Starting Notes: This story will be close to an M, yet not quite, so more like T+. If you feel that this story should be moved up, just PM me and let me know. I, personally don't think it's quite an M, yet I've lived with this story for almost six months now. It deals with many death related themes, and loss of life. It doesn't really ever touch on romance, so it's all the angsty, emo, cutter nearly-M content. Also, this will be a mixture of all three verses, taking some of my favorite elements from each source.
A/N: So, I've decided to take pity on the people who have wanted more of this story, so I've decided to restart this story, considering that it's already written up on paper, and just needs to be typed and uploaded. It's the same story, same characters and all, yet just edited and made better (maybe?) Thanks to the first two people who have reviewed this story, and I'd like it if more people reviewed it. To those who might be worried about Tellall, my Cats story, don't worry because that will still be updated pretty regularly. This'll be updated probably no more than once a week. I'll get the next chapter up soon, so that you won't be too tortured with the cliffie.
I woke up, panting, in a cold sweat. I had the same nightmare I had had for the past year, and his pained cries still echoed in my ears. It was still before dawn and the cool stones of Notre Dame de Paris weren't as inviting as they had seemed last night. Of course, that might have been because I had flown for two days straight from Venice, Italy. Yes, you heard me right, flown. I appear to be an angel, yet instead of people falling down at my feet, I'm followed by cries of "monster" and "demon." My black-tipped grey wings allowed me to fly and go places most humans only dream of, yet they also ostracized me from society. It was a sad existence of mine because I was always alone and I knew it would remain that way for the rest of my life. It was a brilliantly clear night, awful for being hidden, yet beautiful for stargazing. I stuffed my small blanket that I used as a bed into my bag and looked up at the sky. There was a rare shooting star and I thought to myself, I wish for a reason to stay here. Just once, I want to be able to stay somewhere.
Shaking my head to rid myself of the self-pity, I ran and jumped off the side of the cathedral, spreading my wings out at the last minute so that I wouldn't kill myself. Folding my wings in and looking up and down the streets for any people, I started walking down the deserted streets in search of some food vendor's cart. Luckily, there was a fruit vendor who had left his cart out overnight, so I filled the empty space in my bag with the fruit and I pulled a perfectly ripe pear off of the cart to eat. Looking up at the building, I noticed that I was standing underneath an opera house. Not just any opera house though, yet the famous Opéra Populair. The famous story of the Opera Ghost had made it all over Europe and I had always wanted to see this opera. Even the ghost, if I were lucky enough. The story was the only reason as to why I was here in Paris, rather than in some remote forest village.
"Where is she? Where is my angel?" I heard faintly from inside the opera house. I could barely hear it, even with my hawk-like hearing, yet I was so surprised that I jumped away from the building and flapped my wings nervously. I looked around for any humans who might have seen that, yet luckly there wasn't anyone around. That voice seemed familiar, yet I couldn't quite place it, even though I knew I should have known it instantly. "I need you! Angel!" he cried again. My eyes grew to be as large as saucers. No, no, it can't be. It can't be my Songbird. It can't be him, considering he had been dead for a year. It was his cries of anguish and pain that had kept me awake for the past year. I pulled my bag around and fumbled with the clasp as I bent down to the window. I had a set of lock picks that I could use to get into this building and find my Songbird, my life.
I slid through the now-open window, being mindful of my wings, and looked around this dusty room. It appeared to be like a chapel, with various people's portrait sitting behind long-since-melted candles. I walked through the open door and looked around, listening for something to hint as to where my Songbird was. I heard the sound of glass shattering and I ran down several dark corridors until I came up to a dark lake. I looked across it, wondering why my Songbird would be in this dark place underground, yet I didn't hesitate from going across when I heard, "Angel! I'm dying without you!" I unfolded my wings and flew across the lake, dodging stalactites and stalagmites until I landed on a rocky shore. There were scraps of paper all over the place, broken glass (I was lucky I had nicked shoes in the last town I was in), and candles burning. Yet, in the center of this mess was a tall man, with dark hair and wearing a pure, white mask. Burning rage welled up in me as I watched this man moan and rock back and forth with my Songbird's voice. I stalked over to him, and slapped him, causing him to fly sideways. He looked up at me and glared at me from two different colored eyes. Even his eyes were the same as my Songbird's. He tried to pull out a length of rope out, yet I ripped it out of his hands and pressed my knee against his stomach. I might not know much about this place, yet I knew with absolute certainty, that this man wasn't my Songbird, and that he needed to pay for deciving me.
"Where is he? What have you done with him?" I shouted at him, tears threatening to come to my eyes.
"Who? Who are you looking for?" he asked weakly.
"My Songbird! He was crying for help earlier! I heard him. Tell me or I'll kill you!" I said, pulling my bone knife out of its leather sheath.
"I don't know. There was only me crying out, yet please, kill me. I can't take life anymore," he asked, looking more pathetic than any animal I had ever seen before, including the stupidest spider caught in his own web. I looked down into his eyes, which seemed so dead already, and raised my knife up. In the downward plunge, I poured my rage, my despair, my guilt into the act of killing this man, whoever he was. The man looked away at the last moment, and I felt a moment's relief as I twisted the knife, pulled it out and walked to the edge of the water and sat down, sobbing as I felt afresh the grief I had felt when my Songbird had first died.