From nowhere (and everywhere yet) Rev spoke. And his music didn’t stop. Neither did the enigmatic woman’s voice rise up to sweep across in tinges strange and sweet. Nothing broke off or fell this time. All stayed eerily in place.
And Rev found he had no reason or desire to stop, even despite the way his speaking first locked his attention to only what was worst: hair, nails, skin…
He thought of Thalia.
He then flashed out a little smile as if arriving at a dreaded job to find it done.
And there were words, too. There had to be, right? But what might they be saying? Listening a little closer . . . careful so as not to upset the spell . . . the words Rev heard seemed too ordinary to really tell apart. Still the moment carried on, delightful as it was unspecial, and random amongst a grand continuum of equally unimportant others.
His questions changed a little, but not his search or thoughts.
Why? Why would anyone want . . . to be heard?
The sound of Rev’s easy soul being peeled back and laid bare to speak its silly depths in key made fame seem like the answer to a problem that had never really been.
He laughed as his eyes drooped to see the comic sadness of a fear that he might never be given a channel or platform of his own. Would he really prefer fighting everyone blindly for nothing? Rev knew he needed only air to cast his sound.
I don't know anything 