[Nikkis music stops in a sudden jerk of the strings. His power comes from a natural telepath, and his heads flooded with images. Purple and green, bones and tentacles. He speaks out loud, to whatever it is. His not strong or sane enough to see one solid picture ]]

Ah, what a perfect terrible thing you are. [He lets out a little laugh] You cant burn, not here! [The violin strikes up again, playing literally the musical equivalent of the form in his head. He pauses it in intervals to speak]

You have it all backwards and upside down. We’re in the belly of the Great and Terrible Oz, monsters and stars behind the curtain. We live in time now, we’re the great children of time itself! [A very high pitched few notes] We’re prisoners and wardens of our own demise, cant you hear that?

{Another small laugh, and he goes off playing]