Title: Phantom 0/?
Author: RenataUsha
Pairings: 2+R/1+R (triangle thing)
Rating: G
Warnings: non-yaoi, AU fusion
Disclaimers:GW and PotO aren't mine and nevr will be. *sigh*
Authoress's Notes:
Here's the prologue to my Phantom of the Opera/Gundam Wing fussion.
I hope you like it. I hope I didn't do any OOC for you too much. And
please-feedback, feedback. This is the first fanfic I ever really wrote.
I'd apprciate any kind of feedback positive or no. Some of the plot
has been changed from PotO to fit my version of this story.
Any resemblence to another work other than the mentioned above
is purely coincidental and unpurposeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Now. Once again...pirette..." The steady tune from the used piano
reverberated through the open grand auditorium, dark except for the
lowlit chandiler above the orchestra pit and scattered candlebras
lining the red plaster walls. Shadows danced over the crowd of
empty seats from the rehearsing girls bouncing across the worn wooden
floorboars to the instructions of the stingate ballet mistress. She
recited loud numbers keeping the dancers in rhythum. Her falcon eyes
shot over the group. She waved her hand calling a halt and for them
to stand in beginning position. The diligent teacher wove through
the dozenly place girls, each in the same position. She stopped
periodically to inspect girls personally. "Straighten your back,
Mariemaia." She attentively changed one brunette's arms and pushed
one girl's feet into proper position. "Remember, Syliva. Heel
before toe."
"Yes, Mistress Catherine," Sylvia replied with a smile in her bright
eyes.
"Okay, girls. Again."
As the ballet dancers continued their steps under Mistress
Catherine's guidance, a strong chord sounded a slight ways behind the
curtain for the opera chorus practicing fully for the next opening
production to be preformed at the Sanc Opera Populaire. The full
choir of thirty men and women garbed in threads of royal togas and
Carthaginan armor crafted of plaster filled the room ot the
accompaniment of the also practicing orchestra attempting to perfect
their preformance works for gala night.
"No, no, no! Carlot! More breath support under the legato! You're
starting to sound like a broken oboe," the choral director shouted
out as she approached harshly from behind her music stan, and stood
straight before the group of singers, glaring around inspecting her
bunch. "Now. Remember. This is your savior, the general who is
driving back the invading armies of Rome for your homeland. So, sing
out your worship for him!" she hollered out to them, raising her
hands to begin again.
Suddenly a swift shade passed over the corner of both ballet and
choral directors' eyes, a blurry shadow speeding across above them
from up in the rafters where the shifters changed the scenes and
backdrps, one or two sandbags oddly swinging the only clue of someone
passing through between them.
"Mistress Une, everything alright?" cam a voice by the hall leading
to the manager's offices.
Choral instructor Une turned around to set her brown eyes on the
Opera House's manager Sally Po. Manager Po ws leaning against a wall
with her arms crossed over her chest, a curious look on her face and
a bit of suspicion gleaming in her blue-grey eyes. "No, Lady Po,
nothing is wrong," Une commented shortly to the manager beofre
turning back to her choir. "Now...again."
As the choir rang out their chords blending with the notes for the
orchestra, two young girls danced from behind the draping curtains
mixing with the other singers, but still staying prominent from
them. While the back chorus formed an aisle between them, the two
girls jumped up into the air in the center of the aisle only to end
up colliding with each other. Instructor Une growled in frustration
as she halted all performances and strode over to the two fallen
girls. She faced the dark-haired one first. "Don't worry, Hilde.
You did fine, but-" she turned to the other one "-Relena Peacecraft,
what was that all about?! Clumsy, clumsy!" Une retorted as she
marched the two girls down the aisle to stand there. She called out
when she had made her way back to the stand, "Now for Elissa's
entrance. Dorothy!"
The prima donna of the opera appeared from behind the scene of a
marble palace bedecked in layered gauze of saffron and lamb pink,
flashy costume jewelry sparkling from her body and long platinum
hair. Teh prop of a severed head from a roman soldier clasped
between her alabaster hands. Dorothy Catalonia cast a smug snear at
the ballerina Relena before turning to face the empty audience
chamber filled with rows of maroon upholstered seats. Another shadow
passed overhead as hse proceded down hte aisle of admirers.
Her soprano voice reverberated out across the darkened
auditorium. "This troo-ooo-oo*oo*o-phy from our savior, our savior
from the enslaving forces of *ROOME*!" she sang out walking down the
aisle raising the prop high for all to see. Suddenly while the two
ballerinas Hilde and Relena pranced down behind to the front, a
heaving sandbag fell from the rafters above nearly hitting Dorothy if
she had not been pushed from the projectile's path. Screams and
shouts echoed through the auditorium as stagehands ran onto the stage
to inspect the sandbag. Une and Catherine attempted to comfort a
hysterical prima donna.
A new scream sounded as a chorus girl cried out claiming to see a
figure dash off of the rafters into a corner of shadows, a long cloak
and braid billowing behind hte shade. A group of ballerinas huddled
together excited chorusing that he ws here: the phantom of the
opera... A loud exclaim rang from the inspecting group of stagehands.
Sally Po called out to the hollering mass, "Wufei, what happened?
The master scenceshifter held up the end of hte rope connected to the
sandbag and turned his suspicious black glance to her, "Manager Po,
it appears the rope was cut by a knife."
A heavy sigh escaped Sally as she waved the stagehands to take care
of the cast and clear the scene of debris. She walked down the hall
to her offices with a look of frustration on her face. This was the
last straw. Upon entering, she moved behind her desk and opened hte
drawers, shuffled through the papers scattered across the surface,
and through the paper holders looking for a slip of
parchment. "Winner, Winner, ah-here." She had had enough of this.
She sat down to write the letter of acceptance on the Mousiers Winner
and Barton's proposal to buth the Sanc Opera Populaire. "Let them
deal with the ghost!" she whispered irritated as she finished signing
her named and sent for a messenger to run the letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC.............................
Author: RenataUsha
Pairings: 2+R/1+R (triangle thing)
Rating: G
Warnings: non-yaoi, AU fusion
Disclaimers:GW and PotO aren't mine and nevr will be. *sigh*
Authoress's Notes:
Here's the prologue to my Phantom of the Opera/Gundam Wing fussion.
I hope you like it. I hope I didn't do any OOC for you too much. And
please-feedback, feedback. This is the first fanfic I ever really wrote.
I'd apprciate any kind of feedback positive or no. Some of the plot
has been changed from PotO to fit my version of this story.
Any resemblence to another work other than the mentioned above
is purely coincidental and unpurposeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Now. Once again...pirette..." The steady tune from the used piano
reverberated through the open grand auditorium, dark except for the
lowlit chandiler above the orchestra pit and scattered candlebras
lining the red plaster walls. Shadows danced over the crowd of
empty seats from the rehearsing girls bouncing across the worn wooden
floorboars to the instructions of the stingate ballet mistress. She
recited loud numbers keeping the dancers in rhythum. Her falcon eyes
shot over the group. She waved her hand calling a halt and for them
to stand in beginning position. The diligent teacher wove through
the dozenly place girls, each in the same position. She stopped
periodically to inspect girls personally. "Straighten your back,
Mariemaia." She attentively changed one brunette's arms and pushed
one girl's feet into proper position. "Remember, Syliva. Heel
before toe."
"Yes, Mistress Catherine," Sylvia replied with a smile in her bright
eyes.
"Okay, girls. Again."
As the ballet dancers continued their steps under Mistress
Catherine's guidance, a strong chord sounded a slight ways behind the
curtain for the opera chorus practicing fully for the next opening
production to be preformed at the Sanc Opera Populaire. The full
choir of thirty men and women garbed in threads of royal togas and
Carthaginan armor crafted of plaster filled the room ot the
accompaniment of the also practicing orchestra attempting to perfect
their preformance works for gala night.
"No, no, no! Carlot! More breath support under the legato! You're
starting to sound like a broken oboe," the choral director shouted
out as she approached harshly from behind her music stan, and stood
straight before the group of singers, glaring around inspecting her
bunch. "Now. Remember. This is your savior, the general who is
driving back the invading armies of Rome for your homeland. So, sing
out your worship for him!" she hollered out to them, raising her
hands to begin again.
Suddenly a swift shade passed over the corner of both ballet and
choral directors' eyes, a blurry shadow speeding across above them
from up in the rafters where the shifters changed the scenes and
backdrps, one or two sandbags oddly swinging the only clue of someone
passing through between them.
"Mistress Une, everything alright?" cam a voice by the hall leading
to the manager's offices.
Choral instructor Une turned around to set her brown eyes on the
Opera House's manager Sally Po. Manager Po ws leaning against a wall
with her arms crossed over her chest, a curious look on her face and
a bit of suspicion gleaming in her blue-grey eyes. "No, Lady Po,
nothing is wrong," Une commented shortly to the manager beofre
turning back to her choir. "Now...again."
As the choir rang out their chords blending with the notes for the
orchestra, two young girls danced from behind the draping curtains
mixing with the other singers, but still staying prominent from
them. While the back chorus formed an aisle between them, the two
girls jumped up into the air in the center of the aisle only to end
up colliding with each other. Instructor Une growled in frustration
as she halted all performances and strode over to the two fallen
girls. She faced the dark-haired one first. "Don't worry, Hilde.
You did fine, but-" she turned to the other one "-Relena Peacecraft,
what was that all about?! Clumsy, clumsy!" Une retorted as she
marched the two girls down the aisle to stand there. She called out
when she had made her way back to the stand, "Now for Elissa's
entrance. Dorothy!"
The prima donna of the opera appeared from behind the scene of a
marble palace bedecked in layered gauze of saffron and lamb pink,
flashy costume jewelry sparkling from her body and long platinum
hair. Teh prop of a severed head from a roman soldier clasped
between her alabaster hands. Dorothy Catalonia cast a smug snear at
the ballerina Relena before turning to face the empty audience
chamber filled with rows of maroon upholstered seats. Another shadow
passed overhead as hse proceded down hte aisle of admirers.
Her soprano voice reverberated out across the darkened
auditorium. "This troo-ooo-oo*oo*o-phy from our savior, our savior
from the enslaving forces of *ROOME*!" she sang out walking down the
aisle raising the prop high for all to see. Suddenly while the two
ballerinas Hilde and Relena pranced down behind to the front, a
heaving sandbag fell from the rafters above nearly hitting Dorothy if
she had not been pushed from the projectile's path. Screams and
shouts echoed through the auditorium as stagehands ran onto the stage
to inspect the sandbag. Une and Catherine attempted to comfort a
hysterical prima donna.
A new scream sounded as a chorus girl cried out claiming to see a
figure dash off of the rafters into a corner of shadows, a long cloak
and braid billowing behind hte shade. A group of ballerinas huddled
together excited chorusing that he ws here: the phantom of the
opera... A loud exclaim rang from the inspecting group of stagehands.
Sally Po called out to the hollering mass, "Wufei, what happened?
The master scenceshifter held up the end of hte rope connected to the
sandbag and turned his suspicious black glance to her, "Manager Po,
it appears the rope was cut by a knife."
A heavy sigh escaped Sally as she waved the stagehands to take care
of the cast and clear the scene of debris. She walked down the hall
to her offices with a look of frustration on her face. This was the
last straw. Upon entering, she moved behind her desk and opened hte
drawers, shuffled through the papers scattered across the surface,
and through the paper holders looking for a slip of
parchment. "Winner, Winner, ah-here." She had had enough of this.
She sat down to write the letter of acceptance on the Mousiers Winner
and Barton's proposal to buth the Sanc Opera Populaire. "Let them
deal with the ghost!" she whispered irritated as she finished signing
her named and sent for a messenger to run the letter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
TBC.............................