(Untitled)

[the_antiangst]

Angel's on his usual couch by the fire, with a notebook.
Unlike some people, there are no lyrics involved here. Unless they come up as a plan for driving the music out, anyway

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[broodingshadow]

Angel (Mwahahahaha) has been sticking to the shadows, observing people in the lobby of the Inn. He doesn't like what he's seen. People giving up sleep and food for this... music. Whatever it was. Not exactly a demon bent on possession, but then... what?

He's trying to see if this other person is writing lyrics on a notebook, too. But he really can't tell from this distance. No, he's not that good. Angel just likes to think he is.

[the_antiangst]

Angel's used enough to attracting attention that he knows someone's watching him before he tries to find the source. But eventually, trying to figure out the logistics of dealing with sentient music when not at the end of the universe loses to the nagging feeling of being watched.
"Can I help you?"
For what it's worth, he doesn't sound odd.

[broodingshadow]

Most people don't even notice him anymore. They're so wrapped up in the music that nothing else exists.

"I was just... observing." Because that sounds really healthy and not creepy at all. "Trying to see if you were like the rest of them. Writing music, too. You don't have that smell, though."

And now he really sounds creepy. Definetly wouldn't have said that if he'd been thinking and if he ever talked to humans, much. Stupid humans and their inability to smell weirdness.

[the_antiangst]

"...No, rather. I'm trying to figure out how to get it out of here, and counting my blessings that my best friend's not around for it this time. Stuff was bad enough the first time."
He's just gonna let the smell comment slide for now, actually. Even if, in the words of one Douglas Adams, the things are also people, not all of the people are human.

[broodingshadow]

Angel is thankful for letting that slide.

He walks out of the shadows upon the words.

"You know what this is?"

[the_antiangst]

"Sentient music. Last pandimensional place it crashed, it would've killed my best friend if given another couple days. I'm stuck on how to chase it out, but I know what it is, all right."
Seriously. It's giving the real musicians around the place a bad name.

[broodingshadow]

Angel knew it was dangerous. Her words just confirm his suspicions. Time to make sure Buffy gets out of here. At least until it's over.

"So this... sentient music? It controls people? Makes them sing, dance, play an instrument? It feels like possession, but not exactly like it. Most people seem to worship this music. There is nothing else for them." He frowns, but it's not easy to tell. Just a slight twitch of his lips. "And that's how it kills them."

[the_antiangst]

"I don't know how much outright malicious intent it really has. But... it's more than a little self-serving, and saying there's nothing else for the people it latches onto is pretty damn accurate. Mark - the friend I mentioned - is a filmmaker, usually damn near glued to his camera. Last time we had to deal with this stuff, he didn't touch his camera for nearly two weeks."
Until they got rid of the stuff. And then Angel had to stop him going back to the loft after it until that ankle sprain was wrapped.

[broodingshadow]

"I think if it were more malicious about it, it'd be easier to... feel. And hear. It was all subtle enough that it was just hidden. Concentrated in certain people, but spread out at the same time."

Angel nods at the example. "Warps them into someone they're not. ...how did you get rid of it last time?"

[the_antiangst]

"Last time, we got off on a setting technicality. Bar at the end of the universe. Stuff didn't like the idea much."
Angel sighs. "That's probably not going to work here. And I don't think it'll be quite as easy as thinking it away, considering how deeply the stuff gets to people."

[broodingshadow]

Angel nods in response and takes a seat, slow and unsure. He's not all that good at communicating which is why he sticks to the shadows.

"If it's not malicious, if it doesn't mean or want to kill people then we need to figure out what it does want. That probably had a lot to do why it didn't like the end of the universe, right?"

[the_antiangst]

"Probably. I think it mostly does whatever will carry on its own existence. And I really doubt actually killing it is an option." He's assuming it's possible, though, since the stuff is alive.
"Which leaves chasing it out, somehow."

[broodingshadow]

"So carrying on its own existence involves music, obviously. It makes people play, sing, dance better than they can normally, but it's not their music. It's the music. It needs people..." The realization comes over him slowly. "It needs an audience."

[the_antiangst]

"Yeah, that about covers it." The music was needling Angel as much as it was having fun when it got Mark into the damn Santa drag, after all.
(Mark does not, so much, have the figure or the balance for that.)
"And it's probably finding one in spades, here."

[broodingshadow]

Angel nods, knowing it's true. He's seen how many have been infected and how far gone they are already. "It's reached so many here. I've seen them."

He glances toward the door of the Inn.

"It's going to be difficult to find a way to convince it that there's a bigger, better audience out there."

[the_antiangst]

"No kidding." Not to mention how many more people it could screw over... but Angel's hoping it'll leave to a world where it doesn't come across as destructively.
"Doesn't mean doing so's out of the question. But I've been trying to figure something out to get it the hell out of here for a week now, and... nothing's come to mind so far."