Despite all efforts to the contrary, people tend to remember Maya. It’s easy to mistake her as fragile or frail at first glance. At 5,1 her diminutive stature and thin frame certainly doesn’t dissuade the notion. The empty sleeves that draw attention to her missing left arm and the cane she carries don’t much either. This suits her fine. As with much of the world these days Maya isn’t necessarily what she seems. Thin she may be, but beneath her clothing her frame is framed with the toned practical muscle of a gymnast.
Since the loss of her eyesight Maya’s lost much of the pride in her appearance she once had and doesn’t put nearly as much effort into it as she used to. Much of her style now is sheer utilitarian. Her hair is cut short, framing her face nicely and fortunately requiring very little maintenance to do so. People tend to find her eyes unsettling, likely due to the frequency with which they seem to go from empty, and hollow, to almost burning with intensity. Her pupils glow with a soft gold light that spiderwebs into the natural green of her iris’s. She tends to wear mirrored sunglasses to go with her cane and let people believe her blind.
Her clothing tends to be form fitting and functional, typically jeans, or leggings, and t-shirts. Very rarely does she ever leave her coat, a long black number with just a slight tail, a hood and buttons running along the left side. With it she wears a red infinity scarf she’ll sometimes pull up to hide the lower half of her face. On the rare occasion she feels she needs to dress up she typically wears wears a nicely fitting blouse and slacks, with or without a blazer. Often hidden from view her left side is covered in dozens of interlocking tattoo’s, running from her left ankle to the base of her throat and hiding dozens of scars, mainly along her ribs. They’re accentuated by the utter lack of marking on her right side, nothing but pale smooth skin aside from her arm which has a full sleeve of tattoos from her shoulder to her fingertips.
Most days Maya is to put it politely, a functional trainwreck. Once sunny and upbeat, fate has all but ended the naive optimistic young woman Maya was before the event. The losses she’s suffered since the world went mad haunt her, her family, her freedom, her arm,her lover. Each one a little more soul crushing than the last. As a result Maya is slow to trust, and avoids growing attached to things because of the only slightly paranoid expectation that she’ll lose them again. The warm caring individual she used to be is now hidden behind a cold and heartless facade. Despite attempts to convince herself (and others) however, it’s exactly that. A facade.
Her time in prison taught her to bury her feelings and gave her one hell of a poker face to go with it, but her cold, threatening attitude is usually a bluff to keep herself isolated and keep trouble away from her. While repressing her feelings certainly manages that it’s also extremely unhealthy. She bottles them up until eventually the bottle can hold no more and it shatters, leaving everything inside to come pouring out at once. Rage usually rises to the surface, burning white hot until it eventually fizzles and leaves her hollow. despair crash in around her and smother her until she’s drowning in it and it’s all she can do to come up with a reason to try to stay afloat.
She dislikes confrontation in the extreme as it tends to trigger anxiety inducing flashbacks of the man she murdered,and she’ll generally do whatever she can to avoid it. If pushed and unable to escape however her anxiety will build until she snaps at which point she can become extremely violent.These episodes are typically followed by regret and frustration that she can’t control the one thing in this world she should be able to. Herself. Though she hasn’t been officially diagnosed with it she has many of the symptoms of PTSD, notably night terrors, and panic attacks.
The loss of both her arm and her eyesight , as well as the many scars she bears have ravaged her self esteem, not that she’ll admit it. Before she lost her eyesight she had many of her scars covered with tattoos in an attempt to make them something beautiful instead of a constant reminder of the things she’s endured. She has an extreme aversion to authority figures due to the fear she’ll eventually end up back in prison. The only place she ever truly relaxes and lets her walls down is in her apartment, her sanctuary. She’s extremely secretive about where she lives and rarely if ever allows guests. She’s also very distrustful of others, especially strangers. The single person she actively trusts is her friend Chloe who she’s extremely protective of.
Headphones: Maya’s constant companion,
Sig Saur P229- Chambered for standard 9MM and completely factory. Most often worn on a hip holster in her right side.
Knife-More often than not Maya tends to keep a knife strapped next to her gun for easy reach. A leftover habit from her time in prison, she likes to keep something pointy nearby for emergencies.
Playing cards- Maya developed a fondness for cards in prison and usually carries a deck with braille markings.
Apartment- She rents at a building on 48th street. It’s a studio apartment but it suits her fine.
All My Characters
Writing, Reading, Poetry, Music, Philosophy, Games of all kinds ( Video games, board games, trading card games, etc.)
Typist's Role Play History
I've been on too many boards for me to remember honestly.
Role Play Sample
Saeta looked from side to side as she walked down the streets of Kalm. Right now it was dark out, the storefronts as well as the light of day both absent until morning and the moon bright over head. However this wasn't what Saeta saw with her bandaged eyes. All around her. The white sky above her, the green ground beneath her her and the grey of the shops on either side of the street. This late there were no people, no shades of green other than that of Gaia itself....Yes no one... The boy that had come with here.....the thing she'd summoned. She'd entered Junon with the intent on teaching him of Gaia, but when she returned with clothes for him he was gone. Just like everybody else.
So now she walked down this street in Kalm. She wore a long leather jacket with a hood that obscured the upper half of her face, including her bandaged eyes, its zipper undone to reveal a black tank top that cut off mid riff and a pair of clinging black leather slacks. Her hands both occupied, the right with a light black wooden staff and the other a black vortex design tattoo on the back of the palm, ruby crystal fragments buried in the skin around it.
This was not the first time she'd been here recently. She'd come here more than once looking for Angeles......But apparently Angeles didn't want to be found.
Neither the man she's said to look for, nor he deceased master had known where to find her......No.....the old man had known.....but he wouldn't tell her. Now he was done telling anyone anything. After only making it about half way down the street Saeta noticed something. It was on this street. That man, Tony's cafe. Cafe Heven. She approached the cafe slowly, looking at the door expressionlessly for a moment before a fierce snarl ran across her features and she sent a blast of magical energy through her hand as she drew it back and punched the door. It was easily ripped from its hinges before burying itself in the wall, but her magic was not stopped so easily.
The blast that destroyed the door continued through the wall, stopping only when it hit the stove and knocked it loose, providing plenty of gas for the sparks it caused to ignite. Only a few moments after she released the energy there was an explosion with enough force that it caused her to slide back several feet, even with her shield in place. As she watched flames began to spread across the building, white flames that ate away at the grey of the cafe as it ate away the materials it was constructed of and used them as fuel. After staring at the flames for a few moments Saeta remember that Tony himself lived there. However she simply watched the building burn, not caring whether or not the man lived or died.