La Daae and that gross skeleton buddy of hers belong to Gaston Leroux.
"You were staggering, Christine, utterly astounding!"
"I was?"
"Of course, absolutely flawless."
Christine lay leaning against her dressing room mirror, puffing slightly after a particularly enervating practice. She has sung the part of Gounod's Juliet, and in her teacher's crystal tones she heard all of Romeo's yearning, and all the tragic pain of his damned and forbidden love. Their notes had chased each other in the air like courting sparrows, until the air shivered in the raw ecstasy of their song. She panted and clasped her hands in exhilaration. She had done well this time! Her angel was pleased with her! She closed her eyes for a moment, as if resting.
"Angel, am I... Am I a very good student?"
A pause. "Why, of course you are! Why ever would do you ask such a thing? I have absolute faith in you my child, do you doubt that?"
"My apologies, it's just that... Sometimes I fear I am not learning fast enough, or not working hard enough, and I falter when I sing..." Her words trailed sadly. "I had lost music for so long, and I confess that feared I would never win it back."
"Nonsense, my child! Your voice is so sublime as to take away the breath of gods, and yet you improve with every day. You were merely... a little lost, that is all, and now I am helping you find your way."
"I was certainly lost during today's rehearsal," she said bitterly. "I sounded like a drowned swallow."
"No you didn't, my dear..." the voice reassured her. "You are simply too harsh on yourself."
"How do you know?" she asked wonderingly, "were you listening at rehearsal as well?"
"No, actually," the voice admitted sheepishly, "but a drowned swallow wouldn't make much of a sound at all, regardless of tone, would it?"
She burst out laughing, and her skin flushed a rosy pink.
"Ah, you're right there! But perhaps you would have enjoyed attending the rest of the practice. Madame Carlotta sang a very fine bel canto aria today." she concluded humbly.
"Madame Carlotta?" the voice scoffed in a tone of the utmost incredulity. "That poor toad? When she sings the blossoms in her bodice wilt to the tips of their stems, and the holy choir in Heaven covers it's ears!"
Christine's face went from delicate rose to a violent shade of red in a moment.
"Angel, surely you exaggerate!"
"Not at all!" he proclaimed solemnly. "When I heard her practicing in her dressing room, there were mutts howling at the window, as to cover up her caterwauling with their own and spare us all the torture of her horridly flat scales."
Christine herself positively howled in laughter.
"That's not all!" The voice continued earnestly. "A fortnight ago, during her part in Le roi de Lahore, she was singing so very monotonously that I observed her lull Messieur Malpertuis to sleep in his private box!"
Christine gasped for breath, attempting to uncurl herself from the floor.
"Her Sitâ does sound a trifle drowsy, doesn't she?" she giggled, a nervous grin flitting across her face.
"Look at you! Speaking so unflatteringly of a fellow behind her back! What a puckish creature I've taught you to be!"
Christine's flushed cheeks drained rapidly. "You-! But you said...!" she stammered in horrified protest.
"Be calm, my child! I jest, I jest! Ah, your angel is not a very genteel guardian at all, is he?"
Christine's shoulders collapsed in relief when she saw his humour, and then began to shake with amusement,
"Oh, how you make me laugh! I could never ask for a more charming or better friend than you, Angel!"
"And I could never ask for a finer student!" he exclaimed, voice glowing with an unmistakable fondness that was strangely human. Christine could imagine so vividly that the Voice stood in this very room, his hand hovering kindly over her shoulder...
"I may not attend every one of your rehearsals, but know that I still remain forever with you. Wherever you may find yourself, you have only to speak my name and I will be there. This, I promise."
"Can you really do that?" the girl asked quietly.
"For you, of course. I am an angel, after all."
Something of mine that is...not dreary or morbid? A piece of writing that is...is actually quite fluffy? Egads, what was I trying to do. Maybe I shouldn't be posting this. I kept thinking how Christine said that she and the Voice were so chummy all up until the whole kidnapping fiasco, and then I got a lil' miffed at the thought of Kay. Seriously, what was up with her book?
...Is this hopelessly cheesy? Is it really quite bad? Eugh.