Post by Ryan on Aug 1, 2007 12:42:33 GMT -5
Name: Ryan Eastman
Age: 16
Grade: 11th
Gender: Male
Power: 1) Technopathy - an ability to communicate, manipulate and interface with digital systems. 2) Stemming from his technopathy, Ryan has extremely limited electrokinetic abilities, to the degree that he can induce currents in conductive materials with a certain amount of effort. He can also create lightning-like surges of electricity from his hands, but this exhausts him to the brink of comatose and leaves 2nd degree burns on the palms of his hands.
Weakness: Vicious hay fever
Physical Description: Standing at just a bit under 6 foot tall and with an ever so slightly bulgy build, Ryan looks decidedly average – save for the thick brown dreadlocks which fall down his back. He has squared features, grey eyes and usually a blank look on his face.
Personality: Ryan is very introspective, to the point that he often glazes over and is dead to the world. He doesn’t tend to speak profusely to people he doesn’t feel very, very comfortable with, preferring to listen and occasionally add a well thought-out remark to the conversation. When he speaks, he will speak his mind and is uncompromising in his views.
History: Born and raised in Wakefield in Leeds, England, Ryan’s powers manifested slowly and gradually, and they just became part of his everyday life. He kept it away from most people, telling only close friends and only recently has he told his parents. His mother seems to be in denial and just acted as if nothing had changed, but his father become deeply interested in his power. After stumbling across Dyanatos on the internet, he managed to persuade his parents to approve of a transfer, and after finishing his GCSE’s applied in the school.
Other:
IC: A young man with short hair gelled spiky snored away. He was dressed in a standard business suit and the complimentary cheap and tinny earphones were hooked inside his ears. Ryan frowned as he snored abnormally loud. Economy class always made him feel slightly ill, people breathing in an enclosed space for hours was bound to breed something. The businessman snored again and Ryan glared at him, he just sat there with a look of slight contentment upon him. Ryan turned on the screen set into the seat in front of him. It briefly flashed the logo of some self-important manufacturer and brought up the menu. He pondered for a moment what he could do with the computer, wanting to do something but at a loss as to what. The rest of the plane was under the hushed pseudo-silence behind the loud but unnoticed hum of the air conditioning. Ryan decided for lack of anything else, he’d put the downwards camera display on, since the old woman asleep on his other side was blocking his view of the ground. As he looked over at her, her eyelids twitched and the crow’s feet around them rippled ever so slightly. She had a grandmotherly air about her: a sagging and wrinkled but kind face, a frame caked in fat that made her look warm and cosy and a peaceful smile on her face as she slept. Ryan rested his thumb over the warm and smooth plastic screen, and tried his best to tell the computer what to do. He was more used to working with PCs, but these seemed to be built with a different architecture to the average home computer. With an intermittent flash of the world map showing a plane icon somewhere on the western half of the Atlantic, the camera he had been aiming for came up. Thick cumulus clouds moved slowly downwards over a deep blue ocean, reminding Ryan of several documentaries where it had shown fly-bys of the Antarctic landscape, usually narrated by David Attenborough, and usually about penguins.
“That’s a neat trick.” The old woman was awake, and speaking with a nasal and generic American accent. Ryan looked at her, quickly trying to whip up an excuse.
“Sorry?” Pleading ignorance would buy some time.
“Oh don’t play dumb dear, you told that computer-thing what to do, I can barely do that with a mouse.” She giggled, furthering the kindly air about her. Ryan found himself smiling not out of politeness, but genuinely.
“So where’s a kid like you heading out to all on his lonesome?”
“It’s a… boarding school. I’m transferring there from the UK.”
“Long way from home then.” She sighed “Well I hope you’ll make yourself right at home when we land.” She patted her hand reassuringly on his thigh. At that moment it struck Ryan that a living cliché was sitting beside him.
“Thanks.”
Keywords: tygertygerburningbright listentothewindsing comewhatmay
Age: 16
Grade: 11th
Gender: Male
Power: 1) Technopathy - an ability to communicate, manipulate and interface with digital systems. 2) Stemming from his technopathy, Ryan has extremely limited electrokinetic abilities, to the degree that he can induce currents in conductive materials with a certain amount of effort. He can also create lightning-like surges of electricity from his hands, but this exhausts him to the brink of comatose and leaves 2nd degree burns on the palms of his hands.
Weakness: Vicious hay fever
Physical Description: Standing at just a bit under 6 foot tall and with an ever so slightly bulgy build, Ryan looks decidedly average – save for the thick brown dreadlocks which fall down his back. He has squared features, grey eyes and usually a blank look on his face.
Personality: Ryan is very introspective, to the point that he often glazes over and is dead to the world. He doesn’t tend to speak profusely to people he doesn’t feel very, very comfortable with, preferring to listen and occasionally add a well thought-out remark to the conversation. When he speaks, he will speak his mind and is uncompromising in his views.
History: Born and raised in Wakefield in Leeds, England, Ryan’s powers manifested slowly and gradually, and they just became part of his everyday life. He kept it away from most people, telling only close friends and only recently has he told his parents. His mother seems to be in denial and just acted as if nothing had changed, but his father become deeply interested in his power. After stumbling across Dyanatos on the internet, he managed to persuade his parents to approve of a transfer, and after finishing his GCSE’s applied in the school.
Other:
IC: A young man with short hair gelled spiky snored away. He was dressed in a standard business suit and the complimentary cheap and tinny earphones were hooked inside his ears. Ryan frowned as he snored abnormally loud. Economy class always made him feel slightly ill, people breathing in an enclosed space for hours was bound to breed something. The businessman snored again and Ryan glared at him, he just sat there with a look of slight contentment upon him. Ryan turned on the screen set into the seat in front of him. It briefly flashed the logo of some self-important manufacturer and brought up the menu. He pondered for a moment what he could do with the computer, wanting to do something but at a loss as to what. The rest of the plane was under the hushed pseudo-silence behind the loud but unnoticed hum of the air conditioning. Ryan decided for lack of anything else, he’d put the downwards camera display on, since the old woman asleep on his other side was blocking his view of the ground. As he looked over at her, her eyelids twitched and the crow’s feet around them rippled ever so slightly. She had a grandmotherly air about her: a sagging and wrinkled but kind face, a frame caked in fat that made her look warm and cosy and a peaceful smile on her face as she slept. Ryan rested his thumb over the warm and smooth plastic screen, and tried his best to tell the computer what to do. He was more used to working with PCs, but these seemed to be built with a different architecture to the average home computer. With an intermittent flash of the world map showing a plane icon somewhere on the western half of the Atlantic, the camera he had been aiming for came up. Thick cumulus clouds moved slowly downwards over a deep blue ocean, reminding Ryan of several documentaries where it had shown fly-bys of the Antarctic landscape, usually narrated by David Attenborough, and usually about penguins.
“That’s a neat trick.” The old woman was awake, and speaking with a nasal and generic American accent. Ryan looked at her, quickly trying to whip up an excuse.
“Sorry?” Pleading ignorance would buy some time.
“Oh don’t play dumb dear, you told that computer-thing what to do, I can barely do that with a mouse.” She giggled, furthering the kindly air about her. Ryan found himself smiling not out of politeness, but genuinely.
“So where’s a kid like you heading out to all on his lonesome?”
“It’s a… boarding school. I’m transferring there from the UK.”
“Long way from home then.” She sighed “Well I hope you’ll make yourself right at home when we land.” She patted her hand reassuringly on his thigh. At that moment it struck Ryan that a living cliché was sitting beside him.
“Thanks.”
Keywords: tygertygerburningbright listentothewindsing comewhatmay