I'd gladly lose me to find you

[withrocksin]

The music had an idea, after talking with that young dancer about how the inn works.
you just have to wish to make it so
And while having a face tends to make matters easier on most humans, it didn't want to startle the poor girl, so it waited a bit. In any case, it has something shaped like a body now, though said body has a bit of a bluish glow

Comments

[thedrumsofwar]

The Master is nervous. A nervous Master leads to an angry Master, which leads to a series of upended or broken or scorched objects in his wake - the furniture and walls of the Inn are the only thing he can take his anger out on, it seems, and even then, they heal themselves within minutes.

It's maddening, and the drum beat continues, thundering in his head.

It gets louder as his pacing draws him near the curly-haired young man at the table. So loud it drowns out everything else, so loud that he gasps a little and closes his eyes, one hand gripping hard to the back of a nearby chair just to stay upright.

The drums have found a challenger, and respond in kind.

[withrocksin]

"Are you quite all right?"
I hear the music of a heartbeat
It's probably still not quite accurate to call the music's words 'speech,' for all it's taken the form of something with vocal chords. There's just a little too much resonance to them to be ordinary.

[thedrumsofwar]

His head aches, as if there's no room for anything in it but the drums, and he'd give them anything they want, just to make them stop...

His eyes snap open as it speaks. It, not a person but a thing. He can feel it.

"What are you?"

[withrocksin]

Whether the Master's being laughed at quite as much as it may seem to him... well, that's a matter of debate. But the music is rather amused.
was it worth all that war just to win?
"Very perceptive of you. I'd thought it might take people a bit longer to realize they weren't truly dealing with a person."
Clearly, the disembodied-voice bits didn't fall into that category.
"I am the music. But not your music, it would seem. You've nothing to balance out the percussion."

[smithnjones]

Martha is drawn to the music. It seems the more she gets, the more she needs.
Here I am,
She closes her eyes when she stands only a foot away, letting the music fill her.
Rock me like a hurricane.
In a heavy trance. At its beck and call.

[withrocksin]

The music does rather seem to get to people like that.
if I trade it all, if I gave it all away for one thing
"Do you like it?"
now and then I like to--feel good
It's still more resonance than speech, and the question's hardly necessary, from the look of her. But it's only polite, and one must start a conversation somewhere.

[smithnjones]

"No," Her eyes flash open, flutter a little, and she manages a smile. "I love it."

Martha watches him. His glowy blue skin, the way he speaks, and how much stronger his music feels than any other she's felt so far.

"It's you," she says, softly, without much awareness of the words or what they mean. Only that her head is spinning.

[withrocksin]

The music's always pleased to be recognized.
she's making sure she is not dreaming
"I would ask how you knew, only that seems rather obvious, to listen to you. Do you perform yourself, or are you a fan?"
do you really think I care what you eat or what you wear?
Either's eminently acceptable, of course. So long as she knows the music.