Ruka (![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
blitzbrained) wrote2013-01-05 10:55 am
blitzbrained) wrote2013-01-05 10:55 am
Entry tags:
incarnates
small blurbs and other things
Blitzwing - The Incarnate of Masks
"Just because I look crazy doesn't mean zhat's all I am. It's too bad everyvun else seems to zhink so - oh vell, their loss! Ahahahahaha!"
Isaac Bowin - The Incarnate of Music
"Yes, I can cause people to break into song anywhere I go regardless of mood, spontaneously and sometimes without effort. That doesn't mean I enjoy it!"
Becoming a personification has changed him.
The world does not entirely sing to him, no; all music is sound but not all sound is music, an important separation. But he can pick out the strains of melodies halfway across a crowded room or a crowded city, and now he can experience music in a dimension that simply wasn't possible before - like an elevated form of synesthesia. Like synesthesia, it's involuntary; perfectly pitched notes taste sweet and out-of-tune melodies leave a bitter taste behind. Dissonant melodies are a curious mixture, more sour than bitter. There are other things, too, but those are the ones he can't find the words to describe.
His own inner rhythms respond to music, too, if he listens long enough; his heartbeat drums in perfect time and his breathing slows or speeds up depending on the tempo. It never causes any ill effects.
He can control his voice, but it always lilts in a way that could be considered musical, and if he's forgetful he'll sing his words without realising. It comes so easily, all of it, but he's thankful to still be him under all of it, that he's not so separated from humanity, even if he finds himself now able to slip through cracks and anywhere sound can go, skin shining with clefs and staves and notation when he does it.
Iwamine Shuu - The Incarnate of Dubious Scientific Advancement
"People do all kinds of things when they're thrown out of respectable institutions, you know. Ho ho ho."
Cyclonus - The Incarnate of Patriotism
"I did what I thought was best for Cybertron. I would have done anything to protect it."
He gains power from fierce love and loyalty for a country, for a place; when there are rebel uprisings or protest marches or anything, anything at all, where the masses proclaim that "this is ours, this country is ours," the fire in every heart calls to him.
He knows anthems that he's never heard sung, human anthems - he knows them by memory, subconsciously, and the lyrics and tunes rise to mind whenever he hears the first strains of opening chords or a rising roar from a mob - but he retains songs of loyalty to Cybertron known only to his kind, too, and he's thankful for that.
His eyes are intense - burning darkly with some inner fire - and he has a sort of magnetism now, presence that can be felt as soon as he walks in a room. People of a certain mindset feel he's a kindred spirit, and those who feel they lack purpose are sometimes drawn to him. That intensity transfers to his metal flesh, too; he's a little warmer than might be expected, and when patriotic fervour reaches fever pitch his temperature skyrockets until he's too hot to touch.
Nightbeat - The Incarnate of Investigation
"I'll go to the ends of the earth to find what - or who - I'm looking for."
Blitzwing - The Incarnate of Masks
"Just because I look crazy doesn't mean zhat's all I am. It's too bad everyvun else seems to zhink so - oh vell, their loss! Ahahahahaha!"
Isaac Bowin - The Incarnate of Music
"Yes, I can cause people to break into song anywhere I go regardless of mood, spontaneously and sometimes without effort. That doesn't mean I enjoy it!"
Becoming a personification has changed him.
The world does not entirely sing to him, no; all music is sound but not all sound is music, an important separation. But he can pick out the strains of melodies halfway across a crowded room or a crowded city, and now he can experience music in a dimension that simply wasn't possible before - like an elevated form of synesthesia. Like synesthesia, it's involuntary; perfectly pitched notes taste sweet and out-of-tune melodies leave a bitter taste behind. Dissonant melodies are a curious mixture, more sour than bitter. There are other things, too, but those are the ones he can't find the words to describe.
His own inner rhythms respond to music, too, if he listens long enough; his heartbeat drums in perfect time and his breathing slows or speeds up depending on the tempo. It never causes any ill effects.
He can control his voice, but it always lilts in a way that could be considered musical, and if he's forgetful he'll sing his words without realising. It comes so easily, all of it, but he's thankful to still be him under all of it, that he's not so separated from humanity, even if he finds himself now able to slip through cracks and anywhere sound can go, skin shining with clefs and staves and notation when he does it.
Iwamine Shuu - The Incarnate of Dubious Scientific Advancement
"People do all kinds of things when they're thrown out of respectable institutions, you know. Ho ho ho."
Cyclonus - The Incarnate of Patriotism
"I did what I thought was best for Cybertron. I would have done anything to protect it."
He gains power from fierce love and loyalty for a country, for a place; when there are rebel uprisings or protest marches or anything, anything at all, where the masses proclaim that "this is ours, this country is ours," the fire in every heart calls to him.
He knows anthems that he's never heard sung, human anthems - he knows them by memory, subconsciously, and the lyrics and tunes rise to mind whenever he hears the first strains of opening chords or a rising roar from a mob - but he retains songs of loyalty to Cybertron known only to his kind, too, and he's thankful for that.
His eyes are intense - burning darkly with some inner fire - and he has a sort of magnetism now, presence that can be felt as soon as he walks in a room. People of a certain mindset feel he's a kindred spirit, and those who feel they lack purpose are sometimes drawn to him. That intensity transfers to his metal flesh, too; he's a little warmer than might be expected, and when patriotic fervour reaches fever pitch his temperature skyrockets until he's too hot to touch.
Nightbeat - The Incarnate of Investigation
"I'll go to the ends of the earth to find what - or who - I'm looking for."