Morpheus (he_never_dreams) wrote in lost_world, @ 2014-07-06 10:41:00 |
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Entry tags: | morpheus |
the piano player (narrative/open)
His fingers slid easily over the keys, and behind him, a card game was in full swing.
The room smelled like cigar smoke and bad whiskey. Dream did not think there was any good whiskey in this place. It was something of an impossibility in the old west, wasn't it?
He wasn't looking at his hands, but at the room and the people who happened in the saloon doors. The piano was back in the right corner, and he was able to see the whole room from here. That suited him fine.
Morpheus was content here. He was not focusing on the loss of Nanshe right now, but just simply on playing. The clothing he wore seemed to suit him better than anything he'd been given so far.
On this particular world, Morpheus was happy with his role. In fact, it seemed that the aliens were borderline nice to him on all the worlds. He wondered on that point; perhaps they were a little bit afraid of his family.
He smirked at the thought. They should be or they weren't very bright.
Without breaking his playing, Dream picked up a small glass of the bad whiskey, downed it, and pressed on.