Welcome to Gaia! ::

(( I'm back!)) Meg looked more and more. She heard La Carlotta and gasped. She tried not to giggle for Mother Giry would scold her during intermission if she did. If the Phantom knew she had seen the passage, she could be killed. That was why she went crying to her Mama. Meg's thoughts drifted to the upcoming masquerade. She had chosen a long white gown trimped with silver fur. Meg ran off the stage after the curtain closed. She felt a little bad for La Carlotta though. She was humiliated in front of a full house! Meg would send her some 'get well' flowers later........

((It was a joke. I never intended for anyone to actually sign up for that part.))

((If you want Unromantic I could play the managers just to move things along.))

((Bah. You couldn't overwork me. I enjoy playing multiple characters even if I'm just an "understudy".))

Everything was going well so far. Yes, so far. Monsieur Firmin had been the first to arrive into the managers' own private box (which was never sold nor on the rollster of available seats unlike Monsieur le Fantome's) and had been anxiously awaiting the curtain's drawing. Not to say he was excited whole-heartedly in seeing an Opera about a love affair (though he'd had quite a few) but he wanted the Opera to commence as he and his partner M. Moncharmin had proclaimed it hours ago. La Carlotta was to be the shining star in the world of Opera as Christine became the lowly little church mouse she had been before.

Moncharmin had come in not too long after, grabbing Firmin's attention the minute he got in. The taller man pointed hurridly to Box 5 which was across from theirs on the right as their box was on the left. Firmin paled and looked to Moncharmin who was just as pale.

After all, they were not giving in to demands, but to have their treasured Vicomte sit in the seat of danger! Oh, it was enough to give a man's wallet the plague!

But, it was too late and the curtains drew back and the affair began. Firmin fiddled with his Opera gloves and Moncharmin calmly kept his eye on Box 5 while trying to see around into the audience this evening. A few times he pulled Firmin away and pointed out a Baroness or a Lady whom he had spoken with before everyone was seated. Firm had no interests in this, but he indulged his good friend for both their sakes.

All attention was on the Italian diva as she began to mock her "husband" and his foolishness for not suspecting her affair. At all the high notes the woman sung, a few people Richard spotted cringed. Opera was an acquired taste. Namely to the deaf.

But what embarrassment should arise as the woman gave a great "Co-ack!" onstage!

The poor woman tried again and again to continue her little silly song, but each time came a horrible "Co-ack!" "Co-ack!" "Co-ack!" and soon she fled the stage with the audience in stitches and wondering where the great toad was in the woman's throat. Firmin swore he heard some corsets rip from the fit of laughter.

"Quickly!" Moncharmin hissed, dragging himself and his partner from the box to only rush onstage just as one man found his way behind the curtain. Had he been out there running around looking for an exit all that time?

"Ladies and gentlemen!" Firmin rushed to grab the audience's attention with incessant waving and moving about to and fro onstage. Moncharmin was appalled, but let such a ridiculous thing slide as everyone calmed. "We apologise, er, the performance will continue," he gave Moncharmin a look of desperation, "and the role of the Countess will be played by..." The man trailed off long enough to go backstage, grab the tiny miss Daae by her arm, and drag her forward for the audience to see. "..Miss Christine Daae!"

Moncharmin interjected as voices rose in a scandalous manner. Oh they were ruined for this! "Until then, we'd like to crave your indulgance,"

"Er, yes," said Firmin dumbly.

"By giving you the ballet from Act Three of tonight's opera!" And the crowd cheered. Good. "Maestro," Moncharmin and Firmin addressed Reyer in unison, "now!" And they dragged Miss Daae with them as they went behind the giant red curtain.

"Someone get this girl dressed in the spare Countess costume!" Firmin cried.

~~**~~

Antoinette had reached the stage as soon as the announcement was made. Well, Erik got his way. Again.

She could not see where her daughter was amidst the sudden rushing to get the ballerinas and sheep inplace before the curtain parted again, but when she heard Firmin ask someone to get Christine dressed, she immediately volunteered.

"Monsieurs, I will take her," She chided, trying to lead Christine away.

~~**~~

Joseph nearly pissed his pants from listening to Carlotta. Finally someone gave that b***h the treatment she deserved. The woman thought she was too good to slap him herself. Always got that pudgy guy who trailed after her to do it.

But one thing bothered him. The croaking had not been from her, though the voice trick was crafty.

He slipped into the darker area of the catwalks, trying to see just where the masked fool was hiding. He had to be up here.

((Sorry if it's a bit rushed. I tried not to mod Christine all that much & a friend is badgering me to hurry up so I can post in another RP.))

((Yeah, too bad the fart dies. XD I enjoy playing a nasty perv.))

Joseph leaned half of his weight on one end of the straightboards he was on, clutching one hand to the ropes. His eyes darted this way and that until they caught a flash. Or two. Yes, two. They had been the eyes he knew so well from that one encounter that had made him infamous throughout the Opera. He was the man that survived seeing the Phantom bare-faced.

Well now he was going to be the man who killed him.

Putting the blade between his gritty teeth, Joseph jumped over the roped sides of one plank to another as he tried getting to where he saw him last. Any sober man might think of running, but Joseph had enough whiskey in his blood to drink from his veins and continue to intoxicate himself.

Tonight was going to be the night no one would forget.

((Short, but I can't do anything else without modding Christine and I dun wanna do that.))

((I'll post quickly... haven't been on all day for the most part...))

Raoul's eyes widened a bit at the croaks that seemed to explode from La Carlotta's infamous golden throat and after a moment of stunned silence, he brought a hand up to his face as he began to chuckle softly to himself at this unexpected development.

Nerves, perhaps? But La Carlotta never suffered from nerves...

Hardly a disaster, he thought with a wry smirk.

As the croaks continued, Raoul could not stifle his own laughter. La Carlotta had never been a favorite with the vicomte. While he considered her perhaps vocally adequate, if not a bit above average, all respect for her as a person was long gone; he had been to far too many after parties and social gatherings post-performances to think Madame Carlotta a good person in the normal understanding of the word. Her ego must be smarting, if not punctured. But, he doubted this would ground her for long. Not Carlotta.

As Richard and Moncharmin rushed out to control the hysterically laughing audience, Raoul felt a nearly unbearable surge of pride as they announced Christine's promotion to Countess for the evening. Perhaps this was the one thing in the world that he could ever come to equal and understanding terms on with this Phantom: Christine and her talent deserved the spotlight. She deserved to be showcased. She was a delicate, caring, attentive singer and actress: a pure Marguerite of the most innocent nature -- not that strutting, greedy songbird Carmen that Carlotta portrayed in every role. Yes, tonight Christine would no longer continue to hide in the shadows. She would be seen.

As the ballet began, the Vicomte de Chagny found himself continuing to chuckle; amused.

Hardly a disaster, he could not help but think again. Hardly.

((Yes, that sucked. stare ))

((Yes well, we're depicting the movie and it's only fair. Maybe if we did an RP based solely off the book, we could dropped the chandelier sooner. *shrug* Kinda miss the evil MC laugh though. That man's evil laugh owns all.))

He grinned, noting that the Phantom had moved. When you worked in scene-shifting, you get used to the dark. However, nothing could beat this man's cat-like eyes that seemed to burn with hellfire and fear if only this once. It was a combination Joseph was loving and drinking in like the finest gold liquor money could buy.

Following the masked creature, Joseph tried grabbing for the cloak but missed and nearly fell over the roped railing. He glanced briefly below him to see if anyone noticed, but the ballerinas were far too busy chasing sheep and shooing away unecessary actors and prop workers. He'd laugh if he wasn't so intent on destroying the monster in the mask.

"You've terrorized this place long enough, ya b*****d," He seethed through his clenched teeth which still held the knife. The sides of his mouth were alread cut and bleeding slightly, but nothing more than an itching trickle. "I'm going to cut your bloody ugly head off and mount it on a pike for all these Opera-goers ta see!"

Grabbing the knife, he took a swing and then a jab at him from the left and right, trying to at least startle him with an injury. His grip was failing on the weapon though. The alcohol was rendering him near stupid in reflexes.

Joseph barely felt the grazing he'd given the creature, but it was satisfying and only encouraged him more. However, the Phantom expertly swung to another plank entirely with as much ease as a child swinging from a rope over a lake to jump into. This angered him. How would he know how to do such a thing?

Putting the knife back between his teeth roughly (and cutting his tongue in the process), Joseph grabbed the ropes with his hairy hands and attempted the same thing. Unfortunately, when you drink more than what should be legal you tend to become useless in all hand-eye coordination acts as well as movement in general.

His grip slipped and he fell onto the plank hard, cutting up his mouth worse than it was. The knife's blade glistened in the dim light from Joseph's own blood. The crimson liquid was wiped away on a sleeve as he steadied himself and ran for the Phantom again.

This time he did not stop swinging. As fast as his arm would go in such a state, he was attacking the masked man. No, this creature wasn't a man. He was far too hideous to be one! He was a monster and that was all he would ever be!

"Why don't you attack, monster? Have you met your match in ol' Buquet? Or are you as much a coward as your wench, Mother Giry?" Spittle flew from his mouth, mixing with his blood. "Answer me, damn you!"