Welcome to Gaia! ::

"You're all I've ever had, Antoinette. You were the only one who didn't see a monster when you looked at my face. Knowing that there is one person who cares about my well-being helps to displace a little of the loneliness," he said smiling sadly as he rose from the floor and tried to order his appearance. He carefully adjusted his mask to make certain that it covered everything, but he paused for a moment and smirked wryly. "And I do not prance about with or without the mask."

Dusting his cape off, his smirk faltered for a moment before fading completely. "I know you don't like me running around and pretending to be a ghost. I don't much like it either, but I really don't know what else I can do. I have been given all of these incredible abilities, but what good are they if no one will stop to listen to me?" He stared at the dark material of his cloak for a minute before looking back at the woman.

Sometimes she talked to him as though he was still that little boy cowering in the dark with a sack over his head, and in a way he still was. He still hid in the shadows, and that sack was still there. It had just taken a different shape. "It's so frustrating. If I had a normal face I could be one of the greatest of men, but because of some freak of nature I have to hide like some miserable animal." Letting out a sigh he quickly changed the subject saying, "I will be careful around Mlle. Daae."

((It's alright, but I would like to say that every character except for Erik certainly has a life outside the opera house. People could spend time fleshing out their own characters with little side stories before we are all brought back to that one central story. Just because your character is not one of the major three does not mean you should leave them as a two-dimensional stick figure.

One last note for everyone. This week is my Spring Break, but I am going to be working the entire week. I won't be getting home before 6:30, and there are some nights where I won't be coming in until after 10:00. This is only for this one week, but I thought it would be nice to let everyone know that the phantom will be a bit preoccupied this week.))

He frowned thoughtfully for a minute. She always said that same thing to him when he got into one of his dark moods, as though she hoped that by saying it enough times he would actually be able to do it. "What do you see when you look at me?" he asked quietly as he watched her retreating form. Certainly he knew that she couldn't see the same thing that he saw, but what did she see that made her so sure he was worthwhile. He wanted to run after her to ask her, but he couldn't. She was too far away from any places where he could hide from prying eyes.

Ever since being seen by Joseph Buquet he had been extremely cautious about sticking to the shadows. He did not want to have another encounter with that foul man. Shaking his head in disgust at the thought of Buquet, Erik turned and slunk off towards the nearest of his hidden doors. He pulled the door open and stepped into the passageway, making certain that he did not catch his cloak as he shut it back.

One time in the earlier days of his career as the Opera Ghost he had managed to catch it on the edge of one of the trapdoors. He had been fortunate that it had been a time when almost no one was around. The thought of being caught had sent him into such a panic that he hadn't even thought of removing the cloak or looking to see if he could get himself unstuck. Luck had been with him that night because after an hour or so of mindless panic Antoinette had come along and released him. His face still reddened with embarrassment at the memory.

Walking down the hidden passageway, he pushed the memory away so that he might focus on the present. "Tonight will be Christine's first triumph, and many more will soon follow if I get my way," he mumbled. He had completely forgotten his earlier melancholy at the prospective of the night's events.

Christine, who was sitting in the chair at her vanity, stared at her reflection in the mirror. Nervousness seemed to be written all over her face as she stood, she hadn't before sang the lead in the gala, she never had that much talent until her Angel came to her, to help her and tutor her. With a step she was at the door, but she first needed to gather the courage to go out in the gown she was wearing with her hair fixtured beautifully. She was extremely nervous, that being why she was gathering courage in the first place. Not being the cowardly kind, she opened the door, her hand clenched around the handle to it before exiting in the room, making her way to the stage.

She had noticed earlier that the Viscomte, Raoul De Chagny was the patron for Opera Populaire. Seeing as they were childhood sweethearts, it was actually a bit comforting, but piled weight onto her shoulders. She would stay calm though, and sing at the gala just like she did for the managers, as though they were still the only two in the opera house. That would be difficult, considering that she would be looking out to a very large crowd of people, with Raoul and the managers in that very same audience.

Feeling as she were to stumble on her nervousness, she held onto a the wall for a bit and stayed still, taking but even a few deep breaths through her nose and began walking again. She looked forward to the gala that would take place soon, knowing very well it would be a great night for them all.

(Nervousness.. I have had this happen before.. -shivers- In fact, I bet we all have.)

((I'd like to Monsieur Firmin and Monsieur Andre if they're are no objections, since they seem to be sorely needed and are probably best played by one person, being an awkward pair, simply give me some time and I shall make a post))

They're yours!

((So it's Andre Moncharmin, previously Armand Moncharmin, and Firmin Richard just incase I refer to them by their last names as well....))

Messieurs Andre and Firmin retired to their office within the Opera house, it was a tense night and they had several manners of business to take care of before they could "close shop" for the night and view the performance. The gala was sure to be a hit, Moncharmin was sure of that. Well, he had been told to be sure of that, obviously he was new at this game at the opera (as ever a game it was!) with diva's prancing about needing to be waited on hand and foot just for a hope of their voice, set pieces falling from the sky and of course M.LeFauvre's earlier comment about his health had bothered him some but he was a shrewd business man, not to be taken lightly, and he certaintly wasn't going to be outwitted by a retiring opera manager or any of his minions (although Carlotta seemed to be the one with all the minions, that spoilt diva) or by...well what had perplexed him so much so before-

"Opera Ghost??!! Can you believe this? Do they really expect us to believe this?!" M.Richard stormed into the office slamming the note in which Mme. Giry had so boldly handed them before. "Opera ghost my behind Andre!! They take us for fools, all them!"

Andre pulled against the edges of his suit coat sitting down cooly. "Firmin please calm down.." and of all things he wasn't going to be outwitted by some childish prank. No wonder M.LeFauvre retired, he couldn't handle this bereft pack of hoodlums, so it seemed. Of course M.LeFauvre was too soft for this, that is why he had asked them to take over, Firmin and himself had risen from the bottom and made quite a profit on the junk business...He looked at Firmin again, unconsciously waiting for Firmin to chastise and correct his "junk" into "scrap metal"...when he realized Firmin could not hear his thoughts his mind brought him back to the outburst at hand. "Fools or not we'll handle this, you really needn't worry yourself about this M. Richard, it's just a little gag they play, to see how far they can push us. You've simply got to keep you're cool." He glared pointedly at Firmin referring to his later outburst.

"It's the audicity of the thing!" Firmin insisted, ignoring his partner's stare he slumped down in a chair across from Andre slapping the letter down upon the table."I mean did you see how that hag declared that this was the ghost's opera, and then how quick they all were to point a finger at the ghost for Carlotta's dismay. I've never seen such an idiotic display of granduer for an imaginary friend since...since...since the last Pope was declared!" Here in frustration Firmin shoved the letter away from him, towards his partner, in desparing digust throwing up his hands and crying "Fools!!"...he brought his gloved hands down again, slowly, rubbing his eyes, thinking...wondering...regretting. "What a way to run a business..." he groaned.

"And a business we will run!" Andre chirped into Firmin's raving, slamming his fist upon the parchment now in front of him, as if to remind his partner to please keep his sanity, atleast within the opera house. "And don't forget, the same hag that gave us a bill of twenty thousand francs, also saved us from a larger debt! It was she who brought Christine into the limelight! It was she who saved us from a...refund" Andre shuddered at the narrowly avoided disaster.

"Oh yes, she's a really angel that one." Firmin mocked.

"I'm not saying I don't have my doubts..." Andre fumbled with the trick ghost's letter, it wasn't quite all the way open, he hadn't looked at it since the stage. "But we know our numbers Firmin, and we'll stick to them. A business is a business, and employees are employess, and nobody is going to get twenty thousand francs unless they damned well earned it!"

Andre's voice brought back reason to both the managers' mind, it was now clear how foolish their dismay had been, a simple joke, although an elaboratly played out one (and far more rehearsed than the ballerinas dancing...) a joke nonetheless. M.Richard let out a brief laugh, letting his hands slide down either side of him, dangling loosely...staring at the ceiling.

"And if Mme.Giry causes us any more grief..." M.Moncharmin continued, "Or if she would like to reveal any more mysterious stars, we'll bring her in for our own interview." Andre nodded decisively, M.LeFauvre was far too soft, "and settle her accounts permanently."

Firmin blinked at the ceiling. "What a way to run a business he muttered..."

((A First post *bows* I hope I've captured both of the managers' personality and if I spelt M.LeFauvre wrong or anybody else's name please do tell T.T))

M.Moncharmin, emboldened by his previous firm decision felt an awcknowelgement of his own superiority, a swelling of the ego one might say, Moncharmin himself felt his hand extend over the opera for a brief second, and if only for that second, he felt that this was no game, but a chess board in checkmate and certainly he had the upper the hand. "Moving on to this note now..." he shifted his coat tails feeling fully prepared to take in the full extent of this "ghost" threat and he motioned Firmin to do like wise. Firmin moved to deny the motion, and Andre opened the letter.

Just as his fingers brushed by the flap of the envolope and he opened the letter to it's fullest extent the room ceased to hold Andre in a favorable fashion, in fact Andre wasn't quite aware, up until that moment, that a room could hold any opinion of him what so ever. Yet the air became so thick and dense he felt he was breathing through smoke or smog or...even the thickest stench that is percieved at it's height as more of a feeling than a scent, death. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up instantly and his nostrils flared and fought with the thickness of the room as his heart dropped in his chest, and so with his heart his courage and he thought he could, just ever so faintly in his right ear but not his left, hear a sinister chuckle that was very low, like a peal of thunder....before a storm. No longer was he the man that owned the room but now...oh yes now something else owned this room, and this something wanted twenty thousand francs. Andre closed the letter before he had even finished opening it fully. "Eh...perhaps some other time."

Of course all of this happened in mere moments, in fact so fast did they happen that Firmin percieved at one second tick Andre had said something, and that not even before the next tick of his watch (which could be very well counted upon becuase it was fairly new and very expensive, jeweled wheels and a gold casing, very reliable indeed) that his partner had dismissed it. Now he was not so sure that Andre had brought up the letters at all, for he was not paying very much attention, and perhaps that was his own fault but he could not help feeling very much preoccupied with a dank feeling about the room that he couldn't quite name but it was an enough of "something" for his ears to perk up to what Andre had just mumbled. An attempt to connect a disillusioned fear with the solidity of one of the more reliable senses, however muddled one sense, is always the sign of a man who has never been called superstistious...Firmin considered himself far from superstistious. Firmin's eyes connected directly with Andre's as his partner folded up the letter, perhaps he had opened it.

"Perhaps some other time." M.Moncharmin repeated, still quite shaken and forgetting by each passing moment (and he was quite sure that moments were passing becuase he could hear Firmin's jeweled watch, which was reliable) why. Slipping the note in his coat pocket he stood up, shakily at first, but once he was standing, feeling that mortal flesh tighten in his joints, seeing the room with it's usual assortment of furniture, carpetting, wall hangings, feeling and recognizing, the room lost the hideous scent, the air cleared. All was well as this new manager stood up...had they ever been wrong?

"Well that's enough for tonight, don't you think M.Richard?" Andre asked his partner, who nodded dumbly and stood up alongside him. "And things have been taken care of tonight, and all things can take care of themselves." He said this as more of a statement to reassure himself than to share any new knowledge with his associate...who only nodded again in reply. He looked at Firmin curiously, "Keep your cool." he reminded him, turning the handle upon the office door. "We shall watch the opera-"

"What the-" Firmin snapped back to life seeing a few stage hands loafing about outisde their office, but his anger seemed to pulse back in his veins becuase they were loafing awefully close to the doorway, with their ear inclined to the door! And that certianly couldn't be a comfortable position in which to waist time. "Listening in eh?"

The edge of Moncharmin's lip curled in a sneer at his partner's sudden vivacity, but he was sure to keep it suddenly subdued, it was important for him to follow his own advice.

"Well I hope you've had your laughs for the night," Firmin pushed his way through the small crowd, "becuase if I remember anyone's face from this moment I'll make sure to hunt him down and have his accounts settled in the morning!" This sent the pack scurrying, with their faces ashamedly directed at the floor boards from which they retreated on.

Mocharmin felt his former moment of glory restored, yes of course, a simple joke, he wasn't sure how but those stagehands must have had some play in his feelings of fright only a few moments before, he fingered the note in his pocket and laughed...ghost indeed. Andre picked up his sentence from whence he left it, "We shall watch the opera from Box Five!" he said to Firmin, rather loudly...rather, calling to the stagehands.

It was important that they hear him, his clarion call ringing down the hallways, this impromtu shout of triumph, a challenge even, a challenge to those who questioned their authority and mocked their position. This opera ghost, he was quite sure, was a combined retort at the management of the opera, bits and parts of him dwelled within their imagination and seperate it was harmless but combined, well combined it had obviously become a nuisance. And a nuisance was a nuisance...until it started dropping stage props on his singers then it became a threat. Threats had to be dealt with, one at a time till this fully blown idea of a ghost would slowly dissipate from the minds the less rebellious and more loyal. It may have started out as a small dissapointment with management and low wages (did they intend to split the twenty thousand francs among themselves?)but now it had grown, grown into a face, a name, a name that people supported, unwittingly or not. Perhaps it was as simple as compounded grudges and lost faith in management and it's decisions(in which Moncharmin fully blamed M.Leuvra) but it had grown complex and M.Moncharmin was no longer left thinking it so simple; but little did the perpetrators know that they had actually tipped their hand to him by showing their dislike of the unfortunate diva. Was this perhaps then a consipiracy against Carlotta and not the new management? Of course, Moncharmin had not seen it before becuase he had taken the incident too personally, for he was still testing out his reigns as manager, but the problem loomed much larger than he had thought; of course larger towards Carlotta not towards the managers, which made his conscience rest some. Did this mass behind a ghost mask intend to use them, then, as pawns in order to jump places instantly from second row dancer to lead singer?....Moncharmin paused. Mme. Giry had mentioned (actually she had rather pretentiously announced but Andre's opinion of her was not very favorable so he rather liked to demote her to "mentioned"...) the ghost, and she had also suggested Christine, a pauper to a prince, precisely what those disgruntled persons who made up this ghost had in mind. Moncharmin's mind raged. So that is what they had in mind?! He could do nothing about it now...yes they had won this battle, that scattered brained idea of a ghost had won this battle, but assuredly M.Richard and himself would make sure that they could never win the war. For now all he could do was watch the gala that night, he sneered, from Box Five.

((extended some parts that I thought need to be elaborated on and edited a few things becuase I thought the gala was the next day not later that night ^^; I ought to read a bit more carefully...))

Desiree had some time before the preformance was to start so she decided to have a stroll around the city. She only had so much, but Desiree had her eyes on a black, but elegant gown that was in the window of Madame Amore'. The only store that carried the expensive, but lovely outfits she wore when arriving at rehearsal. She had 30 francs less than the price of the dress so she became somewhat fustrated and walked back to the Opera Populaire. When she arrived, Desiree walked to the dressing room. She wouldn't dress until 5 minutes before the preformance because it only took her 2 to get into the dress. But She always put her make-up when she arrived. Desiree looked up at the ceiling with curiosity, though she had one positive thought, Opera Ghost, I know you will be watching Christine. Though she cared not, for he had never hurt or dropped anything on Christine or the girls, so she had nothing to worry.