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 Posted: Thu Jan 29, 2009 8:32 am
Introduction I- Erik With a desperate intensity that stole the breath from his dead, scarring lungs, the old monster yearned for chaste beauty to feed his senses that had so long been starved of it. Was it to be the fate of anyone who lived not within the realm of 'real' society, to be forced from that one, marvelous wonder that seemed to bring all members of the human race together? It had long been pushed into his mind that he was not a member of the human race... but this was one human emotion that could hardly be ignored by one so enthralled within music, its spinning magic throughout the darkness of a place that otherwise shone no light.
Who was he, the creature asked in all of his dark solitude, what was he? All of life, it had been a goal of the ugly man to create something truly beautiful... yet all of it turned to pitch by the eyes of those who did not think it worthy, nor its creator of praise. His architectural work became the sad musings of a madman, as did the music, and the artwork only turned more and more obsessed with that angelic child for whom his mind could not place a purpose....
Angels and Demons, of course.... Or, perhaps, the Angel in Hell and his angelic brethren? Lucifer himself had been seen by God in beauty until an hour before he fell. And how could the pitiful incarnation of Memento Mori be so blamed, for all that had happened? The death of Joseph Buquet was obviously explained as 'the ghost....' His work was clearly written on it, the burned skin from the torture chamber to the noose that lay so efficiently over the rope-puller's thick bronzed neck.
Yet he was so conversely involved with that beautiful child that nothing seemed to make sense any longer.... For the past three months, it had just been her teaching, and loving the dear orphaned child very much like a child himself.
But what had happened when Monsieur de Chagny came back? Long ago, before he even became an adult, in a physical sense, Erik had dragged his overly-fanciful mind to earth, and telling himself that it was fatuous to ever fall in love, for, as his abuser had so gladly told him, no woman would ever look upon the repugnant face with love.
Why was this jealousy so readily come forth, then? He'd no reason to love Mademoiselle Daae. He felt as though he knew everything about the child, listening to her daily thoughts and troubles, and there was nothing in particular that struck him.... Besides, perhaps, her forgiveness. The dear girl's capacity for sympathy was, simply, wonderful to think upon. As was the prospect of creating something of beauty through her....
Perhaps it could be called 'manipulation,' but the thought of making everyone in Paris delight over the angelic voice of this lovely little girl that he had created in his own image was one of supreme triumph, that finally, something would be created out of the splendourous genius that had so long been forced to consume itself in the darkness of loneliness.
Loving, in itself, felt as though it were impossible to achieve. How could it be said that what he was feeling was even that sacred emotion that had so long been sung over, when he hardly felt the feeling to glorify this emotion with such a powerful, gilded name? Whatever it was only made the creature feel more disgusting, that this... thing borne of his own long-disfigured mind could make him believe that he had some connection to the rest of humanity.
It was only pompousness, likely, though, it could not be said that he'd not found some fancy in the realm of such eccentricity within these past years of his life.
The stage was set in the way that it always was. All of the cats' eyes watching from the rafters, his indistinguishable from the rest, all watching curiously down at the corpse of that Buquet man, and to the whispers of the accusations of the ghost....
None of them believed what was to be heard, of course. All of those who lived in the rafters had too sensitive and too callous an ear to begin to contemplate the horror of life and love and death that had just been set off within the walls of the famed Paris Opera House.Ooc: Wow!... That was bad. Oh well. I'm sorry for being sick for so long, then delivering such a disappointment. Forgive me, please.... gonk
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Posted: Thu Jan 29, 2009 9:02 am
Ooc: This was not bad! scream stressed I'll probably shame it by writing something lame... Introduction II- Nadir The Persian, an all-too-serious man, stepped into the opera house. He stayed close to the shadows, as to not draw attention to himself. He was wise and ever alert. He watched all the colorful people walk by. Some were young, some old. All of them were naive. Nadir knew this. He also knew of the Opera ghost that lived here, yet he had come. Purpose? He had none.
Only to wait and to watch.Ooc: See? Told you... sad
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Posted: Mon Feb 02, 2009 9:00 am
Ooc: I suppose I sound really mean in saying so, but I was kinda hoping for a longer response.... Then again, I gave you absolutely nothing to work with in my introduction. I'm sorry. gonk
Anyone else may post their introductions, now!! sweatdrop
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Posted: Mon Feb 02, 2009 9:59 am
Introduction III- Carlotta Carlotta came strutting into the Opera House with a dignified air. She wore her most grandest dress, as she always did when she went out, for everyone to know her name and see her face. She strolled past everyone, her nose in the air, as they stared in awe. This is the way it always should be. Her beautiful voice was finally getting known around here and it was about time. She just wish those silly managers would hurry up already.
Shoving past the Persian without even noticing him, she strutted off to go find them.Ooc: How's this? Long enough?
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Posted: Mon Feb 02, 2009 10:05 am
Ooc: I'm sorry! I'm not good at making long intros! gonk I'll make this post longer, how about that?
Bic: The Persain stared after this rude woman that people around him seemed to be calling Carlotta. What a horrible woman to go around with her nose in the air all the time. But this did not concern very much. During his travels, he had met many stuck up people who were recognised for all the wrong reasons.
Shrugging it off, the Persian went back to the shadows, observing the people around him.
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Posted: Mon Feb 02, 2009 3:15 pm
Christine watched as Carlotta moved her way to the front of the Opera house, her beautiful dress swaying with each step. She had heard of this stuck up being, and was not too fond of people that had no heart. Slowly, majestically, and almost mystically, Christine moved to the aisle to say hello the the pompus lady who continued to make her way down to the front.
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Posted: Mon Feb 02, 2009 3:23 pm
Raoul watched Carlotta pass. He watched, not able to tell if he was feeling scorn or pity for the woman - but it was most likely scorn. He enjoyed the operas, but not if they were going to be ruined by some person who seemed to have no heart. Then his breath caught - Christine Daae was following her, for some inapparent reason - Christine, of all people! Roaul smiled and joined the small procession.
Ooc: I'm no good at intros, am I?
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Posted: Mon Feb 02, 2009 3:29 pm
Christine noticed that apparently she was going to be ignored, like most others that come in contact with this pompus wench. So, to add herself in the list of unignored, she stepped right in front of her, blocking here in every which way, meaning that she had no choice but to talk to her.
"Hello. My name is Christine Daae. Is there anything I can help you with, Ms. Carlotta?"
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Posted: Tue Feb 03, 2009 1:23 pm
The Persain stood back and watched. What was that foolish girl hoping to accomplish?
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 4:27 am
Ooc: Everyone elses' intros were great!
I just feel embarrassed, now, that mine was so unnecessarily long and boring.... sweatdrop
Bic: As ever, there were two people that had always made the monster of a man feel particularly wary about his position at the Opera Populaire: The Persian, that shadow that followed him around like the cold feeling of death, and, of course, Mademoiselle Daae.
The latter, of course, was for a silly, adolescent reason... that she might soon acquire a suitor, in Monsieur de Chagny.... But it could still hardly be thought of as 'trivial' by a wandering mind that had no-where to go but to her and to the music.
It was also very peculiar, staring down to the mass of people upon the stage, that Christine chose to confront Signora Carlotta... the girl was never so bold, normally. He supposed it should have been appreciated, but, then, it wasn't possible to interfere as much, in such a situation.
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Posted: Wed Feb 04, 2009 2:14 pm
Carlotta, shocked that such a small girl would step in front of her and equally flattered that she was offering to help, decided to reply.
"Why aren't you a cute dear?" She cooed, "Why you could be of some help. Carry my bags to my dressing room for me." She waved her hand over to where her things sat. "I need them in this room." She handed Christine the room number. "Think you can do that dear?"
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Posted: Thu Feb 05, 2009 4:34 pm
Nadir watched the two women then sighed and went to his business. He went up above the stage and found exactly who he was looking for.
The "monster." The Phantom of the Opera.
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Posted: Sun Feb 08, 2009 1:39 pm
"I'm sure I could. But it's not my actual job. I'm an actress. Although, for the most impressive Carlotta, I guess I could. Perhaps you can give me some tips on my singing." She smiled up at Carlotta. "My name's Christine Daae, just so you know; and if you're looking for the managers they should be here shortly." Then, as quickly as she appeared, she was gone to do as Carlotta had ever so kindly asked of her.
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Posted: Mon Feb 09, 2009 4:24 am
Erik quickly found himself sneering at Christine's actions. Though she'd always been willing to learn, and believe in the fantastic notion of an angel that only spoke to her... she seemed to remain strangely submissive in other areas, as shown at the present, in dealing with other people. Surely, sometime soon, he would need to speak to her on that fact....
However, the appearance of the daroga was a sufficient distraction from the scene below after a moment.
"Monsieur," the angels' voice came in a fast, distracted whisper, "To what do I owe the displeasure of your visit?"
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Posted: Mon Feb 09, 2009 2:46 pm
"I was just worried about you, Erik," Nadir told him, "I noticed you staring after that Christine again."
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