I know it's been a while since I've updated my other story, but I'm kind of struggling a little with the newest chapter - it keeps turning out too light, and the way their relationship was going didn't seem natural. So sorry for the wait, though - I just want it to be perfect :)
In the meantime, while I'm rewriting again, here's some serious darkness I cooked up to put myself in a more appropriate mood for that one. They're going to be shorter chapters, but hopefully a lot of them. High T - let me know if you think it should be bumped to M.
Standard disclaimers apply. I own only an overpriced recording and access to the 25th Anniversary show on Netflix.
She is cold. Cold and wet.
Her damp hair is slicked across the bare skin of her throat, water already soaking through the thin robe where it falls across her back. The storm outside is unseasonably strong, and the festivities had been cut short due to the rain. For that she's grateful — it had been tiring to smile, to laugh, to converse to Raoul's family as though she could ever hope to call his many relations her own. But she isn't sure she's ready for this, either.
He's going to realize. She's sure of it. And who knows what will become of her then.
"Lotte, today was perfect," he says in a content voice. Proud. She murmurs a quiet assent, and he beams. "You were lovely in your dress."
The thing lays across the back of a chair now, dripping and rather disheveled in appearance, but she supposes it was nice while it lasted. Perfect, in fact, like a fairy tale. The fairy tale Raoul was born to have.
But she was not. She was bound to squander her happy ending in one way or anther. She had chosen the poison, but death was inevitable either way.
Distantly, she thinks it's strange how her mind likens it to poison. How morbid. And yet . . . she had never felt so alive.
"I'm sure you charmed my family as well." He pulls off his dripping jacket and throws it beside the dress, his grin lessening somewhat. But even the thought of his cold and distant mother can't dull his mood for long on his wedding night. "They'll come around. Everything is going to work out now."
She wonders if she looks as bad as she feels. Pale face and clammy skin. Tremors wracking her thin body. Something must be off about her appearance, at any rate, because Raoul gives her a sympathetic look.
"Don't be nervous, Lotte." His fingers are on the buttons of his shirt now, slowly working their way down his chest. "I promise, you'll be fine."
She tries to smile, but fails. Grimaces instead. He moves closer.
"Trust me, Christine. Just think of how wonderful it will be to start a family at last! You're opera days are behind you — I'll give you everything you could ever want now."
There are far too few layers between them. It's hard to breathe.
She closes her eyes.
This will all make sense . . . well, not soon, but hopefully by the end. Let me know what you think is going on! Reviews are confidence boosters!
Much love,
KnightNight