» Fri May 27, 2011 12:47 am
When I hear "Daedra readings" I think of a gloomy club, with heavy, mahogany tables and uncomfortable chairs that look like modern art sculptures. There are Andy Warhol prints hanging on walls painted a steely grey a sponge finish. It is too dark to see any faces until a man wearing a neat goatee and a black turtleneck sweater gets up and takes the microphone and says,
"Nocturne! Darkest pit in my very centre! And yet, in the uniformity of my existential despair, hers is the only way I can feel kinship with my neighbour."
And then he sits down and people applaud by clicking their fingers.
I'm... not sure if this is a good thing.