Blare

A hefty-looking dude, covered in midnight blue feathers. Head-feathers have been thoroughly rustled, resulting in a look not unlike a spiky hairdo. Possesses eyebrows that, quite frankly, are a thing to behold. Slender, deep blue eyes hide behind a highly-anachronistic pair of white shutter shades. A rather comfortable-looking deep-lavender robe, cut short at the waist as to not impede movement, conceals their silhouette; one might even call it a hoodie, if such a thing existed in this time period. Vibrant neon strings are tied around most of their extremities, serving as various reminders and also cuffing their robe and pants. Almost always smells like spearmint, masking dusty vinyl.

Generally, Blare's just here to have a good time, and make sure others follow suit. They're surprisingly quiet when they're not really "in the zone", but it's unclear if they're thinking, listening, or just completely out of it. They're not very good at communication, and they tend to assume others are naturally better informed than themselves. A lot of the time, their intonation isn't very natural sounding: given that they can only imitate others, it's justified, but still off-putting. Has a wicked stutter that they've begun to weaponize in verbal clashes. 

Blare learned theft as a purely defensive mechanism: eye for an eye, dignity for a coin pouch, et cetera. At some point in their youth, though, something didn't sit right with this. Less from a moral standpoint, and more an existential one: If they were made from bits and pieces shared and stolen from others, why do they still feel like an individual? Blare started wanting to put something, made wholly by them, into the world. A lot easier said than done when you don't have creativity. But the sound cues, phrases, and noises Blare had memorized started taking on patterns of their own inside of their head, manipulating themselves into grooves. It felt like the arrangements weren't born out of any centralized will: the music forming in their head was made of preexisting sounds made to fit into preexisting structures, and yet it took on a life of its own. Blare decided that people needed to hear this audible revelation for themselves, and made it their business to administer it however loudly they damn well pleased.