Any thought of irony was swallowed up as the words poured forth. However many voices contributed to a song, it was still one solitary song, and this song enveloped the both of them until the word "both" was almost meaningless.
(The Six could hear and see everything that was happening -- and that by itself was overwhelming, because people couldn't normally hear so much, and what they were seeing was... impossible, though it felt right. The song and the words came straight through their earplugs, and they found themselves stopping, not able to will themselves to interfere.
"What is it?" Bane asked Black Alice. He did not have to raise his voice, even an iota.
"I... I don't know..." She reached out towards it, with no desire to steal; instead, she felt kind of like a little kid wanting to touch something beautiful. Her skirt ruffled in a nonexistent wind, one that swirled around instead of coming from one specific direction. "It's not... quite... magic. It's something big-- really big!")
The acolyte had no real chance of understanding their words. Men like him did not understand music; men like him could not, because they sought to control it and use it in ways that went against everything that it was. A song was meant for the audience as much as for the singer; how else could it create anything worth existing? A song that was shared was the epitome of songs, so how could it be meant for only one person?
This was a universe-creating music, and everything in the universe became more real, again, in the wake of it, colors and sounds and life exploding around them. How could they have ever hoped to cage and control this? These "acolytes" had never understood, and they had never had a chance!
no subject
(The Six could hear and see everything that was happening -- and that by itself was overwhelming, because people couldn't normally hear so much, and what they were seeing was... impossible, though it felt right. The song and the words came straight through their earplugs, and they found themselves stopping, not able to will themselves to interfere.
"What is it?" Bane asked Black Alice. He did not have to raise his voice, even an iota.
"I... I don't know..." She reached out towards it, with no desire to steal; instead, she felt kind of like a little kid wanting to touch something beautiful. Her skirt ruffled in a nonexistent wind, one that swirled around instead of coming from one specific direction. "It's not... quite... magic. It's something big-- really big!")
The acolyte had no real chance of understanding their words. Men like him did not understand music; men like him could not, because they sought to control it and use it in ways that went against everything that it was. A song was meant for the audience as much as for the singer; how else could it create anything worth existing? A song that was shared was the epitome of songs, so how could it be meant for only one person?
This was a universe-creating music, and everything in the universe became more real, again, in the wake of it, colors and sounds and life exploding around them. How could they have ever hoped to cage and control this? These "acolytes" had never understood, and they had never had a chance!