OOC INFO
Name: ChurbooseAnon
Contact:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
churbooseanon
Other characters played here:![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
the_informant protective_logic
Age: Over 21
IC INFO
Name: Abigail
Native, OU, or AU: Native OC
Canon (if applicable): n/a
Character journal used:quicksmiles_nimblefingers
Reference (if applicable): n/a
Canon point (if applicable): n/a
Personality: There are things it's not easy to be after a girl is orphaned at the age of eight in the worst parts of the slums of Gulch. The first is cheerful. The second is alive. And yet here Abigail (and she'll judge you if you call her that: she's Abby to her friends and Gail only to her late mother) stands. Tall (for a petite girl), strong (for someone who probably can't lift half her body weight), and the sort of cheerful that is so bubbly that you can pump her personality into a bottle of flat soda and in ten minutes flat you've got all your carbon fizz back. Abby is pep and pizazz and true joy at living. At least, she is when you're looking.
Truth be told as bright and bubbly as she is at the flip of the switch, there's more than a smiling girl who practically bounces around you. You have to go deep for it, because she's cheer and sunshine most of the way through, but at the core she's a jaded, cynical, bitter teen. She hates the father she never knew. She's angry at the relatives who weren't there after her mother got sick and who didn't take her in after her mother died. Her heart goes out to other orphans and people scrambling to get by on the streets but she isn't going out of her way to help anyone because no one helped her. Her survival has been on her own hands, gained by learning quickly and being small enough to get into places people chasing her couldn't. She's also learned that her cheerful disposition seems to charm people, get them on her side, so she is more than willing to use it like a tool.
Still, trust is a difficult button for Abby. Trust has to be earned, and she rarely stays around long enough to get a name, much less grant a chance to earn her trust. People betray trust. People leave. People hurt you because they can or because they're to stupid or self-centered to avoid it or because they don't even notice you. So if they aren't going to help you... Well, Abby's more than happy to help herself. At their expense. With a cheerful smile and a pleasant joke and while she's bouncing away you should check for your wallet.
More than anything, though, she craves something she dare not put into words. Something impossible to achieve, something utterly intangible and elusive. Security. The certainty that when a cloud comes she'll have some place to ride it out. The assurance that when she needs to sleep at night it won't have to be with a knife in hand in the back of some dark alley. A promise that she won't go hungry or freeze in the streets or have to bounce from shelter to shelter and pray that her government issued helmet won't fail. Foster homes tried it for a bit when she was little, but Abby's more of a street kid, and for the longest time she's been on her own, dodging authorities and surviving by sheer force of will. And eventually, she knows that isn't going to be enough.
But for Abby? Well, if life is a game of survival that is rigged against you, better to go smiling into your doom than kicking and screaming. Maybe somewhere along the way you'll confuse the fates.
Back story: When she was seven years old Abigail (she can't remember her last name anymore), was the happiest girl ever. She lived in a wonderful house with the best mom ever and a wonderful doll with golden curls for hair and brilliant blue eyes that was supposed to have been a gift from her father. What she remembers is that her mother worked, though she doesn't know how. What she knows is that the walls were a sandy yellow that made her think of sunshine like you get on really clear days. What she lived was a life of poverty and the edge of homelessness, but her mother had never let her know how close they got.
Then her mom got sick. The day after Abby's eighth birthday she found her mother on their shared bed having a coughing fit, and ran off to find her uncle for help. He told her that her mother was sick and that she should go to the hospital. Which they couldn't afford. But Abby's mother went to the doctor after a few days of coughing, and when she came back Abby found that her relatives didn't visit anymore. Her mother lasted all of a month. Abby woke one morning to find her mother cold and still beside her, and stayed cuddled up against her, pleading for her to wake up for three days before the landlord arrived looking for the rent.
He didn't even bother to turn her over to CPS.
Truth be told Abby would not have lived out the year if it hadn't been for the fact that a shop keeper found her stealing a roll a few days later. The man called the cops, the cops called CPS, and so began Abby's time bouncing through the foster care system. Not that foster care amounts for much on Adaptive, or specifically in Gulch. Still it gave her a roof over her head, three semi-squares a day, and clothes. It wasn't much, but it was good enough and Abby just lived with the lack of stability for five years.
At thirteen she couldn't take it anymore. Her current foster family had taken her in two years before and clearly weren't using the money they got for her on her. Her clothes were old, her helmet bad, and lunches were barely a thing she took to school. So Abby started stealing. Bits from lunches. Supplies for school from school. Small things that escalated until she found someone had left their wallet on a table and she just took it. Finding the money therein, both in credit accounts and cred chips she decided to hell with foster homes. Not like they were good for her anyway. She could do on her own.
Since then Abby's been more of a floater. School is a waste of time, time that could instead be spent moving on the streets, lifting wallets and chips, conning people into a lunch or 'bus fare' and stealing meals from street carts in the strange open air stalls that seem to spring up in the inter-storm calms. Her home, if one can call it that, is really more of a den where she takes all her loot, where she manages her life, hidden in the back room of an old warehouse in the north of the city. The place seems mostly abandoned, and the back room has a functioning air filter. Sure she can't close the door to her room all the way when she leaves because she doesn't know how she'd get it open again, but that's a problem she's not borrowing trouble for. For now she's got her shelter, she's got a place to store her things, and she's got an income, meager as it is.
What else can a seventeen year old girl want? Clothes? She hit a mid-level boutique last week after sneaking into a school just before closing to shower off in the locker room. Food? Street vendors can't miss small amounts of wares, and it's amazing how much money you can get when you're a girl who hasn't even hit five foot crying at a bus stop because you lost your bus card and your house is across town. Family? She's still got her mother's locket, the only thing of value they had owned, and her doll from her father. What more could she need?
Friends?
Ha. Like you can trust people with your back when you're living on the streets.
Sample: Test Drive Meme
Name: ChurbooseAnon
Contact:
Other characters played here:
the_informant protective_logicAge: Over 21
IC INFO
Name: Abigail
Native, OU, or AU: Native OC
Canon (if applicable): n/a
Character journal used:
quicksmiles_nimblefingersReference (if applicable): n/a
Canon point (if applicable): n/a
Personality: There are things it's not easy to be after a girl is orphaned at the age of eight in the worst parts of the slums of Gulch. The first is cheerful. The second is alive. And yet here Abigail (and she'll judge you if you call her that: she's Abby to her friends and Gail only to her late mother) stands. Tall (for a petite girl), strong (for someone who probably can't lift half her body weight), and the sort of cheerful that is so bubbly that you can pump her personality into a bottle of flat soda and in ten minutes flat you've got all your carbon fizz back. Abby is pep and pizazz and true joy at living. At least, she is when you're looking.
Truth be told as bright and bubbly as she is at the flip of the switch, there's more than a smiling girl who practically bounces around you. You have to go deep for it, because she's cheer and sunshine most of the way through, but at the core she's a jaded, cynical, bitter teen. She hates the father she never knew. She's angry at the relatives who weren't there after her mother got sick and who didn't take her in after her mother died. Her heart goes out to other orphans and people scrambling to get by on the streets but she isn't going out of her way to help anyone because no one helped her. Her survival has been on her own hands, gained by learning quickly and being small enough to get into places people chasing her couldn't. She's also learned that her cheerful disposition seems to charm people, get them on her side, so she is more than willing to use it like a tool.
Still, trust is a difficult button for Abby. Trust has to be earned, and she rarely stays around long enough to get a name, much less grant a chance to earn her trust. People betray trust. People leave. People hurt you because they can or because they're to stupid or self-centered to avoid it or because they don't even notice you. So if they aren't going to help you... Well, Abby's more than happy to help herself. At their expense. With a cheerful smile and a pleasant joke and while she's bouncing away you should check for your wallet.
More than anything, though, she craves something she dare not put into words. Something impossible to achieve, something utterly intangible and elusive. Security. The certainty that when a cloud comes she'll have some place to ride it out. The assurance that when she needs to sleep at night it won't have to be with a knife in hand in the back of some dark alley. A promise that she won't go hungry or freeze in the streets or have to bounce from shelter to shelter and pray that her government issued helmet won't fail. Foster homes tried it for a bit when she was little, but Abby's more of a street kid, and for the longest time she's been on her own, dodging authorities and surviving by sheer force of will. And eventually, she knows that isn't going to be enough.
But for Abby? Well, if life is a game of survival that is rigged against you, better to go smiling into your doom than kicking and screaming. Maybe somewhere along the way you'll confuse the fates.
Back story: When she was seven years old Abigail (she can't remember her last name anymore), was the happiest girl ever. She lived in a wonderful house with the best mom ever and a wonderful doll with golden curls for hair and brilliant blue eyes that was supposed to have been a gift from her father. What she remembers is that her mother worked, though she doesn't know how. What she knows is that the walls were a sandy yellow that made her think of sunshine like you get on really clear days. What she lived was a life of poverty and the edge of homelessness, but her mother had never let her know how close they got.
Then her mom got sick. The day after Abby's eighth birthday she found her mother on their shared bed having a coughing fit, and ran off to find her uncle for help. He told her that her mother was sick and that she should go to the hospital. Which they couldn't afford. But Abby's mother went to the doctor after a few days of coughing, and when she came back Abby found that her relatives didn't visit anymore. Her mother lasted all of a month. Abby woke one morning to find her mother cold and still beside her, and stayed cuddled up against her, pleading for her to wake up for three days before the landlord arrived looking for the rent.
He didn't even bother to turn her over to CPS.
Truth be told Abby would not have lived out the year if it hadn't been for the fact that a shop keeper found her stealing a roll a few days later. The man called the cops, the cops called CPS, and so began Abby's time bouncing through the foster care system. Not that foster care amounts for much on Adaptive, or specifically in Gulch. Still it gave her a roof over her head, three semi-squares a day, and clothes. It wasn't much, but it was good enough and Abby just lived with the lack of stability for five years.
At thirteen she couldn't take it anymore. Her current foster family had taken her in two years before and clearly weren't using the money they got for her on her. Her clothes were old, her helmet bad, and lunches were barely a thing she took to school. So Abby started stealing. Bits from lunches. Supplies for school from school. Small things that escalated until she found someone had left their wallet on a table and she just took it. Finding the money therein, both in credit accounts and cred chips she decided to hell with foster homes. Not like they were good for her anyway. She could do on her own.
Since then Abby's been more of a floater. School is a waste of time, time that could instead be spent moving on the streets, lifting wallets and chips, conning people into a lunch or 'bus fare' and stealing meals from street carts in the strange open air stalls that seem to spring up in the inter-storm calms. Her home, if one can call it that, is really more of a den where she takes all her loot, where she manages her life, hidden in the back room of an old warehouse in the north of the city. The place seems mostly abandoned, and the back room has a functioning air filter. Sure she can't close the door to her room all the way when she leaves because she doesn't know how she'd get it open again, but that's a problem she's not borrowing trouble for. For now she's got her shelter, she's got a place to store her things, and she's got an income, meager as it is.
What else can a seventeen year old girl want? Clothes? She hit a mid-level boutique last week after sneaking into a school just before closing to shower off in the locker room. Food? Street vendors can't miss small amounts of wares, and it's amazing how much money you can get when you're a girl who hasn't even hit five foot crying at a bus stop because you lost your bus card and your house is across town. Family? She's still got her mother's locket, the only thing of value they had owned, and her doll from her father. What more could she need?
Friends?
Ha. Like you can trust people with your back when you're living on the streets.
Sample: Test Drive Meme
