AMITYVILLE ACADEMY ENROLLMENT FORM
Name: Jaime Luna
Nicknames: When people are feeling cute, they call him Jayjay.
Gender: Male
Age: If he hadn't stopped aging at death, he'd be nineteen. Since he has, he's technically seventeen.
Faction/Race Undead - Traditional Zombie
Natural Ability: Preserverance
Personality: In life, Jaime was something of a social butterfly. He never understood the trepidation and apprehension that his fellow students associated with high school, their aversion to social interaction and the politics that went into staying on top in a truly cut-throat world. Vain and self-centered, he stepped on anyone and said anything to keep on the top wrung of the social ladder, and laughed down at all those who looked up and envied him. Fitting, then, that after death he fell to the very bottom. As a zombie, what once pleased about his appearance has been negated, and without the charm of a pretty face or a tolerable odor, Jaime became lost and alone. He often tells others that he's not bitter, not in the least, but in reality he aches in what's left of his now-still heart for the life he once had.
For the most part, Jaime keeps to himself, shambling through his days and contemplating long and hard on the true nature and purpose of existence (he almost thinks life, but he answers the thought with the fact that he doesn't have life anymore, and with no small amount of bite.). He's no great fan of others, and they're no great fan of him, especially not now that the skin sags and sloughs off his bone every now and again. This fact raises no great upset in Jaime, as his musings dragging on have led him to see and appreciate the irony of his situation, in all its bittersweet glory.
However, it can't be said that Jaime doesn't WANT friends. In life, he had much preferred pawns and lackies to friends, because pawns and lackies were far easier to take advantage of than friends. You get emotionally attached to friends, and that didn't fit in with the sadistically selfish mindset that Jaime subscribed to. However, since his undeath and subsequent loss of memories, his justifications for these ideals rapidly fell away. Urges without memories to explain them are like fever dreams, to be looked at with the slightest hint of disconcert.
Undeath left Jaime with a distaste for friends but no reason to support it. To Jaime, this seems terribly counter-productive, and he does everything he can to overwrite the feeling, but the going so far can be described as tentative at best. Fortunately, being sociable isn't the hard part, and if Jaime can get himself started, he finds he doesn't have such a hard time with people at all. Unfortunately, when it comes to making connections with people, Jaime still stumbles. A loner with no friends is hard to approach, and it doesn't help when it seems like the loner doesn't like making friends. This is the most frustrating part of Jaime's life, by far. It bothers him so much that it occasionally makes him think that he may even be in the wrong to want friends like this, a lapse back into his old mindset. When he falls into this old rut, he keeps even more to himself, which probably makes things even worse on him. However, this is the exception rather than the rule. A deep compassion has been lit in Jaime's core, and though it hides under a layer of dead flesh and isolation, it seeks to express itself. It just doesn't know how.
On the side of, and in stark contrast to, the ruminations of existentialism and the frailty of the human condition, Jaime occupies himself with several hobbies. Gardening is the foremost, and also the most secret, of his pastimes, and brings him about as much joy as he's capable of experiencing at one time. His pumpkin patch, though tiny, is well maintained, and he's also been known to carve them, but far more in recent days than when he first found himself in Halloween after his reanimation. His hands, though still not deft like those of the living, have become far less shaky, and Jaime's found himself able to exert some control over them. No nerve endings means he doesn't hurt himself when he slips, and that's always a bonus.
Why are they enrolled in Amityville Academy? When Jaime first applied to enroll in Amityville, anger and distaste for his new-found status at the bottom of the food chain in Halloween. When he came to understand the concept of Fear and how it fueled the entire plane, he had something of a power-fantasy and desired nothing more than to control as much of it as possible. He searched for any means, and method, to generate it, fueled by the intense desire to emulate some of what he had once had in life, that elevated status that he required to function. However, as he spends more and more time enrolled in the academy, he strives less for power and more for competence. He still desires control over fear and the ability to access an abundance of the stuff, but now his motivation is fueled less by the desire to be the absolute best and more by the desire for respect from his peers, and, in the end, acceptance.
FEAR: What greater fear exists than the thought of death's inevitability? Survival and self-preservation are woven firmly into the subconscious of every living thing, and many do all in their power to attempt to escape it. Jaime confronts his prey with this harsh truth, that everything is eventual, and eventually everything will rot and fall apart, that death comes for all and none can truly escape it, not the strong nor the weak, the young nor the old, the beautiful nor the not-so-beautiful. In this lies true terror. From the terrible visage of what was once a stunning young man emanates the primal fear of an entire species, of an entire ecosystem, of an entire living planet. Nobody wants to die, and many vehemently reject the thought. Jaime merely amplifies this reaction, tweaks the senses ever so slightly to make himself that much more detestable, his moan that much more eerie, his stench that much worse, to make his quarry reel and shake with horror and sickness. Unfortunately, if said quarry stares long enough, they'll find that their tormentors is just a twiggy kid with his skin falling off his bones, and that doesn't seem so terrifying at all.
TL;DR: Jaime disorients his opponent/victim, filling them with a sort of mortal terror. It exerts itself in the form of a mental wave, like vertigo. It doesn't exactly make him LOOK any different, but rather affects the perception of the opponent. His voice grows eerie and his smell seems that much worse. It's really limited to when said opponent/victim decides to realize that the big scary zombie is just a lanky high-school aged kid. This can be flexible to the opponent in terms of RP, they can pull the effect out to several posts, or get over it in the same post, depending on the character type.
Physical Description: Jaime is, in all ways, slight. He had an extremely fast metabolism in life, and he remains thin, almost lanky, in death. He could be considered stick-like, if he wasn't so short. His shoulders and waistline are both extremely narrow, which used to mean he was considered quite fine by both genders, but now means he has gloriously reduced amounts of flesh to lose. His face, what's not obscured by hair hanging down, is diamond-shaped, with a slightly pointed chin at the end of an angled face.
Eye Colour: Brown
Hair Colour/Style: Once his vanity, Jaime's hair has fallen into disarray. Choppy bangs still hang down into his face, but without access to a straightener or the motivation to fix his hair, it's returned to its natural state, slightly curly and held down by its own weight. He'd probably do more with it if it even grew anymore.
Skin Colour: What was once akin to creamy mocha has paled to a sickly sort of beige. What's left attached to bones, that is.
Clothing Style/Colours: Jaime, even in death, is a fan of slim-fit tees with v-necks. His absolute favorite shirt, and the one he's caught wearing most, is striped gray-and-black, and its color stops just above the gaping hole in his chest. He does his best to mend the tears in it, which appear with surprising frequency. He can't stand patches, so this manifests as plain stitches. His pants haven't received the same treatment. Probably because he doesn't think he'll ever get out of them. In the places where the slim black pant-legs have torn, exposed bone shows through.
Extra: A gaping hole sits in the middle of Jaime's chest, a remnant of the accident that killed him. He tries to cover it up with a shirt, and tries even harder to keep the fragments of free-swinging organs like his lungs and heart from falling out. His fingers are also covered with stitches, as he tries to keep at least some semblance of skin clinging to the bone.
References: NONE YET, BUT DOMI GONNA SEE WHAT DOMI CAN DO
