Gabby

Busker - It's not rare to find Gabby on the streets at odd hours performing tricks or singing, trying to earn a few bucks for a bite to eat.

Crazy? - Is she crazy? There are rumors around town that she might be. That she's often seen talking to herself. Those in the know may realize that she's not really talking to herself, however. Just plagued by an unusually large amount of ghosts.

Ghost-Crazy - There are so many. They seem to love her for some reason. Are you good with them? Maybe you can help.

Outsider - Nobody really knows her. She pops up at the community center every now and then, and there's a rumor that she lives in an apartment with some old lady, but nobody ever sees her with anyone else. It's very odd.

Memento Mori - With a little help from the sweet old Widow, Gabby is finally making her way out into the world on her own. She managed a loan and bought Memento Mori and the loft above it. If anyone can handle haunted artifacts, she's the girl for the job.

Gabby doesn't really know anything about her parents or where she was born. Honestly, she couldn't really tell you her real name. Her first memories are from the first orphanage that she ran away from after the third time they tried to beat the 'devil' out of her. She was born with these gifts, the powers to move things when she was angry, to make other people see things that weren't there. People would rationalize what they saw away, but the rational thought was always that she was a horrible child and she needed to go. She was only five, so she didn't get very far, so all it really meant was that she got sent to a different orphanage. Then to another home. She was bounced around like this for years, nobody understanding or wanting the weird, crazy child who talked to herself, and never grew out of the imaginary friend stage. By the time she'd hit eight years old, she realized she figured out that maybe she was better off by herself. Her real friends would help. The ones that people couldn't see.

Of course, things didn't get better for her as time passed. The older she got, the more trouble she'd get into whenever she was around other people. It's cute when a kid is talking to an imaginary friend, but when a teenager is doing it, it's clear they're either crazy or on drugs, and need to be put away. Gabby spent so much time running, living on the streets, learning how to just survive and to dodge the cops. She did have help, though. Those friends she knew would be there for her? They always were. And she made knew ones all the time. They were just drawn to her for some reason. And her to them. Of course, there were times that she could dodge the police, she'd get caught and end up in a pyche hold until they released her to the state and she was sent back into a home. Then it was back to running away. Rinse, wash, repeat.

She aged out of the system and began to travel the country, following the pull in her stomach. She let the ghosts and her intuition guide her to where she was meant to be. Eventually that led her to Gray Harbor. Now this was a place chalk full of new friends for her. New friends, and more power than she's every known that she had before. For once, she even made a friend out of flesh and blood, not that she can really tell the difference between ghosts and real people. A kind old widow saw what she was going through and was able to talk to Gabby's friends as well, invited them all to come and stay with her a little while. A little while ended up becoming years.

So many years in fact, that eventually the old woman passed away herself, leaving her home and savings to Gabby. To Gabby, nothing had changed. Not really. She was still there, still helping her through the trials of life. The only difference was that now she had to pay the bills for the old widow, and make sure everything was taken care of. Widow Jane was getting too old to take care of it herself, you see. So now it falls on her.

Average height at five foot four, with feminine curves, most of the attractive features of Gabby's form are covered by ill fitting clothes that were most likely purchased at a store along the lines of Good Will. She's in a pair of ratty jeans with tears that have been patched over with mismatched fabrics. She wears a olive green t-shirt beneath a checkered button down, and during the winter there's a heavy, wool coat on top of that. Her sneakers have seen better days, but seem to get her to and from, and the soles don't have enough ware and tear to both replacing just yet.

Though her clothes aren't the best, they are clean and smell freshly laundered. Her long, red hair is brushed neatly, and her nails are trimmed and clean. It'd be easy to mistake her for a street rat at first glance, but closer inspection might have someone doubting that first thought. Most people don't linger long enough to second guess that first instinct, however.