Ainsley-Danika Winnifred Wynona Foster

[Ainsley Foster]

she lives in a fairytale, somewhere too far for us to find
forgotten the taste and smell of the world that she's left behind

character name: Ainsley-Danika Winnifred Wynona Foster, aka Ainsley Wynona Foster
significance: Okay, well if you know anything about Ainsley's parents, you'd realize that they aren't exactly the time to pour through baby books on name meanings. At least not when Ainsley was born. At first, she didn't even have a name. She was just referred to by her wonderful mother as "the bitch" for the first month of her life. I'm not even joking. But then, thankfully, daddy dearest decided the little baby little girl deserved a name. To this day, Ainsley doesn't have a clue which of her parents picked her name or why. And yes, she has two middle names and a hyphenated first name, officially. Clarisse, her mother, couldn't make up her mind, of course. More on this in her history but really, the only part of Ainsley's name that has any significance whatsoever is that Wynona was her grandmother's name. Otherwise... Come on. There wasn't much thought that went into naming this girl. I mean, really? "Ainsley-Danika Winnifred Wynona Foster"? Yeah, Ainse here is about one hundred percent sure that her mother was on some sort of pill-induced trip (she claims they're for her migraines but let's be realistic here, people) when she picked out her name. But seeing as Clarisse Foster is pretty much always on some sort of pill-induced trip, that's not saying much.

age: Twenty-one
gender: Girlie

hair & face: It could be said that Ainsley's face is heart-shaped, although she's always fancied it more to be round - on the rare occasion that she spends much time thinking about her face shape, that is. Nonetheless, everyone looks at themselves in the mirror fairly often so it makes sense that she'd have some sort of judgment. And a closer look at her reflection? Well, the first thing that you'd probably notice would be her tan skin - fairly light but with a definite olive tone that she gets from her father. She takes after him in most of appearance, really. Her petite nose and thin, perfectly pout-able lips are really the only qualities obviously inherited from her mother, as she posseses neither the translucent skin, pale freckles, bright green eyes, or fiery copper curls that made Clarisse Foster such a stand out in her youth. Instead, Ainsley has dark, chocolate-y eyes, framed by long, even darker lashes. They aren't so long as to draw attention immediately but the combination of their length and coloring makes it sometimes appear that she's wearing mascara when she's really not. And that's something that strawberry-lashed Clarisse was never able to say so ha. Her eyebrows are thin - she has takes a most peculiar enjoyment in tweezing them, sometimes verging on going too far when she was younger - and dark, like her hair. Oh, her hair. Naturally, it's quite curly - aha, there's one more thing she got from her dear old mother - but Ainsley's also become fond of straightening it recently. Nothing against her curls, she adores them, really, and finds that they suit her best, to be honest, but she also enjoys marvelling at how much lighter her hair feels when it's straight. It's not as if she has the time to straighten it every day though, especially since she has so much hair that it takes at least half an hour, but she does when she can. Really though, Ainsley is the sort of girl to just toss up all her crazy curls in a messy bun atop her head if she feels like it. I mean, hey, if she can pull it off, why not? 'Cause oh yes, this girl may be a bit uh unique with some of her hair or wardrobe choices but she's got the personality to pull it off. And as far as make-up goes, well, we've already gone over how she doesn't really need to wear mascara. Truthfully, her style of make-up tends to flip-flop between wearing hardly any or applying bright eyeshadow or red, red lipstick. She's always been content in her skin and doesn't feel the need to wear make-up but if she's got the time, she likes to play around with her appearance. After all, variety is the spice of life, my darlings.

build: Average. Average, average, average. It's funny that someone so anything-but-average could so average in any respect at all but when it comes to her height, it's true. She's five foot six and three quarters, pretty much perfectly average. 120 pounds, slim but not unhealthily skinny, yeah, she's average in that respect too. Her arms and legs are thin and fairly toned from yoga and other physical exercise - she loves going for runs around the city, just breathing in the pulse of it all. Yeah, she's pretty athletic, not obviously so, but strong enough. She's flexible too, extremely so. Helps with the yoga, that's for sure. As far as proportions go, she's got fairly long legs but her torso is just the right size. She's not flat-chested, no, small-chested would probably be the proper term. After all, average as she is, if the scales had to be tipped one way or the other, Ainsley is more petite than anything else, what with her not-exactly-outstanding height and slim figure. The height is something that can be easily solved by a good pair of heels though. Stilettoes are a bit treacherous but she loves dressing up, whether for fun or an actual occasion, and likes the boost they give her. She adores boots though, probably more than strappy shoes. Especially tall boots, ones that go up to or even over her knees. Those are the best. There's something so comfortable and unique and edging-on-old-fashioned about them that just suits her style perfectly. Not that Ainsley really has one particular style. It's sort of a mix of everything that she finds interesting. Pouffy skirts, corset tops - she tried on some of her mother's actual corsets when she was younger and loves them, oh gosh, so much - lots of lace, tall boots, wool hats or stylish little hats she can tilt to the side, yeah, she pretty much loves all kinds of hats. She pairs anything with anything and usually manages to make it work. The trick, really, is that you just have be just as crazy or eccentric or unique as the clothes you wear. And Ainsley? Yeah, she definitely is.

other notable physical characteristics: anything else we should know about your character’s physical appearance that was not listed above?

face claim: Nina Dobrev

god/goddess: The sneaky one. The trickster god. Loki, as he was called in Norse mythology, is said to have been so mischevious that he tricked his way into becoming a God, being the mere son of two Giants. He is commonly depicted as playing tricks on the Gods - the first anti-hero of mythology, some call him. He is cunning and had the ability to change his shape and sex, earning him the title of the shapeshifter. Although he was often represented as a companion of Odin and Thor, he usually caused more trouble for the Gods than he actually helped. However, as time wore on, Loki is said to grown nastier and nastier, finally going too far when he caused the death of the god Baldr. The Gods punished him by binding him with the entrails of one of his sons and allowing a serpent to drip venom onto him, causing him to writhe in pain. He is trapped in this eternal punishment until the Ragnarok - "The Destruction of the Powers", known as the end of the world and the doom of the Gods - arrives. But as the Gods must be discovering, even this eternal imprisonment can't stop the great Trickster God from wreaking a little havoc here and there. You just can't stop him. And because of that, well, we've got Ainsley here.

likes:
+ Creativity
+ Things that are one-of-a-kind
+ Being outside
+ Stretching
+ Bright colors
+ Animals
+ Hiccups
+ Quirks
+ Far-fetched stories
+ Fantasy
+ Lace
+ Thigh-high boots
+ Bright make-up
+ Elbow-length gloves
+ Acrynaline skirts
+ The color turquoise
+ Vintage
+ Newspapers
+ Old books
+ Leather belts
+ Corsets
+ Elaborate hair-clips
+ Puzzles
+ Pouffy dresses
+ Hats of all kind
+ Bracelets that jingle
+ Dark, over-the-top lipstick
+ Telling tales
+ Scones
+ Cucumber sandwiches
+ Scarves
+ Ribbons
+ Strappy sandals
+ Calligraphy
+ Singing
+ Old record players

dislikes:
- "Going with the flow"
- Followers
- Seriousness
- Bland, boring food
- Repetitive music
- Pouffy winter jackets
- White chocolate
- Jeans, so uncomfortable
- Purposely ripped jeans
- Pants, in general (skirts and dresses preferred)
- People who are always in a rush
- Ponytails
- Drugs
- Plain coffee
- Montone voices
- Teachers
- Parents
- "Seeing is believing"
- Labels
- Rules
- Control freaks
- Narrow-minded people
- Pushovers
- Doctors
- Feeling trapped indoors
- The fact that Manhattan is a grid
- Stifling creativity
- Limitations
- Stress
- Stress-relievers
- Tea, of any kind
- Medicine, vaccines, etc.
- Schedules
- Her full name
- Anything "boring"
- People who always need answers/explanations
- People who try and press their religion on others

hobbies:
• Yoga - she finds it extremely relaxing and appreciates the general philosophies behind it
• Reading - oh gosh, this girl devours books, reading was a major way she kept herself occupied when she was growing up
• Perusing vintage shops - yes, those are her absolute favorite spots to find clothes, since, in her opinion, fashion was just so much more interesting in older days
• Singing - it's not as if she's aspiring to be a pop star or anything like that, nah, she doesn't even really like pop, but she's got a good voice - surprisingly low - and sings sometimes at cafés
• Growing plants - she doesn't exactly have a garden anymore now that she's living in the city but she likes growing a few small plants in pots on the window ledge, she's got quite the green thumb

personality:

Highs and lows. That's probably the most obvious thing about Ainsley. Oh yes, she can be a perkly little thing when she's all hyped up and excited about something but it doesn't take much to send her crashing down into sullenness. Just an after-effect of growing up in the house she did, where her mood usually revolved around her motehr's crazy moods - at least until she'd gotten old enough to be a bit more level-headed, so to speak, and ignore Clarisse Foster's ups and downs. Just take 'em with a grain of salt, like always. But not the point. The point... Oh, she doesn't really care anymore. That's another thing. Her attention span is just horrid. Little things catch her eye and then she's off in la-la land until a new shiny something pops up. That's not completely fair, though. When it comes to studies, sure, but Ainsley's pretty good at focusing on a person if she actually cares. Then again, most people are kinda just... there, as far as she sees it. Her father was always away for work whenever he had the change to escape and her mother would shut herself in her room for weeks before randomly appearing and announcing a trip into the city to do some shopping - when the pill-induced chipper mood finally kicked in. And on all those other days, Ainsley would fend for herself, playing with all her imaginary pets - not that she knew they weren't actually there - and getting used to the fact that her Mum and Dad were sometimes there and sometimes not. And that's sorta how she views everyone now. Come and go, go and come, whatever. You there, maybe she'sll see you again tomorrow or maybe not but you're here now and that's really all she can focus on.

Not that she's an airhead or anything. Gosh no, nothing could be farther from the truth! ...Okay, that's a lie. There are many things that could be farther from the truth, especially since Ainsely acts so spacey all the time. But she's smart. Ooh, yes, wicked smart really. Just not in the same way that most people are smart? And ha, yeah, normally someone would just say that to cover up with unintelligence but in Ainsley's case it's true. She stores away so much in her pretty little head, random little facts, people's names, locations, dates of important events, tidbits of information about other people that she finds interesting - but aha, that's the key. She remembers things that she finds interesting, although sometimes she does tend to find the most random things 'interesting'. But if she's not captivated? Ehh, don't expect her to remember something. Her tutors always had a horrid time trying to get any little facts wedged in between her ears and more than one of them accused her of having nothing but empty space where her brain should have been, even if they sometimes put it more tactfully than that. I mean, ouch. That's a bit harsh. And not true! She's smart, and screw you if you don't realize that. Well, actually, no, she couldn't care less. What people think of her isn't exactly up there on her list of what matters. It amuses her more than anything. She's used to people finding her a little odd - eccentric, dare we say? That's putting it lightly. But hey, cut the girl some slack. She grew up practically all by herself, with only an absentee father, a mother who locked herself away in her room, and tutors that came and went and came and went as fast as Clarisse saw fit to fire and re-hire them. Which was really just whenever she remembered they existed. But yeah, seriously. Ainsley, here? She's almost like a feral child. Well... no, okay she's not. That's an exaggeration but hey, she likes those. Oh gosh, does she ever like those.

Yeah, she's one of those "tale-tellers". Call her a compulsive liar if you will but she prefers to see it - well, whenever she decides to take a look at herself but let's be honest, being introspective? Not really her thing. It's the outside world that fascinates her so much - as telling elaborate stories that are waaaay more interesting than the truth. Reality is just... boring, so much of the time. We're not gonna live forever and would you rather spend two minutes listening to her babble on about how she accidentally bumped her knee against her desk when she getting ready and that's why she has a bruise or would you prefer to hear about she tripped over a fairy ring of toadstools and now she's going to have bad luck for the next thirteen-odd years according to... Well, the 'according to' doesn't matter because really, she's making it all up. Either spouting off stuff she's read in fantasies or just going with whatever she comes up with off the top of her head. It gets annoying, sure, trying to get anything out of her, especially since she tells it all with a straight face. There's no giggling or twitching lips to indicate that yes, she's aware that this is all ridiculous and of course she made it up. Ainsley talks the same way when she's telling the "truth" - not that that happens often, at least not by most people's definition of the truth - as she does when she's telling her stories. So yeah. It's frustrating, to say the least. But honestly, stories are more interesting than the truth. Seriously. Although, in fairness, it's not like she's completely blind to the world around her. Oh no, quite the opposite. She's the sort of person who zeroes in on random details, who points out how pretty the spiral a certain leaf is making as it falls from the tree or how the crack in the sidewalk looks a bit like a lightning bolt if you stop and look at it from this angle. Of course, most people in New York don't like it if you randomly stop walking in the middle of the sidewalk. Yeah, she's learned that, not that it stops her. You'd think she'd want to move somewhere else, but no, she loves the city. She loves the beat, the fast hustle, and the energy of it, even if that makes her and her "slow down and smell the roses" philosophy a bit hypocritical. But that's not really her thing. She just points out random things sometimes, being appreciative of the little things, you could say. Hey, you don't live forever.

And besides, Ainsley's full of contradictions so it should be no surprise that she loves the hurried beat of NYC as much as she loves the laziness of sitting out in the middle of nowhere with a good book. She's anything but predictable, that's for sure. She likes being full of surprises, she likes doing the unexpected, and she likes catching people off guard. It's all part of her charm - the wide-eyed sincerity with which she delivers the most far-fetched lies, the believably serious tone she adopts when relaying the most crazily untrue news. See, people expect her to lie, though, that's the problem. Well, people who have known her for more than three seconds. It's a real shame, honestly, considering that Ainsley is an excellent liar. If she's actually trying to tell a lie, pass off an untruth as a truth, she can be exceptionally deceiving. Hey, it's her birthright, really. The only problem is that everything that comes out of her mouth is so ridiculous that it doesn't really matter how convincing she is or isn't. She always seems like she's lying, therefore rendering her great skills rather moot. Honestly. She's not annoyed, though. She doesn't really care what anyone thinks of her and when they judge her incorrectly, it amuses her more than anything. Hey, it's much more enjoyable to laugh that it is to be annoyed for no reason. So she does. She laughs. It probably just annoys people more, having her laugh at them for reasons they don't understand but really, they shouldn't feel too bad. Ainsley herself is rather impossible to understand. It's nothing personal, it's just who she is and she's never going to change. Or well, she will, because change is exciting, but she'll always be just as impossible and just as impredictable because there are some things that don't change, even if she might not like that idea. There are some things that are just inherent. And genes? Ha, yeah, those would be one of them.

The most important thing about Ainsley is that she's completely her own person. You'll never meet someone else as contradictory and unusual and just plain weird. She's wicked smart but only focuses if she feels a particular interest and well... that's really the key to everything with Ainsley. Interest. It's not like she has any specific rules about what interests her - nah, she's not a big fan of rules, really - and it's not like there's anything that her interests have in common. She couldn't explain it and I can't really put it on a finger either. It's a vibe, though, an ever-changing vibe that catches her attention, and this applies to objects, items of clothing, pieces of information, and, of course, people. So many people are just faces in crowd but Ainsley isn't by any means and she's not really interested in those people. Of course, she knows that people have layers and she finds it extremely interesting to peel them back... But only if there's something underneath that's worth it. Some people catch her eye, others don't. Some people catch her attention for a while, others only for a second. She can't explain it. Her interests are always flitting around and she never really makes up her mind about anything. Opinions are interchangable - she can say one thing one minute and then completely change her mind the next as if it's the most natural thing in the world. She doesn't see why people feel the need to stick to anything longer than they absolutely want to - and that's one of the reasons she usually doesn't hold a job for too long. Call her a dreamer, say that she's got her head way up in the clouds and maybe she's unrealistic, say whatever you want. Time flies and there's no point in being alive if you're not going to do what you want, play by your rules and just... live.

character’s parents:
Clarisse Danielle Foster - 64
- ditzy, pill-popping, coming-down-with-dementia, selfish little bitch

Edmund "Eddie" Thomas Foster - 69
- quiet, follower, absentee father, businessman, devoted to his wife

siblings:
Melissa Rebecca Hayden - 46
- studious, quiet, smart, maintains slight contact with her parents but never did with Ainsley

Peter Baumegarde Foster - 45
- lawyer, determined, intelligent, has no contact with his parents or Ainsley

other family members of note:
James Matthew Foster - 75
- Ainsley's uncle; the guy that Clarisse was supposed to marry

Kaitlyn Elizabeth Hayden - 25
- Melissa's daughter, Ainsley's "niece" technically, more like a cousin due to ages, Ainsley's lively, spirited roommate

history:

Ainsley Foster was never supposed to be born. No, really. There were so, so many reasons for this and yet, against all odds, here she is today, a freak of chance. Or really just a freak, depending on how you want to look at it. But the point is, had everything gone according to plan, there never would have been a Miss Ainsley-Danika Winnifred Wynona Foster. No siree, there would have just been a big gap in the universe where this feisty dark-haired little beauty should have been. There would have been this teensy little hole in the cosmos and the world would have been minus one less trippy prima donna strutting her stuff around. Shame, eh? Ainsley certainly thinks so. Or at least, she does when she bothers to consider all that "destiny" stuff. Fate schmate. She's here so who cares how she got here? We've already established that Ainsley's not a thinker by any means so it's not like she spends all her spare time contemplating the value of life and how ridiculously random her own existence is. And if she did she'd just chalk it down to having a fickle, entitled slut of mother who also happened to be pretty goddamn lucky, a dad who couldn't resist a pretty girl even if she was as far off-limits as they come, and parents who just kinda sucked at remembering the whole birth control thing. Whoopsies daisies. Of course, it's not like she knows that she should really thank a certain devious Norse god for her existence. But her parents don't know that either. They thought they were done having kids and then bam, her mom was pregnant. And then what could they do, there was the pretty littly storky dropping off Ainsley in a bundle on their doorstop. Oh please, she knows the birds and bees, even if her momsy dearest preferred to focus on the birds. Yeah. The whole spiel about the stork was definitely one that Ainsley heard a few times as a kid. Caused a shitload of arguments between her parents but hey, they're crazy so it's not like she cares. Although really, people wonder why she's so fucked up? Everything's genetic, darling. The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. That sort of crap. Take a look at the branch above on the family tree. Crazy parents equal crazy daughter, duh. Nevermind that none of Ainsley's siblings turned out quite so... interesting, shall we say? They're all boring and who cares about them anyway? This is Ainsely's story, silly, and surprisingly, big bro and sis don't feature in it much. 'Cause frankly, she couldn't give a shit about them. But seeing as this is getting a bit confusing and most people tend to think chronologically instead of all over the place like scatterbrained, absentminded Ainsley here, let's take a few steps back here. To the beginning. Where were we? Oh right.

Ainsley Foster was never supposed to be born. Not really the most promising legacy but hey, she's heard it quite a bit. Nevermind that most parents wouldn't really say things like that to their kid. Ainsley's parents are crazy loons so they're not really "most parents" as it is, no? But alright, time for introductions. You've got Edmund Foster. He's the daddy figure here. And the biological daddy too, of course, nothing weird going here, nope nope nope. So Edmund? Well, most people call him Eddie. Clarisse calls him Eddie. And as far as Clarisse as concerned, she's always right and everyone should follow along. So everyone calls him Eddie. But who's Clarisse? Ah, right! She's Ainsley mummy. The woman who had baby Ainsley growing inside of her for "nine torturous months of aches and pains and kicks that made me want to scream and cut myself open and just yank you out and get it over with." Those are her words, of course. Also words that Ainsley became quite familiar with growing up. She could recite them back to you, any day, what with the amount of times she's heard her mother screech them down the stairs at her. Down the stairs because whenever Clarisse is upset, she locks herself in her room and screams at the rest of the family until her voice is hoarse. And holy smokes, do they ever brief a sigh a relief when that happens. "They" being Eddie and Ainsley. Melissa and Peter would have done the same, probably, but who knows. Clarisse wasn't quite so crazy when she was raising her first two children. She was never what anyone would term "normal", no, and she's always been a self-absorbed little bitch but she wasn't quite crazy until Ainsley came along. Another thing that she blames on her youngest. Another thing that this youngest here had to put up with hearing almost every day of her life from when she was born to... well, has she ever stopped? Huh. Not really, no. As previously mentioned, Clarisse is kinda a bitch, and a self-centered one at that. She's always been that way. When she was a little girl, she always had to be the center attention and she always had to get whatever she wanted when she wanted it. We all know those sort of girls. And her parents, Amy and Alec Baumegarde, were your classic, snobby, practically-considered-themselves-damn-nobility, rich elitists, and let their daughter get away with whatever she wanted. She was their only child and therefore the most spoiled little thing in the world. Too spoiled. See, not only was a Clarisse a stuck-up little princess, but she was also wild beyond control. This would be proved when she was seventeen years old and her parents decided it best to arrange a marriage with a wealthy businessman who'd become a friend of the family. James Foster was twenty-eight and had no sense of humor whatsoever. But oh, how Clarisse was fond of his younger brother, who at twenty-two was much closer to her in age. His name was Edmund.

Yep. That's right. In a move that really takes the cake, Clarisse strung everyone along until the day of the wedding when - in front of the entire assembled crowd - she announced that she was running away with Edmund and they were going to elope. Imagine the surprise. Her grandmother actually had a heart attack. On the spot. Of course, in the years to come, Clarisse would always say that that had nothing to do with her. But come on. Everyone was appalled and shocked and while they were flailing around and panicking, she was running over to Edmund and kissing him, for all the world to see. They'd been carrying on an affair of sorts in the months that they'd known each other but he'd never imagined that anything would come of it. Clarisse was the perfect little temptress and he simply couldn't resist her girlish laughter and her pretty red curls and when she would sneak a kiss behind the bushes, of course he would kiss her back because she was beautiful and she was forbidden and therefore impossible to resist. But despite the many, many sweet nothings that she'd whispered to him, Edmund had never imagined that anything would come of their little trysts. But Clarisse fancied herself in love with him and she fancied herself a modern, powerful woman. Like those pretty dancers - what were they called? Flappers? Yes, they were much more what she wanted to be than some perfect little wife to this boring English guy. So. She told everyone that they were getting married, yadda yadda yadda, most people were too shocked to say anything. And then she skipped off with Edmund and they eloped - her dearest daddy wasn't exactly in the mood to throw another wedding for her, although the fact that she missed out on having an "actual, big, white wedding" remains a sore spot to this day, always ready to be brought up in her fighting with Edmund, to be hurled accusingly at him with tears in her eyes... as if it was his fault. But anways. There's nowhere near enough time in the world to list off all the many things Clarisse and Eddie Foster argue about so let's skip that and get back to the story. They ran off into the sunset, they lived happily ever after, however you want to put it. Clarisse got knocked up only a few weeks after their elopement and nine months later, they welcomed a beautiful baby girl. Melissa Christina Foster, she was dubbed, and Clarisse was an ecstatic new mother. Eddie was just thanking the lord that her pregnancy was over. Clarisse was impatient and self-centered and melodramatic enough as it was without all the hormones kicking in and making it even more impossible to stand her. Seriously. The guy deserved some serious applause for putting up with her through those tortuous months. He deserved an award for having to deal with it again when she became pregnant when Melissa was only three months old. Not only was there a baby to be taken care of - and please, did it look like Clarisse was the world's most adept mother? - but now she was pregnant and hormonal and whiney - well, whinier - all over again. But even that was nothing. Baby Peter was born and they raised their two kids somewhat normally and sent them off into the big bad world.

Meanwhile, the trickster God Loki was also experiencing the badness of the world, trapped in his eternal punishment. However, despite being confined, he still had a few tricks up his sleeves. While his wife, Sigyn, who collects the serpent's venom in her bowl, would sleep at night, he would breathe a little bit of himself into a single apple seed he had managed to find in the dirt. He was a shape shifter, after all, and so he went on, breathing a little more and more of himself into the apple seed night after night until he was satisfied that he had breathed enough. His son, the wolf Fenrir, carried the apple seed far, far away, and - as his father had requested - planted it in a field where it slowly grew into an apple tree, which bore only one apple. See, Loki may have been captured and prevented from going around the world playing his destructive tricks, but that couldn't lessen his love of mischief. And what could be more amusing than to play the ultimate trick on some poor mortal, some poor woman would be foolish enough to eat the apple from his tree - how wonderfully symbolic, too - and who would then bear his child. And what a delightfully tricky child it would be. So now, I'm sure it's obvious where the story is going. Clarisse Foster was out horse-back riding one day when she came to an apple tree which she didn't remember seeing before. It didn't appear to be in fruit but then she saw the apple. Just one apple. And then? She ate it. She ate the apple from the tree and the rest, my dears, is history. Yeah, with her two children - the only two she'd ever planned on having - all grown up, Melissa twenty-five and Peter twenty-four, and she herself forty-three, Clarisse discovered that... Yeah.

She was pregnant again.

Poor Eddie. Poor, poor Eddie.

You see, Clarisse had really only gotten more unbearable as she aged. And for all of you wondering - and I'm guessing that's nearly everyone, really - why Eddie never just divorced her and took off, running as far away as he possibly could? Well, he loved her. She was absolutely insane and impossible... but he loved her. So he stuck around, even though he'd long ago lost his job in his father's company - yeah, the family wasn't so pleased with him for stealing his brother's fiancée - and they lived in an old, falling apart estate outside of Westchester County, New York, that had been left to them by Clarisse's grandmother - not the one that had the heart attack, obviously, her father's mother. The house was quite a relief, really, seeing as Clarisse's parents had taken away her inheritance and all. Yeah. Neither the Baumegardes or the Fosters Senior had been all too pleased by Clarisse and Eddie's union. To say the least. Duh. But they'd coped and they'd raised Melissa and Peter and they were gone and... Now Clarisse was pregnant again. They'd both settled in to their lives sans kids and now... Now they got to go through it all over again. Whoop dee doo. Clarisse was almost hysterical. She didn't even bother pretending that she was excited about this baby. "Unplanned miracle" my ass. Oh hell no. But yes. Eventually, the little baby girl was born to the "happy couple". Yay. Clarisse had always been hormonal and had a tough time with pregnancy but she was at her worst with this one. Postpartum, really. And not just a little bit. A few weeks after the little girlie was born, Eddie caught Clarisse trying to drown their baby daughter- who, due to such a traumatic pregnancy, a ridiculously long labour - go figure - and all the other hecticness, still had no name and was pretty much just referred to as "the bitch" by Clarisse - in the bathtub. Fortunately - well, fortunately for the baby, anyways - he was able to stop her and calmed her down and calm the baby down and put her safely in her crib. God bless that man. He was definitely the more normal of the pair and Ainsley's certain that she wouldn't still be alive to this day had he not been around. No, really. It's not even exaggeration - she'd definitely be dead by now. Even if the whole "let me just drown you in this conveniently place bathtub, you bitch" thing hadn't worked, so many other things throughout her life could have done the trick. Now, that's not the say that Clarisse was out to murder her daughter or anything that insane. She was just all portpartum and depressed and insane when the bathtub incident occured. Everything else was more due to negligence than any mal intent.

But back to the baby days. Eventually - maybe about a month or so after she was born? - Eddie decided that their little girl deserved a name. That's to say, he finally got fed up with Clarisse and they fought for days, she locked herself up in her room, he persuaded her to come down, and he got her excited about choosing a name. Ainsley's not really sure which of her parents picked her name. On the days when Clarisse is feeling particularly in love with in, she'll boast of her good taste. And then when she's mad at Eddie over something trivial - which is almost always, let's be honest - she points out what a horrible man he is for giving their little girl such an ugly name. Gee. Thanks, Mum. Unfortunately for Ainsley, her dad's never told her the truth about which of them picked her name. He may argue constantly with Clarisse but he does love her and he's otherwise a quiet guy - perhaps that's it, she's the only one that really brings him out of his shell - and lets Clarisse take the credit wherever she wants to. Which is pretty much everywhere. As for Ainsley's middle names though, to get back on topic - 'cause honestly, this girlie's just terrible on staying on topic, oh lord, the smallest things distract then and she's off on the most random of tangents that usually leave whoever she's talking to - if they haven't just wandered away by now - standing there with a rather stunned look on their face as they try to process what the hell- Ahem. Back on topic, missy. That's right. Middle names. She's got two or three. It's complicated. Officially, her two middle names are "Winnifred" and "Wynona". But then again, "officially", her first name is "Ainsley-Danika". Why in the world? Well, isn't it obvious? Clarisse couldn't pick. Just like she couldn't pick one middle name. Of course, sometimes when she's telling the story - usually, this occurs when it serves as ammunition of some sort in a tirade about what a loving, wonderful mother and wife she's been and how neither Ainsley or Eddie deserve her in the first place - she'll say that she liked Ainsley but Eddie preferred Danika or sometimes it's that he liked them both and he's the indecisive one or sometimes the story goes that "Ainsley-Danika" is actually the name of some Queen from centuries forgotten so sheesh, Ainsley could be a little more appreciate of her mother's good taste instead of rolling her eyes, you stop that, missy! Yeah. But Ainsley's used to her mother's tendancy to tell a story differently every time. Hey, it makes it exciting. In fact, she's sort of picked up the trait. Not to say that she's a compulsive liar, but she does enjoy embellishing stories in their retelling. And okay, maybe she'll occasionally spout off random lies out of the blue. But that has more to do with the fact that she's just so random. A freak of chance, remember?

Of course, back to the name thing one last time: It's not like she actually goes by that mouthful. Oh sheesh, no. As far as she's concerned, it's just "Ainsley Wynona Foster" - Wynona was the name of her grandmother who left them the house, but died before Ainsley was born, and she just likes the sound of it more than "Winnifred" - no matter what her birth certificate says. Actually... did her parents even send in for an actual birth certificate once they named in? Is there any documentation whatsoever of Ainsley-Danika Winnifred Wynona Foster? Oh who knows. Probably not. Kinda funny, imagining that she doesn't really exist. It's not like she ever went to public school or anything, oh, heavens no. Clarisse didn't see the point and decided on "home-schooling" in a whim. Right. Oh, kill her now. Just get it over with, quick. Ainsley endured a week of her mother's attempt at teaching before a tutor was hired. Clarisse pointed out that that was the proper way that all the rich families did it. Not that the Fosters were rich, not by any means imaginable, but hey, Clarisse had been raised that way and she liked to pretend sometimes. Oh, who am I kidding. She liked to pretend all the time. She liked to pretend that the rundown estate, more in need of renovations than pretty much any other house in the county, was actually a castle in which she was Queen. She liked to pretend that they had all the fortunes in the world and there was nothing wrong with prancing off to London for a week to go shopping, buying all the inexpensive things she couldn't actually afford. Not like she even did anything to earn money. Oh, good gracious, no. That was Eddie's job. He could do his... business-y... management... whatever it was that he did - work talk bored Clarisse so it wasn't as if she ever discussed it with him or cared - and she was content to spend all the money he made. What a lovely partnership, no? Surprisingly enough though, this quality of make-believe drew Ainsley closer to her mother. The only fond memories that she really has of spending time with her involve the two of them dressed up in old ball gowns, dancing around the house, or out in town, trying in all the latest fashions and adopting haughty French accents. See, that's the thing about Clarisse. She's an absolutely horrid woman. But she's got this infectious sparkle, this vibrant energy that can be resisted. She's alive and no one can deny that. This was mostly true in her youth though and it's not like Ainsley here was around to see any of that. So the moments in which any of that shone out of Clarisse were few and far between. But they're the only fun times Ainsley ever had with her mother. Kind of sad, really. That the only time she ever felt a connection with her own mother was when they were pretending to be other people, with other lives.

Then again, when was Ainsley not "pretending", so to speak? From a very young age - it all started when she was only two - she spent so much of her time in the garden, playing with her friends. Her puppy, Rufus; her kitten, Deedee; her tiger cub, Fiery; her rabbit, Bunny... the list goes on and on. Except, here's the important thing. To any observer, Ainsley just ran around all by herself, talking to the air around her and giggling and whispering conspiratorally to no one. Yeah. All her friends? They weren't "real". But so what? Eddie and Clarisse didn't care, they just chalked it down to Ainsley having an overactive imagination. They just figured she was lonely, out here in the countryside with no siblings or other children to play with, and so she'd made up some imaginary friends. But that wasn't really the case. Ainsley wasn't making anything up. She saw all of her friends, and not just like other children "see" their imaginary friends. You see, where other kids were making up friends due to loneliness or whatever, Ainsley was experiencing full-blown hallucinations. From the age of two. What was it? Schizophrenia? Some other mental disorder? Some sort of effect of her more-than-merely human genes? Who knows. No really. Her parents don't have a clue. They eventually did realize that something was perhaps wrong but hey, nothing wrong with Ainsley being unique. They were too relaxed and too uninvested in raising this girl - after having already raised two other kids - to really care or worry much. So Ainsley grew up playing with her hallucinations in fantasy worlds which seemed oh so real. As she did grow up, though, those worlds began to be lost a little. Her hallucinations became less all-enveloping. It became more and more rare for her to actually see herself in a completely different location and she mostly she played with her pets. Rufus, Deedee, Fiery, and Bunny were the most common ones, the ones that were almost always there when she was playing outside in the garden or down by the river. It kinda creeped other kids out though, on the rare occasions that they had visitors - this occured maybe... five times? in all her years of living in that house. They couldn't see her pets and she was so... weird. She would sit there with wide, unblinking eyes, and stare at them until they were uncomfortable and she'd be petting the air above her lap as if something was sitting there but really, nothing was there. What the hell, right? So yeah, Ainsley never really had any friends. The only people in her life were her mum and her dad and whoever her tutor-of-the-week was - Clarisse argued with them frequently over silly things or found them to be unsatisfactory and was constantly firing and rehiring them. She did like to live like she was richer than she was, after all.

But yeah, tutors. Ainsley never went to school like most kids, nope. Somehow, Clarisse managed to get it approved that Ainsley was being "homeschooled" and hey, it sort of worked. Ainsley took all the tests she needed to and she was a smart enough girl that her education seemed to be working. Clarisse hired the best teachers to come and homeschool her - even if yeah, they really couldn't afford it but hey, if you're debt you might as well dig yourself deeper... according to Clarisse, at least - and she learned the proper curriculums and took the proper exams and all was surprisingly well on the education front. Most of that had to do with Ainsley's high aptitude though. And in any case, she only had to deal with it until she was sixteen. That's when she got her high-school degree, having been able to move through the curriculum at a quicker speed with her home-schooling - this was really the only time and area that she ever truly applied herself and focused and tried hard, and only because she needed to- and decided to run away. Yeah, hence absolutely needing her high school degree. She may be a bit spacey but she's not an idiot and if she was going to get a job, she'd need that much at least. But anyways, yes, oh, such a cliché, yeah, the sixteen year-old runaway. But come on. Her mom was a legitimately-psycho bitch and her dad was never around. And when he was around, he drank and drank and drank just so he could put up with Clarisse. Not exactly the best home environment, to say the least. Melissa and Peter were smart in getting out of there and they never really looked back. They knew they had a younger sister, yeah, but they didn't really know her and on the rare times that either of them met Ainsley, they were a bit freaked out by her. They went on to have their own families and their own kids. Melissa's oldest daughter, Kaitlyn, was even four years older than Ainsley. Sort of screws up the fact that Ainsley's technically her aunt but they just refer to each other as cousins. Because yeah, Kaitlyn - more commonly known as Katie - is the one family member Ainsley really has contact with. And lots of it now. See, Katie grew up outside of New York City but moved to the city when she got accepted into the theatre program at NYU. She lived in residence for the first two years and then got her own apartment. Ainsley, meanwhile, ran away from her parents when she was sixteen, hopped on a train into the city with the little money she had, and managed to seek out her "niece", who she'd only met once when she was two years old. Melissa hadn't really gotten along great with her parents either but Katie had always been curious about her aunt who was four years younger than herself. When Ainsley showed up outside her apartment and asked if she was looking for a roommate - assuring her that she would pay her share of the rent - she welcomed her with open arms. Ainsley got a job at the coffee shop under their apartment and worked there for a while but she's bounced around between a few jobs in the past five years, currently working as a yoga instructor. University is something she sort of likes the idea of but just can't afford whatsoever, especially since she needs to work in order to pay rent. But she doesn't particularily mind. She and Katie are pretty close and even if she's often pretty damn broke, she's still comfortable enough. After all, she's Ainsley Foster. She's always just sort of floated along in her own reality. Oh, and the hallucinations? They're rare now but they still happen from time to time, and when they do, she can never really tell. That's the scary thing, never being completely sure if what she's seeing is something that other people can see or not. So it's really not an exaggeration by any means to say that Ainsley Wynona Foster lives in her own world.

Always has, always will.

password: SPOCK!
username: Bee!
gender: Girlie
age: My inner Gossip Girl says "That's one secret I'll never tell" ;) Bahaha, I kid, I kid, but let's just go with that.
other characters you play: Brigitte Babineaux

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[Freyja]

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