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Jul. 15th, 2012 08:23 pm[If you know anything about the Once-ler (aside from the whole herbicidal dick thing), it's that he loves music. His childhood dreams of being a rock star were crushed a long time ago, but he never truly gave up. Music was more than one of his various career ventures. It became a part of him. Then the Thneed happened, and music was shoved aside. His muse died, and no number of fancy guitars could bring it back.
So he gave up.
At the Keep, The Once-ler isn't busy at all. He's never had more free time in his entire life. He's been aware of the bower for quite some time now, but has made it a point to avoid it. Sometimes just thinking about music is enough to upset him, and taunting himself with the sight of instruments is extremely counterproductive. But now he's forced himself into the bower, forced himself to tune an acoustic guitar and strum a chord or two. Or four. Or six or eight or ten. Maybe an obscene amount of free time is all you need to get your muse back. If you'd like to stumble across a guy that seems far more giddy than any man should, this is your chance.]
So he gave up.
At the Keep, The Once-ler isn't busy at all. He's never had more free time in his entire life. He's been aware of the bower for quite some time now, but has made it a point to avoid it. Sometimes just thinking about music is enough to upset him, and taunting himself with the sight of instruments is extremely counterproductive. But now he's forced himself into the bower, forced himself to tune an acoustic guitar and strum a chord or two. Or four. Or six or eight or ten. Maybe an obscene amount of free time is all you need to get your muse back. If you'd like to stumble across a guy that seems far more giddy than any man should, this is your chance.]
