Voracious

The problem with muses is that they don't work for free.

Not that they want coin- which may or may not be fortunate for we starving artists who worship them. No, there is only one currency those creatures are interested in, only one currency which holds any sway-

Mortal joy.

You see, mortal emotions burn so much more brightly than those of the immortal beings, because they are compressed into such short life spans. Everything we feel- joy, anger, sadness- in comparison to how the immortals experience things, they are emotional concentrate. More pure than purity itself.

You might think that the muses would be satisfied with any emotion, so long as it was mortal, but the truth is, things like tragedy and despair hold no interest for them. They are too familiar by far with those experiences (hence the tragedy inherent in so much of great art). And love, what some mortals would think to be the most divine of all mortal experiences- that holds even less interest for them. After all, they have too often seen the results of this most destructive of emotions. Thus they content themselves with joy, with happiness, even with serenity and contentment. These are the emotions they are hungry for, and these are the sacrifices they demand of their supplicants.

How do I know these things? How could I not? Have I not noticed, time and again, that my highest art emerges only when I am sunk in the depths of despair? They say you must suffer for your art, and I know it to be true- because unless I surrender what is joyful and good in my mind, in my heart, in my very soul- how shall the muse be fed? And if the muse is not fed, whence my inspiration? So I welcome gray depression with open arms, because I know the muse must have her due- and soon I will create again.