Bristol Hayden [done!]

[bris]

Bristol Hayden


(Brookelle Bones)

This is my life


Age

Sixteen

Gender

Female

Species

Mundane little human

Home town

Raised in SoHo

Relationship status

Currently single, though that can change

Occupation

Clerk at a music store because it’s the one job that doesn’t require a uniform.

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My strengths and Weaknesses

Physically speaking, a lot of people would consider a lot of things a weakness for Bris. Her height limitation of only five foot two inches tall coupled with her tiny little frame gives the appearance that she’s a pushover, easily pushed out of the way and forgotten about. Her pale eyes give the impression that she has an eye disease that’s slowly stealing her sight from her. Then add in her personality, her skepticism and her slowly rotting brain that has convinced her she’s going insane and her social inability to mesh, and you can see just why some people think that she has nothing but negatives in her arsenal.

But she’s positive. She looks at her vertical challenge as an advantage because she can squeeze into tiny spaces that no one else can, and her small size fools people into believing that she won’t jump on their back and attempt to bite their ear off if they keep rubbing her the wrong way. Her eyesight are twenty-twenty, though on occasion she does wear glasses just to try and make herself look smarter. While everyone else always sees her flaws, they overlook her bubbly personality, her curiosity that can bite her in the ass in a very amusing way, and how mature she is for her age.

…when she feels like it.

My History

Bristol October Hayden was born on September twenty-eighth to a single mother with a slightly twisted naming process. The first thing to know about Bristol’s past is how she got her name: her mother named her after the city in which she was conceived, Bristol, England, where her father still resides and for the month in which her birthday had originally been estimated by the doctor. As you can guess, she was born premature- on the first day that year that frost hit covered the Manhattan streets, actually. Nothing came from it, except a week’s worth of worry that amounted to a ton and a half of stress resting on her mother’s shoulders.

After that dreadful week in the preemie unit at the hospital (which she’s honestly convinced led to her disliking for hospitals) her mother scooped her up and took her back to the only home she’s ever known. Even if, admittedly, that home always holds the tang of Chinese food, considering the apartment is situated above a Chinese restaurant. Much like her experience with hospitals, she’s come to the conclusion that living above the restaurant is what ultimately turned her off from the food.

For the most part, her early years were normal. Her mother frequently stayed out late to work one of her two jobs, but she learned not to expect anyone to be home when she got back from school. School… now that was a completely different spectrum all together. It spiraled downward the second the teacher called attendance for the first time; a name like Bristol amongst Anns, Michaels, and Jordans caused her stick out like a sore thumb. The fact that she’d never really gotten to learn social skills with people in her own age group, spending time with teenagers and adults instead, didn’t help matters any.

She was always the raven in a flock of pigeons.

By the time she got to high school, she was sure something was wrong with her. Not only did she have absolutely no friends at school, but she’d become convinced that she was losing her mind. She’d started seeing things. Things that could only be described as myths from fairytales that her mother used to tell her when she was a little kid. Actually, she’d seen them when she was a little kid, too, but back then she’d blamed it on an overactive imagination. Now that she hadn’t heard the stories in years, the faeries and werewolves led her to believe herself clinically insane.

Despite her curiosity, Bris (pronounced like brisk without the k rather than Brees (there was only so long she could deal with people bugging her about her name)) never plucked up the courage to approached one of the creatures she believed to be figmants of her imagination. Fear that they might actually be real kept her from it. Fear of what her mother might do to her has kept her from broaching the topic with her; instead it’s led her to wondering more and more about her father, blaming this… ability- for lack of a better word- on his half of the genetics.

Roleplay Sample[/center]

"INDIEHAYES!

It all smelled so tasty, so tantalizing, so tempting. It lured Indie to the balcony of the hotel room that she’d, ahem, “acquired” from an Italian woman in her mid to late twenties, clothes, money, cable, view and all. Included in the last category was a shower, which she’d already used to remove the goopy, still dripping black blood that only looked red where the light highlighted it from her alabaster skin with scalding hot water from a sterling silver faucet attached to mint green tiled walls. Out here on the balcony, the wind would have usually sent a chill down her spine, especially factoring in her damp hair and state of undress in the current winter month of December. But the breeze felt more like the caress of a long-lost friend, warm and welcoming, urging her to go out and enjoy the darkness like the creature of the night she’d become.

With a sigh of defeat, the female turned on her heel and sauntered casually back into the hotel room without bothering to close the glass doors to the balcony- she’d never admit it, but the sounds of the budding Massachusetts night life thrilled her. It seemed like the people thought that they could drown out the shadows with lights and the sheer number of them that still soberly populated the streets at the drunken hour of two in the morning. As she passed through the room, she opened the drawers of the dresser and the doors of the closet to inspect her choices for a wardrobe for the evening’s festivities until every article of clothing was on display for her already critiquing garnet gaze.

“Huh,” she murmured to no one in particular, edging toward the dresser and carefully plucking a pair of whiskered dark-wash jeans from the cherry wood tomb and holding them up to herself to admire. “Maybe I should move to Italy. They have good taste.”

&&&

The bodies and smells and heat pressing against the poor less than two month old newborn vampire on all sides in the club had been enough to nearly make her attack the first human she saw. Probably the guy smoking a cigarette with an Italian accent when he’d purred that he liked her dress in her ear who had smelled like pine and the mineral in stream water. But, it had been worth it, as she’d gotten to hunt and was now overly full, sloshy even. That, and only that, guaranteed that she could walk through the snow covered forests of Erving State Forest, full of sleeping families on camping trips during Christmas break or late night hikers or horseback riders or the occasional couple getting it on in the bushes who didn’t even notice her as she skirted past them, casting an amused glance in their direction and then politely looking away. After all, that was what she’d become: a demon who needed their blood to survive, but who glided past them in the middle of the night when they were having sex in the middle of the snow covered forest. Common vampire courtesy and what all that other guideline stuff she’d had to sit through three days of torture and learn.

The further into the forest she went, the darker and quieter it got, which was a relief on her enhanced senses. Indie actually found herself reaching up and massaging the back of her ear, as if that could actually soothe the aching eardrum deep within her ear canal. The steady beat of the club, the chaotic illusion of a rhythm that the heartbeats around her had woven that made the back of her throat burn, the husky voice in her ear of the prey who’d mistakenly thought he was the predator calling her Becky after she’d bent the truth and told him her name was Rebecca. She stopped walking, leaning her shoulder and upper arm on one of the trees that were just everywhere, palms pressed over her ears.

It took her a second to gather her thoughts, to keep herself from breaking down into a pathetic heap of dry sobs, before straightening back up and letting her hands fall back down to her sides. She instantly went stiff, instinctively dropping down into a crouch and narrowing her violet- thank you blue contacts!- eyes. For a sixteenth of a second, she had the time to regret choosing the flow-y black dress that just barely reached her fingertips with decretive brass studding and tasteful little cutout notches to display the milky flesh on her hips. It really wasn’t going to be practical if she was going to have to fight a more experienced vampire. At least she hadn’t chosen one of the many pairs of stiletto heels; she may be more graceful, but the black suede thigh high boots- flat, black suede knee thigh boots- were definitely the better choice… especially considering the fact that she of the female variety and enjoyed being able to show off the fact that she’d gotten leggier.

Many things happened at once: The other vampire rounded the corner, a growl rippling from his throat and then cutting short as he straightened up and went slack-jawed, making him appear very similar to a goldfish. If goldfish were, y’know, all bare-chested and tan and macho and handsome and strong jawed and red eyed and embarrassed and awed and funny and menacing all at the same time. Despite herself, one corner of Indie’s lips quirked up into a smile because of just how hilarious he looked, all confused and caught off guard and what not, but she quickly admonished the little bit of emotion and growled, low and ferocious and very close to what she’d heard her friend’s dog do when he’d been backed into a corner before being taken to the vets. But that’s what vampires did, right? They growled when faced with another vampire, and then they either fought until someone died or ran away or they nodded to each other in recognition that they were both bad ass enough to live and keep keeping little kids awake at night and stealing the Boogie Man’s job and then part ways. Right?

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Posting with- Siege (medium-ish rant required to explain)
Lookin' like- this
Listening to- ANYTHING
Word Count- 1024
Notes- This is the real post. How many quote worthy quotes do I have in there, anyways? My friend would say seven, I think.

[ADMIN]

Accepted!!! Weclome to MMI