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((That probably was the easiest thing to do. We'll do some other things later on where there won't be any singing. I'm still considering changing from the final lair scene, but no one seems willing to give me any suggestions of what they'd like to see or feedback on the idea in general. I'm running the RP, but that doesn't mean that I don't want to hear what other people think...I feel like I'm begging for reviews on ff.net again...

Anyway, you'll have to get them off the roof before I do anything and we move on. I'll probably try getting in contact with Eric_the _Phantom to see if we need new managers or not, so it would be nice if people could continue RPing for a little bit without going straight into Masquerade. I'd also like to hear from Jurori Songwind to know if she wishes to continue playing as well as if she wishes to keep playing Bella since we have not heard any from that character in quite a while.))

((*sigh* We can never keep characters long. Once again I'll take them either until someone else shows up/Eric decides to reclaim them or permanentally. I'll probably post after UP does her little thing with Erik.))

((Well, we will not be moving much farther until we find someone to replace Eric_the_Phantom as the managers. She would not be able to post as them very often, so it was a rather a mutual decision that she relenquish the roles. I want those two taken care of before we begin the Masquerade scene.))

Silence followed as the pair of newly declared loves departed from the roof and made their way back downstairs as Erik leaned against the statue he'd been hiding behind still trying to absorb everything that he had just heard. He'd nearly jumped out of his skin when he'd heard people burst onto the roof. For a moment he'd thought that people were after him, but then he had recognized the voices of his beloved Christine and the man he despised so much.

They had come up to the roof to find a place away from him. How ironic that they had instead run to the very place where he had decided to hide.

They had been talking of him. Well, it had been more like Christine condemning him for murdering Buquet while Raoul insisted that he did not exist, and from there Christine had progressively betrayed more and more to the handsome, young Vicomte. She'd told the man about his face, and her words had felt as though they were ripping his heart painfully and agonizingly slowly from his chest. The memory of his face still horrified her, and he--being attached to that face--must also be horrifying in her eyes as well.

Hope had fluttered within him for a brief moment as he'd heard what his voice and his music made her feel, but it was quickly squashed with what she'd said afterwards. She pitied him and all of the sorrow he'd felt throughout his life, but pity was not love. Pity was the one thing he hated more than fear. At that point he'd begun biting his lip to keep from screaming. He'd continued biting even after he tasted blood. The physical pain could divert him slightly from the feeling of his heart being mercilessly stomped upon, but nothing could make him ignore that pain when Christine had returned his confession of love.

All hope was lost. She did not want him, and who could blame her? Of course she would want a handsome young man with she could go out in the revealing sunlight without any shame. When she had such a fine suitor she would certainly never want a man whose face looked half-dead. It was only logical, but it didn't make the pain any less.

Walking out from behind the statue, Erik's eyes fell upon the rose that Christine must have dropped. She had probably done it when she had accepted Raoul as her lover. The petals looked an especially dark, rich color against the white of the snow. It looked almost the color of blood.

Slowly he stooped down to pick up the delicate bloom. Delicately caressing a couple of the petals, he brought the flower close to his face to better look at it. His vision was so blurred by tears that had not yet overflowed his eyes that he could barely see anything.

"I gave you my music..."

His voice was thick and quivered slightly from vainly trying to hold back his tears.

"made your song take wing...
and now, how you've repaid me:
denied me
and betrayed me..."

He paused for a moment as his throat seemed to suddenly become incapable of producing sound. Was his music betraying him now as well? It was the only beauty he'd ever had, but the moment passed.

"He was bound to love you
when he heard you sing..."

"Christine..." he murmured as the tears finally slid down his cheeks. He had only wanted to be loved like any other man. Was there something so wrong with desiring something that he had been denied his whole life? Even his mother had refused to love him. She had loved only pretty, beautiful things. She could not stand the little ugly things like insects, or rats, or her misshapen son.

They were the same then, weren't they? Christine and his mother were the same because they could only love beautiful things. Neither of them had any room in their hearts for an ugly little monster. He had tried to please his mother by running away so that she would never have to look at the repulsive creature that had come from her, but he wasn't going to run away this time. He wasn't going to hand a woman his heart just so that she could smash it into a pulp and then hand it back to him as she ran away with her knight. If he needed to be the dragon this fairytale he was going to play his part well.

"You will curse the day you did not do
All that the Phantom asked of you...!"

A dark chuckle rose from his throat, and slowly it began to escalate. Finally he threw his head back and laughed almost deliriously into the night sky as he crushed the delicate petals in one gloved hand.

((I'd been dreading writing this part, and I'm still not very satisfied with the way it came out. Remember that we will not be moving on until we have replaced the managers. You may do whatever you wish during the gap between "Il Muto" and "Masquerade" (withing reason of course).))

Meg was still crying. Her throat was sore from crying 'It's the Phantom of the opera!!' all night. But why did her mother feel so bad? Why? Did she know about La Fantome? Where was Christine? With Raoul? Lucky girl, thought Meg. She gets the Vicomte de Changey! What do I get? Dance. Ballet. Mother. Meg cried softly as she knocked on her mother's door.

((Well, we could always have one person NPC the whole lot that way there's less confusion. That seems to be the easiest way we could pass through the scene.))

Antoinette dried her eyes when she heard the soft knocking and the choked voice beyond the door. She knew the sobs of her dearest little Marguerite well as often as a child, the girl had nightmares.

Wiping her hands on her skirts, Antoinette got up and opened the door to see her little Meg crying. She thought she had sent the girl off to bed with the rest of the girls! Oh well, she thought. They had yet to see hide or hair of Christine, so it would be no wonder if Meg had defied her Mother to look only to come up empty-handed and frightened.

"Mon cher," She cooed to her daughter, smoothing down the blonde's wild tresses. "Are you alright? Why do you cry still?"

That was hypocritical and she knew it. Only moments ago had Antoinette been sobbing herself, though for a much different reason. She feared her daughter being out when the Opera House was in the stages of closing for the evening. Darkness harbored so many dangerous things.

Was Erik dangerous? Oh yes. Antoinette knew Erik to be the most dangerous man in Paris aside from their lord, The king. She doubted he would noose a poor little ballerina, in fact she abhorred even thinking he would, but other dangers still lurked about.

"You need to get to bed, mon petit cherie. It is late." 'For your mother's sake, go to bed and cover your head with the sheets!' her mind added, but she would speak no such thing to her frightened little daughter. But indeed, Antoinette feared for her own sanity. How long would it be until she, herself, snapped with the knowledge that she harbored a killer in these walls?

((You know I'm always willing to take up that kind of stuff. But if anyone else volunteers they're welcome to it, I suppose.))

((Nah, I enjoy this roleplay so getting more stuff to do just means more fun for me. And I agree, we seem to lose a lot of roleplayers for some reason. You'd think they'd be more dedicated since in other roleplays that kind of stuff doesn't fly.))