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You are all just slaves to my hypnotic patter
2012-09-27 04:55 pm (UTC)
The inner theater was hardly the Paris opera house, there were only enough seats to fit a hundred or so people. But Music Meister had refurbished it from rotting to glowing, replacing the gilding on the pillars and uprooting the mouldering audience to replace them with polished leather chairs. Even if the stage would never see a play, he wanted his home to be perfect.
Music Meister's voice came from the speakers installed int he theater walls. "It's all about the style of the thing. Besides, it's technically got an owner." Ah! His patron, his muse, had finally arrived! Joy and exaltation.
(oh geeze he'd left his laundry everywhere what was he thinking. Backstage was a mess.)
"Welcome, welcome! Have yourself a seat, I'll be out in a moment." There was the sound of shuffling from behind the red velvet curtain as Music Meister hurried to clean up.
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The Music Meister
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