Approaching the statue from the back, he was shocked to find sat there a small girl, probably no older than her late teens. What was worse was that she was dressed in a silk night dress, her body shivering from the cold. As he grew closer, he could clearly see that she was holding back sobs, her entire body quaking with bridled emotion. In the last weeks, she had felt nothing, and now, she felt everything. Her voice, though beautiful, was haunting, containing such pure sadness that tears threatened Erik's eyes. It was as if he were hearing true heartbreak.
Erik was speaking before he realized exactly what he was doing. He shocked even himself, for he normally avoided every interaction with humankind except for a very select few. But, as it was when he was frozen to the spot, he was compelled by some awesome, unseen force.
"You'll catch your death in this cold."
Christine nearly fell off the statue, turning around so quickly that she was dizzy from the whiplash. Who was up here at this hour, and what did they want with her?
"Please do not be afraid."
She sat still at this, just taking a look at the very peculiar man that stood before her. He was tall, frighteningly tall, with a slim build. He was muscular, though, she could see, and his posture carried him with an aura of power, of mysterious, almost magical presence. He was clad in all black formal wear, complete with a waistcoat, a black ascot tie with large ruffles, and a floor-long black cloak. His hair was also raven black, pulled from his face and secured with a length of black ribbon. But, it was his face which rendered him so peculiar. It was completely concealed with a white porcelain mask, save for his eyes and mouth. And his eyes burned a bright gold, looking like two stars in this dark night.
How can I not be afraid? Christine thought to herself, her breath quickening as she felt his eyes bore into her, as if they were reaching into her soul. In a sense, they were, and as he read from her mind like an open book, he could see nothing but pain. Unimaginable pain.
"What is your name?" He asked, trying to keep his voice soft. He did not want to scare her away, only hear her voice again.
"Christine," she answered simply. Erik recognized this name, and eventually it dawned on him that she was part of the ballet. She was Swedish, if he recalled. Through her conversation, she was drawn from the depths of her inner thoughts and back into reality. And only then did she realize just how cold it was. Her voice started to shake. "What is yours?"
"I am Erik." His answer was simple as well, but his voice held an air of astonishing, breathtaking power. "Christine," her name rolled beautifully off his tongue, "I think you may already know this, but your voice… your voice is astonishingly beautiful."
Her cheeks, already red from the chill, turned a few shades darker, and she shook her head. "Thank you monsieur, but it is untrue. No one has appreciated my singing, so I never do, save for when I am alone."
"And how awful of a crime that is," he replied, his voice growing sad. "Christine, your voice is so miraculous in pitch, tone, and shape… But, it is completely untrained. I…" he did not believe he was about to say this. "I would like to help you. I would like to teach you."
It was then that she managed to get off of the statue, standing on her own two feet. A peculiar force drew her to him, she wanted to see more of who she was speaking to. But a few steps were all it took before she was stopped.
"Please, do not come any closer." His voice was firm now. He was afraid too. "Please, think about my offer, and if you accept, please come to the practice room on the top floor tomorrow night."
She was actually quite shocked by his offer, unsure of what to think. She stayed where she was, her arms crossed over her torso to keep out the cold, as she watched him slowly back away. He bid her goodnight, and he left as quickly as he had come.
She stood still, her mind racing, for the next few minutes, trying to comprehend what had just happened to her. Where had this man come from? Was he even real? Why did he care about her? These questions, and many more curiosities, flooded her senses, occupying her thoughts until the cold became too much for her to handle. She descended the stairs back to her dormitory in a wonderful haze, and miraculously, she went to sleep, wondering if this night was just a dream.
