how could anyone be happy with such unattractive children? [ joran, open ]

[baddax]

[ joran dax was not accustomed to being disturbed in his composition room. more accurately, he was not accustomed to being gracefully plucked from that room, as if by transporter, and inserted into another, whose acoustics and aesthetic design were comparatively far deficient. his finger hit the key before the alarm hit him; he was almost more disgusted by the slight hesitation of the note on the syn lara that was not his own. his would never quaver like that - that the owner of this one had allowed it to obviously spoke to their commitment as a musician.

priorities.

he stood from the bench and surveyed the room. it was windowless, the ceilings fairly low, and an assortment of instruments lay about it. a vulcan lyre, a harpsichord, and even a kynsleve. all of them of very different cultures, which told him nothing about his current location, other than that as unnerved as he was, he was even more annoyed.

priorities be damned, this was absolutely unacceptable. ]