Welcome to Gaia! ::

((Hey, I say the more distorted the better. =P))

"Quickly now, into places." She said to a few girls who were to open the scene with a quick pirouette onto the stage and then leap off. The stress was building, but still Madame Giry kept her cool and tried to stop all her dancers from fidgeting as they were. Desiree hadn't shown up, Meg was Heaven only know where, and several other girls were still fumbling with their costumes.
It had taken Antoinette a few good reminders after she realised Christine wasn't offtstage like the rest of the dancers only simply because she was not a dancer tonight. It was hard to think of the girl going onstage as the lead soprano tonight instead of a dancer. The girl had been here for many years and had made friends with Meg, it was almost as if Christine was another daughter. When the girls went into place, she quickly grabbed at the gold cross under her black top and gave a silent Hail Mary and a quick prayer for the performance and for Christine.
"Mother Giry! Quit minding the girls and go to your box!" One of the stagehands she recognised as Nicholas screamed, trying to tie the ropes for the backdrop that fell that afternoon so it wouldn't happen again. Not everyone believed in the Opera Ghost, and it was those who did not believe she felt were lucky. They didn't provoke him and he didn't them either. She wondered still what Erik had planned for Monsieur Buquet... "Now, Mother Giry! The curtain's going up in five!" The woman huffed at the young blonde man, giving him a shake of her cane.
"Don't you be telling an old woman what to do, Nicholas!"
"Old? Hah! You're only in your forties. If anyone's old, it's the new managers and Reyer. They have old geezers running this Opera ho--ow!" Nicholas screamed, interrupting himself as Madame Giry's cane came down upon his skull. "Sheesh! I'm bein' quiet now."
She gave him one last meaningful glare before turning and instructing the girls to do what they had practiced and only to try their best. Even if their best wasn't as good as it should be, Antoinette could only hope they didn't fall flat on their faces. That would be an embarrassment for both her and the Opera House. Not to mention it would only earn the girls more work and pain.
Going around the side halls that led to the regular floor seats, Antoinette passed the box office where the tickets were sold and the programs given out for those who were handing them to the people in their assigned boxes or those who merely wanted another. She took one, making sure to thank the young man behind the counter, and scurried her way up to the right side of the Grand Tier where Box 5 was kept.
The box was closed off by a door and then a crimson pull curtain for assured privacy. Turning the brass knob, Antoinette put the program on the small table near the only chair within the box. She straightened the chair, made sure it was facing the stage at an appropriate angle, and even made sure it was lint free and the cushion was fluffed enough. She knew Erik was picky on how his box was kept which was why she had been the only box keeper to stay.
Again checking the program to make sure it was suited to his tastes, Antoinette left the box and lit the oil lamp outside of the door in the hall to let the man who came around to check for box availability that it was occupied. All she had to do now was wait and hope the performance went well.

((All right, Monsieur Reyer is starting the gala. Ready, everyone?))

~Monsieur Reyer ~

Wiping the sweat from his brow, the director made his way to the stand, muttering last minute instructions to the orchestra as he passed them. Careful to hide his nervousness, he readied himself before the stage, lifting his arms and readying to make the first cue.

He glanced to the right of the stage, where a stagehand was peeking out. Reyer gave the tiniest of nods, and the stagehand disappeared.

The audience was immediately silent, sensing that the show was about to begin.

And indeed, it was.

As the curtains slowly rose, Monsieur Reyer couldn't help but send a prayer up with it..

Let all go well tonight...

The orchestra began the first measure of their opening piece.

((Okay. I quit working at the law office because nothing is where it should be, and everything is where it shouldn't be. I spent an entire day in the file room taking inventory only to come back the next day to find that everything had been reorganized, and half of the files I had recorded were no longer in that room. I get to enjoy the final two days of my Spring Break, and perhaps we can get a bit more RPing done.))

Just in time, thought Erik wearing a pleased expression as he entered the box through the hidden door in the column. It was another of his customs not to apear at the very beginning of the opera, and he'd had no desire to appear before Christine had even taken the stage.

Sitting down in his chair, he picked up the program and smiled fondly as he thought of the woman who had brought it. Antoinette had really done so much for him throughout the years, and she still did. All he'd given her for it was worries and gray hairs. He suddenly felt the urge to do something nice to show her that he appreciated all that she'd done for him, but that would have to wait at least until after the performance was over.

Turning his attention back to the stage, his smile changed slightly as he saw Christine standing there in her beautiful costume. She looked so small and frightened standing there in front of everyone, and the audience did not seem to be looking upon her favorably. They would change their expressions very soon. Show them what you have learned, Christine. Sing for your angel.

((Elven will let us know when she has returned. You did fine with him anyway.))

"Brava!"

Erik's gaze turned immediately to the source of the exclamation, and he was afforded his first good look at the Viscount de Changy. Immediately he hated the man for his handsome face. Why had nature been so kind as to give him good looks to go along with his wealth and privelidged upbringing?

A strange feeling twisted in his stomach as he saw the tender expression on the man's face as he looked down at Christine. He felt his heart begin to sink as the young man left his box, and he quickly looked back at Christine as though to make certain that she had not left as well. The look on the young man's face had been more than enough for Erik to know what his intent was. He was in love with her as well, and Erik knew that any woman in their right mind would choose the handsome Viscount over some deformed genius who slunk through the shadows like some criminal. She didn't even know that he existed. She only knew the Angel of Music and the Opera Ghost, and certainly a woman could not fall in love with such spiritual beings.

Struck by a feeling a desperation, he rose from his seat and exited the box without waiting for the performance to come to an end. He didn't notice as he knocked over the small table and chair on his way to the column. It didn't matter anyway. He could not allow some pathetic fop to steal away his Christine simply because he'd been too afraid to approach her. All of his carefully laid plans were suddenly forgotten as he stalked down the passageway towards Christine's dressing room. The only thing he could think of was that he had to get her to love him as a man, and the only way she could love him as such was if she knew that he was indeed a man.

For a moment he paused in the hallway as he thought that over. Was he seriously considering revealing himself to her? What would happen if she were to reject him? He would be risking everything had had including his life if he were to reveal that her angel was a man, and that the man was also the Phantom. Fear began to twist in his stomach, and he leaned back against the wall remembering what Antoinette had said earlier that day. "I will...I will go to the mirror," he said sounding as though he were gasping for breath. "I will be there waiting for her, and then I will decide what to do from there. The boy cannot pursue this romantic fancy anyway. Society would not allow him to marry an opera singer." Calmed somewhat by that reasoning, he continued down the passage quietly trying to reassure himself so that he would not do anything hasty or foolish. He stood to lose too much.

It was over.
The gala had gone as she'd hoped. Christine had received a standing ovation, and even the people Carlotta must've planted in the audience to boo her stood and clapped 'till their hands were sore. She smiled at this, but soon the smile faded when she heard something knock over in Box 5. Antoinette knew it was probably just Erik bumping into something, but she still worried. Erik was never clumsy.
The woman rose from her seat outside the box, pulling the curtain back just enough to get to the brass handle and give it a good twist so the room was revealed to her. She didn't need to bother to see if Erik was somewhere inside. The small table by the chair and even the piece of furniture itself had been knocked over. The program lay not too far away, crumpled where it seemed he grabbed it and twisted it. She sighed, knowing she would have to return the program in that condition.
"Oh Erik, what is it this time?" She wondered aloud, fixing the furniture and taking the program and putting it in her skirt pocket. The program wasn't that crinkled, but she knew it would still rouse an arguement when turned in. That, however, was another problem for another time.
Quietly locking the Box with her key, Madame Giry went down to get backstage to make sure the ballerinas were shucking their costumes to give back to the workers in the costume room. The stage was practically abandoned, only a few dancers and stagehands were left to pick up what was left of the scenery and props. Christine was nowhere in sight.
"Nicholas, where is Miss Daae?" She asked the same blonde stagehand from before, who looked like he was ready to drop anywhere and go to sleep. The man took a moment too long to answer, shaking his head in a sort-of 'who knows'. "Miss Daae, Nicholas. You work up in the catwalks next to Buquet. You must've seen her leave!"
"The theatre's chapel, I believe. Saw some man going for her dressing room, though. Strange how she has one hallway to herself like that." Antoinette sighed, putting a hand to her forehead. Who would be going for her dressing room? It couldn't have been Erik; he never walked out where he could be seen. The third cellar incident was a slip-up, but then again Buquet was a little too nosy.
"Thank you, Nicholas. See you for thursday's performance."
Waving off the man, she quickly took a short-cut from the stage area to the back hallway where Christine's dressing room was. She didn't see the man Nicholas had mentioned, but if he didn't know the theatre or work in it, it would be pretty easy to get lost. There would be a lot of sore heads tomorrow. After every gala there was a big party backstage with the crew and the aristocrats and always there was a lot of wine-sipping and whiskey-guzzling going on. Those who preferred the silence of a good night's sleep as opposed to the stank of cigars and booze would be the ones up early enough to practice for next week's performance.
Carefully Madame Giry entered Christine's dressing room, hoping to catch this man before he hid himself and sprung on the poor girl when she changed. Many men pursued women of the theatre in this fashion, thinking they had no dignity. Sure, some of them were no better than the whores society made them out to be, but there were still practisioners of the Good Faith in this business.
Turning the knob on the oil lamp on the vanity, Antoinette got sight of several bunches of flowers in the room. They must've been left by the usual men who showered the lead diva with gifts. Instead of adorning Carlotta's room, they were in Christine's. Though lovely, a few of them gave a putrid smell of perfume. Appearances deceive.
"Goodness, can't they respect a woman's privacy? Coming in to a poor girl's dressing room unannounced and dropping these natural stink pots in here like she'd want them!" She raved softly, pushing a few off into the corners that really needed something to cover them. The poor girl had less furniture in this room than the ballet dorms did!

((I don't mind at all. It's Unromantic's decision whether or not The managers and Erik meet anyhow. I'm just a prop. =3 ))

((Well, I'd had Erik knock over the table and chair after seeing Raoul's expression when he was watching Christine, and I'd hate to waste all of that jealous anger...Ugh! It would be so much easier if we could just reorganize these posts. Give me a minute to think over this.))