Another update for you all. I apologize for the delay. I enjoy this chapter very much, I hope you do too. Thank you for all of the kind reviews.
Also, for those of you who are reading both stories, worry not! I am typing like a mad(wo)man in the background on Twisted Fate. I promise an update by tomorrow morning at the latest.
Without further ado..!
Emina rapped lightly upon the door, quite nervously. No response. Once more she knocked lightly, and just as she was about to walk away a voice from within called.
"Enter." Emina turned the knob and stepped in.
"You called for me, Madame Giry?" Emina did not fear much, but this opera house was her salvation at the moment. It provided food, warmth, shelter. And best of all, easy access to him. The idea of losing that security made her fearful.
"Yes, Emina. Please, sit. Sit. I want you to tell me what troubles you so. What makes you late for every practice - what kept you from the gala? Why do you sneak out in the middle of the night? Where did you go, last night?"
Emina was surprised by the question, and her visage reflected that - only for a moment. She forced a smile, mind racing for an answer to give.
"It's stuffy in the dorms," she began. "Too crowded sometimes, I just need some time alone."
Madame Giry did not look convinced at all.
"Emina, there are rumors that you search for the Opera Ghost. That you believe you care for him." Her tone took a sudden serious note. "He is dead. And even if he were not," her eyes glinted, and Emina understood the secret between them. They both knew he was not dead. "If he were not, he is dangerous and you would be best to ignore the romantic notion you may have created about him."
Madame Giry knew nothing of Emina's past, nor that she knew Erik very well. Emina simply nodded, hoping to end this conversation as soon and easily as possible.
"You're not doing well in the show, I am going to have to dismiss you."
Emina felt dizzy. She had no alternative! "Please," she began desperately but Madame Giry silenced her with an upheld hand.
"I understand that you have little options otherwise, and I have found an excellent proposition for you. The DeChagny's are looking for... well. They would like for someone to spend time with Christine. To dance, sing, anything she'd like to do. She needs company." Madame Giry did not say aloud that they thought Christine was mad, but Emina (having been accused of the same thing many times) understood that was the meaning by the inflection of her voice.
"They offer room, board. A small stipend. Perhaps you will be more prepared for the next production."
With that, Madame Giry shuffled Emina out - giving her until the next morning to accept or reject the offer.
Emina found her way to her room in a daze. She had to leave! But where would she go? She felt such a deep resentment for Christine - the idea of living with her was ludicrous! Dropping into her uncomfortable bed, she groaned beneath the weight of her new burden. It would be a long night.
One Month Later
An entire month had passed. Emina had begrudgingly accepted the invitation to join Christine in the DeChagny mansion, and had since moved her things in. Since that time, she had only seen Erik once - and then it had only been for a brief moment before she was beckoned away again. Her heart was heavy and she longed for him, though he gave her little save his presence.
Currently, Emina was toying with a stack of jewels Christine had brought out.
"I want to make him proud, really. Help me choose." Christine had pleaded with her newfound friend. She and Raoul had been invited to dinner with a very important business partner, and Christine was (as was not uncommon) nervous.
Emina glanced upwards to the dress that Christine had chosen, and then down to the options. Since the time she had come here they had done very little dancing, or singing, or anything else even remotely related to the arts. Long hours were spent discussing the most notable gossip, until Emina felt as though a trip to the dormitories of the opera house would be a relief. When it seemed Christine tired of small-talk, she would return inevitably to the same subject. Erik. Christine did not have a name for him, and was quite fickle over him. At least half of the time she spoke ill of him, until Emina's blood boiled and she thought she would have to kill the girl on the spot. The other half, Christine mourned over his absence and lamented that they could not have been together. Christine was attracted to the mystery that was Erik, Emina felt that much for sure - but she could not bring herself to believe Christine loved him. Love was stronger than fear.
"These are splendid," Emina had muttered, in her meek role. She held up a pair of dangling diamonds. Christine bubbled like a child.
"Perfect!Oh Emina, what would I do without you?" Christine had hugged Emina, and then turned to dress just as quickly. As Emina watched Christine's servant, Jei, help dress her Mistress, she measured the girls beauty as though they were opponents. Christine was a bit shorter than Emina, and softer. Emina's muscles were lithe and toned, almost skinny. While Christine was undoubtedly beautiful and slender, her body was more curvaceous and supple. Almost more fragile, it seemed. Emina wondered if that innocence is what attracted Erik so fiercely to Christine.
"What were you thinking just then?" Christine queried, as she bustled about the room with Jei trailing after.
"Hmm?" Emina had responded. "Oh, nothing."
"You seem as distracted as I lately, Emina. I do hope someday you will learn to trust me as I do you, and share those things with me."
Emina cringed inwardly. How could she tell the woman in front of her that she was, too, in love with the beast that tormented Christine's mind with regret, longing, and abhorring? It could never be.
"I am fine," she said reassuringly as she stood. "Now go, your husband is waiting."
Besides, Emina had plans of her own tonight.
Relieved of her congenial duties, Emina took special time dressing this evening. The bounty of locks that she almost always allowed to fall freely about her shoulders, she pulled up in a more prim fashion - almost exactly as Christine had worn hers that evening. Her skin was darker, and nothing could be done about that - but she did smear a little bit of color onto her lips to lighten the deep cherry into a more pink pout. Quite nearly the same color Christine's lips boasted. After she had made as many efforts as she could to dress like her new companion, Emina had left the enormous house and walked alone toward the Opera Populair. It was still in ruins, but quite near to there Emina knew there was an entrance to the underground passageways. She took that path, and soon found herself turned about. She had taken a left when she should have a right, and instead she was situated beneath the new opera house. Frustrated, she turned and went the opposite direction - at last finding his lair.
Dealing with a ghost had certain consequences, and one of those was that sound seemed vile to Emina now. At least, evidence of coming and going. She had learned to stalk nearly as quietly as he could. With ease she slipped into his chambers, only to find him at the same desk she always did. Silently, small hands lifted to cover his eyes.
A silken blindfold suddenly shielded Erik from the work he had labored over. He lifted his head a bit, and expected that it was Emina. He had never known another human to approach him so frankly. However, the fragrance that filled his nostrils was a different sort of familiar. It smelled like the sweet perfumes Christine would wear. His hand lifted, capturing the delicate fingers within his own - but he did not open his eyes. If this were a dream come to life, he did not want to end it. He pulled the wrist closer, and took a languid breath inwards.
A wry smile tugged at his dark lips. The first kiss he had ever bestowed upon Emina came then, pressed almost awkwardly against that wrist. Emina gasped, and the sound broke his reverie. His eyes opened and he turned to see Emina. For a moment, disappointment flashed in his eyes and Emina felt jealousy strike her heart with cold envy. He gazed at her hair, then her lips, and even the dress she had worn. It all seemed such a remarkable resemblance.
"Lovely," he had offered quietly, perhaps the most kind word he had ever said to her. "Where have you been?" The roughness crept back into his voice, and had she not been so caught up in emotion Emina would have mused that she doubted the beast knew how to be proper with a lady.
"Busy. I was made to leave the opera house. I would have come, but things are more complicated now."
If he were being completely honest, Erik would have gone on to say that he had missed her, and was glad to see her. But at the moment he was distracted with the difference in her, not sure if he could put a finger on it. She seemed more subdued, more.. Child-like? Pristine? The wildness about her seemed.. Tamed.
"Complicated?" A nod of his head indicated the spot beside him upon the wooden bench, and without a thought Emina settled there. He still cradled her hand within his.
"I live in the DeChagny mansion now." She could think of no pretty words to say it, and so in honesty she simply blurted. She hesitated to explain why, but continued.
"They worry that Christine is going mad, and thought company would help her." Speaking of her with him like this made Emina very uncomfortable. She felt his grip tighten.
"The DeChagny...? Christine - mad? Why?" Erik had released her to be happy with her lover, at the peril of his own soul. Such a high price, for what? Her madness?
Emina hesitated.
"Tell me!" He demanded, a bit too roughly. He had released her hand, unaware of the wounds he was inflicting upon the courier of this message.
"She feels you, sees you, dreams of you, sings to you. Those are the happy moments. All of the other time, she fears you, worries that you are alive. She's present physically, but mentally she's usually in another place. You torment her."
Erik felt elated. And then dejected. Confusion followed. She thought of him! And then to fear him? What was he to do? Go to her, fulfill her desire for him? Surely if he did, the moment of fear would strike and then... what? Was he better off knowing this, or worse?
Erik stood, brooding. He was lost in the world of his own thoughts and so Emina simply settled to watch him. To try to bring him out of it would only anger him, and he would return to her eventually. She hoped.
After many moments, he became aware again that she was there. Absently, he extended a hand toward her - with an air of expectation. As though his command was hers to obey. Love compelled that obedience, and she moved to him. He slipped that arm easily about her waist and held her to him.
In all of their interludes, a single gesture of intimacy had not been exchanged. Over time, however, Erik had become extremely fond of the way her body felt against his and often liked to hug, to hold her, even sometimes to rest side by side. As she melted into his body, she sighed heavily. She knew that, even as he held her, he imagined Christine. Perhaps, though, she was not entirely right. Even as she thought that, he lifted his hand to release her hair from it's bonds.
"You are not her," he had said in a gentle tone, and Emina did not know how to take the sentiment. Did he prefer that she look like herself, or was he offended that she had tried to emulate his love?
To be in his arms, Emina felt as though she could weep.
"Erik?" she purred into his chest, fingers curling within his vest.
"Yes?"
"I am here. See me." The correction caused his eyes to flash as their gazes met. The look upon her face silenced him, though. His soul and spirit longed for Christine, but his body and his mind longed to pillage this creature who offered itself so willingly to the dark kiss of his affections.
"Emina," he had said, as if to affirm that he did indeed see her. She smiled at him, and it pleased him. Just as Christine had done in his dream, Emina lifted her pretty chin in beckon. He obeyed this one as well, dipping his head to kiss her.
Their lips brushed almost awkwardly at first, and he pulled back to look into her eyes. Perhaps she had not intended that at all. Instead, he found encouragement in her eyes and a smile on those lips. He allowed himself the pleasure of another, more languid kiss. Emina was more skilled than he, and guided him gently in the embrace. He found it intoxicating! The taste of her lips, the way her tongue danced against his - the salty heat of her mouth. He had only ever been kissed once before, and this time was void of the emotions which had distracted him then. Now, there was no fury or love to blind him to this. He was a man, and as a beautiful woman kissed him - he felt desire. Strongly.
"Emina," he had struggled to say against the assault of kisses she was now placing upon his lips and face. She paused. "I can not love you."
His words were cool, and put a damper upon the passions they both had willingly entangled themselves in. She had felt this before, though, and simply nodded.
"I can love you enough for both of us."
With that, he had resumed conquering her mouth with his kiss - becoming more empowered in this passionate embrace with each moment that passed. This was very new to him, but he liked it very much.
Their steps were blind as they found their way to his massive bed, her fingers having deftly unlaced his shirt and tugged it free of his trousers. He struggled with the corset, and ended up ripping it in his effort to disrobe her.
Once they were both free of all clothing, including the mask, they had spent hours exploring one another's body. Erik was a rough, and demanding lover - making Emina cry out in want, and then scream in pleasure. Erik found than it was easier than he had imagined to detach love from this situation. This was wonderful, and physical - but Christine and his love for her was locked away safely in his heart. For now, he had a beautiful gypsy in his bed. His to tame.
