He likes Olympus. He'd just discovered it, really, and to Felix it feels like home. Not quite, but almost: the architecture is the same, at the very least, and people really do like him. They recognize that he's not a Muse from their world but he's still a Muse (and boy, do the muses here like to party) and that means a little bit of respect and a lot of fun.
Realistically, though, he doesn't want respect. he wants anonymity, and he wants to dance around in the streets and sing loudly, even if he can't anymore. He heads to places he knows are going to be alive, hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a more fevered pitch at night. It's then that Felix steels away from the mountain itself (and really, he is flattered) and heads out on his own.
He follows the sound of the sweetest sitar music he's ever heard in his life, a giddy feeling consistently moving him more and more as he gets closer.
"It's beautiful."
He means it, too, because he's not the one that bestowed it on him--it's raw talent, not the kind he can help elevate, but the kind that comes naturally. He doesn't hesitate, putting a rather hefty some of munny next to the other, a small, pleased smile on his face.
no subject
Realistically, though, he doesn't want respect. he wants anonymity, and he wants to dance around in the streets and sing loudly, even if he can't anymore. He heads to places he knows are going to be alive, hustle and bustle of the day giving way to a more fevered pitch at night. It's then that Felix steels away from the mountain itself (and really, he is flattered) and heads out on his own.
He follows the sound of the sweetest sitar music he's ever heard in his life, a giddy feeling consistently moving him more and more as he gets closer.
"It's beautiful."
He means it, too, because he's not the one that bestowed it on him--it's raw talent, not the kind he can help elevate, but the kind that comes naturally. He doesn't hesitate, putting a rather hefty some of munny next to the other, a small, pleased smile on his face.