Alone in her dressing room, candlelight flickering, Christine prayed. She prayed for her father, who had left her so long ago, prayed she didn't disappoint him, or her Angel, prayed she could be strong enough to face her feelings. Her feelings for him. She longed for something more, much more. But it wasn't often she was greeted with his presence, and when he did appear she didn't want to anger him, didn't want him to leave just as quickly as he had come.
So she sang. She sang not for herself, but to please her mysterious guardian. Sure, she enjoyed singing, but she strived to please him, strived to impress him. It was all she cared about. After her performance tonight, her first real debut, she had expected him, but all she had found was a singular rose tied with a black ribbon. It frustrated her, but she didn't show it outwardly. In case he was watching.
Struck by this idea, Christine looked furtively around the small dressing room. She didn't sense his presence, and yet she wanted to try... "Angle of music, guide and guardian, hide no longer, secret and strange angel..." She let the last note linger, resounding in the small space. "Angel... where are you?" She cringed a bit - she was being so bold. But was it so wrong to want the praise of the very person who had taught her to sing?
"Christine, you sang like an angel tonight."
Christine jumped. She spun around quickly, and then tried to hide her disappointment. She attempted a smile. "Roul, it's you."
He laughed. "Yes. It's been so long."
"How did you recognize me?"
He chuckled again. "With curls like yours? It wasn't hard," he he said dryly.
She blushed. There was a beat of silence.
"Should I order my horses to pick us up at the door?"
She blanched. "Oh, no, that won't be necessary. I... I actually have a few things to attend to, and I'll be here for a while more."
Annoyance flickered across Roul's face before he hid it with a well practiced smile. "Fine. Goodbye, Christine." His voice was cold.
"Roul, wait!" But he was already gone.
The truth was, she was still waiting to hear from her Phantom. She felt so pathetic, and yet she couldn't help it. She had dreamed for so long that he would reveal himself to her, dreamed of what they would say, and what they would do... A rush of lust swept through her, and she blushed again. Suddenly, the candles flickered wildly, then went out. Christine wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and shivered, then looked around.
"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion, basking in your glory!" His words were dripping with mockery, and yet she felt her heart soar when she heard the voice of her Angel. "Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!" Slowly raising from the floor, she replied, "Angel I hear you speak, I listen, stay by my side, guide me! Angel my soul was weak, forgive me, enter at last, Master!" With baited breath, she awaited his answer. The power he had over her was undeniable. "Flattering child you shall know me, see where in shadow I hide - look at your face in mirror, I am there inside!"
In a daze, she looked towards the large mirror at one end of the dressing room, amazed that her tutor was finally revealing himself to her. As she looked, she could just make out the figure of a man. A man, not an angel. And yet she didn't feel deceived, quite frankly, she just didn't have the presence of mind to care. She slowly approached the mirror, noticing that it had been pulled to the side. Glancing back she saw it was a two way mirror, one in which someone could observe whoever was in the room, but they would not be seen. She shivered - the idea of this man, her angel, watching her while she undressed excited her more than she thought was proper. When Christine glanced forward again, she was taken aback by her angel's obvious beauty. A white mask covered half his face, which, in comparison, only accentuated the perfect features on the other side. Dark hair was swept back, and golden eyes observed Christine blatantly, making her feel self-conscious and brave at the same time. His gloved hand reacher for her own, and she shuddered at the contact. Christine looked up, for she was sure he had noticed, but his expression gave nothing away. He then proceeded to lead her further into the damp, cool corridor that continued deep into the opera house's catacombs.
Erik shivered at the touch of Christine's small hand in his own. He had waited so long for this moment, the moment when he could finally reveal himself to her. It was almost painful keeping his identity a secret - he longed to be able to touch Christine, to caress her curves and make her use that voice for uses other than singing or speaking. But he couldn't show her this side of himself quite yet - she was a very meek creature, it would not do to impress upon her how incredibly far from innocent he was. If Erik's seduction went as planned, however, that time might be sooner than Christine thought.
Leading her further and further into his dark domain, Erik thought of the many times that he had wished he could share his world with another person, any person. But his disfigurement didn't allow him to - it separated him from the real world just as efficiently as the 6 floors of the opera house did. His existence was one of darkness, of loneliness. He only had his music, his thoughts, and Christine, when they had their few lessons. It was heaven to hear her sing, one of the only times he felt close to true happiness (though when he was creating music, he was pretty close too, though it was different kind - more triumph than joy).
He turned to look at Christine, and couldn't help but notice her breathing heavily, the way her chest rose and fell, so perfectly beautiful. She had an enchanted look on her face, hardly any fear to speak of. Erik was grateful for that, he didn't think he could bare it if she was frightened of him. While he took pleasure in terrorizing the idiots that ran his opera house, and the fools who pretended they knew something about music, Christine was... she was special.