Abbey Windsor

Intro Video

My Story Is...

A B I G A I L . W I N D S O R
Born; Botany Bay Settlement, Sydney, Australia 1793
Current Residence; With him.
Current Relationship Status; Happily taken
Child/ren; 2, both deceased.
Job; “Butterfly” waitress at the Butterfly Lounge
Age; 29 {physically} – 225 {biologically}
Eyes; Vivid emerald
Hair; Unnaturally red
Weight; 113 lbs [Human] – Unknown [Wolf]
Height: 5’4” [Human] – 6’7” [Wolf]
Species; Shapeshifter-Hybrid


She hails from the arid lands of Australia, an island continent surrounded by vast unpredictable oceans and inhabited by everything that could possibly kill you. Including the Drop Bears.”


She was the first. A hybrid brought to the arid lands of Australia in the womb of her mother, a convict from Great Britain convicted of theft and prostitution. As heavy machinery replaced hands-on workers, more and more people were laid off from their jobs, meaning that more people turned to petty theft; stealing anything over one shilling – a day’s wages for a working person, the cutting down of trees in orchards or stealing livestock was punishable by transportation. Due to the overstocking of prisoners in the jails, many were sent packing, bound for Australia’s penal colonies and Botany Bay. Abigail’s birth came with complications. Her mother would survive the ordeal. But barely. For months after she would be kept under the watchful eyes of officers and a nurse, a gentle, able-bodied older woman with kind features and a heart-warming tone that settled even the most uneasy of nerves. Abigail was kept in a small carrier alongside her mother during her stay in the medical station of the camp. Conditions weren’t great and disease wiped out of a lot of the earlier convicts. A reasonably sized tent with a raised bed was given to Abigail’s mother along with a carrier. This made the other convicts green-eyed with jealousy. By the time Abigail was a year old, she was walking and starting to talk. Her red hair had thickened, the color a bright and unnatural shade and her green eyes were wide as she explored the world around her. By the time she was three, Abigail had developed much faster than the other children. Raised by her mother until her untimely death in ‘65, Abigail was left in the incapable hands of a woman that had traveled with them on the Prince of Wales, a transport ship that carried fifty convicts; one male and forty-nine females in total. Abigail would be conceived on this ship after one of the transport officers, a man named Josiah Windsor, repeatedly raped her mother then abandoned them once they’d made port. He was never to be seen again. Abigail was born less than a year after their arrival. Unlike her mother, Abigail was born with striking features; bright red hair, emerald green eyes and skin so pale it looked as though she’d been kissed by the moon itself. Her mother was nothing special and many of her fellow convicts wouldn’t bat an eyelash at her. But Abigail was something else.


All that pent up aggression is unleashed and the damage has often left her having to vacate her residence. It is because of her wolf that she tends to avoid relationships at all cost. With too many bridges burned and heartache caused by unfaithful and untrustworthy partners, she tends to keep to herself. Which is kind of the opposite seeing as the job requirements for being a Butterfly meant that  being flirtatious and overtly sexual was part of the job description. Thankfully she was just a waiter and not one of the other higher paying women that either went topless or opted to give men up close and personal lap dances. Her last lover had been the abusive sort; the kind that puts on a front that leaves one wondering just what he’s thinking about or getting up to. Before work colleagues and friends he was this ambitious, down to earth gentleman who worked hard and played harder. But at home, behind closed doors, he was a madman. Dangerous, easily angered, and unafraid to lay a hand upon a woman if ever she spoke back or raised her voice at him. Abbey had been his most recent victim.
…once a monster. Always a monster.a
the Southpaw Pack & the Shapeshifter
the Wolves of Botany Bay’s Convict Colony.
No one knows just how many shapeshifters stepped off the ships that year.  Abbey was one of the few born early in the colony. A number of other children were also born around the same time, some able to shift long before herself. They were more often than not taken from their parens and separated into stationed quarters for observation by officers and medical personel. Her abilities came at a young age, somewhere between three and five years old. She was being taunted by the other children, backed into the corner like a frightened animal, and then le poof. A shaggy, russet colored canine the size of a fully grown Tibetan mountain dog stood in her place, baring its teeth and snarling fiercely. The children, terrified, screamed and fled back to their parents and to alert the authorities. Eventually they trapped her and hauled her into a cage where she would shift back into the small, cowering child with bright red hair and otherworldly emerald green eyes. Thus began a life spent running. Unlike werewolves, she doesn’t need the moon to transform. In fact, it’s her uncanny ability to transform whenever and wherever that makes her a formidable opponent in a fight. She might be small and in some way disabled due to her encounter with the Wyrm spawn, Cobra, all those years back, but don’t assume that she is by any means weak. She can still kick a normal human’s ass with little effort. It’s the transforming stuff that has her beat. Every shift becomes more stiff, more painful. Eventually she won’t be able to shift at all – but that might not be for a few years yet.

My Appearance


Abbey’s spent most of her life getting ridiculed for her unnaturally red hair and vivid emerald green eyes. Her porcelain skin is milky and soft with the translucency of moonbeams. She stands roughly 5’4″ tall and weighs very little. Her figure is dainty; elegantly willowy limbs, petite shoulders (the left of which has been disfigured from an older injury), a slim torso that bleeds into a waspish waistline, narrowish hips and pencil legs. Her bust almost doesn’t look proportionate to the rest of her smaller physique. She’s covered in silvery, barely visible scars and upon the inside of her right groin area is a crescent moon-shaped birthmark.