She didn't know where she was... These streets weren't meant for the filth of the city. They were reserved for those who had money. She had wandered too far into this aristocratic world entirely by accident. How could she have known that music shop was the most expensive in Paris? That dump certainly didn't look like it.
And that simple mistake was now really going to cost her. All she wanted was a violin... Could she help the fact that it wasn't free? Growing up she could have gotten anything for free. Just produce a few tears and she'd get a piece of bread, a bit of a cake, little things like that. But she was a big girl now. Seventeen years old and 'responsible for her own actions.' She'd heard that a couple of times when she was caught snatching pastries from the bakery. It wasn't serious enough to get her in real trouble, so they let the occasional cookie disappearances slide by, more or less unnoticed. After all, it was i just /i a cookie.
It was at times like these when she began to wish she had listened to that advice. A violin was hardly as inexpensive or as common as a cookie. But it was so beautiful. . . She couldn't help it. Being raised the way she had been (which you couldn't really call being raised), she never had money to spend. Nor did she have parents to spend money on her. She considered herself indpendent. Others considered her a worthless thief. And that was why she was now being chased by the police.
In the pale moonlight, the opera house seemed like an intimidating structure, its cold features harshly illuminated beneath the night sky. Its stone walls, turned an ashey grey from the fire, were not at all inviting, but she had little choice. It was either this or jail. Darting into the shadows behind the building, she searched for some kind of opening, a door, a window, anything that would lead her to safety. The shouts of the officers were distant, but she had no time to waste. At last she found her entrance. A metal grate at the very bottom of the building seemed to be her only hope. Tucking the instrument under her arm, she tucked at the grate, pulling as hard as her strength would allow. After a few moments of struggle, the hinges screamed their surrender and the barred metal grate swung open, allowing her inside. She slipped easily down into the darkness, landing roughly on a cold stone floor. Chills traveled up through her, the ground feeling frigid against her naked feet. Reaching up, she pulled the grate closed to erase any evidence of her entry. With one hand holding onto the violin, she put her other hand out to the side. It almost immediately came in contact with a wall. She found the same wall to her other side. So she was in some kind of passageway... Seeing no other choices, she started forward and her journey began.
She didn't exactly know what had happened here at the Opera Populaire. All she knew was from hearing a few bits of conversation on the streets. The most she could remember was that some deformed lunatic had kidnapped this Christine Somethingoranother and then somehow made the chandelier fall. She assumed that was what had caused the fire. Of course, she didn't care very much, as opera wasn't a part of her life. But the thought that only a few short months ago this place had been full of music was slightly chilling. Now it seemed so lifeless and unwelcoming. She began to wish her life had been different. That way she could have seen the Opera Populaire in all its splendor.
She held one hand out before her, eyes open wide, though nothing could be seen. She had continued in such a way for what felt like forever in the never ending tunnel. Surely it would end soon.
Her hand came in contact with something soft. It was fabric, delicate and smooth. She stopped where she was, taking a moment to attempt to figure out what she had walked into. It was some sort of curtain, falling all the way to the floor. Her hand moved to the side, and she found that there was a thick frame around the curtain. She found this odd since, to the best of her knowledge, curtains weren't often displayed as pieces of art. She ran her fingers over the smooth metal, its surface cold to the touch. With a slight gasp, her hand jerked backwards, a stinging pain rising in her fingertips. There was something jagged and sharp at the edge of the metal. It felt like broken glass... And it hurt. A lot. In the darkness she couldn't see the damange that was done to her fingers, but she felt its effects: The throbbing sting and the trickle of blood dripping down her palm. Now that she was wounded, it would only make sense to continue forward. After all, going back wouldn't be very smart. The police could still be waiting for her. So, very carefully, with her injured hand (the other still held the violin tightly, as if someone might come up and steal it) she pulled the curtain to the side, slowlt stepping through. The moment her foot touched the ground, she yanked it back. There was broken glass all over the floor! What moron left this kind of mess? she wondered, wishing there was some light so she could see just what kind of mess she was dealing with. But, of course, no light appeared, no magic glowing orb came to guide her. The darkness only seemed to increase around her, as if mocking her as she stood there in indecision.
She carefully, i very /i carefully, put her foot down a second time, reaching as far as her leg would allow all the way to one side. That way maybe, just maybe, she'd avoid the glass. A triumphant grin slowly spread across her face as she found just the right spot to step. Steadying herself with one hand by holding onto the metal frame, careful to avoid getting cut a second time, she reached with her other foot so that she was now out of the passageway. Once more, one arm reached out in front of her and she began walking.
It was only a second or two before she got hurt yet again. Her toe banged head-on into something very hard and painful, and whatever it was responded with a metallic clatter. "Dammit!" she cursed, right now wishing even more for some sort of light. As she bent down to see what it was she had hit, she found that her wish was partly granted. What she now held in her hand was a candelabra. Unfortunately, there were no candles in it, or anywhere nearby, it seemed. Nor were there any matches to light the candles with. She gave a small sigh, but began to feel a bit more hopeful. If there was a candelabra, there were bound to be candles and matches i somewhere /i . All she needed to do was find them.
She groped around on the floor for a few moments, but found that there was nothing more of any interest. A few pieces of broken glass and a long piece of rope were all she found. They did her no good, unless she felt like killing herself. She shuddered. What a horrible thought.
Standing up once more, she stumbled forward in the darkness, slowly placing one foot down after the other. After some minutes of being in hopeless darkness, and stubbing a few more toes on a couple of stairs, she was overjoyed to discover candles. They were just everywhere, and all standing in candle i holders /i too. This was certainly what you could call convenient. She felt about a couple of seconds more, searching for the matches she knew had to be somewhere. Her happiness increased tremendously when she found them at last. Hastily fumbling to open the box, she pulled out a single match, striking it against the rough side of the box. The tiny flame gave her enough light so she could see a single candle before her, and she lit it. She blew out the match, tossing it aside, and used the candle to light the others. It wasn't long before the whole row of candles had been lit, and the flames now flickered in triumph against the darkness. Only now was she able to see where she was.
The place was much stranger than she had expected. Apparently, she wasn't in the opera house. She was i underneath /i it. The room, if you could even call it a room, was almost cavernous is size and design, its walls, ceiling and floor all made of stone. A lake, whose far end couldn't be seen from where she stood, shimmered in the faint candlelight, its water shallow and murky. Papers, unreadable to her (as she didn't even know the alphabet), were carelessly strewn about all across the floor. And behind her, a large, towering pipe organ.