*Authoress' Note- It's quite simple...ALW and M. Leroux own the PotO characters, not me. Get it? NOT me! You will know my characters, believe me. Enjoy! P.S.-'x' are thoughts, kay? *
--
A Twist of Faith
Chapter One: New Lives
--
A rush of December breeze ushered the small carriage along the shining roads. A pair of wide amber eyes gazed out of the window. It was a bright, crisp, perfect winter morning, and the pure snow still lay deep on the ground. The late morning sunlight cast a brilliant silver glow all over the broad piles and dips of cold whiteness. Down the center of Avenir Brillant, Paris was already awake and bustling about their business. They seemed to move to the rhythm of the cathedral's song, the deep sonorous tune of Notre Dame. 'Music, something the city and I have in common' the young passenger thought, smiling. She was ready for life in Paris.
"Dantan," she called to the driver, "Could you please let me out here?"
"Of course," Dantan replied grinning. It had been a while since he'd been called by his name by a passenger. Even longer, since he'd never conversed with a passenger either. This girl was genuinely kind and gave him a better view of his otherwise bleak day. Besides that she was lovely.
The horses pulled to a stop along the side of the road. Dantan hurried around to her door to assist her. She took a step out, carrying two armfuls of bags and cases, and was a little surprised when he helped her out.
"Oh, thank you."
"No Elaine. Thank you for being so kind to old Dantan." He smiled and extended his weathered hand, which she gratefully shook firmly. "God bless you in all you do my dear."
Elaine's eyes shone brightly and she smiled once more, "Thank you Dantan."
She stayed a moment, waving as Dantan's carriage disappeared down the frosty streets. She took a deep breath of the cold air and pulled her scarlet cloak more tightly around her. She'd left her home in Province about two months ago. Her mother had died about a year before, and Papa had given her his blessing to live her life as she wanted. 'Mama's spirit will always guide you' he told her, perhaps to give her strength.
Exhaling sharply, she pulled her cowl over her dark hair and walked briskly towards the Paris Opera House.
--
In a sort of anniversarial ritual, a single candelabra once again illuminated the thick darkness in his home, yet failed to cut through the darkness in his heart.
'Two years...can it be that two long years have passed since...No Erik! Don't think of her! Don't!' his mind screamed at him. His gloved hand groped at the damp walls, steadying him in his misery.
It had indeed been two years since the union of Raoul de Changy and a young singer named Daae, not a week after their rescue from the opera cellars; a rescue from the hatred of a captor, by the love of the captor.
Yes, Erik had loved her with all his being. He was the one who shaped her voice, molded her from a fragile frightened child into a strong young woman able to make her own decisions. One of those was to rescue her fiancé from death, and her fallen Angel from hatred. And out of his love, Erik gave her back her freedom, knowing he would lose her forever. And so she left with Raoul, unwittingly taking a piece of his heart with her. About a month later, he'd read that the Changys had left for Switzerland to start over.
Erik's eyes stung slightly with unshed tears, and he shook his head violently to clear it. 'She is lost to you, so get over it! You've been sulking about it like a simpering child in this black hole for two years! It ends NOW!'
With a swift movement of his hand, he swept the tall candelabrum to the floor. It struck the stones hard, the flames extinguished. Yet, when it hit the ground, it produced a sharp metallic sound that reverberated into a somewhat musical tone. Erik listened intently, his ears weakly rejoicing in the small amount of music in that sound. Music, something that could express anything, that provided an answer for anything.
He glanced down at his hand, where still glimmered the simple wedding band he offered her. The longer he watched its luster winking mockingly back at him, the more a painful weight pressed into his chest until he could no longer stand it. His eyes flared dangerously and he wrenched the ring off with a mad cry. He cast it onto the floor where it spun in a centripetal sphere. Not waiting, he brought his fine hard boot down upon it, stopping its motion with a loud slap. In finality, he kicked the smashed gold into the embers in the hearth. Settling himself in front of the fireplace, he stoked it into a great intensity, watching the remains of the ring melt in the flames, melt in his glare. 'Burn...burn away and never haunt me again.'
When the molten gold had completely disappeared into the ashes, Erik groaned and stood up. He immediately felt different, something he couldn't find words for. He inhaled deeply, and was shocked. That was the first steady breath he'd taken for two years. The painful pressure deep inside him was gone completely. It felt exquisite. He hummed a few notes cautiously, and was surprised when none of them were out of tune. The corners of his mouth twitched and curled into a sly grin. If that was all he ever needed to do...unexpectedly he chuckled quietly. When he realized what he'd done, he laughed again, his volume rising as his old Opera Ghost spirits returned to him. Soon his rich laughter was echoing throughout the cellars. 'Have I gone insane?'
"Au revoir, mam'selle Daae!" he shouted with mad glee, "The Phantom of the Opera is BACK!"
--
"Mon dieu. It's enormous," Elaine breathed, gazing at all of the splendor around her. She laughed quietly, but even that soft sound didn't escape the rich acoustics of the room. The sound of her laughter rolled around the great dips and curves of the auditorium, returning a hundred fold.
She reached into one of her cases, producing a beautiful violin. Stroking it lovingly, she cradled it under her chin and drew the slender bow across the strings. She played a short melody that was no less sweet for its brevity. She stopped to listen to the music bounce off the walls and ceiling. She grinned. How she would enjoy herself in this place.
If she only knew...
--
A Twist of Faith
Chapter One: New Lives
--
A rush of December breeze ushered the small carriage along the shining roads. A pair of wide amber eyes gazed out of the window. It was a bright, crisp, perfect winter morning, and the pure snow still lay deep on the ground. The late morning sunlight cast a brilliant silver glow all over the broad piles and dips of cold whiteness. Down the center of Avenir Brillant, Paris was already awake and bustling about their business. They seemed to move to the rhythm of the cathedral's song, the deep sonorous tune of Notre Dame. 'Music, something the city and I have in common' the young passenger thought, smiling. She was ready for life in Paris.
"Dantan," she called to the driver, "Could you please let me out here?"
"Of course," Dantan replied grinning. It had been a while since he'd been called by his name by a passenger. Even longer, since he'd never conversed with a passenger either. This girl was genuinely kind and gave him a better view of his otherwise bleak day. Besides that she was lovely.
The horses pulled to a stop along the side of the road. Dantan hurried around to her door to assist her. She took a step out, carrying two armfuls of bags and cases, and was a little surprised when he helped her out.
"Oh, thank you."
"No Elaine. Thank you for being so kind to old Dantan." He smiled and extended his weathered hand, which she gratefully shook firmly. "God bless you in all you do my dear."
Elaine's eyes shone brightly and she smiled once more, "Thank you Dantan."
She stayed a moment, waving as Dantan's carriage disappeared down the frosty streets. She took a deep breath of the cold air and pulled her scarlet cloak more tightly around her. She'd left her home in Province about two months ago. Her mother had died about a year before, and Papa had given her his blessing to live her life as she wanted. 'Mama's spirit will always guide you' he told her, perhaps to give her strength.
Exhaling sharply, she pulled her cowl over her dark hair and walked briskly towards the Paris Opera House.
--
In a sort of anniversarial ritual, a single candelabra once again illuminated the thick darkness in his home, yet failed to cut through the darkness in his heart.
'Two years...can it be that two long years have passed since...No Erik! Don't think of her! Don't!' his mind screamed at him. His gloved hand groped at the damp walls, steadying him in his misery.
It had indeed been two years since the union of Raoul de Changy and a young singer named Daae, not a week after their rescue from the opera cellars; a rescue from the hatred of a captor, by the love of the captor.
Yes, Erik had loved her with all his being. He was the one who shaped her voice, molded her from a fragile frightened child into a strong young woman able to make her own decisions. One of those was to rescue her fiancé from death, and her fallen Angel from hatred. And out of his love, Erik gave her back her freedom, knowing he would lose her forever. And so she left with Raoul, unwittingly taking a piece of his heart with her. About a month later, he'd read that the Changys had left for Switzerland to start over.
Erik's eyes stung slightly with unshed tears, and he shook his head violently to clear it. 'She is lost to you, so get over it! You've been sulking about it like a simpering child in this black hole for two years! It ends NOW!'
With a swift movement of his hand, he swept the tall candelabrum to the floor. It struck the stones hard, the flames extinguished. Yet, when it hit the ground, it produced a sharp metallic sound that reverberated into a somewhat musical tone. Erik listened intently, his ears weakly rejoicing in the small amount of music in that sound. Music, something that could express anything, that provided an answer for anything.
He glanced down at his hand, where still glimmered the simple wedding band he offered her. The longer he watched its luster winking mockingly back at him, the more a painful weight pressed into his chest until he could no longer stand it. His eyes flared dangerously and he wrenched the ring off with a mad cry. He cast it onto the floor where it spun in a centripetal sphere. Not waiting, he brought his fine hard boot down upon it, stopping its motion with a loud slap. In finality, he kicked the smashed gold into the embers in the hearth. Settling himself in front of the fireplace, he stoked it into a great intensity, watching the remains of the ring melt in the flames, melt in his glare. 'Burn...burn away and never haunt me again.'
When the molten gold had completely disappeared into the ashes, Erik groaned and stood up. He immediately felt different, something he couldn't find words for. He inhaled deeply, and was shocked. That was the first steady breath he'd taken for two years. The painful pressure deep inside him was gone completely. It felt exquisite. He hummed a few notes cautiously, and was surprised when none of them were out of tune. The corners of his mouth twitched and curled into a sly grin. If that was all he ever needed to do...unexpectedly he chuckled quietly. When he realized what he'd done, he laughed again, his volume rising as his old Opera Ghost spirits returned to him. Soon his rich laughter was echoing throughout the cellars. 'Have I gone insane?'
"Au revoir, mam'selle Daae!" he shouted with mad glee, "The Phantom of the Opera is BACK!"
--
"Mon dieu. It's enormous," Elaine breathed, gazing at all of the splendor around her. She laughed quietly, but even that soft sound didn't escape the rich acoustics of the room. The sound of her laughter rolled around the great dips and curves of the auditorium, returning a hundred fold.
She reached into one of her cases, producing a beautiful violin. Stroking it lovingly, she cradled it under her chin and drew the slender bow across the strings. She played a short melody that was no less sweet for its brevity. She stopped to listen to the music bounce off the walls and ceiling. She grinned. How she would enjoy herself in this place.
If she only knew...