Theatrical Muse 400; injured
“I bring the happy ending,
The summons-chant says so.
I never made a claim like that
I sing and dance … and go.
There may be fun and laughter
There when the music starts
It just depends on what there is
The truth that’s in their hearts.
The magic can be painful
The whole choir won’t be glad
I guess the truth might make them free
A truth is what they’ve had.
there are too many tricksters
Who make the lying claim
That songs of truth and faith that’s pure
Will cure the halt and lame!
The fires burn bright…”
The old demon lost interest in the song and turned to look at the Gig Team. There was no other audience, anyway.
The Lead Minion stood stoically, smoothing the catch bag that he held folded neatly over one arm. His master made an irritable gesture and the thing vanished. They weren’t going to need it this Gig and they all knew it. There was no willing Summoner moving gracefully by his side, either. Not this time.
He hadn’t even had a satisfactory target.
What was there about humans that made them want to believe that every survivor of a bad birth, of a war or a sickness - of anything, why did humans believe that every one of the injured could get right up and dance right on, usually to someone else’s tune?
It made them blame the victims of crime, too. It let them think that they themselves - the Strong, the Virtuous - were entitled to walk the earth invulnerable to its dangers. They always found it easier to believe that the others deserved their misery.
He hated lies.
He hated Gigs like this one, too. He’d been called by crazy people before, that wasn’t new, but this Gig had been a case of what the kids in this age called,
“garbage in, garbage out”.
He’d known it was going to be bad the moment he saw the wheelchair.
Too many doctors saying she wasn’t trying, saying if she got her psychology sorted out she could dance tomorrow; too many films where the wheelchair user walked in the end. Too much garbage.
Calling a demon for a happy ending …
Sometimes the truth just isn’t enough.
He hated it when that happened.
Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 380
The summons-chant says so.
I never made a claim like that
I sing and dance … and go.
There may be fun and laughter
There when the music starts
It just depends on what there is
The truth that’s in their hearts.
The magic can be painful
The whole choir won’t be glad
I guess the truth might make them free
A truth is what they’ve had.
there are too many tricksters
Who make the lying claim
That songs of truth and faith that’s pure
Will cure the halt and lame!
The fires burn bright…”
The old demon lost interest in the song and turned to look at the Gig Team. There was no other audience, anyway.
The Lead Minion stood stoically, smoothing the catch bag that he held folded neatly over one arm. His master made an irritable gesture and the thing vanished. They weren’t going to need it this Gig and they all knew it. There was no willing Summoner moving gracefully by his side, either. Not this time.
He hadn’t even had a satisfactory target.
What was there about humans that made them want to believe that every survivor of a bad birth, of a war or a sickness - of anything, why did humans believe that every one of the injured could get right up and dance right on, usually to someone else’s tune?
It made them blame the victims of crime, too. It let them think that they themselves - the Strong, the Virtuous - were entitled to walk the earth invulnerable to its dangers. They always found it easier to believe that the others deserved their misery.
He hated lies.
He hated Gigs like this one, too. He’d been called by crazy people before, that wasn’t new, but this Gig had been a case of what the kids in this age called,
“garbage in, garbage out”.
He’d known it was going to be bad the moment he saw the wheelchair.
Too many doctors saying she wasn’t trying, saying if she got her psychology sorted out she could dance tomorrow; too many films where the wheelchair user walked in the end. Too much garbage.
Calling a demon for a happy ending …
Sometimes the truth just isn’t enough.
He hated it when that happened.
Muse, “Sweet” the singing demon.
Fandom, BTVS
Words, 380