Verity Sharpe
"Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back."
Verity Sharpe was born a woman; any so-called 'evidence' to the contrary supported by her family, her friends, medical records in any medium analog or digital, testimony from witnesses, and even signed and notarized affidavits attesting to a differing claim are all ruled as inadmissible in this court. There is no appeal on this immutable fact and the fact that opposing counsel even raised it only serves to prove that you are wasting the court's time. Should this continue I will have no choice but to find you in contempt; let us move on, then.
Verity was not satisfied with the life that she was born into on a number of axes, though true change takes time to accomplish and the first step is almost the hardest. The decision to actually begin to make change, the smallest of acts, but the most important. Her family and many of her friends, especially those she was able to see in person, did not understand her and made no attempt to. As with all small minds, they are better left in the distant past, out of sight, out of mind and forgotten. There were those who believed in her and supported her and so, step after hesitant step she took...hobbling first, then walking confidently, then jogging and now running, the world itself a soft blur as he body takes her wherever she wishes to go. Each footstep planted confidently as she moves through space and time propelled by her own desire to go, to move, to experience. She is a comet streaking across the sky, a sight beautiful to behold, blazing brilliantly.
Comets all too often fall to earth in a great crash, and those who blaze bright, quickly burn out. When you are driven by a powerful need, fueled by a raging fire, that fire can consume you. Your own desires can become your tragic downfall. Though she is the youngest of the protagonists and the least jaded, as with the others she is also no hero. With youth comes selfishness of thought, the inward-looking self-centered viewpoint which can cloud a vision towards the truths which others may find to be self-evident. She is not a cruel woman, nor is she given over to petty cruelties and heartless decisions, but nor does her attention stray far from herself or the things that she has chosen as mattering to her. Much in the same way that the young, generally speaking, do not truly consider their own mortality until they are forced to confront it, often in a matter considered traumatic by most psychiatric practitioners.
Her arrival into the story, and the lives of the other three, came via a delivery of a very special package. A group who had been the source of some jobs for her from time to time, had given her a new one; to deliver the story that I was writing about the protagonists to them, and in doing so to become one of them herself. Yes, you read that correctly, and it would be best to not attempt to untangle the snarl that exists because of it, for all our sakes. They were together, the protagonists chosen to be thrust into the center of a war that was brewing. Their path out of or deeper into that war, was theirs to forge. I am but the humble author, the scribe accounting the details of their journey for posterity, no decisions do I make regarding the shape of the tale.
Her skills and connections have proven useful to them in their journey thus far, she maintains a connection with The Bureau and has recently become involved with a member of the Albescu Family. Beyond this she is a woman who does not play by the laws of society at large. The police hold no sway over her, for her job allows her to break the law at least once a month, and her hobbies allow her to break other laws whenever she feels the need. She has come far in a short time, but her heart yearns to go farther still. The path before her is ripe for running as she wishes to run, the places where she might stumble and fall only make the running more exciting. She is not finished, and by that I mean that she feels she is not yet complete. There has been a large change, yes, but she wishes to change even more, she wishes to push herself farther and father. The place where she will stop is unknown to me, perhaps it is unknown to her as well, if it can be said to even exist at all.
Yet despite all this, there is wisdom in the words of the young, and like Cassandra of old her words will fall on deaf ears and go unheeded as the prophesized doom encroaches closer with each passing day. No heroes in this group who call themselves The Bridgemakers, no heroes to save the world and stop the threat of evil. That is a child's view of the world, that there are heroes and villains that can be defeated. A wiser man than I once wrote words of truth and they have lasted.
"Fairy tales do not tell children dragons exist. Children already know the dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children the dragons can be killed."
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