The Balladeer wraps both hands around his cup, enjoying the warmth. "I don't think it has been," he agrees. "It just - "
He sighs and presses the heel of a palm to his eye in exhaustion. The curse hadn't helped matters, but it wasn't the only reason the explanation he gave her didn't make sense. Nothing about this made much sense to him either. "It's not right," he insists, knowing that it isn't helpful. "It's more like noise than music, I can't even decide how many melodies are going on at once, and the echo doesn't help anything. It's not supposed to do that either."
No one else has sounded even remotely like that. He knows there's people here from all different worlds, some who aren't even human, and it's not reasonable to expect everybody to match up exactly to his expectations. Still...everyone except Johnny basically has. He hasn't listened too closely to a lot of other rifties (Bee was right, it's probably rude) but he'd have noticed if anyone else was doing that. It isn't the kind of thing you don't hear.
He lowers his hand again and takes a sip of tea before continuing. "Everything I've heard before - oh, this is good - when people have songs that are...not the best." He just punctuates that with a shrug; Greta knows what he means, and this isn't about his own past. "It's down to them. The mark they leave behind, what they made of themselves. And he - "
The Balladeer shifts his grip on the mug, a little anxiously. "It's creepy." That's likely the closest he'll get to admitting that it scares him. The worst thing he could do would be to give it more power, even that much.
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He sighs and presses the heel of a palm to his eye in exhaustion. The curse hadn't helped matters, but it wasn't the only reason the explanation he gave her didn't make sense. Nothing about this made much sense to him either. "It's not right," he insists, knowing that it isn't helpful. "It's more like noise than music, I can't even decide how many melodies are going on at once, and the echo doesn't help anything. It's not supposed to do that either."
No one else has sounded even remotely like that. He knows there's people here from all different worlds, some who aren't even human, and it's not reasonable to expect everybody to match up exactly to his expectations. Still...everyone except Johnny basically has. He hasn't listened too closely to a lot of other rifties (Bee was right, it's probably rude) but he'd have noticed if anyone else was doing that. It isn't the kind of thing you don't hear.
He lowers his hand again and takes a sip of tea before continuing. "Everything I've heard before - oh, this is good - when people have songs that are...not the best." He just punctuates that with a shrug; Greta knows what he means, and this isn't about his own past. "It's down to them. The mark they leave behind, what they made of themselves. And he - "
The Balladeer shifts his grip on the mug, a little anxiously. "It's creepy." That's likely the closest he'll get to admitting that it scares him. The worst thing he could do would be to give it more power, even that much.