Description

She seemes mid-twenties, average height, and of mixed race. A Quadroon, if the expression is still used. Her hair is a long, thick mess of tight, soft curls the color of rust- normally tied up in a messy half bun, or flowing out over her shoulders. What a lovely mix of Irish and.. hm... Caribbean? African? Haitian? -...it's so hard to tell, just from a glance. Her skin is clearly of a yellowy brown hue, but in a way (and in some places in particular) she is paler than many caucasians, especially with how popular tanning is, these days. Get close enough, and one would see the freckles that spread beneath her eyes, and the two on her upper lip. Her mouth is cushy and quite full, the curve of the upper lip the same size of the plump lower, having that velvety matte look of a rose petal, and the color of a white peach's blush. Her eyes, are a dulled blue green, and fringed with russet lashes.

Her figure is youthful, befitting her age, but a bit.. heavier towards the bottom. She certainly fills out her yoga pants, when she wears them. Otherwise, she is generally draped in a loose maxi dress that does little to hide the shape of her hips on an otherwise small frame. She dresses in whatever is commonly accepted as 'cute' or 'sexy' for the season; nothing too racy, mind you. A teal, sequined tunic over grey leggings that scrunch at her ankles, oversized hoop earrings and a glossy pair of pumps or high sandals... this would be a common outfit for her.

At her wrist a tattoo, maybe hinting at a love of the theatrical, or having some other meaning. It's smallish and simple; a tophat and a cane, the head of which resembling the handle of a skeleton key. Well, loads of people have tattoos these days, perhaps it means nothing at all.

What seems incongruous with the woman's normal, contemporary style and state is the old, untitled tome she is sometimes seen with. There, you see her lift her hair with her arms, an arch pulling into her slender spine as she gathers her curls into a ponytail, and a strange, blanched symbol is seen on the back of her neck. A complicated miniature patchwork of...A flourished heart..and crosses, perhaps?

Personality

Jaime is really nothing to remember, looks aside. She has a very common personality, after all. It's not hard for her to make friends, but really, they aren't that close to her. They drink with her, they shop with her, but they don't really know how she feels inside; really, she hardly does, either. She's one of those people that would really rather not spend too much time digging into how useless their life is, in favor of just going out and getting wasted on a Friday.
To most people, she's pleasant, flirty, maybe a bit funny but not all that witty. She'll certainly get a bit of an attitude when things don't go her way, but she's not all that bad. Her ego isn't much of a front, and though she might joke that she is, she certainly doesn't believe she's 'all that'.

There are times, though, somewhere between the 5th and 6th drink, or when she's home alone, that she's stuck thinking back on her past, her family, her wasteful farce of a life. She doesn't like these things and she really never appreciates someone bringing them up to her.

Equipment

Giant purse, cellphone, lipgloss, glossy pumps, charming smirk, her grandmother's diary of voodoo sp-...wait, how'd that get in there?

..you get the idea.

History

This section might provide more information than Jaime herself actually knows. The Hayes name is recent, the deeper family name is O'Donnelly. While most mixed-race families from Louisiana, the state of her birth, involve sordid tales of amorous slave owners and their African 'property', Jaime's black heritage is actually due to the influx if Haitians into New Orleans. Now this is not to say that her particular branch of the family tree stems exactly that far back. Long story short, Haitian blood has been in her twice over, but the most recent is four generations back, and every white family member above her has Irish heritage- although several members along the way are mixed, as well.

Jaime grew up well-off enough, public school, doing well, mom and pop and grammaw, church on Sundays. But when she was still pretty young, her father was shot in a gambling discrepancy, and a whole chapter of his life her family didn't know existed was thrown open. Things never were that great between she and her mother, after that, and they were knocked a few notches down on the monetary ladder.

So begins...

Jaime Hayes's Story

Seen 26 Times • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-05-02 03:44:23, as written by BurgundyMStone

Jaime Hayes stood just inside the bar, not having remembered coming in the first place. Hazily, she realized that she had her purse with her, and she looked down. Her glossy heels didn't seem right on these.... dusty wooden floors. Her breaths were slow and light as she looked about. Her mind felt foggy.. this wasn't right... She was dreaming again. Yes. Yes, that made sense. Ignoring the strange hodgepodge of characters about, Jaime moved for something she recognized: the bar. Bleary eyes took in the order screens as she set down a jingling designer bag, but she couldn't make out the words... tired and defeated, she just spoke her desire, ordering a rum and coke. Of course it appeared. Dream logic was flawless. Smoothing her hand over the short skirt of her tight, long-sleeved teal minidress, the mulatta took a seat on a barstool, waiting for something. 'Eventually' she thought, 'I'll wake up.'.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-05-02 04:05:55, as written by BurgundyMStone

Jaime Hayes sat drunken at the bar, though she had not yet had even a sip of the tawdry drink that manifested itself in her hands, dampening them with condensation. Her body, elsewhere, lay heavily in bed, cooled by the AC of her apartment. But here, she was hot. That heat was His calling. He was behind her, he was inside of her. He was the dream, as soon as he entered. Her ears couldn't pin him to one location, and she needn't turn her curly head to hear him any better, because that devilish purr was right against her eardrums. He promised.

"Where is this...?"

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-05-02 04:26:27, as written by BurgundyMStone

Jaime Hayes didn't seem to be 'all there' enough for the devil's eloquent words. Surely he was wasting his silver tongue on her, no? But rest assured, each syllable burned into her brain, and tied her firmly into this moment. With each slow, smooth step of his, Jaime felt more solid, more real. It was less like she was dreaming and more like this was real. ...And that terrified her. When her heard began to thud, it was because her subconscious decided that it should do so, and manifested the panicked hammering. The young, vapid socialite felt exposed here. She felt material, and in a way, that made Him a reality, as well. Tense, her fingers opened away from her glass as Vincent hovered behind her tightly-clad body and spilling ringlets, and she drew her arms into herself as he took a seat to her left. At his subtly scurrilous behest, his victim and caller thought back to her body, realizing that yes, it was at home. She couldn't feel the way the sweat made her hair mat against her neck, or the sheets smothered her belly. It was all too far away... with a strange lag to her movements, Jaime looked over at him, her green-hazel eyes lidded. Even in a dream her lips her glossed.

Looking into his eyes was a mistake... but it felt so good. "...I missed you." The words just fell out, and her brain screamed 'No!' That wasn't true!... was it?

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-05-02 05:00:14, as written by BurgundyMStone

Jaime Hayes had been a partner in Vincent's games for long enough to have found some inherent defense to his charms. She didn't want him to be real... She'd summoned him by accident. And so, without validation, he'd been relegated to the realm of her dreams, luring and romancing her while she slept. In the day, she could push the vague memory of all that he was away from her brain and say she wasn't real. She even told herself she was going crazy... just a little. Perhaps she was working too much (hardly likely). Maybe she had been slipped something on one of the nights she was out, acting a fool and forgetting her morals. Whatever reason she feebly wielded against him in order to save herself eventually fell apart, just as he knew it would.

But she was a fool to have spoken.

His pleasure flickered in her own chest and filled her head, and while his voice rolled through the air, she'd have done anything if he would just tell her again that he was happy; that he had pleased her. In the same breath, he smeared her petty pasttimes on the bar, and she could not deny them. She was lonely... she was always lonely. Why else did so go so far to appeal to men? To tease them and drag them home for an evening, only to forget them? Her heart had a huge hole in it, and the liquor poured right through. He spoke of her need, and immediately she felt her own emotional void. Her pretty face crumbled into misery; her brow knit, her cushy lips parted. Hurt, she fisted those fiery kinks and rest her brow on her wrist.

"I don't know.. I.." Hurt. She was so hurt. Her chest lurched. In bed, her body tossed, groaning feverishly, and here in this space, Jaime reeled with dizziness.

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-05-02 05:24:41, as written by BurgundyMStone

Jaime Hayes went very still as her focus waned and the world swam before her. Vincent must always be careful and diligent, yes? A little bit too much information and illogic, and her brain would kick her right from this dream. The same went for fear and misery. But doting and ever so sweet, the devil smoothed the tumultuous sea that was Jaime's mind and manipulated the poor thing to his will. How lucky he was to find such a.. malleable witch.

"You're not real." Oh, he wouldn't be able to crack her so easily, not if the deepest, simplest parts of Jaime revolted against his ploys. Was it her old blood, wizened against making deals with a being she should control? Or was it the simple human fear in her? Accepting him would be admitting how useless and transient her life was...

Setting

Gambit's Bar

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#2012-05-02 05:39:11, as written by BurgundyMStone

Jaime Hayes winced at his feeling of insult. To watch his sublime face contort with the barest hint of pain was nauseating, in the dream. She swallowed, and found herself pulling mouthfuls of her sweet, fizzy drink before she'd even truly thought to do so. Mental illness. As much as that had been exactly what the girl had been telling herself since this all began, she didn't want to hear it. She didn't want that to be real, either. It was hard to think within a dream, and so the image of her admitted to a mental hospital was more like a vague concept in her mind. Her words fell freely from her, as if previously scripted. "Yes."

Seen 26 Times • Page 2 of 2 • 1, 2

Jaime Hayes

0 · 185 views · located in The Infinite Void

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by BurgundyMStone

Description

Personality

Equipment

History

So begins...

Jaime Hayes's Story

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present

Setting

Characters Present