Spaghet adjusted his glasses, approaching a booth that seemed rather interesting... but he was suddenly taken aback when he noticed the man's face ... or rather, lack thereof. He noticed sweat beginning to bead up under his wig and he wiped at his brow. He was happy that the man broke the silence, and Spaghet listened intently. He... he wasn't much of a gambler, but after he was so rude in staring at the man, he didn't really feel like he had a choice not to buy. Oh Goddesses.. He reached into his coin purse and quickly plucked out the number of rupees he asked for. Burrito stupidly ran around in a circle, dashing under the mans table and around again. Spaghet tsked at him and the dog calmed down, but Spaghet still floundered in embarrassment. "S-Sorry about that." He scratched at the back of his neck. "H-He's o-overly friendly." Something about this man really didn't sit right with Spaghet. He was really interested in getting out of here. The moblin tapped his claws together, looking down at his hands. Because he played the violin, only his right hand had sharp nails... .. but when Spaghet began to bite at his fingers, it was clear that there was another reason why his left nails were so short. [ - will adjust for 7 roops after twist. Ballad of the Windfish or Dirge of the Deceased pls thanks whomever u da best ]
After the rupees were put forward on the counter, the wheel began to slowly turn on its own. As it quietly spun, the child behind the desk gave the Bokoblin an oddly tense, yet pensive gaze. It was as if there was something he wanted to ask, but thought better of it. Instead, he softly said, "I... grow tired of this. Tell your face to pick something more interesting, next time." Slowly, the wheel settled on a panel marked yellow, which had upon its surface the symbol of Sheikah--a single eye with a single teardrop. That wasn't there before was it...? Spaghet didn't remember seeing it, at least. Spaghet slowly felt his body going numb, until he collapsed to the ground in a heap. Before he even realized it, he was looking at himself. He found his body on all fours, prancing around, dashing under the small desk again and again, and sniffing at the odd boy's shoes. After that, he excitedly went over to his own corpse again, nuzzling at it wistfully... Licking his own face... By now even Spaghet realized what was going on. He eventually came to, feeling Burrito licking at his face. The boy seemed to have gone, with nothing left in his wake. Was he unconscious for so long? As Spaghet thought upon the matter, he suddenly realized that something... something was different inside his brain. He couldn't remember how to play Ballad of the Windfish, or even how the tune went. Instead, he found a strange, somber melody in its place... and the knowledge of how to play it. When Spaghet attempts to play this song for at least 15 seconds, he may designate anyone who hears it. He thus becomes able to peer behind the eyes of the designated individual, able to see, hear, and feel what they feel. Although he cannot read their mind, he is able to feel the same emotions as the chosen individual. He has no means of communicating or controlling anything while in this state. While peering in this way, Spaghet's original body is limp, and utterly comatose. He may return to his original body at any time, though when he does so, it will feel numb and oddly weak for a brief period lasting less than a minute, making movement difficult. Should his original body die, Spaghet's consciousness will, of course, cease. A faint voice lingered in the Bokoblin's ear, "Should you dislike this song... play it to a room filled with sleeping individuals. Their unconscious minds shall steal the knowledge I have given you, but you will once more be able to play a particular Ballad."
Tell his face? How was one supposed to communicate with their face? It was just a part of your body and not a sentient creature that one cou-- And then he collapsed. It had been years since he had done this in public, and it was genuinely embarrassing. Not only that, his perception of reality had completely changed. He was quite certain that if he was conscious of what his own body was doing, it would be sweating. He came to absentmindedly rubbing his head.. before realizing he was ruining his wig. He tsked at himself, pushing Burrito off of him... before allowing the dog to pounce in his lap. Obnoxious little thing. As Spaghet absentmindedly pet the dog, he frowned. It took him awhile, but he finally understood what had happened. He turned cold. This... this was a strange feeling, and one he did not appreciate. He sighed deeply. It felt... rather cheap to have such knowledge instantly. He would have to investigate the tune more later. Spaghet was certain he didn't understand the intricacies of it yet.
