Normally the spirits are so. Melodic. Pretty to listen to, even. Their language is pleasant and based on melody and just. Nice. Particularly to someone who is overly fond of music.

This, however, is not nice. The singing is loud and discordant, you can't even pick out any words, and the spirits are far too in-your-face about the whole thing. Soldat scurries along their patrol away from Beacon proper as soon as they can manage to get away, headed towards Owl Friend's neck of the woods, hoping they, at least, have not lost their feathery mind.

More than usual, anyway.

There's no coffee today, because they had to get away from the craziness without stopping by the Invincible. Hopefully head-scritches will make up for it.