Bailey Cair Henniley

[bailey]

001. NAME• Bailey Cair Henniley
002. NICKNAME•
003. REAL AGE• 786
004. HOW OLD YOU LOOK?• 23
005. BIRTHDATE• October 31
006. WHERE YOU LIVE?• London
007. AND YOU FEAST ON?• Humans, naturally.

001. YOUR FACE• Leighton Meester
002. HAIR• Long, thick tresses of honey-chestnut brunette locks that fall well down past shoulders. Normally worn in lose and natural waves but occasionally will be straightened.
003. EYES• Golden bronzed hues with flakes of warm brown.
004. HIEGHT• 5'4
005. WEIGHT• 112
006. BODY MODS• None
007. FASHION/STYLE• Bailey has always had a slight appreciation for fashion, it was always explained to her that she was too look her best at all times so that is what she aspires to do. Darker colors suit her better than bright shades, and she prefers midnight blues and deep purples mingled with shades of gray.

001. LIKES•
Bathing in the moonlight
Feeling dominate over anyone or anything
Occasionally allowing someone to force her into submission
Red Lipstick
The thrill of a chase
Not abiding by anyone but her own standards
Verbal confrontation
Physical Confrontation
Snakes
Spiders
Scorpions
A good fight, albeit verbal or physical
Smart ass remarks
Acting innocent
The feel of something breaking in her palm
The feel of bare skin
Satin sheets
Dark wines
The thought of death

002. DISLIKES•
Women or men who need constant attention
Petty arguments
Bright fabrics
Self conceded beings
Failing to acquire what she desires
Self proclaimed artists
Weak minded beings
Closed opinions
The scent of wet fur
Driving
Busy Cities
Organized religion
The thought of God

003. FEARS•
Forgetting
Defeat by someone unworthy
Being insignificant
Being forgotten
Being a captive
A death that is not of her own choosing
004. STRENGTHS•
Quick Wit
Charming
Swordmanship
The ability to adapt to fit circumstances
Unusually open-minded
005. WEAKNESSES•
Men
The dying
Her bloodlust
Sultry pouts
The broken
Stubborn qualities
006. ODDITIES•
When it snows Bailey hides herself away, occasionally only coming out to allow the powder to fall against her cheeks.
Has not cried since her 'second life' began
Holds an unorthodox obsession with werewolves
Fancies men that have feminine qualities
Stalks people for no other reason but to learn and observe
007. ORIENTATION• Holds no stance on sexuality. If she finds you attractive she finds you attractive, male or female.
008. SPECIFIC MORALS• there is nothing she wouldn't try once
009. PERSONALITY OVERVIEW• As a human Bailey was vibrant and charming, a light in her community as she loved to be whatever anyone needed her most to be. Those days are as faded as what little memories she has left of her past life. Now she holds a sharp tongue and quick wit that is usually used in a derogatory manner. Cold, cruel, and virtually heartless. Bailey does not think that she is better than others per say, but simply that there are very few that deserve her attention or effort. Ridiculous squabbles and petty disagreements bore her and her attention is always piqued when she thinks there might be a possibility of a worthy exchange of crass words.

In regards to love she has abandoned the notion. After being scorned once she refuses to ever place herself back into a situation where she could be humiliated or hurt. There is nothing worse to her than the feeling of insignificance which is also one of the reasons she chooses to guard herself so closely. Occasionally someone might catch her eye, and there has been a situation or two in which she has found herself slightly more interested in a person than she would normally feel comfortable with, but in the end, as everything else in her life the spark dies and she becomes bored and abandons the male or female.

There are few that she considers friends, her constant moving around and relocation ensues that she never become too close with anyone. Relationships of any kind hold no joy for her and are disregarded without much thought. In a world where she hold immortality what need is there to try and share it with someone? Time changes people and endless centuries of change in herself is more than enough for her to deal with.

The one joy that she holds, the single act that brings her more pleasure and happiness than anything else is taking others lives. Humans, Weres, other vampires...none of them are better or worse in her opinion. The exhilarating thrill of the chase, the struggle for dominance...the harder it is to take a life the more she enjoys it. The endless years of the anticipation of smearing blood across her bare skin is the only thing that immortality holds of importance.

She was created to kill, what a shame it would be to not live up to that expectation.

001. PARENT ONE• General James Dronald Henniley-Father-Deceased - suicide
002. PARENT TWO• Elizabeth Barnham-Henniley, daughter of Baron Audley Barnham, 3rd Earl of Castlehaven-Mother - Deceased - Pneumonia
003. SIBLINGS• Whitley Baker Henniley-Brother-Deceased
Gerald Jacob Henniley-Brother-Deceased - Died in battle
Baron Audley Henniley-Brother-Deceased
004. PETS• None
005. HISTORY OVERVIEW•

Bailey's father was a revered Irish General, known and respected for his expertise abilities for conducting and leading the masses or Irish Broods into successful endeavors. There was nothing soft or subtle about this man. His expectations were great and his disappointment was high when being let down. Stern, cross, and uneasily broken he moved through his life with little to no tolerance of things not folding out in his way.

Her mother was treated like most women in that time, she was to sit silently, speak when spoken too, and provide the good General with charming and witty conversations. She was a bright and beautiful woman, adored by all that knew her, fully equipped with a bubbly personality and the ability to charm and relax her husband.

Before Bailey, there had been three sons that The General was proud of, but being the fourth born son himself there was an extra air of excitement when they discovered that his wife was once again with child. With a name already decided, after his own grandfather The General paced anxiously as his wife endured hours of painful labor. Finally though, the pain filled screams had diminished and were replaced by soft coos of an infant.

After rushing into the room The General was surprised to see that his fourth born son was instead a daughter. Anxious eyes were darted back and forth between the help as he stood and stared blankly at the small baby clinging closely to her mother. And in the year of 1223 the staff of the Henniley Estate witnessed something that had never before happened. In the glow of her mothers soft spoken smile, The General took Bailey into his arms and wept with joy.

Growing up Bailey was stubborn like her father, but still gracious as her mother. Beautiful and bright with an infectious personality that blossomed and bubbled and spilled over everyone. Her main goal was to please everyone by any means necessary. Long nights were spent with her father in his study, quietly observing him as he made plans. Days were spent with her mother helping with day-to-day duties or playing with her three older brothers out on the grounds of the estate.

Privately tutored, able to speak three languages before her thirteenth year, she greatly surpassed her parents expectations. Within three more years Bailey had begun a secret obsession with the surrounding occult and witch hunts. As she moved through the half of her seventeenth year her mother had become ill, Bailey began sneaking out of the estate, venturing off into places that were unbecoming of a lady of her stature. Rumors of immortality had caught her ear and she was determined to do and fond anything possible that might save her mothers life.

These actions brought her face to face with Willam Mccain, a dark and brooding foreigner with pouty lips and sultry eyes. Nights had started to become restless, dreams filled with unspeakable acts that left her awake and panting, clutching her sheets to her chest as eyes scanned her chambers for unseen forces.

As her mother continued to dwindle away Bailey spent less and less time at the Estates and more time with Willam, fascinated by the things that he could show her. He had introduced her to a world that she had never imagined. Her obsession only grew as time passed, sleepless nights wearing her thin, strange abrasions appearing on her body. She was introduced to many people that resembled Willam, having the same habits and personalities. It wasn't until Bailey met --------- --------- , that she fell completely into darkness.

He was tall, unbelievably so with pale skin that made her think of the moon. His eyes were shades of grey that made you feel as though you were drowning inside of them. He was slender and his face was so feminine and beautiful that it hurt her to look at him for too long. Long hair fell past his shoulders, silver glittering silk that held the hues of rolling thunder clouds before a storm. Automatically she was drawn to him, unable to resist the pull that he had over her.

She fell in love with him, quickly. A reckless abandon overtaking her as he consumed her every waking thought. Everything was done for him, her actions made only to please him. Movements, the way she carried herself, the way she dressed. All for him.

After the death of her mother Bailey could no longer bear to remain at the Estate. Her father, broken after losing his wife agreeing to let her live in their Chateau in the country for fear that she die herself from grief. Two years were spent with him, beautiful nights filled with love and passion, fiery nights rolling over into days filled with eager anticipation for what was to come. Unfortunatley it was not meant to last.

Willam, appearing after another trip began coming to her once again, but dreams were filled with horrible visions of her moonlit lover, things that could not be erased, things that terrified her still well after the sun had rose. Doubt and fear had begun to take over her mind and in an act of broken desperation Bailey killed the one man that she would ever love.

Seven months were spent in seclusion, her heart and mind both broken. As Willam appeared night after night, torturing her with harsh words and revelations of truths Bailey slowly began losing herself, the brightness fading away as cold hatred began taking over her heart. A decision was made, punishment for her actions, Bailey wished to live a life never ending with her pain. A life filled with self loathing and utter loneliness.

Willam was more than pleased to induct her, and Bailey was cursed with a severe bloodlust that took centuries to overcome. Her love of killing was the only thing that could match the deep seeded hatred that she felt for herself and her creator. Willam was abandoned and she moved away from Ireland alone, to this day she moves from place to place, mourning her murdered lover and inflicting misery and pain to as many as she can.

Yo', my name is Amba' , and I've been the walking dead for TWENTY-ONE years, and I've been grave robbing for THREE years, I dug up lovely Crimson Kiss by means of USED TO BE A MEMBER and adore it.

001. ANYTHING ELSE?• I dig it....I'm going to use the same writing sample as last time, but I've modified it a lot-gave it a new angle, changed the ending a bit.
002. ROLE PLAY SAMPLE•

They had ended up with him above her. The vampire's hair had come unbound and fell around the two like silver rain, if rain could be as soft as silk and as warm as a lovers body. His skin glowed as if it had swallowed the moon, and it was shining out of every inch of his skin. Bailey knew that her hair was a mass of brunette shining fire, because she could see the light of it from the edges of her eyes.

His hair begun to spark and shine as he moved above her, catching the light the way snow glitters in moonlight. Bailey had had other lovers who brought the sun to bed with them, but --------- was a winter’s night with all of that meant with beauty and harshness.

He had been too tall to lie down on top of her. It was neither enjoyable for Bailey nor easy for her to breathe, so he held his upper body above her with the shining strength of pale, muscled arms. Gazing down the lengths of their bodies, watching him slide in and out of her, made Bailey want to cry out, made her want to look away as if the sight of it was too wonderful and she had to find something else for her eyes to meet.

What she met were his eyes. His eyes were grey like a winter’s sky, but now with power riding him they were more than just grey. In the grey of his eyes were glimpses of soft star specks, like falling snow against a darker, but lovely background. Bailey could have fallen into those eyes and been somewhere else. Brightened hazel hues closed then, because she was not certain where that fall would take her or where her landing would be.

The rhythm of his body in and out of her own, the size of him gliding in and out, was beginning to fill her up. The first faint glow of orgasm beginning to build.

“Look. You must look at me." There was an urgency to his voice, that rough urgency that said that he too was close.

Bailey slowly opened her eyes, his just above her own, wide, staring, demanding that she not look away. He moved one hand so that he gripped her hair near one cheek. ”I want to watch your face,” he spoke, his voice breathy with effort. There was glowing snow in his eyes, falling down like soft powdery rain.

The rhythm of his body changed, grew more urgent, and it was too much. Bailey could not watch his eyes while his body ran through her own. She tried to watch his body moving above hers, but his grip against her hair tightened, forcing her face to look up into his. His face was the face of her most recent lover, her most recent qualm of affection. There was no vision in his eyes to distract her from the beauty of his face, the fierceness in his eyes.

Bailey sighed and moaned and whispered "Almost...'' in soft breathy huffs until finally, with one last thrust, almost had become now.

She screamed and only his grip, gone almost cruel in her hair, kept her neck from bowing. He kept their faces staring into one another, tolerated no looking away. They stared at each other as their bodies rode the pleasure. His strength demanding that they share this, the most intimate of moments, with no flinching, no looking away, nothing to save them from the wildness in one another's eyes.

She was playing a dangerous game.

They fell into that wildness, that near frantic fierceness. He cried out above her as she screamed her pleasure, then his body collapsed down atop hers, and he lifted her in his arms, with his body still sheathed inside. He knelt, pinning her to the headboard. Bailey grabbed the wood to keep herself where he seemed to have wanted her. --------- had gone, but he was not spent. He proved that as he began to pound her body against the wood, the bed shivering with the strength of it, the entire frame of the bed protesting the abuse.

Bailey screamed for him and fought to keep her hands on the wood to hold her in place as he plunged inside of her as deeply as he could. Deep enough from that angle that pleasure and pain rode one another, as --------- rode her.

She let go of the bed and ran her nails down his white skin. Where she bled him the glow of his skin split. Red glowing lines followed the lines of her nails and painted lightly over their skin. His body shuddered against her own, inside of her as she painted his body with her pleasure and his pain. With a moan he pressed her into his arm.

They stayed frozen for a moment pressed against the headboard. His heart beating so fast and so hard that she felt it against the side of her face like a hand. Vampires and beating hearts. Situations like this made her mental state more tethered. He took them slowly to their sides so that they finally lay across the head of the bed on what pillows that had not been knocked off. ”For eternity I will remember how magnificent you were.”

A delicate sigh breathed from her lips, the harsh beating of her own heart echoing through her body as her chest rose and fell in rapid concession. Had she been someone else she would have stayed his lover for as long as she could. Bailey would have allowed him to bleed her and she would have happily welcomed immortality with open arms just to stay inside of his bed, but his world was one that she both admired and was terrified of. How could she allow herself to fall into such a damnation?

There was nothing for her through him, nights much like this one, waiting. Hoping. Clinging desperately to the hope that he would come to her at some point before the hours of morning. How long could she hold his attention? How long would his dead heart belong to her? There was no immortality but his love and in time she would be forgotten and replaced. Disregarded and thrown away. That...was something that she could not bear to live with.

Slipping from his arms, from the rise and fall of his chest that were purely for habits sake, from the silky waves of his hair, her heart sank as her form slipped to a side closet only a mere few feet away from him. One last gaze at him, longing filling her being as she studied his too perfect features. This one she would have damned herself for. This one she would have sold her soul for.

The perfect lover. The perfect man. Beautiful and terrible and timeless. Hers and hers alone. For eternity.

Her eyes glazed over an icy blue, his face drawing to confusion as she let out a loud cry, arms swinging from the confines of the closet to reveal a long black sword. Pain and confusion flashing through those haunting grey eyes, burning through her, breaking her heart, before the blade met and sliced through skin, his head falling to the floor, blanketed by silver silk. Bailey dropped to her knees, fingers splaying into that softness as she cried. Feathers from the pillows falling down against them. Like soft rain. Like snow.

"Impressive." Shoulders hunched forward as soft and sultry tones swam over her, silent sobs assumed as tears fell down cheeks, falling delicately over the unusual shaded locks, blood warm against her skin. A cruel joke. Words were unable to be properly formed so she responded with silence. He was always watching, he knew her deepest fears and dreams and ambitions. Nothing was needed to be said.

Bailey was left alone in the room, alone with dancing flames from candles wicks, alone with her dead lover and broken heart. Dark laughter echoed even after his departure and suddenly there was nothing left for her to do but scream.