Christine's mind raced in her attempt to find the right way to proceed as she walked through the freezing cold water towards the two men. Each move brought her further and further into the icy abyss and soon she began to lose feeling in her feet. However, even at this distance, she could feel Erik's warmth, or was it her own? She could not tell anymore who was the cold-blooded one and who was the hot-blooded one between them. She caught her breath as she paused briefly, the water to her knees by then. She lowered her chin as Erik spoke, his words not half as venomous as his tone. She knew she'd hurt him with her words. That was her intention, after all. She was pained and angry and wanted them to feel just as she did, after all that they'd put her through, and not only Raoul. Erik was not innocent in this.
To be fair, she wasn't sure anyone was innocent in this ordeal. She herself had used Raoul as a way to escape from the misunderstanding between herself and Erik, as well as her burgeoning feelings and desires that she was afraid to confront on her own. It seemed that every which way that she turned, she was unable to find a clear right move or unselfish motive. Raoul and Erik both fought the way they were for possession of her. Maybe it was for physical possession, maybe not, but they both wanted her and who knew if they'd even bother to deny it. The very thought of it made her stomach tighten, although she couldn't pinpoint if the thought of Raoul owning her disgusted her or if the thought of Erik keeping her thrilled her.
She saw Erik flinch but chose not to comment on it. In a moment of rare perception, Raoul saw the flinch as well and saw a way into the Phantom's fierce facade. "You have nothing to offer her, you know," he said quietly to Erik, taking advantage of their close proximity and Christine's moment of rest. "She will stay here to save me and you will condemn her to a life of darkness and nothingness. At least with me, she'd have a chance of a life worth living. You know, surely you must know, she will never be happy with you." He sounded so sure of himself that, although she could not hear his exact words, even Christine felt a desire to slap him. The Phantom's poisonous words did not appear to faze him, his momentum already building. "Convenient perhaps, but I have still had more of her than you ever will. You may take her body as you please, fight for her gaze, struggle for her affections, yet I will always have made my mark first. She will never love you as she has always loved me. You will always know that she stayed with you for the love of me."
Christine took a deep breath before beginning to walk once more, her feet moving slowly as they numbly struggled to find solid footing on the slippery lake floor. She caught his smirk, her breath stuck in her throat for a second. How dare he give her a look like that when she was trying to find the right way to make this decision? Now she'd lost her train of thought. Oh yeah, she was pissed.
He was right, she had chosen to follow him down into the depths that first time. However, he did seem to be willfully ignoring the fact that their relationship began by her believing that he was an angel sent to her by her father. Of course, she didn't believe it for long, but she had been so young when this began, a mere child searching for affection after the loss of such an important figure as her father and her childhood home. "You're right. I wasn't tricked into coming here. I knew what was happening at every instance when I first stepped through my mirror and followed you down. I took your hand and I escaped." She glanced over to Raoul. "I escaped you, Raoul. You and the opera house and all the responsibilities that came with sudden recognition. I wanted to be with him." She turned her eyes back to Erik's bare face, her expression a strange combination of despair and something else. Something different. Something final.
Raoul was aggrieved to realize that it was acceptance. He'd known she would sacrifice herself for his life, but to know it and to see it were two very different things. He struggled against his bonds once again, gagging as he choked himself by accident. "Christine-!" He croaked, darkness creeping in from the corners of his sight as he fought to be free.
"Raoul, please. Stop. You'll kill yourself." She stopped walking when she was several feet away from the two, the water now up to her upper thighs. She was so much shorter than the two of them, nearly laughing at the strange realization of it. The dress floated around her, providing no protection from the water as it seeped through the fabric. Distantly, she hated herself for allowing herself to become wet once more so quickly after changing into dry clothes.
Raoul spit into the water, his Adam's apple bobbing as he struggled to catch his breath. "Christine! Hate me, let me die. Do not condemn yourself!" he cried, wrists red from his wriggling. He could no longer feel his hands or his legs, held up mostly by the rope and his own spite.
She looked at him, smiling softly. "Pitiful, Raoul," she murmured, then sighed and shook her head as Erik growled at her. Alright, she might have deserved that. "I made my choice long ago. Trying your patience is merely a bonus." Since the very beginning, Christine had fought and made the worst possible decisions at every turn. However, she knew this was the right direction and regardless of what happened, she wanted to follow through. Christine lifted her eyes to Erik's once more and began to step closer and close the gap between them.
She reached out to touch him, her hand covering his. In that instance, she could feel the familiar sting of magnetic attraction she felt whenever he was near and she could sense her dismay and anger began to trickle away. "What kind of life have you known? For what cause have you been made to suffer through what you have all on your own." She did not look at Raoul, her focus solely on the man before her. Erik was all that she could see. She did not attempt to take the rope from him or otherwise coax him into letting her fiance go. Instead, she moved her other hand to his wrist and used his strength to pull herself through the water and steady herself as she moved to stand directly in front of him. Her hand left his wrist to his chest as her feet firmly planted onto the unstable ground. "I've made up my mind." She swallowed hard, then slid her arm upwards to touch his chin with her fingertips. She waited for him to move, to breathe, to do something before she could proceed, but Christine did not want to wait any longer. Her gaze fell to his lips, then returned to his eyes in a movement that she hoped would illustrate her intentions.
...and of nothing.
Dantes_river
I'm so sorry I disappeared. The move kinda threw me for a total loop and I needed time to get my brain back on track, so my therapist recommended I take a social media break and limit my output. I'm getting better, though, so I'm gonna try to get back on track with this. I'm sorry if it's not very good. I'm still getting back into the swing of things.
Plus there's so much that can happen in those few months, specifically with the Opera Populaire. If possible, she could even arrange for Raoul's family to buy it and give it to her in exchange for her not coming forward with the truth of Raoul's cowardice and assault, so that Erik could actually run it in the light of the day.
I'll never say no to a splash of French. Also I super don't know it either so I'm the last person to b*tch at you about it. lol I like that as a running gag too, it can just be what he calls him in the future.
Oh, and all she needs is for him to not push her away, and then she'll touch his face, say the "you are not alone" line, and kiss him in the big moment. I don't know if she'll outright say she loves him then, but either way, we're talking a serious sesh that neither will forget until they reunite.
Posted: Thu Oct 29, 2020 8:17 pm
| Erik, the Phantom of the Opera |
"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.xxx Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."
It seemed unnatural how Raoul could manage to get inside his head like he did. Even with the repetitive chanting of not listening to the words meant to egg him on, the Vicomte’s words managed to find their way into his head and linger there. He had some things to say that were true, but there were also some things said that weren’t true. He could offer Christine things, but definitely not anything that Raoul could give her. He couldn’t give her some fabulous life where she could have people waiting on her hand and foot, but he did have something to give her. It wasn’t really something physical, but it was genuine and heartfelt.
Christine’s wading through the water, thankfully, kept Erik focused on the far more physical realm than getting lost in petty bickering with the man-child held captive on the other end of the rope in his hands. Of course, it made him think she was being perhaps a little stupid in having hopped down into the cold water, but the only sign he gave of that was the slight raise of his right brow that seemed to question her sanity. He already knew the dark was cold, the water colder, but like always, he was relatively numb to it whilst Raoul and Christine involuntarily shivered at it’s mercy. And then she agreed to his words.
Erik had inhaled to speak, but it fell short when he neither found the words nor the need to actually say anything. And then he realized just how close Christine had gotten to him, her hand over his sending sparks up his arm to ignite the heat within that he could actually feel. As she pulled herself nearer by using his own strength to her advantage, the anger in his expression seemed to have simmered down to being irritated with a rather cautious yet wounded stare.
“Indeed,” he breathed out, lowly as if he’d only just remembered having taken a breath to say something. As much as he was trying not to fall back into the safe space she’d given to him again, he could feel his guard slipping farther away from him. Licking his lips whilst trying to peer past the proverbial veil Christine had somehow hidden her thoughts behind, he could feel his pulse quicken and he was pretty sure the blonde femme was somehow feeling as if the roles had reversed themselves. He certainly knew that’s how he was feeling at the moment. Clearing his throat briefly, more to deepen the cold fury in at least how he spoke so as not to give Raoul any more sense of satisfaction at the phantom menace seeming so vulnerable, he finally spoke up. “I suppose I taught you more than I should’ve then since you’ve been trying my patience for a while now. My mistake. Let me ask you then, Christine. What is your decision?”
It was a rhetorical question, and he was sure that she’d know it was simply empty words meant to fill in the silent void lingering in the air. Raoul could splash around all night and scream obscenities all he’d like, but it wouldn’t erase the lull that came with words one never wanted to hear as if sucked into a tight vacuum. Erik hadn’t been wrong. Christine did feel the same way as he did her, her tender touch on his jaw and longing gaze on his hideously horrible face, but part of him knew how this would be like that day in the cemetery all over again. She was going to leave as a means to protect him for a second time, and just like then, he’d allow her to take her leave with the moron she’d once called a dear friend. He was going to be alone all over again, and the opera ghost would become as dead as the Devil’s Child had over ten years ago. No amount of persuasion would be able to fix the damage he’d done to the world of light above him, but she seemed to think she could mend that bridge.
The realization of his weakness when something involved Christine was just fuel to the fire already within him, and in a way, he wasn’t just mad at Raoul, but also at his own irrational mind. Whilst there was that one part of him that hoped she’d choose to save him from his solitude, he already knew her answer that was filled with good intentions. It was that answer that would end up returning him to his previous state of existence; alone. Knowing it and hearing it would be two different things though, and it was the reason his jaw grew taut for a moment as if he were trying to steel himself to the words. Christine did belong to the world above after all, and she’d be perfectly fine without him now. Erik, however, was forever doomed to skulk around in shadow for that world of light couldn’t seem to accept all of what made him who he was.
"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor. xxxGrasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garrish light of day, xxxturn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night."
Mayah Playah
It’s fine, hon. I know the stress of moving. Readjusting always seems to drain a lot outta you so just take your time. I’m not going to rush you nor am I going anywhere anytime soon. I have no life after all.
It could indeed, both the Christine taking over the Opera Populaire for her silence about Raoul and the running gag of the Viscount being a hateful crow.
Anyhoo, I kept changing this, and changing it, and changing it some more, but somehow it keeps ending up the same way... like the whole French comment thing. Either way, I kinda felt it’d be a little more dramatic and a smidge more touching if he’s in the mindset of being alone after this only for her to tell him he isn’t alone (coughanymorecough).
The closer Christine drew, the more Raoul flailed for an opening into her gaze. She was completely focused on the man in front of her, his situation, and his life, a forgotten complication. He wasn't blind and he wasn't half as stupid as the Phantom believed him to be. He knew full well what this was. Christine was in love with this monster, this beast who had stolen her away from the surface and into this dark pit of despair. He struggled against his bonds once more, panting from the exertion of his efforts. He saw her intention and there wasn't any chance that he would just stand here and let it happen. "Christine, no! Don't do it! I'm not worth it!" He cried out, catching his throat against the rope and gagging loudly. God, who in their right mind knew how to make knots like this?! Every move he made served to draw the damn thing tighter around his neck. It occurred to him that he might not even need for the Phantom to pull the rope in order to die. That being said, he would rather die at the beast's hands than his own, if only to cause a greater rift between him and Christine. A rift was greatly needed, seeing as even from this distance, Raoul could see the look in her eyes as she waded towards them. She was going to give in. He knew it.
He paused in his thoughts as he distantly heard chanting above. There they were, the cavalry. He glanced upwards, denying himself a smile. All he had to do was distract them. That was certainly something he could do. He gagged once more, spitting into the lake water and grunting as he pressed himself to the grate for some measure of reprieve. "Christine, I beg of you. Don't do this. Think of us. Think of our future." He pitifully reached his fingers towards her. "Please. I know why you're doing this and you don't need to." He pleaded helplessly, much to her annoyance.
It was possible that everyone in the cavern believed that they knew her motives except for her. She exhaled slowly as she felt his warmth spread from her fingertips to her arms, moving further into her until it entirely enveloped her. Was this his love that she could feel? She knew that he loved her, even if he had not said it aloud quite yet. Either that or hypothermia was starting to kick in. She wondered to herself whether or not she would be the first to say that she loved him as well. He was much shyer than the world seemed to think that he was so it wasn't an impossibility. She looked into his eyes with emotion that even she found trouble deciphering, but one thought remained unwaveringly in her mind: if the world were to end that night, she had only one thing she'd regretted not doing yet.
He spoke, probably just to fill the air. She knew him that well to recognize that the silence between them was too much to bear during such a tense moment. She bit back a chuckle at how very cute she found his awkwardness. How had she ever looked at him and seen a perfect being? It was his imperfections now that filled her with such delight and fondness. He was human, maybe even more so than she was. They had both made such mistakes in their struggle to find one another and now found themselves on equal footing. They were the same, perhaps in reversed roles. It wasn't lost on her that she was now the pursuer and him the pursued. She distantly recalled a moment before all of this began, the music of the aria that made her a star rushing through her veins as she sang for him and him alone. There would never be a day that she would not think of him, even after all of this was over, and there would never be a day where he was alone ever again.
She smiled softly as he attempted to regain control over the situation, her hand on his chin slowly moving to caress his scarred jaw. "I should think it would be quite obvious," she answered, her eyes searching his for something, anything. She knew his insecurities were greater than her own, his belief of her love forever tainted by the situation they had found themselves in. She glanced down to his chest for a brief moment, her thoughts a scramble in how to proceed. The only way she knew how to speak to him and truly explain herself was-
Oh. Oh, of course. She looked back to his face, her hand on his chest moving just slightly downwards to his solar plexus. The cold was bound to affect her voice, but now was not the time to worry about being perfect. Besides, he loved her for more than her voice. Right? Oh God, right? Wait, now was a bad time to worry about that. Her own insecurities began to sink into her consciousness, but the tensing of his jaw under her touch returned her to reality. That wasn't important. This was. He was. She took a deep breath, then raised her eyes to his and opened her mouth and began to sing just as he had done for her. "Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime." Her voice echoed through the cavern, a little shaky and a bit quiet, but just like when she first performed for the managers, time brought confidence. "Let me lead you from your solitude." She shuffled her feet just a little, the fabric on her hips now pressing into his body as she ached to be closer to him. "Say you need me with you here, beside you. Anywhere you go, let me go too!" Her hand left his jaw to cup the side of his face as she sang in earnest, tears filling her eyes. She paused, her voice echoing around them. She panted, catching her breath as she fought to make her lungs work even in this freezing cold. "Love me, that's all I ask of you," she whispered, then closed her eyes and pushed herself up on her tiptoes to press her lips to his.
Colors exploded behind her eyelids as she kissed him, her trembling body finally stilling as their lips met. It was everything she'd ever thought it would be, albeit it a little awkward as she tasted of salt and he wasn't exactly moving yet. Ah well, that's what their relationship had been thus far anyway. Christine, however, was not willing to pull away just yet. She had waited too long for this moment and she could hear the music swelling around them, her song and her love wanting to reach his more than she wanted to live. She gave no second thought to Raoul who, after having sung this very song with her several times in the past, must only now be realizing what it sounded like when she truly meant it.
Christine pulled out of the kiss, still remaining close as her thumb stroked the side of his face. "You are not alone anymore, Erik. You never will be again," she said to him, sincerity in her eyes and conviction in her tone. She took another breath, then summoned all of her courage and spoke once more. She hoped that he would believe it as strongly as she did. "I love you." With her words hanging in the air, she raised herself and kissed him again, praying that her feelings would be understood and not misinterpreted. Although it would be hard to misinterpret someone outright telling you they loved you, she wouldn't put it past him.
...and of nothing.
Dantes_river
Oh my God, I have never felt a sentence stronger. I have absolutely no life, either. It's basically just Netflix and Gaia.
I desperately want to see that last interaction of Erik finally coming out into the world and Christine straight up saying "get the hell out of our theater" and Erik referring to him as a hateful crow as he walks out and they get another Big Dang Kiss.
No no, I really like it. It's very indicative of his mental process and of how his trauma of being rejected his whole life is affecting him as a grownup. I wasn't sure about the All I Ask of You in mine, though, since it's a RaoulxChristine song that he appropriated at once point. I was stuck between this one and Love Never Dies, but the symbolism of her singing All I Ask of You and actually meaning it really got me. Should I change it?
Do you have Discord? I feel like it would make it easier to communicate through this mess. If not, we could continue doing this or just PMing. I don't mind either way.
Posted: Sun Nov 01, 2020 6:39 am
| Erik, the Phantom of the Opera |
"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.xxx Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."
It was there, Raoul’s voice rather grating to his ears, but he never truly acknowledged the words he spoke. Even as water was sloshed around and the man gagged then spit into the water, he paid it no heed. Whilst his insides churned from Christine’s hand being around the scarring on his face, the manifestation of toxic evil brought to the surface, his body never so much as made a flinch. Erik merely acknowledged her statement of her choice being relatively obvious, and it was. Every move made and every breath she took he made note of which only made it that much clearer that she was sorting out the finer details of how this would play out yet still end at the same conclusion.
And then it happened, Christine had taken part of him off of his guard by returning the words he’d used with her before it’d been interrupted by an officer and his mask being removed. This was soon followed by the rest of his guard falling prey to her lips making contact with his own. The warmth of her lips, opposing the coolness of her hands from being down here, only spread throughout his body and made his heart flutter. Well, Raoul’s begging was for naught seeing as the girl rejected them simply to be with him.
Just as soon as he’d snapped back out of his stunned state, she’d pulled back out of the kiss making him remember he had to breathe. Well how was he supposed to respond to that? Or the words that were soon to follow? She even used his real name. This time she kissed him, he gently yet firmly set his free arm around her small frame and returned it with a passion that would live with him for an eternity, the phantom sound of music that was tuned just for them playing deep within his soul. He was sure of that much and of the feelings they shared. There was just one small problem...
Drawing back from the kiss to give the girl her air, a tear streaked down the side of his face opposite of Raoul and he removed his arm from around her. Quickly swiping it away as the chants from the mob slowly began to creep down the dark corridors. “You’re actually quite cruel, Miss Daae,” he finally breathed out shakily just to release the rope entirely leaving Raoul free to breathe and remove the noise from around his neck. He wouldn’t say it to herp, not now, as it’d just hurt more seeing her leaving. Stepping around her and wading through water back onto land, he removed a cloak from a seemingly slanted coatrack simply to expose the lever beneath it, Erik gripped the top and pulled on it so the gate would begin to rise once more. Instead of addressing her, he directed a cold glare at Raoul. “Take her. Forget me. Forget all of this.”
“Track down this murderer! He must be found! Who is the monster, this murdering beast?!”
“Leave me alone. Forget all you’ve seen. Go now. Don’t let them find you,” he continued on though his hand twitched slightly before simply growing taut. This was the only way anyone would win, and he couldn’t even really call it a win save for being able to live.
“Hunt down this animal that runs to ground!”
“Take the boat. Swear to me never to tell the secret you know of the angel in Hell.“ Flicking his wrist back towards the boat as he began slowly ascending the small flight of stairs, he took a moment’s pause as the mob continued on themselves.
“Too long he’s preyed on us, but now we know the Phantom of the Opera is down deep below.”
“Go now! Go now and leave me!” He knew that even if his demands were shakily said, the harsh conviction behind dismissing the duo came through. He then continued on to where his musicbox monkey sat and just dropped down into the seat before it. Giving the key a few turns, he focused on the tune in order to dismiss the tears as much as possible.
“Masquerade. Paper faces on parade. Masquerade. Hide your face so the world will never find you...” Damnit. She’d come after him. She knew he’d wanted to say it, but hadn’t. Or maybe it was just because she knew he was far too shy in general. Either way, she must’ve wanted an answer to her confession. Removing the small ring from his pinkie and picking up Raoul’s gaudy engagement ring, he spun slightly in his chair with his hand ready to hand them over to her and gave her a sad smile even as another tear streaked down his face. He wouldn’t need the reminder haunting him once she’d gone away.
“Christine, I love you. I do need you, and want you, but...” Just don’t come back, he added after being unable to finish the last spoken sentence. It’d only hurt worse after all.
"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor. xxxGrasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garrish light of day, xxxturn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night."
Mayah Playah
Ok! I got through this part without fully squalling... Ok. I lied. It took me several hours to write this because I kept crying after every few sentences. Word of advice to myself that I should’ve followed: Don’t listen to Down Once More/Track Down This Murderer on the soundtrack when writing this part. I failed to do that ‘cause I wanted to be in character. emotion_donotwant
And your post is fine! It could be better than my last two posts put together. It’s probably better than this one, but I can’t rewrite it because I personally like this one (and I don’t feel like crying a million more times). It’s just so sad! I also combined film and play version of the Track Down This Murderer part so meh...
I can’t wait for that either! It’d be one giant middle finger to him from both Erik and Christine. lol
No, I do not have a Discord thingie. People in the guild of my Castle Age game keep asking that too, but I really don’t want it much like I don’t want a Facebook or Twitter thingie. It might be faster, but I really don’t want it. PM or this way is fine. Doesn’t matter to me.
My life is: Netflix, sleep, Crunchyroll, sleep, PS4 - currently Assassin’s Creed Origin -, sleep, WoW with my sister and her boyfriend - he’s a nerd like me too! -, sleep, work, sleep, Castle Age app, sleep, Gaia, and sleep... And dealing with 4 cats (5 if you count Porch Cat we call Tut like King Tutankhamen) and 5 dogs, and my mom recovering from shoulder surgery. Did I say sleep ‘cause I sleep A LOT. Yay! Epilepsy sucks~
And I honestly can’t pick between Viscount and Vicomte since they both pop up as pretty much the same thing so I probably went with both amidst all of this. Lol
She could feel her trembling body steady as he finally began to kiss her back. She had been certain that he was too shy to express his true feelings, but his gentle passion spoke volumes. Her hands slid from his face to behind his neck, her arms striving to pull him closer as she pressed her small body to his firm one. The whole world stood still for this one kiss, this perfect moment in time where the two lovers saw each other, pure and whole, as complete persons who truly understood and wanted each other. She knew exactly who he was and what he had done, as did he her, and she still loved him as much as he loved her. She still wanted to stay by his side and down below here. In the back of her mind, she knew this couldn't be so. She could not transform herself into a creature of darkness. Yet for him, she would try. She would do whatever it took to stay here in his arms and deny the world the satisfaction of ripping her away from him. She felt the music swell around them and build as their kiss tore through her preconceived assumptions about their future and gave to her a new hope that she prayed would last.
Unfortunately, he ended the kiss, and Christine was pulled from her own fantasies with a roughness she'd not expected. She opened her eyes to look up at him, catching a tear on his cheek and the pain in his eyes. She wasn't a fool. She knew what he was going to do. She clung to him tightly, shaking her head as he released her, calling her cruel as though she were the one pushing him away. She held tight to his torso, her fingers digging into his sides. He removed himself from her, slipping from her grasp. "Erik... Erik, no." She said quietly, her hands lingering in the air as though she could still grab him and pull him back to her, as though she could truly kiss away his doubts and fears. She watched in stunned silence as he released Raoul, raising the gate and letting them both go. He didn't look at her, which was probably very wise, but it hurt her so very much that now, even as he was letting her go free, he didn't even have the decency to bid her farewell. She raised her hand to her face as she suddenly felt the tears streaming down her face, both furious and despaired.
Raoul nodded at his instructions, raising his hand to his neck to rub where the noose had been, but he did not move towards Christine just yet. Instead, he stood and watched her grieve the loss of her beloved teacher, fully understanding, perhaps for the first time, the depth of her emotion for the man he still considered to be a beast. He turned at the chanting above them, then looked back to Christine. They didn't have much time. He waded over to her, slipping an arm around her waist and starting to pull her towards the boat. "Christine, we have to go." He tried to say to her, but she shook her head and sobbed.
"No. No, I won't leave him!" She wept, beating her cold fists against Raoul's chest. She ignored the voices and fought to be released, but Raoul held her firm. He turned her to face him, catching one of her wrists before it struck him again. "Let me go. I want to stay!"
He shook his head, staring down at her. "Christine, if you stay down here, he will die." She started to say something, but he interrupted her, his voice echoing through the cavern. "You need to return to the surface and insist that he's gone. If you disappear with him, he will never find peace and will eventually be caught. You must come with me. We have to go right now."
He was right. She knew that he was. She hated it. She stopped in her fighting and turned to look at Erik as he walked away and sat in front of the music box. She breathed softly, her eyes unable to tear themselves away from his form. She knew she needed to go. "Let me say goodbye." She whispered. Raoul thought for a moment before finally nodded and letting her go. He turned to prepare the boat, not wanting to watch her throw herself at Erik one last time.
Christine walked over to her master, standing behind him and listening in silence as he sang along to the music box. She shifted in her stance as he turned. Of course, he knew she would be there. She swallowed the lump in her throat as he held out the two rings, the symbols of the two men who loved her. She knelt down before him, her hands clasping his as she bowed her forehead to their joined hands. New tears fell from her closed eyes and she kissed his hands sweetly before looking back up at him. "Ask me to stay. Ask me, and I will. Let me choose you freely, Erik." She couldn't keep the begging out of her voice, much as she tried. He spoke, admitting those words that she'd always longed to hear, all the while rejecting her. She could feel her heart being crushed more and more with every word.
She took his ring, leaving Raoul's behind, and slipped it onto her ring finger. "I will come back, Erik. I swear to you. I'll come back when everything has been sorted and we can return to the world together. I have already chosen you. No one else will do." She stood, then stepped closer to him and leaned down to place one final kiss to his lips. It was salty and sweet all at once and she raised her ringed hand to his cheek, wiping away his tear with her thumb. She pulled away, closing her eyes and resting her forehead onto his. "I will come back to you, my love. I promise. Wait for me." She stroked his cheek with her thumb once more, then stood upright and reluctantly pulled herself away. She gave him one last look, then turned away and returned to the boat where Raoul stood, waiting. She stepped onto it, standing by Raoul's side and holding onto his shoulder as they rowed away. She looked back just once, her eyes on Erik as she opened her mouth and sang to him.
"Say you'll share with me one love, one lifetime. Say the word and I will follow you. Share each day with me. Each night, each morning..."
Her voice trailed off as they faded from view, her eyes only turning forward long after they'd lost sight of each other. She would return, whether he believed it or not, and they would enter into the world above hand-in-hand.
...and of nothing.
Dantes_river
I was totally going to listen to you and not listen to Down Once More/Track Down This Murderer but then I totally didn't because oh my God I had to and now I just want to curl up in a wee little ball and cry for days.
Don't sell yourself short. I really felt Erik's pain and anguish at letting his true love go and lemme tell you, I really struggled to get the right emotion to stand on par with yours. I think I got it, more or less.
Real talk, though, I wanted this one part to have him and Erik understand each other in that they want to protect Christine. He's a jerk, yeah, but he wants to take care of her at this moment.
Eh, whatever works. I can PM you on here just as well, I just gotta stop getting blocked in regards to this stuff. I love it so much that I want to do it all justice but then I get scared that I'll mess it up and it's just a vicious cycle. Honestly, I was thinking that we could maybe do another literary classic but better (The Count of Monte Cristo comes to mind since it just got a musical, plus I always wanted to see how it would work out if it were an LGBTQ+ story) which could bring the same issues but we'll see what happens, I guess.
Posted: Thu Dec 17, 2020 5:59 am
| Erik, the Phantom of the Opera |
"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.xxx Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."
It had been a hard decision for both Erik and Christine, but it was the only real choice they had. Raoul himself had even drawn the same conclusion, and was apparently trying to help now whether it was for Christine’s sake or some semblance of a good gesture for not actually killing him. That was a shock in and of itself. Even as the blonde held his hands oh so lovingly, he could feel his heart breaking. Even as she swore to return for him, and told him to wait for her, it simply felt as if his world was collapsing in on itself. Instead of making any such promises with the young woman, he merely told her, “Be safe. Be strong.”
And then she was gone, the words of the love song fading out into a dead silence save for the sounds of the mob drawing closer. Picking up a candelabra now that she was gone, he shifted it a few times in his hand just to look over to the uncovered mirror and clench his jaw taut. “You alone could make my song take flight. It’s over now, the music of the night.” That said, mostly for his own sake, he hurled the metallic object at the mirror, breaking the glass with perpetual ease. After repeating the process to a second and third mirror, he picked up the little music box and slid open the cracked fourth mirror to reveal another of his hidden passages. It was there that he would step inside, sliding the cloak that’d originally covered the mirror back over the doorway, and then shut the passage once more along with its locking mechanism.
The phantom would be sought, and yet he would have vanished into the very fabrics of time once again.
-_-_-_--_-_-_--_-_-_--_-_-_-
It was there! The lair of the fiendish phantom menace was here below the opera house all along, and yet there was little to be found there. There were signs that life had been here, the dancing of the flickering candles proving as much, but the lack of that actual living thing and the shattered glass only seemed to say that the battle was over.
As others were trying to find the hidden entity they so feared, Meg Giry had found herself holding one of the several masks strewn about and reading over some miscellaneous scribbles on pages across Erik’s desk. Unlike her mother whom had personal contact with the man behind the mask, she’d mostly only heard stories though she felt she’d probably seen him once or twice as if he truly had been a mere phantom.
By the time the group was calling off the search in the lair, she’d tucked away much of the written work into a leather satchel from nearby that the phantom had most likely used to transport his documents safely to the surface. To her, and likely her mother, this would be all of his final, heartbreaking words to the world that denied him. It took time to clear out, and once she was the last to leave, Meg whispered a gentle farewell to the child her mother had once felt she’d needed to protect. And from there, they all returned to the world above speaking of how the menace had either vanished into thin air or the Vicomte must’ve ended his miserable existence where Meg could only hand her mother one of Erik’s masks and give her a slight shake of the head. There’d been no sign of Raoul, Christine, nor Erik anywhere when they searched the lair across the lake aside from a possible struggle or altercation that may have taken place.
Madame Giry could only find sorrow in Erik’s disappearance. He’d surely let Christine and Raoul live, most likely even allowed them to return to the surface, but he was nowhere to be seen even for the ones that had protected the secret of his existence for the longest.
-_-_-_--_-_-_- Several Months Later... -_-_-_--_-_-_-
It’d been some time since Christine had left with Raoul, but Erik was trying to remain active instead of just withering away. Some days were better than others, and some days he simply couldn’t find the energy to get out of bed. Ever since the mob had finally left him alone, he’d picked back up on some of his original routines before he’d met Christine aside from music, namely the more inventive aspects of his life and teaching himself new things. No. He hadn’t even touched his desk since she’d left. That didn’t mean he didn’t have anything to do with music, but that he simply wasn’t writing it. Perhaps he would pick it back up, but for now, it was still in something of a pause.
Other than a reversal change to his daily routine, one of solitary miscellaneous activities, he’d mildly changed his appearance for one that more resembled his original setting of a member of a traveling fair albeit with some semblance of a proper society. The more proper stuff the world above him used had always seemed a little too frilly to him and far too stiff, but he couldn’t really complain about the difference in cultures. It was nice getting to observe the views of different people. His mask, however, was still a constant. What mirrors were still intact, the ones he used to help keep a clean shaven face, always reflected the forever hated scarring back to him after all. If anything, his change in appearance exposed how much of a foreigner he actually was to the more modern European society: a partial Middle Eastern young man attempting to configure the different cultures he’d lived amongst in a way that best suited him without drawing too much attention.
After watching a rat fall into the water some distance away then start to splash it’s way to the other side, he gave a heavy sigh. Watching anything practically run away from him just seemed to remind him of his attempted escape from this desolate Hell ending in failure. The good news? He’d figured out words to put with that strange tune he’d often heard in the back of his head that could probably be labeled as his theme song. The bad news? It was likely so utterly depressing that it shouldn’t ever leave this darkness much like the evil creature that was once called the phantom of the opera.
Taking in a breath as he placed a small plate bearing a lit candle on the surface of the water, he gave it a small push with his finger and watched it slightly drift away. “No one would listen. No one but her heard as the outcast hears,” he hummed lowly to the emptiness of his home world. He was sure thoughts of Christine would become far and few between moments over time, but for now, he supposed the candles and song was simply his way of mourning such a beautiful thing as the bond they’d shared. It was all he could do now that he was alone again. Standing up again from his crouched position nearest the lake, he began taking slow steps throughout his domain as he continued on.
“Shamed into solitude, shunned by the multitude, I learned to listen. In my dark my heart heard music. I longed to teach the world, rise up and reach the world. No one would listen. I alone could hear the music. Then at last, a voice in the gloom seemed to cry, ”I hear you. I hear your fears, your torment and your tears.”” He paused in the entryway of his room, shoulders slumping at the messy bed where the little Persian monkey music box was leaned up against his pillow. The faint aroma of... sunlight, if that was indeed a scent one could capture, that Christine had left behind from their first night together had long since dissipated into nothingness and yet he could still remember it so vividly even now. This started up his walk once again up until he reached the room with the mannequin in it, somewhere he’d practically discarded everything that would bring the thought of her up seeing as he had no real use for it now. The very contents held within its walls made him opt to dub it some time ago as the Room of Anger and Sorrow.
“She saw my loneliness, shared in my emptiness. No one would listen. No one but her heard as the outcast hears...” And now she was back in the world she belonged in with that very same world probably correcting his corruption. Had he never intervened, the world might’ve already done just that anyways. Erik had most likely intruded upon the world for a second time simply because there was something he’d seen that resembled hope in the world being alright with his existence upon its surface. His anxiety and paranoia had likely just killed it with an overzealous passion that may never recover.
After closing the curtain taut, he turned his gaze back towards the lake with a deep frown just for the candle on its surface to flicker out. He really should stop stalling to see if she truly would return to him and get back to figuring out where he’d go and what he’d do from here on. He doubted turning into a ghost here again would work since they’d discovered his existence the first time. The very sounds around him, as normal and somewhat serene as they’d once been for him, just seemed to taunt him nowadays as if mocking his stupidity at letting anyone get so close to him.
“Alright then. I’ve given her time to prove me wrong, even taken the time to sulk about her leaving and not following up on her word, but it’s time to move on. Overseas to America perhaps? Or maybe back to the Middle East? Knowing my luck, I’ll probably run into them and that nightmare will strike with a vengeance if seeing him doesn’t kill me first. It’s possible that one of the many countries elsewhere will have changed in the past ten years too,” he sighed softly to himself. It wouldn’t matter either way. He was a quick study and neither direction truly seemed inviting in the least. It was just a matter of how people would receive him, or how well he could simply blend into the background. Then again, it might be best if he just returned to Persia and took up the previous job of making things that would intrigue the upperclass of their culture. Sure he’d been “freaky” there, but there wasn’t any of that overdramatized fear of him. His oddities merely excited them to seemingly no extent.
"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor. xxxGrasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garrish light of day, xxxturn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night."
Mayah Playah
Thank you, by the way. I’m glad you liked such an agonizingly painful separation post much less most of them in general. I’ve enjoyed all of yours too, and felt Christine (Carlotta, Piangi, etc.) in each one.
I have to say, however, that whilst I’ve read many, much moosen (look up the comedic skit for “Stupid in School” for that joke if you don’t know it ‘cause it makes me laugh every frickin’ time) classic literary works, I have to admit that aside from Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare, The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe, and The Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux, I only have vague recollections of them. I also don’t own many of them anymore. (Motherflipping moves around the country for the military lost a crap ton of our stuff.) T~T I’m such a failure to good literature.
I will also admit to never actually paying much attention to Les Misérables. It just didn’t seem interesting enough even though it’s a historical novel, and yet I’ve read the ********* out of The Diary of Anne Frank.
Months had passed since Christine had last stepped foot in the Opera Populaire. Many things had happened since the endless night that she and Raoul, discovered alive and safe out of the catacombs, were rushed to the de Chagny's estate to be treated and cared for. She had allowed it in silence, refusing to spare even a single glance in Raoul's direction. He begged her for her forgiveness for the entire ordeal at first, before simply dismissing her as traumatized and leaving her to her own devices. Even now, as she rode in solitude in her carriage, she clenched her gloved fists in her lap at the memory of him regarding her as a fragile woman. If anything, she'd saved his life! What a fool.
Her boot struck the ground as she stepped out of her carriage, her gloved hand slipping out of the driver's once she was steady on the dirt. Her skirts settled around her, the thick fabric keeping her warm even now that the leaves were beginning to fall. She glanced upwards at a nearby tree, tilting her head a little as the breeze gently rustled the remaining orange leaves. It was hard to believe that one full year had passed since she had debuted, one full year since she'd awoken by the freezing cold lakeshore that her beloved teacher lived beside. A chill ran up her spine at the memory of that icy water as it bled through the wedding dress she'd worn that fateful day she'd been made to say goodbye to Erik. Christine had long since lost her anger, it having been replaced by longing the likes of which she'd never felt before.
Her days had been populated with journalist after journalist those first few weeks. She refused to stay silent and be portrayed as a weak woman, standing tall and bringing forth a story of love and loss, and of a wonderful genius demonized by the public who had only sought to protect the women of the opera house from the evil men who strove to harm them. It wasn't taken well at first, especially since Erik was known to the opera employees as the Opera Ghost, but her sincerity, pure intentions, and admittedly her beauty eventually won out and reports began to trickle out about how the Phantom of the Opera Populaire had protected the integrity of the opera house during his tenure there.
As for Raoul, he was not much of an issue for Christine anymore. Once she was declared healthy by his many, many doctors, she called out for a meeting of the de Chagny's heads of household, namely Raoul, his widowed mother, and his grandmother. She spoke matter-of-factly to the family she had once hoped to be a part of, explaining her and Raoul's failed attempt at an engagement as well as his attentions on her that had been increasingly unwelcome. They tried to discredit her, insisting that no one would believe her wild accusations, but Christine had learned a thing or two in the catacombs and refused to back down. She laid forth a plan of sponsorship, breaking the engagement without a fuss and keeping her mouth shut about his indiscretions if they paid for her lifestyle to a certain degree and bought the opera house for her. The family would act as a silent patron and Christine, the unexpectedly shrewd businesswoman that she was, would run the Opera Populaire. The news was taken badly at first, of course, although Firmin and Andre were all too happy to hand off the deed to someone else. However, Christine was confident in her abilities. More so, she knew exactly who to go to to help her run the place.
She walked up the steps to the opera house, her pale turquoise skirts trailing behind her. Each stair filled her mind with memories of him and his music, her lips aching to part and give rise to it. She placed one hand on the door as she approached it, pushing firmly and watching it swing open. The building was largely empty save for herself and the entourage of various craftsmen and cleaners that had followed her, waiting for her to walk in and signal for them to enter. She paused at the entrance, taking a deep breath. Was she ready? Maybe not. But was she going in anyway? Absolutely.
Christine walked into the opera house, leaving the door wide open behind her. Each click of her boots echoed in the wide hall as she wandered deeper within, the natural light of the day brightly lighting up the interior. She began to ascend the steps that would lead to the offices and then, eventually her dressing room. If there was one way she knew how to get into the catacombs that hadn't been destroyed by the mob, it was from there. Her hand hovered over the railing, fingertips just barely touching it as her other hand lifted her hem and she started upwards. A song of her own creation, long since brewing her mind, resounded in her thoughts until finally, with a slow breath, she opened her lips and began to sing.
"The day starts, the day ends. Time crawls by." Her sweet tone filled the empty halls, her voice audible even outside by the workmen. She continued, her voice a little quiet at first as she was no longer training every day and was a little unsure of herself. "Night steals in, pacing the floor. The moments creep, yet I can't bear to sleep, until I hear you sing." She trailed off as she approached her former dressing room. Christine ventured inwards, her focus directly on the great mirror that still had not been moved. Thank the Lord. She drew close, her hands moving to touch the mirror and ignoring her reflection. She made a small sound in the back of her throat before discarding her gloves, feeling around the edges before she finally caught a latch. A-ha! She smiled to herself, then pressed down and stepped back a half-step as the mirror slid open to reveal a secret passageway. Christine reached up to unpin her hat from her hair, setting it and the pins with her gloves. Her bountiful curls tumbled down, no longer held in place by the pins, but she paid it no mind. She took another deep breath and steeled her nerves before crossing over the pane and entering the passageway.
Thankfully, a candlestick was still mounted on the wall. She reached back through the mirror for a match, lighting the candle and holding it up as she gazed into the darkness. It was now or never. She continued on, grateful that she remembered the way well enough not to trip over herself. Her eyes glanced around, ears perked in case she heard him, but she heard nothing. Not even a whisper. The silence was deafening, but if she couldn't hear him, maybe he would be able to hear her. "And weeks pass and months pass. seasons fly. Still, you don't walk through my door. In a haze, I count the silent days 'til I hear you once more."
She pressed her hand against the wall, her chest aching. By now she had arrived at the place where she and Raoul had stashed the gondola. She looked around desperately for the boat, exhaling shakily as her eyes settled on it. It was a little worse for wear, but they'd tethered it well and hidden it better by a batch of stones. She lifted her skirts high and stepped into the boat before untying it, pulling up the long stick and staring at it for a moment before remembering that she didn't have a man to do this part for anymore. Ah well. Christine turned it upright and angled it against the wall, shoving hard to push herself away. The boat rocked violently and she nearly fell out before finding her balance and trying to push once again. This time, it finally moved away and she was able to start making her way across the water. It wasn't easy, seeing as she was physically weaker than Raoul and Erik, as well as much shorter, but Christine had come too far to turn back now.
Despite being out of breath, she continued to sing, hoping against all hope that he could hear her. "And sometimes at nighttime, I dream that you are there, but wake holding nothing but the cold night air. Days come and days go, time runs dry. Still, I ache down to my core. My broken soul can't be alive or whole until I hear you sing once more." She stopped pushing only once or twice, her voice growing louder and more confident the closer she came. "And music, your music, it teases at my ear. I turn and it fades away and you're not here!" Her high note rang out as she finally spied the portcullis, the wooden gate splintered and partially broken from the mob. She couldn't see him and was unsure that he was even there, but her resilience caused her to regain her energy and she propelled herself and the boat through the opening of the gate to the shore. It wasn't easy and she definitely had gotten water in her boots, but she finally stepped onto the shore.
"Erik! Erik!" She called out, to no response. She panted from her exertion, her cheeks red and her hair wild, position that she looked a right mess, but that didn't concern her. It was as though she'd just missed him, she thought as she rushed to his desk and looked over the untouched and dust-covered music. She could smell his scent, still lingering in the air, and she could feel his energy all around her in the cavern. She placed her left hand on her stomach as tears arose, gulping back a sob as she came to the realization that he must have left while she was still up above and settling the world. Her other hand covered her mouth and the tears fell down her cheeks, the loss of him greater now than it had been in these long months. Christine's right hand fell to her side. She closed her eyes and mourned their love the only way she knew how: by finishing her song.
"Let hopes pass! Let dreams pass! Let them die!" Her hand clutched at her belly and she moved her right hand forward as though she were grasping into the air for him. She opened her eyes and shook her head as the tears continued to fall. "Without you, what are they for?" She picked up a sheet of his music, holding it in her trembling hands before setting it down with the sort of reverence reserved for relics. "I'll always feel no more than halfway real until I hear you sing once more!" She held the final note, hearing music swirl all around her as she poured out her heart and soul to the void that he had left in her. As the note finished, she dropped her head into her hands and wept for the first time since she'd sung him goodbye. "I'm too late," she whispered to herself. "He's gone."
...and of nothing.
Dantes_river
Well, this was a doozy. I think I listened to like thirty different versions of Til I Hear You Sing to get the right mindset for this one. God. Side note, Ben Lewis is an incredibly underrated vocalist. Oh so I figured her coming down as he’s contemplating leaving would be too convenient so she’s getting down there at some point after his post, just long enough for him to not be out in the open because drama.
Nah, you're fine. Real talk, most people haven't read The Count of Monte Cristo if only because it's like forever long and it goes in circles. It takes me months to read the thing and it's literally my favorite book. Anyway, don't be so down on yourself. I lose stuff all the time because of moving, it happens. At any rate, the movie for Count of Monte Cristo translates for a better LGBTQ+ plotline than the book does since it actually has a happy ending. We can do whatever, I just really want to keep writing with you tbh.
Referring to Les Miserables as a historical novel always throws me because, although I know what it's based on and I've read the book, I always end up thinking of the musical and it just... It doesn't add up in my head.
I couldn't get through Diary of Anne Frank. Knowing the ending before I even started it bummed me out so much that I never finished it.
Posted: Sun Jan 10, 2021 5:41 am
| Erik, the Phantom of the Opera |
"Night time sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination.xxx Silently the senses abandon their defenses..."
Erik’s thoughts on the now-future rather than some childish dream were disrupted by the voice of an angel. No. Not just any angel either. His angel.
“How quaint,” he breathed out to himself as if chiding himself for letting the whispers of music meant specifically for her to sing get to him again when she was no longer there. Soon enough, however, he came to realize that it wasn’t just the haunted whispers of his imagination, but Christine herself. She now stood by his desk, speaking of having missed him and crying into her hands.
“Apologies for the mess. If I’d known you were coming, I’d have cleaned the place up from the party a little faster. And sadly, you just missed him,” he said loud enough for her to hear, his voice laced heavily with sarcasm as his fiery golden eyes watching her ever so carefully and he crossed his arms over his chest. As if he was going to let his excitement of her showing up just as he was giving up expose itself to her. Fortunately enough, even if he had been showing it, he’d intentionally switched his partial mask to a full one as foreign as he was. “You’re quite terrible at taking in all of the details surrounding you, aren’t you? Candles, dear. They’d have melted long ago if I’d left them as they were last we had seen each other.”
That said, he gave a slight shrug before leaning against the wall whilst watching her carefully. “You really shouldn’t have come back, Miss Daae. I’m not going to be here too much longer as is. I just required a bit of time to regain enough footing that I could leave without noticeably stepping back into the perfect little world of mankind, and that time is now up. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” he added a bit softer before finally turning his gaze back towards the water. Maybe he should try to find the caravan again. He might get away with not being set on fire for a second time. The very thought made his eyes narrow slightly, but it then turned into a second partial shrug. “I said my farewells to you when I sent you away with the pretty boy, and having returned just now with such a bittersweet song is just beyond cruel at this point. You should’ve just left well enough alone.”
Unfortunately enough, he only went a few more seconds after saying that before punting a candelabra into the dark lake with a swift quick. After that minor act of anger, however, he took a deep breath before picking up a relatively small bag with the head of the Persian monkey music box peeking out from the top. “That feels better... Feel free to take a memento as I won’t be taking much with me anyways. Not that there’s much here after the mob, but whatever. You know how it is with us ghosts. Do feel free to think of me every once in a while seeing as I’m sure to do the same wherever I end up next. God willing, I won’t end up being baptized by fire a second time if I run back into the traveling fair.” That’s right. He just needed to smother those feelings she kept drawing out of him with all of the sarcasm he could muster. Come back for him? Stupid girl couldn’t take a hint sometimes. Of course he took pause in his walk outside of what used to be his room just to point a thumb at the curtain hiding the room with the mannequin just to mentally scold himself for not being able to maintain anything spiteful when he was with her. Damn, he was weak when push came to shove with Christine. “Their witch hunt apparently made them leave your costume at the very least and I… just did the bare minimum to tidy up. Felt it might be a little too obvious I was still around for anyone else that decided to venture down here if I did too much.”
It took a minute for him to make several strides towards her, his bag over his shoulder, just to end up with him lightly dropping his fist atop her head. “You’re a little breathy in my personal opinion. It’s not really surprising considering you took the boat, but still. Work smarter, not harder. Men are built differently than women for a reason. Seriously. It’s a little too late to ask what I am to do with you though, but I will leave you with this being my final lecture about how utterly ridiculous you can be,” he murmured much more gently. With a little breathy sigh, he flipped a cape on the desk over simply to retrieve the dark mask hidden beneath and replaced it with the full face mask he was already wearing. And with a swift spin on his heel back towards the blonde beauty, the entirety of his upper face concealed much like his red death mask had succeeded in doing, at least half of the candles had gone out. From there, he made his way to the boat whilst tucking the one mask into his bag. Once he’d set foot on the gondola, he set his bag down gently in a spot near the oar and readjusted it a bit for him to handle. “Take whatever it is you’d like and I’ll take you back before I actually leave the theater and this city. As you’ve already made clear, you can’t live in eternal night like me. But as I told you, I can’t live in the world of light as you do. It doesn’t like me very much. You’re the only one that liked me even the slightest. By the way, the fire thing at the cemetery was completely harmless if you weren’t already aware. It’s a magic trick some of the troupe members taught me before the scars. The croaking thing was a tidbit of alchemy or potion making depending on where you’re from. Harmless pranks like that used to hold this theater together, but we all know how that escalated rather quickly.”
"Slowly, gently, night unfurls it's splendor. xxxGrasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Turn your face away from the garrish light of day, xxxturn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light and listen to the music of the night."
Mayah Playah
That’s fine. He’s obviously going to make her have to convince him that he’s not being set up by the others setting her up to catch him though. He’s also going to be frustrated, of course, by her showing up just as he’s given up. Thrilled like a puppy seeing it’s owner after only a few minutes apart, but frustrated nonetheless.
And yes. Yes, he is. It’s probably because half of the people don’t know about Love Never Dies, and the half that do know of it saw it as a bad sequel that catered to the people wanting a ChristinexPhantom ending just to kill her off in the end. At least that’s what I’ve heard. And then there’s people who only have a limited few versions of the performance so they don’t have him as a “Phantom” choice. They could also think he’s someone else. Who knows why really?
Aw. I enjoy writing with you too. We’ll have to figure something out so we can continue onwards. Maybe even create something new that ties up in something older. Like how maybe Christine ended up with Erik and Meg with Raoul and their descendents have to mend a bridge from the feud between Raoul and Erik as well as the unknown one between Meg and Christine (playing into how Love Never Dies goes). Just a thought.
I’m so stupid. My brain has too much information to process sometimes.
I love The Diary of Anne Frank ‘cause it’s putting out the story of what those people (and more specifically her and her family) went through during that time. My sister’s boyfriend’s grandmother wrote a book about her life at that time and how she saw it from the German side where they were basically being brainwashed about everything.
And if that bummed you out, you don’t want to see the Italian film La Vita È Bella (Life Is Beautiful in English). It’s about a Jewish Italian bookshop owner and his son being taken into a concentration camp where the man tries to shield his son from the horrors of the camp by making it seem like a game. I don’t want to spoil it for you, but that one is a heartwrencher too. I take it as one of those things that helps keep the past alive and it helps show future generations the evil things mankind can do and has done. It’s something that should NOT be forgotten. Those who do not learn from the past are doomed to repeat it. I say it all the time because it’s true. You can’t erase World War 2 and pretend it never happened. You can’t pretend 9/11 didn’t happen. And yet there are people trying to erase these things from our history books.
Sorry for the rant... and this super terrible post. Been in and out of focus lately because of life in general.
