Jerkbag.

Date: 18 Jun 2007 19:42 (UTC)
ext_1576135: (deadpan)


He could blame his oft-cited love for sweets and pastries. Vienna was crawling with bakeries - strange for a place on so much water. Each individual place boasted the finest of one buttery pastry or confection, and it was imperative, since one only lived once, to try them all while one could. There was something wonderful about the crunch and release of sweet creams from the flakes and buttery crusts of Cannoli, which could be repeated seconds later with the next.

The sweets - he made an effort to carry a tray with him when he expected to run into Mozart - kept his mouth quiet. His tongue occupied with slowly melting chocolate could not betray - I want you to die, slowly and in great agony or Please just sit at the piano and play music forever. I will sit too. Doubly, they could be foisted on the other composer when he saw fit to speak, or spout lewdness or giggle. It kept both quiet, and in the silence Salieri could keep hating Mozart, the emotion like bittered chocolate and sharp cognac awash with black coffee.
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