William Sifras

 

Once upon a time there was a young man.
He lived in a boring, average house, on a boring, average street in a boring, average neighborhood, in a boring, average world called Flatland.
His name was William Markus Sifras.
And he was discontent.
Which is how he destroyed his world and himself.

liberation01_200

“The Liberation of Flatland”: Bill’s Story (novelized in 2020 National Novel Writing Month, on Ao3)(also on FF.net and Diranda.com)

 

William Markus Sifras AKA Bill Cipher

 

Description

 

Humanform (art by VintageCassettes):

Hair: Black / Silver/Gold/Black (post-Weirdmageddon)
Eyes: Electric Blue / Amber (depending on his mood)
Complexion: Fair
Build: Athletic
Height: 6’0
Apparent Age: Late Twenties / Early Fifties (post-Weirdmadgeddon)

 

 

 

 

Flatlander (art by MapleSpyder):

Equilateral Triangle
Frame Height: Short
Shade: Warm Light Gray / Yellow (depending on era)
Limbs: Black
Eye: Storm Gray / Amber
Age: 20

 

 

 

 

 


(Bill’s humanform description from “The Journals of Florimel Pines”):

    She let him hurry her toward the group of citizens, some of whom recognized them (well Tenny at least) and moved to let them through.  She glanced through the window but couldn’t see much past the displays of instruments, posters of recently released record albums and price tags.  Tenny opened the door for her and she stepped through, into the blessed warmth.
    Piano music swirled around her as she found herself engulfed in a comfy warm, congenial air, with another group of citizens crowding the pristine, glimmering showroom.  Several were crowded around a group in the center of the showroom, where the amazing music was coming from.  They were singing and cheering as whomever it was playing the piano was, well, ‘jazzing up the place’.  There was no better term for it. 
    The music was infectious and she was smiling along with the classic old standard the pianist had turned into a rocking good tune.
    Even Rick would have appreciated it.
    The music segued into another standard, a jazzy piece made popular by one of her Mom’s favorite singers and a voice, an amazing, beautiful, bright medium tenor welled up from the crowd around the piano.
    A voice that immediately sent shivers down her spine.
    She gasped audibly and found herself pressing through the people.
    At the piano, an elegant, huge black grand, dressed in a bright gold smoking jacket and black dress trousers, his curling raven hair mussy and tousled around a bright, smiling gorgeous face, sat the man of her dreams.
    Literally
    “BILL?!“ she shrieked and Tenny actually physically startled next to her.
    The man at the piano looked over at her, not even breaking a note as he skillfully brought the song to an end.
    He caught her eyes with his own bright, impossibly blue ones and grinned.
    Flora’s world went kind of hazy and she just stared at him.
    “Florimel Pines, my dear!” he purred, standing, pushing the piano bench back with a fluid movement.  He stepped to her, took up her hands in his and cast her the wickedest smirk she’d ever seen on a man, including Rick Sanchez.  “Surprise!”


(Bill’s Flatland form as described in “The Liberation of Flatland”):

    Bill took a seat near the center of the club, ignoring the shocked looks the other Polygons threw his way.    He was dressed well: smart black bowtie, white silk scarf, elegant black bespoke jacket cut to accentuate his handsome, attractive angles; he carried himself like a gentleman and he did have a bit of a reputation that preceded him, even in this place in the center of the City.    People began to whisper, some not so quietly, that this was in fact the strange young Triangle from Cyran Prefecture that could play the piano better than even the most talented Squares and Polygons were capable of.
    Bill just sat there, taking it all in.    He found that he enjoyed the attention, even the most confused or subtly hostile.    He smiled occasionally, even throwing a thinly veiled smirk towards the most critical of whispers.
Yeah, yeah, you just sit there and wallow in your impotent jealousy, you rubes.    Even me, with my three sides and common upbringing, am better-looking, smarter, cleverer than you could ever hope to be.    Someday, even you will bow before my superiority.    Just you wait!
    “Here,“ Alistair said, passing him a glass of wine, “have you seen anyone yet?”
    “Not yet, just sitting here and enjoying the jealousy of these so-called ‘Higher Shapes’.“
    “Bill, remember we’re here for them, the music enthuiasts, not for exposure.    We need to make sure they are who they say they are.”
    “I know,“ Bill said, sipping his wine.    “Don’t worry.    They’ll make contact when they’re ready.”
    “Yes.“    Alistair sipped his wine.    “You know Bill, I’m gonna say somethin’ an’ I don’t want y’ to bite my angle off if I do.”
    “What?“ Bill turned towards Alistair, with a touch of concern.    Usually these days, Alistair had made a point of keeping his accent smooth, mostly out of his speech the way his father did.    When it made a reappearance it meant something was bothering the Rhomboid.    “I won’t, why?”
    “I think y’ losin’ sight of the goal here, Billy,“ Alistair said softly.    “I-I mean, y’ fallin’ in love with y’ own fame, y’ gettin’ a bit self-involved.    We’re doin’ this f’ you, yes but we’re doin’ it f’ the Lower Shapes, th’ oppressed folks.    Th’ ones we’ve been tryin’ t’ protect an’ help.”
    Bill blinked, taken aback.    He covered it by taking a sip of his wine.
    “Alistair,“ he said softly, “I wouldn’t bite yer angle off for sayin’ that.”    He offered a small smile.    “Unless ya wanted me to bite ya, and that’d be for fun.”
    Alistair flushed a little and smiled shyly, glancing down.
    “I think,“ Bill said, “that you’re right, though.    I can get caught up in my own brilliance and importance.    That’s only because I really do feel superior to everyone here.    I can’t help it.    I’m smarter than all of them and I can’t shake the feelin’ that I’m meant for somethin’ greater than even this.    Somethin’ more.    I’m gonna do something that changes things for good and it’s gonna be me, Alistair.”
    “For good,“ Alistair echoed quietly.    “Bill, d-do you feel superior t’-t’ me, too?”
    Bill froze.    He looked at Alistair.    “Not you,” he said almost too quickly.    “Never you.”
 But I’m lying.    Aren’t I?    Something dug at his soul.    He was.    He did.    He felt superior even to Alistair.


Art by MapleSpyder

William Sifras was originally a small gray Triangle from the Cyran Prefecture in the Second Dimension realm called ‘Flatland’.  He was from an average family in an average village within a stratified class-based society on the verge of collapse.  He, along with his friend Alistair, became involved in a revolution that eventually would shake the foundations of his society.

He ascended to the rank of Hunter Demon primarily due to his involvement in the rebellion.  Once he did, he ‘Liberated’ his dimension and sealed his own fate as the Interdimensional Criminal later known as the Master of the Mindscape, BILL CIPHER.

In the context of the RP, Bill will interact with any muses from the Gravity Falls universes, any and all Alternate Universes.  His ‘canon’ universe is the Mystic Pines/Liberation of Flatland AU as described in the novels, stories and AU mythology designed by Diranda.