Dance of the Twilit Angel
by xXXEriksBloodMoonXXx
You asked for it, so here it is! The first chapter of my story. I don't own the Phantom so don't sue me! You can tell I dont cuz if I did I wouldn't be sitting here typing lollllll! I do own all the new characters though so don't steal them without asking, okay? Stealing is not cool you guys! But if you ask nice I might say yes! :D
So here it is for you guys! And I have to give a special shoutout to mah peeps Lizzy Edie and Kris becuz I said I would! LOL so don't hurt me! =8-D
So if you read this please review! Pleasepleaseplease lolllll.
Bathed in moonlight, Tilandrial Snowdrift danced, alone. Always alone. She mused, twirling gently, her bare feet making no sound as they trod over the grass of the small hill so lightly that they left no trace. She threw her head back to gaze at the stars, her only companions in the dark. She threw out her arms, her knee-length hair shining silver in the moonlight as it swirled around her. These stolen nights, these silent dances, were all she had.
As a child she had been found wandering the edges of these woods, a strange, slender child, with strange violet eyes even then too large for her narrow face, and her hair a strange, floating cloud of silver about her porcelain shoulders, bared by the simple white shift she wore. No one knew who she was or where she had come from; she herself couldn't remember a thing, athough she spoke well enough. She was named Tilandrial for the word she whispered to herself, over and over, in her sleep, and Snowdrift for her hair and skin.
The villagers took her in, fed her, clothed her; but they didn't understand her. A single diamond tear ran down her porcelain cheek with it's high cheekbones flushed with her dancing as she thought of them. They, all she had known of her family, yet so different, so uncomprehending. And at times, so hateful. Skinny, they called her, and made fun of her white skin, her strange silver hair, and her too-large mauve eyes. And her voice, with its' melodic quaver when she spoke. She gave full voice to the song within her now, calling out clearly as she turned, her voice a clear, strong call as a mare calls to her stallion. But the only sound she could hear was the night wind blowing through the leaves in the dark.
Meanwhile, Erik was having his own problems. Christine, his one true love, had left him alone again, leaving with that fop—choosing a pretty face and long blonde hair and money and a title over the truest heart that ever beat. Blinded by tears he tore apart his home. He would never be happy again, never! He could hear the mob calling for his blood as he smashed mirror after mirror. He never wanted to see his awful face again! He could hear the mob coming closer and closer—"Hunt down the murderer!" they yelled.
"Damn you, you little lying Delilah!" he yelled at his giant Christine doll, all smashed up on the ground. He grabbed her head by her hair and lifted it high to smash it through the last, biggest mirror—but then he stopped. Something very weird was going on! His reflection in the mirror looked all funny, like a rock was throuwn into a pool of water. Stepping closer to look closer, he tripped on the doll and fell face first into the mirror! But instead of hitting glass and getting all cut and smashed up he was suddenly underwater! Cursing, his mouth full of water, he swam upwards towards the light.
He hauled himself out onto the grassy bank of a small pool and laygasping in a pool of moonlight, his clohtes feeling strange and wet against his skin. And where was his mask?
He growned and rolled over. It must have fallen off in the strange pool. Where was he? He was outside in a forest at night—had he hit his head and fallen into the lake and washed downstream to this strange little pool?
Well, nevermind—he had to find his mask. He rolled over onto his stomach to see if it was in the strange little pool. Just then the moon came out from behind a cloud and he could see his reflection perfectly.
What was wrong with him? At first he thought there was some strange monster lurking under the water of the odd small lake. But it drew back just as he did, with the same expression of shock. Cautiously he leaned forward again. He stared and stared, and lifted one hand to his cheek. His face... His face was perfect. The perfect face of a devil. His cheekbones were high- too impossibly high, and his chin too pointy, as were his strangely elongated ears. And his eyes... oh god, his eyes... cat-slitted, glowing gold, they were the eyes of a demon. "Or a god..." a voice whispered in his mind, unbidden. His teeth were sharp little daggers, like... like no animal he could think of. "What have I become?" he whispered in horror. "Dear god, what have I become?"
"What have I become?" he whispered in shock. "At least before, I was human! But this..." He stared, aghast, at his reflection before stumbling backwards on the bank. His hads now were long, lean, white, with sharp pointed nails. And even his sleeve… He stumbled to his feet and leant out as far over the water as he dared, tryiong to see his clothes. Gone was his shirt, his pants, his shoes… His hair now hung loose to his waist, while snug black breeches embraced his legs. Thigh-high black leather boots clasped his legs and molded themselves to his thighs. And a long black silk tunic was held to his waist by a broad, studded leather belt.
He reeled back in confusion, and glanced wildly about for a moment, trying to find something solid and familiar in this dark world of confusion. Suddenly, he glimpsed something through the trees, pale movement high on a hill above him. Silently, he crept forwards to investigate.
Oh my! What could he have popssibly heard? What will happen in the exiting next chapter? Leave me lots of reviews or you'll never find out! Muahahaha! :D