Skill specialties:
1 - Crafts: Street Art
2 - Medicine: Inhalants
3 - Expression: Slogan

Often abuses Boneyard's area-sense so that he can paint because otherwise he would basically lose his mind; spends a lot of time obsessively visualizing what he'll make next. This makes him helpfully predictable to his geist.

Young adult with messy, poorly cropped black hair; he does it himself to awful effect because he launches into full-blown panic if someone else has sharp implement near his head. Skintone is a darker color vague enough that no one group would agree on what his ethnicity is. Always wears rather large sunglasses that block all sight of what's beyond them (yes, they wrap at the sides) to hide the remnants of mutilation that the geist didn't heal him of/possible drips of blood because goddangit weird ghost-y powers you're annoying. Dresses in exceedingly cheap clothes because hell if he cares, his body aesthetics are fucked so he's not gonna even try. Carries a cane because he kind of, y'know, needs it. Pathologically despises dogs so scoffs at the idea of a seeing-eye dog.

His Geist is the rattling of hundreds of anonymous bones, the collective rot and blood-soaked dirt of a literal human boneyard.

Memento:
Topsoil
Keystone: the Torn
Keys: Stillness, Stigmata
Skill:
Size:
Durability:

A small black drawstring pouch of dry, loose dirt with a strong metallic scent.

Other merits:
Anonymity: -1/dot to attempts to investigate character