Flow
Christine gazed out over the water.
The waves majestically rose and fell, each separate wave seizing control of the mighty power of the ocean for a brief fraction of time, becoming a gargantuan surge, abdicating power in its final seconds of control, bestowing the strength and force to the tiny ripple behind it, causing the tiny ripple to realize its true potential and become a gargantuan wave. Then in turn, that new gargantuan wave bestowed its power upon the tiny ripple behind it, and on went the circle of life; all energy from the first wave transferring into the later waves again and again, rising and falling, rising and falling.
Christine inhaled deeply.
The salty briny smell of the ocean overwhelmed her senses; it had been so long since she had smelt and tasted the unique scent and flavor the water emanated. The clean air whipped past her, knocking and twirling her hair to each side of her face, filling her lungs, leaving her with a pleasant sensation as every awful thing that had occurred to her over the past few months was sucked out of her body by the air and brought out to sea, only to be washed away with the next outgoing wave. Everything that had been pent up poured out of her soul and was swept away.
Christine shut her eyes and just listened.
The waves majestically roared: each crash of foam and seaweed slapping the pearly sand louder and louder -but in between there was silence. Oh, there was the gentle rushing of the water retreating from the shore to strengthen the next wave, while the next wave reached its peak of power, but it did not detract from the silence: the slight noise intensified anticipation of the fall to come, rhythmically accelerating to a crescendo before one wave became so powerful that it wiped out the next few waves, and the whole sea was silent for a while before each wave became bigger and bigger and louder and louder.
It continued on like this for some time, seeing and feeling and tasting and smelling and hearing each part of the retreat and advance of the sea.
Every motion calmed the brunette; eventually the panic and stress she had felt when she first stood on the beach completely subsided while she felt at the very core of her being the struggle nature undertook.
The wind continued whipping around her face and Christine extended her arms, loving the freedom that this escape had given her. Each gust caressed around her face and body, the sound vibrating in her ears, leaving a light whistling sound as it passed by her.
She smiled as the wind seemed almost to develop a melody, lightly teasing her ear with flowing chords, accelerating and decelerating, moving from a pianissimo to a fortissimo within seconds and repeating and repeating.
Eventually the wind slowed to a light breeze, and Christine started a little bit. The music had kept on playing.
Looking all around, Christine noticed a tall oak tree a few hundred feet off in the distance. Beneath it stood a lean, tall man, who leaned against the tree while casually playing the complex song as if it was a simple child's tune.
A grin lit her face, and her heart soared as she realized her father's favorite song flowed over her ears.
The wind picked up again, enhancing the melody to the point where it sounded as if a whole orchestra must have been playing to capture the different waves of sound the wind offered.
While the wind whirled round and round her, her scarf became looser and looser, till it reached the point where it flew off of her neck, the scarlet red of the scarf standing out against the pale white-grey of the sand and the deep blue-green of the sea. It flew farther and farther into the sky and over the sea.
"Oh no, my scarf!" Christine's hands frantically tried to snatch her scarf out of the air before it made its way into the deep water, but it escaped her fingers and landed in the water at the precise moment a wave landed, pulling it deeper and deeper out to sea.
Christine knelt on the ground with her head in her hands, and bemoaned the loss of yet another of her red scarves, why was it always them that chose to fly away?
"I'll get it!" A young, spry boy that had been walking down the beach a little while away dashed into the waves, springing through the powerful crashes and paddling out to the spot where her scarf drifted in the waves, progressively becoming a darker and darker shade of red and sinking lower and lower in the water.
The young boy fought against the waves, and eventually grabbed the scarf and bobbed to the surface, gasping for air. Waving the scarf over his head in victory, he grinned at Christine, who chuckled in response to the boy's antics.
After a minute, the young boy made it back to shore and Christine got her first good look at him. He was lean and strong at the same time, with shaggy blonde hair that reached his shoulders and piercing blue eyes that cut right to Christine's heart. He had one of those loveable faces that just screamed perfection.
"Here's your scarf mademoiselle, please promise me you won't lose it again so I don't have to dive back in that freezing water…" The boy cheekily grinned at her and extended her scarf as a glorious prize.
Christine smiled right back; "Of course I won't lose it again. And I'm Madame, not Mademoiselle"
"Oh, I'm sorry Madame; I didn't know you had a husband. Well, have a good day!" And with that final parting note, the boy took off, his blonde locks flowing behind his shoulders as he ran along the beach in sopping wet clothing.
Christine's amusement at fate grew and grew with every second. First her scarf incident repeat... and oh, the boy looked so familiar. He was practically the spitting image of Raoul.
And even though he was so similar, he was just a boy, and as much as she might have liked to live in the dream again for a little bit of time just for memory's sake, she let him go.
Waves crashed again and again in a furious pattern, and her head snapped back again to watch the beauty of nature.
While watching, she realized that each wave -and its following wave- were intrinsically related. When the first wave started, it rose to a great height and maintained the energy it had obtained for a decent chunk of time, before the downfall began to happen.
And that's where all of the trouble began.
The first wave didn't want to fall. It wanted to stay on top of the world, and to be greater than all of those other waves. When it began to fall, it fell slowly. Each second elongated to provide the final tastes of strength to the dying first wave: the wave that resented each following wave for stealing what had been rightfully its. But as it fell, it fell faster and faster, submitting to the eminent fall, allowing the second wave to rise stronger and higher than it had. The first wave let go. And then when that second wave finally fell, it eradicated all of the other waves following it for quite some time.
The similarities were unbelievable. Raoul had been there, always first, trying so hard for her affection and dominating over her life, attempting to control her and stay on top. And then Erik had come into the picture, the second wave, and Raoul started to slip from the pedestal he had placed himself on merely by virtue of being the first in her life, the first to find her on that beach. When he had started to fall he had resisted as strongly as he could, and attempted to throw Erik's control of her by any means, but as Raoul's power slipped, Erik's only grew and grew and finally, Raoul had to give in; Erik's power would never be weaker than Raoul's again, he would just have to give up and admit that Erik had Christine now. And then Erik's power had completely crashed over Christine after its mounting surge, and it was so powerful, that Christine had been completely sucked down into the water and no waves ever followed it to upset her peace.
The music stopped abruptly. Turning her head to find the cause of the sudden stop, she was greeted by a pale sliver of white peeking around the tree.
There was only one thing she could do when she saw that little piece of white: smile. Christine hitched up her skirts, and wrapped her dripping wet scarf around her neck, not caring that it was wrecked. She walked slowly up the hill, and watched the face that had been spying on her return to its hiding place behind the tree, and the music started again.
Rounding the tree, she encountered one smirking, well dressed musician.
"Miss me while you were down there? I couldn't help but remind you of who was always with you… singing songs in your head." Erik grinned mischievously.
"Oh, of course I missed you. Even a few hundred feet is too much… I don't really feel free or alive unless you're close by, reminding me of your music…"
"Your father always promised you the angel of music after he died, because he was your angel of music when he was still alive. And now, I have taken up that mantle. Do you mind that I imitated him while we were here? I know you always would tell me how he would lean against the tree and play while you frolicked on the beach; both of you would enjoy the beach weather and enthusiasm it brought for you… except you're not singing."
"No, I don't mind that you're acting like him, my angel of music." Christine flitted a few feet away. "In fact, I seem to have discovered something. Even when my angel isn't right next to me, there's still music coming from him. He'll always be there, singing songs in my head…"
Within the first words of Christine's song, her husband's voice and the matching tune had picked up, and the happiest she had been in weeks, she smiled at her masked angel.
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AN: I sat down and tried to write another chapter for Shattered Mirrors, but I wasn't really feeling it, and this happened instead! I had always wondered about Christine's feelings on a trip to the beach where she met Raoul, but with Erik at her side instead.
I hope you liked it, please review with opinions on it!