days he ate good.

Fitz mainly kept to himself, but unfortunately, within his line of *work*, he was met with River. River Mallory, the bane of his existence. Ever since he began to hunt, she’d been there, like a little pain in the neck he could never quite get rid of. Any spot he picked, she was there, with her stupid traps, catching all of his prey before he got the chance. Or, even better, the first time they’d met was after he’d caught her swiping his rabbit that he’d just killed. In the short space of time it had taken him to climb down from the tree, she was there, the animal swinging from her hand, his spear thrown to the side. She’d run off before he could catch her, and later that evening he witnessed her selling it for twice as much as he would ever have.

Busy with hunting and trading and keeping River away from his stock, Fitz wasn’t left with much time to focus on anything else, especially the games. He had a TV his grandmother had left, so he saw the odd snippet here and there, thought of himself as completely outside of all that because he made sure to keep his name in the bowl at a minimum. He was in his own version of The Hunger Games anyway, surviving on by himself for all of these years, he reckoned he wouldn’t do too badly in an arena. It was a surprise, when they called his name, and as he walked to the stage, nobody wept for him, nobody called out his name, or volunteered, because there was nobody, just Fitz. And River– just Fitz and River, fighting for their lives.

Personality wise, Fitz is a sort of chameleon. He will change his tone, the way he speaks, the language he uses, to fit with the person he is talking to. It’s a way to keep himself to himself, not reveal too much, and not make too much of a lasting impression.

District Token: Grandmother’s broach with a (fake) emerald stone.

+ Agile, Independent, Pragmatic // - Distant, Inexpressive, Selfish

***PENNED BY: ELLE***