Harper Kincaid
| Age |
18
| Race |
American
| Height |
5' 9"
| Build |
Skinny. A stiff breeze constantly threatens to pick Harp up and fling him a few hundred yards in that direction.
| Appearance |
A mop of ash blonde hair sits stubbornly on his crown. It falls somewhere down below his eyes, but luck has given it a feathery texture so that the hair that would cover his eyes instead turn upward and away-- giving him full advantage of his sight. Otherwise, it's a feral mess with little rhyme or reason to it's state of being. Sure, it can be combed, but why would he want to waste time doing something like that? It's given free reign to rule over his scalp as it desires, so long as it stays out of his eyes. Eyes that are an aquamarine in hue and a angular brow that gives his face a certain animation. An animation that is usually set to "go to hell." His features are always turned in a rebellious fashion.
As previously mentioned, Harp's still got the look of a kid to him. His face has yet to earn the hard edges that come with age and experience. Eyes are still wide and watching, though prone to darting around in his skull and narrowing as if to ask "what" in the rudest possible manner. His skin matches his eyes and hair, bearing a alabaster tone, unless he's sunburned which is often enough under the Egyptian sun. It retains a softness to the touch and speaks of a man who had rarely worked an honest day in his life. However there are areas that break the mold he has set. The skin on his palms are rough and calloused and there is a spot in the crook of his neck that his scarred and thickened. Otherwise, there's nothing else of note about it.
Harp is an animated character, always in motion, always moving. He talks with his hands as much as he does with his mouth. He has a tendency to jitter in place, and constantly shift his weight foot to foot. Sometimes he's even moving along to the music that pumps out of his headphones, drumming along with the beat or orchestrating an invisible concert.
| General Mentality |
He's not exactly cowardly but then again he's not the bravest either. He's no fighter by any means if his twig-in-the-wind appearance is anything to go by and would rather use his words as his weapons. Despite what some of the bleeding hearts might say, words don't hurt near as much as a fist to the jaw. Basically, he's your typical rebellious teen, fight the power, fight the man, down with big brother type. The thing that's most frustrating is that he's intelligent. He's smart but just doesn't use his head. If he ever set his mind to something then there's little doubt he could achieve it, but he's stuck being a general pain in the ass instead.
Perhaps unsurprising for an Auramancer, Harp's an emotional fellow. If those emotions are misguided anger and rage against the machine. No, that's unfair. He feels like anyone else, just... More so. When he's happy he's happy, nothing but bright smiles and waving arms. When he's sad, he's sad and it's not unlikely for him to cry tears if his heart hurts enough. He'd panic when caught in the grips of fear, and he's a demon when his rage takes off. Whatever he's feeling at the moment has a tendency to play out easily on his face. From smiles to snarls, tears to wide-eyed fear, it's as simple as glancing at his face to gauge his mindset.
And he has a heart. He's not some delinquent yelling profanities at the government. Well. That's not all he is. He prides himself as, get this, an artist. And to hear him play his violin, you'd be hard-pressed to disagree. That's right, he plays the violin like a damn professional. He can make the strings sing with his bow. It's a kind of outlet for all of the emotions, and actually benefits him as an Auramancer. The violin evokes an emotional response to those who listen, and he basks in these emotions. It's... Odd. He would say that he doesn't care for people, but he likes nothing more than to don a mask and play his violin in the streets for random strangers. He dances along with the music issuing forth and in a stark contrast to his rough demeanor, actually seems at ease when he plays.
Lending further credence to hey, maybe he does have a soul, he's a total momma's boy. Though ready to mouth off at anyone and everyone, his mother is the only person who will never hear a sour word turned toward her. He has nothing but love and respect for the woman, and would do nothing, absolutely nothing to intentionally hurt her. Apart from that bit sickly sweetness, Harp has a fondness for music, though his tastes vary from hard rock, anti-establishment anthems, and, wait for it... Violin concerto. No one accused him of being a stereotypical rebel. He also has shown a proficiency at drawing and art of a literal sense and New Cairo may or may not have received a few new graffiti tags because of him.
In the end, Harper's not your average fight the government rabble-rouser. Sure, he's got a terrible attitude, a mouth that gets him into more trouble than out, and a propensity for petty vandalism, but that's not all he is. Underneath it all, lies an intelligent and burgeoning artist. A violin prodigy who wishes for nothing less than for people to hear him play. He likes his music, entertains the notions of art, and most of all he's a momma's boy. Harp's Harp, and don't you dare try to define him.
| Aspirations |
While he would tell you that he wants to see the government recognize mages for who they are and get their filthy boots off of their throats, Harper's aspirations are a little more complicated that. He doesn't really have a set goal, being that age where youth is forever and invincible. However, there is the hope that one day someone will recognize his talent and earn his respect that way, not to mention earn enough wheelbarrows of cash so that his mother would never want for anything ever again. But don't tell anyone, yeah?
| Fears |
Losing his ability to play. It's not a very poignant fear, as he doesn't see himself being put in a position where he'd lose a finger or two, but still, it's a fear. Apart from that, Harp has a tendency to not enjoy heights. It's not the fall that'll kill you, but sudden and painful stop at the end. Old man reaper is another, fading into the cold embrace of death. He wants to live his life for as long and as fully as possible.
Level 4
| School of Magic |
Auramancy
| Clothing |
In spite of the Egyptian heat, Harp stubbornly wears skinny jeans, high top sneakers, and a jacket over a shirt. Make no mistake, these articles are all loose to allow for maximum breathability and let the breeze shuffle through, but still. He has a penchant for clothing with a muted color palatte: Greys, whites, blacks-- maybe the odd cyan for example. The one constant in his life is his pair of headphones that can be found either A) around his ears or B) around his neck. On some occasions, he dons another piece, a handkerchief which he wraps around his face to "hide his identity" as he insists. It's a white piece of fabric with the words "You Are Free" painted on it.
| Fighting Style |
Fighting? Harp? No, no, you misunderstand, his fight is more metaphorical than anything literal like the throwing of fists. Still, as a mage, he's perhaps better off than the average person. Maybe a lot better off. As an Auramancer, he has access to emotions, both his own and others, and when he need to can form these emotions into something physical to attack or defend. Depending on the need, he can throw up a shield to protect himself or another, send whips of raw emotion forth, and along with a number of other uses, flat out use emotion to go boom! Still, being an individual who rarely fights, effects are a little more unpredictable than he'd like to admit, and he still hasn't gotten the hang of regulating the force of emotion.
| Occupation |
Vagrant, rascal, jerk, various synonyms of such.
| Hobbies |
Art as a blanket term. He enjoys playing his violin, he's been known to create drawings (and graffiti), and listen to a variety of music. Notably, he likes to grab his violin, slip his mask on, find a crowd of people and start playing for them. Also, he likes to dance, and moves his feet to the tune on his violin. Otherwise, his hobbies include being a pain in the ass, an all around jerk, and fighting the powers that be.
| Place of Birth |
New York, New York
| Personal History |
How does a poor boy from the streets of New York end up in the City of Spells, playing his violin for random people and being a public nuisance? Well, it all began eighteen years ago with his birth. Harper was born to a lower middle class mother in Hell's Kitchen of the Manhattan borough. He was born in the same manner he lives, kicking and screaming in the hands of the man, or in that particular case, the doctor. Neither of his parents were mages-- or at least his mother wasn't. He never knew who his father was, as the man was the kind of asshole who bolts at the word pregnancy. But from what his mother told them, their blood does contain magic, as his grandfather before him was a mage and his great grandmother before him.
It was at an early age that Harp displayed an interest in the arts. On his neighbor's lax watch, he slipped into a a nearby theater as the violin section of an orchestra was practicing for a show that night. He was enthralled with how their fingers danced along the strings and the flight of the bow. It was also when his latent Auramancy magic made itself apparent. Sitting there in the theater with only him and the violinists, he could make out the aura surrounding both himself and the musicians. He could feel the emotion in every drag of the bow, see the effects the notes had on their players. He was enraptured with the sounds and sights and he knew, knew what he wanted to do. As soon as his mother got home after work, he immediately asked for a violin of his own.
A few months later on his birthday, he received an oddly wrapped gift from his mother. Beneath the paper awaited his very own violin. It was thrift shop quality, scratched and scuffed and completely out of tune, but to him it was the most beautiful thing in the world, if you don't mind the sickening cliche. He immediately set out how to learn to play the instrument, though his early efforts amounted to a woodchipper strangling a cat. Still, he managed to enroll in a music program at school, and with his own never let die attitude, managed to become somewhat proficient after days of hours of practice. Unfortunately, his magic did not get the same amount of practice, as it's a lot harder to find Auramancy tutelage than violin. It didn't matter much in the end however, as possessing the simple ability to see and feel the emotion his instrument invokes is enough.
That's not to say he never practiced his magic. Bullies have a tendency to converge on the smallest kid, and what with him playing the violin and possessing the not-at-all manly name of Harper, it pretty much put a big "bully me" sign on his back. And it stuck, until rage took over one day and literally smacked a kid in the face with his emotions. Let's just say that it involved one trip to the hospital and one to the principal's office. The bastard learned to never mess with Harp after that.
It was a years and a half ago that led to Harper's transition from Hell's Kitchen to New Cairo, Egypt. The company that his mother worked for offered her a promotion, but she had to move. The company had began another branch that catered to mages, and seeing how the City of Spells had it's share of magic it made all the sense in the world to put it there. Nothing was keeping the Kincaids in Manhattan (though he does miss the old neighbor) so they packed up and headed off to the endless dunes and unforgiving heat of Egypt. Once again, displaying that hidden vein of intelligence, Harper learned how to read and speak Arabic in a year and some months, because dammit, ordering a freaking sandwich shouldn't be such a bastard. It's still heavily accented, of course, but he's getting better with every word and he can put his intentions to words.
Sitting somewhere in the upper middle class now, Harper still enjoys taking to the streets of New Cairo and playing his violin to strangers, and being a general pain in the ass for the local authority.