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Post by Erik Destler on May 13, 2008 14:44:20 GMT -5
"I've told you. I am a composer, teacher, phantom, a god--a devil."
He lazily recoiled the whip and tucked it into his coat, withdrew something else and tossed it to Carlos' feet. The little bag clinked with the promise of coin on the floorboards.
"Your personal patron."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2008 14:57:11 GMT -5
*Carlos' eyes flickered between the purse and the man, the memory of things done in what seemed like a former life darkening them slightly.*
"You mistake me, sir." *His voice brooked no mistaking.* "I am no longer in that sort of business."
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Post by Erik Destler on May 13, 2008 15:04:31 GMT -5
((WHORE!!!!))
The immortal seemed momentarily taken aback, and his posture shifted a bit.
"I am not making that sort of proposal. This is merely a gift to you--a reward for your better song and a stipend to keep you in comfort until you are paid for your contract. Make no mistake, I will always be listening, and everytime you open your mouth to sing, I expect such perfection, or at least such effort as if you were again singing for your life. As you will be."
He tilted his head and plucked at his gloves, the scarf slipping down his cheek a bit and revealing the sloppy stitching there. "If you do not think you can manage yourself to my standards, I am prepared to offer lessons."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2008 15:48:53 GMT -5
((He's a working boy. What of it?))
*Carlos could not help but stare at the man's creased flesh. It gave him an extremely unpleasant sensation in the pit of his stomach. In fact, everything about this business did.*
"You want to pay me to sing as if you were about to kill me?" *he asked, for clarity's sake.* "If it is so important to you, why not just threaten my life? Why pay me at all?"
*Who was this man?*
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Post by Erik Destler on May 13, 2008 15:55:12 GMT -5
"I want you to sing with whatever emotion is apporpriate for the piece you're performing. If I were simply to threaten your life, you would perform and be miserable. I would rather you enjoy yourself, and you seem to quite enjoy coin."
He adjusted the scarf back in place.
"As I said, I will instruct you in private."
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2008 16:19:00 GMT -5
He wants to pay me... to take lessons?
*Carlos eyed the coin purse again.*
"Carlos Castro needs no lessons!" *he exclaimed.* "Which is why they must be conducted privately."
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Post by Erik Destler on May 13, 2008 16:22:09 GMT -5
"Good. I'll find you again when it's time."
He turned his back on the back and slipped again into the shadows, far back in the wing until he was lost in darkness and gone.
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 13, 2008 16:35:47 GMT -5
*Carlos stood for a moment, staring at the place Destler wasn't, before bending over to retrieve the purse. Gold coins. A line creased his forehead--the arrangement made no sense. But there were times one had to go with the flow, and having a masked man threaten your life if you didn't sing like you were going to die was one of those times. Being stranded in Marrakech with no money and starved morals was another.
The coins lay heavy in his palm. Carlos replaced them and put the little bag in his pocket. He was shaken, but refused to show it until he got home. But he wanted to get there quickly.*
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