Elizabeth Comstock

It had all happened so quickly. She had finally, finally, gotten away from the gilded cage that had been her home for as long as she could remember. And Booker, while a bit on the enigmatic side (not to mention more than a little sour in the face), had promised to take her to Paris, which she'd been dreaming about her whole life. It had all been too wonderful to be true.

And so it was. Booker had killed a man - killed! - and Elizabeth had been so horrified by it that she'd fled from him. "Get away from me!" she had cried as he pursued her, and when she'd found herself at a dead end, something had happened.

She'd found a Tear, and without thinking, had opened it and run through - but what she had found on the other side hadn't been anything like what she had spent nearly her entire life looking at. It was beautiful, just as Columbia was - but it was more vibrant, more... innocent, somehow.

The young woman looked about herself in wonder and awe, completely oblivious to anything but the beauty around her.