wrenchmonkey's Journal

Everything Went Numb

CHARACTER:
Name: Verity Meany
Age: 20
DOB: December 3, 1995
Gender: Male
Sexual Preference: Idealized. Verity invents dreams of perfect people he wishes were his lovers, but he'd never approach an actual human being. Attraction doesn't have anything to do with gender for him.
Marital Status: Single
Premade: None
Mutation: Mechanopathy. Verity's instinctive understanding of machines doesn't seem especially out of the ordinary most of the time. He can't do a thing with computers, but mechanical devices seem to spring to life in his hands. He can do simple repairs almost asleep, and even a complex engine doesn't distress him for very long. To the outside observer, he's pretty much a clever mechanic with an encyclopedic knowledge of quick fixes for weird problems, but for Verity, everything from a bicycle chain to a train's engine can be read like a book. Just staring for a while can give him a complete mental picture of what's going on in a machine, what should be, what's wrong. With a really extreme effort, he can move the map in his head and in reality. This trick is only good for little things, the single loose wire, the jammed gear, the lever that needs to be tripped. He can't telekinetically rebuild a busted engine. Once every piece of the machine is sharp and clear in his mind, a three-dimensional rendering he can see every inch of, that image can have slight effects on its real-world counterpart. It's exceedingly tiring, though, and only for emergencies.

Whatever was buried in Verity's DNA is perfectly complimented by its host. He was a little gadgeteer all his life, inventing strange, usually useless contraptions for the sheer joy of watching them work. The little home-schooler lagged in a lot of subjects, but his parents were generally happy to provide tools and raw materials, provided he didn't cause too many explosions. When he took a part-time job in a neighbor's auto repair shop, he was less inventive but more attentive. Verity didn't even notice anything strange was going on at first. Admittedly, he was preoccupied running for his life and keeping an eye on Jasper, but in cobbling together elaborate defenses for his little hidey-holes and trying to construct the perfect monster-escape vehicle, he realized he wasn't just good at what he did anymore. His shaky visualizations snapped to life, and when he was really on the edge of panic, willing his creations to work was suddenly effective. Verity isn't quite aware that he's wielding an exceptional power. Nothing makes sense these days. But he uses his talent every way he can.
Height & Weight: 5'4", 130lbs
Appearance: Verity is decidedly on the short side, but his slim build makes him seem smaller than he is. Though working in a garage and a strict exercise regime gave him a layer of lean muscle, he is still decidedly petite. He's long-legged and short-torsoed with terrible posture. He's more likely to be bent over some interesting odd or end than sitting up straight, and rather than look anyone in the eye, he's usually scanning any given area for scrap. Between that and his height, it's rare to know what his face looks like. It's not a very interesting face. Verity is pale and lightly freckled, his eyes a greenish blue, with a sharp, straight nose. His eyebrows have a tendency to be overgrown, and he has a scraggly little hint of a beard much of the time. Shaving isn't really his biggest prerogative. Verity dresses in cast-offs and whatever he can find, leading to ill-fitting, peculiar garments. Wherever his clothes could be a liability, he modifies them. The legs of his jeans are cut off above the ankle, the sleeves torn off his shirt, and both held tight with belts to keep them from catching on any protrusion. His only indulgence is a heavy leather jacket, rather too large for him and with fringe on the back and sleeves. He's generally carrying at least one backpack stuffed with scrounged bits and pieces of metal, tools, parts, and the occasional interesting shiny thing. A massive toolbelt around his hips is always present and always bristling with strange odds and ends.
Possessions: Verity is a packrat and a natural wrench monkey. He has a huge array of tools from the ordinary to the obscure. He collects strange odds and ends and stashes what he can't carry. He also currently possesses a small motorcycle he's been modifying with every spare moment and every neat new toy to be a faster, more maneuverable abomination-evasion device. His bike, named Prestigiar because he is a geek, is his best friend for all intents and purposes. He speaks to it and the bike will respond much more easily than any other machine to a quick, mental repair. It seats two, and he has proper helmets for himself and his brother.
Religious Views: Lapsed Catholic. Verity lost interest in his mother's religion in his early teens, but since hell descended on earth he's had a few doubts, memories of his grandmother's ranting about demons and corruption whispering in the back of his mind.
Previous Occupation: College student, part time auto mechanic.
Personality: Verity is clever, curious, and rather lacking in common sense. He's a voracious reader (or he was, when libraries were peaceful sanctuaries rather than firetraps infested with squirming monstrosities) with a taste for the classical. Overall, Verity is old-fashioned. He values manners and idealized the past even when the present wasn't a hellscape of horror. This is why he doesn't work in computers, just machines, solid, dependable, real mechanics. In happier days, he wrote purple prose about a thinly-disguised self doing heroic things as a pulp-style mad scientist, and has retreated even further into those dreams now. When he stops working, surrounded by enough security to rest, he flees bleak reality to a world of his own invention. Verity can move in a moment from head-in-the-clouds to nose-in-the dirt as he spots an interesting doohickey. Readily distracted as he is, by his own arresting fantasies or pieces of wrecked machines, it's amazing he's blundered into surviving this long. Verity is even-tempered and difficult to annoy, but only because he's so very oblivious. A direct insult can shatter him, no matter how artless, and he's never been very good at meeting people. Whether thanks to home schooling or due to natural shyness, Verity's social skills are nil. People confuse him terribly. They aren't tidy and sweet like machines. Since the world ended, life has been a constant struggle to block out the darkness and the memories. He immerses himself in caring for his little brother and fellow survivor and in his dreams. Verity smiles a lot, but there's nothing behind it.

I am in no way associated with Tom Sturridge and Verity Meany does not exist. He is a purely fictional character.