- She was born in the cold, dark small town that was by location just near the capital town of Germany, the two quite different from eachother and almost fully different in most aspects, one being quiet, with a slow pace, whilst the other the large metropolis which climbed to it's glory after being almost fully destroyed. She was the first woman in her family to fully go through all three stages of school, her also the first to speak four languages in her family, not only from the female but also from the male side. The town was unknown to the common city folk and rather hidden from the view of most at it's beginning, but with the rise of common legend and it's fall the town rose to larger popularity, many stories rising from the ashes of a lost battle.
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The town was quite rainy, perhaps even too foggy at times and sometimes confusing to live in. With it's mostly unknown history and a ongoing chain of unpleasant events one would hope to leave as soon as their weak bones grew strong, as soon as their thoughts formed and they could stand for themselves. Perhaps it was more superstition than an actual threat. Most citizens worked in the large factories of the rich men, their products always being demanded as pristine, flawless. Although the pay was miniscule and the workers were more often unhappy than happy, life went on.
She was born in a humid climate, raised by the mother who thought she knew best but knew nothing. Her first touch with the world was the creeking of the old wood floor that lacked everything, but mostly colour, the washed out white sticking only in the cracks, in the run down family house that only her mother inhabited at the time. She was desribed as honest and smart for her years, to her the words seeming only like something fleeting. She left the moment she could, behind her the old run down house with the creaky floor.
Through years she learned to be caustic, often sarcastic and rather crude, her choice of words never limited to simple sentences, her fiery personality turning most her thoughts into action, most imaginative fights into reality. The girl was often called comely, with age her features growing more attractive, her eyes gray and cold as ice, some would say that eyes are the mirrors of the soul but these were empty pools, her body petite, her skin porculaine white, her hair a dark brown colour. She was never feckless, often garrulous about things that she found interesting, at times insidious, at others inncediary. When she turned eighteen, rumours began to spread about the upcoming war, her emotions masked as she thought through the information she got. After a year or two, she couldn't quite remember, on the day most began to give into their worries and prepare, she got the job she had dreamed of, her work and all the countless times that she had to deal with obtuse and noxious people finally paying off.
When the true threat strikes and leaders who do not wish to battle the wars they began turn civilians against eachother, they need one to go out and do the dirty work no one else would want to do unless they were forced into it. Most men are weak to women and especially those who have types, being that one could shift into different roles with just a few supplies, it seemed like the job she'd be perfect for, a chameleon among people, she knew how to adapt to roles and embody a completely different character each time. She became an agent, at first glance perfect for the job, but most were too blind to see her true intentions, after a year she slowly parted from work that served the government and turned to herself, facing far more interesting problems and taking on pernicious cases. What followed her through her life was the thought of her mother who she blamed for most problems that occurred in her life, she blamed the woman for the thoughts she planted in her brain.
She liked to have discussions, but was rather careful with who she spoke to, paying attention to first knowing the person and then sharing anything, any other conversations being of business matter, the discussions ranged from things that were around us but one would hardly motice, things such as the existence of fate and if it actually meant anything, if it was real. She believed that luck did not exist, as most things that happened in ones life were caused by the string of unplanned events that often ambushed one. Life could never be planned, nor could it be adjusted in the moment. Time on the other hand was short and ones life only lasted a not so significant amount of time, most citizens fading, completely disappearing. When she was a child she wanted to make a change, her dreams taller than the tallest building on Earth. Later on, as time passes, one understand where their boundries stand. She felt as if, although so many people saw eachother throughout the day all of them were just a side character in the story that described their life, them as the main characters and some people just mentioned once by their looks or by their name. She worked many cases and met a lot of people, some so fleeting and insignificant that she couldn't even remember their name or their appearance.
But one case she remembered in perticular, as there she met the person she'd think of many days after, wondering about the current whereabouts of that very character that was assigned a far more important role than any other in her story. One would think that they only have the right to live through a certain amount of interesting adventures, her being proved wrong on multiple occasions as when you're born in a generation of war, one coming soon after the other, every of your steps that you decide to make can either either end you or give you worth. Ada knew that one day the time would come where the government would ask for her help once again, but after the work that came in form private sources slowed down she felt as if a vacation had finally knocked on her door and told her to settle down for at least a week. To her it was hard to cope with and joy masked with surprise ambushed her one morning as she fetched the mail and the first letter to catch her eye was one from private sources and a stamp she knew too well in bright red ink decorating the side of the front of the envelope.
She scanned through the letter quite fast, an assortment of emotions appearing on her face, as she leaned back on the old, dark brown, leather armchair that came with the small apartment she rented a few years ago when she first dove into the murky waters of the business she then knew little about but now years after, she knew too much. Humorous how appearance can manipulate so many things and how one word can drive a person into so many different states, one being insane, the other making them talk and so with this letter they asked her to go through with the very scenario she feared most, a part of her anticipating it with excitement and the other trying to drive her away from even considering the offer, as with that case she'd encounter the person she had refrained from contacting since the last time she saw them, the encounter dragging with it a string of other problems.
