[ Blank slates, rational monsters. They're all the same to Mozart, without much in the way of distinction: all beings are inherently flawed, but all beings can understand a melody, in some way, shape, or form.
(He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't interested in how Void Abominations sing— is it hollow, is it oppressive, is it dangerous? What do people without souls create?
But, ah, now's not the time.)
Mozart shivers under the weight of his oversized coat, but the tremors don't reach his fingers. Instead of shying away, he motions for Foreigner to rest one hand on smooth ivories, gestures and prompts for imitation by tapping his nails against polished blacks-and-whites. ]
Of course. It's time for a fun little lesson, Foreigner.
[ He plays the first few notes of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, and follows them up with an expectant look. A silent "repeat after me!" ]
no subject
(He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't interested in how Void Abominations sing— is it hollow, is it oppressive, is it dangerous? What do people without souls create?
But, ah, now's not the time.)
Mozart shivers under the weight of his oversized coat, but the tremors don't reach his fingers. Instead of shying away, he motions for Foreigner to rest one hand on smooth ivories, gestures and prompts for imitation by tapping his nails against polished blacks-and-whites. ]
Of course. It's time for a fun little lesson, Foreigner.
[ He plays the first few notes of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, and follows them up with an expectant look. A silent "repeat after me!" ]