Post by mayarivers on Oct 11, 2012 23:09:49 GMT -6
Name:
Maya Rivers
Age:
28
Height:
5ft 6in
Weight:
147lbs
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Maya never liked her hair. Far too many products went into taming the curls so that they looked half-way decent. The color is two toned, both brown and blonde, a product of a blonde mother and an American African father. Her nose is a little larger than it should be for her facial frame. She isn’t unattractive, but there is a reason why she is behind the camera, not in front of it.
Personality:
Determined to a fault, Maya has sacrificed the “normal” teenage and early adulthood life choices in favor of earning her own success. She is naturally naïve and optimist, despite the odds against her.
Background:
Her parents weren’t exactly savers, not like Maya is. There motto was to: “live life while you’re alive” They had a blast on vacations and redecorating, on parties and going out to eat, leaving Maya to pay her own through college. Now that the IRS has taken a second look at her parent’s taxes, Maya sends part of her paycheck home to supplement her parent’s welfare checks.
Roleplay Sample:
I’m not supposed to be here. [/font]
That and similar thoughts popped into Maya’s head every few seconds.
I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t my time. This is not my place.
It had been days since the purple haze had made a doom over New York City and the surrounding areas. Or had it covered the world? Had it even been days or was it weeks? Months? Years? It was hard to tell time recently. Or had it been that way for Maya Rivers for a while ?
She had picked up a newspaper once to read the date on the top page, but the letters seemed to morph like droplets of water jumping in a frying pan.
This is not my time.
That happened whenever she tried to read. Like now. There she was close to the highway leading into Manhattan, standing in the tall grass. She didn’t blame the city for not having it properly mowed. It was well fertilized and hard to get to. So strange that they allowed the city to grow over and around the cemetery. Head stones wedged between the on ramp and the actually highway. Stuck in traffic? Say a prayer for the dead. No time to put flowers on grandma’s grave? Just toss them out the window. She’ll know you meant them for her. They’ll land on someone’s grave at least.
This is not my place.
Maya narrowed her eyes on the tomb stone as she tried to focus on the name and date, but the letters and numbers just fogged and began to twist. She really ought to get her eyes checked. How much would that cost without insurance? Exhaling with quiet frustration, Maya brought the camera to her face and snapped an aspiring-professional photo.
For the hundredth time, she tried to read the tomb stone on the camera’s digital display. Now the whole thing looked blurry, like it had been taken underwater.
I’m not supposed to be here.
Maya lowered the camera to her chest, cradling it so that it’s weight wouldn’t pull on the neck strap. There had been a constant ache in her neck for as long as she could remember. Inhaling only filled her lungs with the foul odor of exhausted, rubber and gasoline. What kind of immoral person would build a busy, public road way right in the middle of a graveyard? Didn’t R.I.P mean anything to people anymore? If waking the dead was ever possible, Maya imaged that those laid to “rest” in this cemetery would be the first to rouse.
Abilities:
Supernatural: Maya was photographing tomb stones when The Event occurred. All she knows at current, is that she feels like she, or someone, doesn't belong. Can she communicate with the dead if she were opened to it? Maybe. Could there be only one deceased, such as the grave she was standing on, that is trying to reach through her to the living’s side. It’s very probable.
Breaking Point:
Becoming aware that the dead are trying to communicate through her.
Starting Stat Exp:
HP: 400
Energy: 400
Attack: 400
Defense: 400
Speed: 400
Agility: 400
Magic Power: 400
Magic Defense: 400
Magic Skill: 400
Maya Rivers
Age:
28
Height:
5ft 6in
Weight:
147lbs
Gender:
Female
Appearance:
Maya never liked her hair. Far too many products went into taming the curls so that they looked half-way decent. The color is two toned, both brown and blonde, a product of a blonde mother and an American African father. Her nose is a little larger than it should be for her facial frame. She isn’t unattractive, but there is a reason why she is behind the camera, not in front of it.
Personality:
Determined to a fault, Maya has sacrificed the “normal” teenage and early adulthood life choices in favor of earning her own success. She is naturally naïve and optimist, despite the odds against her.
Background:
Her parents weren’t exactly savers, not like Maya is. There motto was to: “live life while you’re alive” They had a blast on vacations and redecorating, on parties and going out to eat, leaving Maya to pay her own through college. Now that the IRS has taken a second look at her parent’s taxes, Maya sends part of her paycheck home to supplement her parent’s welfare checks.
Roleplay Sample:
I’m not supposed to be here. [/font]
That and similar thoughts popped into Maya’s head every few seconds.
I’m not supposed to be here. This isn’t my time. This is not my place.
It had been days since the purple haze had made a doom over New York City and the surrounding areas. Or had it covered the world? Had it even been days or was it weeks? Months? Years? It was hard to tell time recently. Or had it been that way for Maya Rivers for a while ?
She had picked up a newspaper once to read the date on the top page, but the letters seemed to morph like droplets of water jumping in a frying pan.
This is not my time.
That happened whenever she tried to read. Like now. There she was close to the highway leading into Manhattan, standing in the tall grass. She didn’t blame the city for not having it properly mowed. It was well fertilized and hard to get to. So strange that they allowed the city to grow over and around the cemetery. Head stones wedged between the on ramp and the actually highway. Stuck in traffic? Say a prayer for the dead. No time to put flowers on grandma’s grave? Just toss them out the window. She’ll know you meant them for her. They’ll land on someone’s grave at least.
This is not my place.
Maya narrowed her eyes on the tomb stone as she tried to focus on the name and date, but the letters and numbers just fogged and began to twist. She really ought to get her eyes checked. How much would that cost without insurance? Exhaling with quiet frustration, Maya brought the camera to her face and snapped an aspiring-professional photo.
For the hundredth time, she tried to read the tomb stone on the camera’s digital display. Now the whole thing looked blurry, like it had been taken underwater.
I’m not supposed to be here.
Maya lowered the camera to her chest, cradling it so that it’s weight wouldn’t pull on the neck strap. There had been a constant ache in her neck for as long as she could remember. Inhaling only filled her lungs with the foul odor of exhausted, rubber and gasoline. What kind of immoral person would build a busy, public road way right in the middle of a graveyard? Didn’t R.I.P mean anything to people anymore? If waking the dead was ever possible, Maya imaged that those laid to “rest” in this cemetery would be the first to rouse.
Abilities:
Supernatural: Maya was photographing tomb stones when The Event occurred. All she knows at current, is that she feels like she, or someone, doesn't belong. Can she communicate with the dead if she were opened to it? Maybe. Could there be only one deceased, such as the grave she was standing on, that is trying to reach through her to the living’s side. It’s very probable.
Breaking Point:
Becoming aware that the dead are trying to communicate through her.
Starting Stat Exp:
HP: 400
Energy: 400
Attack: 400
Defense: 400
Speed: 400
Agility: 400
Magic Power: 400
Magic Defense: 400
Magic Skill: 400
