Ars Gratia Artis – Chapter 2 – Reunited
AN – Hello ladies and gentlefolk! Enjoy the next chapter.
Skaramoosh x
Disclaimer – I do not own POTO
Reunited
E POV
I stood for hours in the cold, wet queue waiting to be granted entry into Christine's art show. As great as my discomfort was I could not help but be happy that this many people wanted to see her work. It seems her talents do not lie solely in music. I decided that even if she wasn't attending and I didn't see her, it would be worth it just to experience her artistic prowess. I made me way around the exhibition, awestruck at the pure beauty that radiated from every display. Yet there was also a subtle sadness to each piece, a quiet sense of misery that seemed to hide, ashamed, in the corner of each frame. I stopped by a particularly intriguing painting. It portrayed the image of a young child with a dark shadow behind her. As simple as that image sounds, the sheer complexity of it left me breathless. The expression on the young girls face was a mixture of fear with a strange sense of acceptance. Even the shadow had an odd shape, at first it seemed to be a man, but the longer I looked at it the more the individual strokes made that man turn into a monster. As exquisite as this painting was, I couldn't bear to look at it any longer. I turned to leave and found myself staring into the face of my beloved.
C POV
'Erik?'
It felt like I was breaking yet becoming complete at the same time. The world seemed to stop spinning and time stood still when I saw his face. I recognised him instantly, for that face has been forever imprinted in my mind's eye. I seized his hand and led him upstairs into a deserted section of the building. The events of those five years may have shattered my morale, but they had also made me bold. He stood gazing at me, amazed and curious.
'Erik... what are you doing here?'
'I came to see you,' he corrected himself, 'your artwork.'
He looked awkwardly into my eyes, trying to gauge my reaction.
'Your art is, in a word, sublime. It has such intricate, fascinating detail!'
He was wonderfully enthused. I wondered if he had felt the same way as me.
'Did you... did you ever think of me after that night?'
'Christine, you have never left my thoughts, not once.'
'Erik, I could have never forgotten you, ever. These past five months have been Hell.'
His expression hardened and his face creased.
'Why is that Christine? Has the Vicomte not made you happy?'
'He did, for six months until he got drunk and revealed his true nature. He told me that he only married me for my body. I left that very night.'
'And you returned here, to Paris and had an extremely successful career without him.'
'It was not without difficulty, I suffer Erik! When I create a piece, I'm putting myself into it; a part of my soul goes into that artwork. The things I have done, the things I have been forced to do I should say... I'm babbling, do forgive me.'
His frown increased he raised a hand to touch my face but thought better of it.
'I'm sorry, Christine. I apologise for every single hardship I have ever put you through.'
I closed my eyes in exasperation. This part of the gallery had random pieces of furniture scattered all over it so I found some nearby chair and sat down.
'I couldn't even begin to explain what I've been through Erik, but none of that is your fault. I made some extremely horrendous decisions.'
He knelt before me.
'Tell me Christine. I can tell that your soul is damaged.'
If he were any other man I wouldn't have told him a thing. But Erik isn't merely a man. He is my angel of music, always has been, always will be. Nothing in the world could ever change that.
E POV
My beautiful Christine seemed to be lost in her own little world. I was almost dreading the time when I would know what had happened to make her like this, but I also wanted to know. The more I knew the more I could assist my precious songbird in her recovery. She buried her beautiful face in her slender hands and I couldn't help but wrap my arms around her tiny form. She wept delicately into my shoulder and I did my very best to comfort her. She carefully removed herself from me and opened her mouth to speak.
'When I left Raoul, I was left completely alone and desperate. I moved back to Paris, mainly because I couldn't bear being away. I tried to take my mind of my troubles with education. I leant Ancient Greek and Latin. Then I started visiting the galleries. They both inspired and pained me.'
Her eyes filled with unshed tears.
'But I found a kind of solace in them, that's why I started creating art, even though it hurts.'
Although the years had been kind to her face, she bore no imperfections of skin; her eyes had an age to them that had not been there before. They were tinged with a kind of tired sorrow that I had never seen in her. What had made my angelic songbird act in a manner that was so beyond her years?
'How did you get this show?'
It was, to my mind, a very simple question. But she looked away with horror in her eyes. Maybe she had at last realised who she was talking to.
'I knew you would become disgusted with me within a short while' I sighed
'Oh angel, I am not, and have never been, disgusted with you. I am disgusted with myself.'
No part of my mind could fathom this information. How could this perfect creature possibly be disgusted with her wonderful self?
AN – So what do you think? I haven't as of yet had any reviews so I am unsure as to whether I should continue this. Just a little note to say what you like/dislike would be much appreciated.
Skaramoosh x
