Ugh... God how I wish I could answer reviews... but if what people are saying is true and they'll be in trouble for doing that then nope... I'm not giving myself a reason to get in trouble with another account. I saw somebody the other day had actually been from 2001 and are still active in this site and it stunned me, honestly! I thought I was the only one but even so, my original name doesn't work to prove that I began in 2001! Anywho... oh well.
I got a warning when I uploaded 'Farewell My Darling' and I know those warnings are true, only with that it's strange, as if it were sent JUST for me! Seriously! I had posted that fic with the lyrics of Metallica's "Die Die My Darling" (I like their version and haven't heard the real version yet) and then I checked the fanfiction website updates and there was an update saying that anybody caught with lyrics in their fic for no reason would be punished... so I removed the lyrics (check out the fic and you see why it doesn't show the lyrics down there at the bottom). Which I had to say was strange cuz the following day when I went to the site, that one update was removed... as if it was meant specifically for me and me alone! (shivers) Freaky... I'm surrounded by ghosts but none of them are the Opera Ghost... damn... (evil glares everyone).
- Chapter Seven -
He watched the new ballet rat turn away from the roof's edge and retreat inside the building. His eyes narrowed at her posture and the way she walked, signaling to him that she definitely wasn't a native. Being so close to her gave him the ability to see a clear view of her image. He remained in the blackened shadows behind one of the large statues and stared closely at her movements, studied her to learn about a new member of his cast.
Uno Maxwell, Erik chanted silently. Hearing her name whisper in his thoughts strangely sent a few warning bells tolling in the background. He frowned; what was it about this girl, about Uno, that had sparked his attention?
He peered out from the shadows but remained secretly hidden and got a much closer look at her from what he could see inside the building.
Her long brown hair was pulled back into a very long braid, much the way Madam Giry kept hers most of the time. Her face was set and stern but as she gazed out over the horizon Erik could have sworn he saw a hint of softness reach her; however the moment she turned away from the scenario her expression hardened once again. He wondered more about her from that; what thoughts have entered that intelligent mind to make her unhappy.
Erik knew she was intelligent; no doubt about that. With her manner of speaking so politically towards the managers, he was quite impressed. The last time he ever heard that form of speaking he was constructing masonry for the Shah of Persia.
And that was over twenty years ago.
Even her posture was impressive, he had to admit. He never once saw her slouch, despite the corset she wore. He never once saw her shoulders sag or her head loll around unless it was on her own self-conscious. Naturally, Uno Maxwell looked every inch the part of a perfect deity; after all, what deity ever relaxed and slouched in form?
And then when she spoke out loud to no one but the air and some memory named 'Duo', Erik could have sworn her personality has changed. While she was around other members of the opera she was crude and serious but while she stayed to herself up on the rooftop, whispering out to no one but herself—and him, he silently tallied up—her tone changed to that of sadness and sorrow, as if she had pent up some horrible feat to her subconscious.
"Uno," Erik whispered to himself, "who are you?"
He stepped out into the moonlight and stood where she recently left from. Gazing out over the horizon he furrowed his brows together and contemplated to himself. So little was known about this new girl and it would be hard to figure her out if she kept herself closed to the other ballet rats who loved to gossip on a regular basis. He has yet to hear anything about her except for a discussion she had with a second year ballerina, La Marcella.
Erik felt a smirk reaching his lips. You best watch what you say, dear Uno. Some of these rats will believe every word about your possible 'black magic', especially those who fear the Opera Ghost.
He knew it was time to scoop up some information regarding this new girl. He had enough information over each member of his theater to blackmail whoever he desired and whenever those times were called for but for Uno he had nothing except for the fear La Marcella has. And there was only one way for that to happen…
Erik put a dark smile on his face and spun around, his cape twirling with him. It's time the Angel of Hell returns.
-
The following morning Uno was the first to rise. As a matter of fact, she rose two and a half hours earlier. She sat on the side of the bed and gazed around the quiet dorm room. A many of girls around her age were sound asleep in their dreams of passion and lust; she knew it had lust considering the choices of topic these girls bothered to discuss. She stared down at the two drawers in the dresser besides her bed and frowned. There were no locks on them and no way for her to even put a lock on it.
Uno chewed the inside of her cheek and turned away. There had to be a way to lock it up so she would be certain nobody would snoop around in her belongings. Without a lock it would be hard, but she knew of a way.
I'm not raised by one of the Universe's greatest thieves for nothing, she mused silently. I can rig up something that Houdini would be in aw over.
She slid off the bed and sat down before the dresser, moving silently as to not disturb the sleeping loudmouths. Before her sat the two bottom dresser drawers—her drawers—and reaching up into the back of her neck where the base of her braid began, she brought out a razor blade inside its protected sheath and a tiny lock picking mechanism. She glanced down at the objects in the palms of her hands, silently grinning at her mischievous self.
Now… to make sure nobody but me could ever open it. Uno slipped the razor blade out of the tiny plastic sheath and took out one of her long and slender lock picks. She pulled out both of her drawers and began etching a few holes in the tops and bottoms and no sooner than she had began had she finished. She slid them back into the dresser and with a chipped piece of wood she sliced out of the floorboard, she managed to lock both drawers together and lock them to the base and sides of the drawers. To any normal snoop it would be hard to remove every lock out of the way but she wasn't normal, she was perfect and she knew a faster way to slide them out of her way.
With her makeshift locks complete, she slid the razor blade back into the sheath, the lock pick back into where it came from, and then returned both miniature objects into the base of her braid. With thanks to Duo, Uno knew how to not just make and pick locks, but how to steal efficiently, be able to hide things well so they won't get noticed or be known that something's missing, and be stealth.
She stood up and glanced around the room one final time. Quickly straightening up her bed—she never liked leaving things appear touched—she silently made her way downstairs and towards the dressing rooms. Of all places in the theatre she hated the most Uno had to put her dressing room on the top of the list. She didn't get her private dressing room. No. Because she wasn't a famous face in the ballet she had to share her dressing room with about five other girls and that was something she wouldn't be able to lock up.
The room was cold and empty when she entered; just the way she liked it. Uno carefully stepped her way around until she came up to an empty vanity table, armoire, floor length mirror—which was elegantly framed in gold—and a smaller mirror placed on the back of the vanity table. She knew without a doubt that it was hers. There were a few items already placed on the top of the vanity table—she figured Madam Giry had delivered them for her—and a single red rose with a black ribbon tied around the stem lying on top of a white envelope.
Uno stepped up to the vanity table with caution. Nobody knew about her just yet so the rose had to have come from one of the members of the crew who enjoyed her audition. She picked up the rose and frowned. All of the thorns were delicately removed but aside from that there wasn't anything else wrong with it. The red rose and black ribbon stuck to her like nothing she's had in her years of constant battle and as she gazed at its beauty she felt a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. Apparently whoever had given her the rose feared she may stab herself with the thorns.
"Probably doesn't know that the rose looks better with the thorns still intact," she murmured.
Uno sat the rose back down on the vanity table and picked up the white envelope that recently sat beneath it. It was trimmed in black and the script on the front was as horrible of chicken scratch as her own handwriting when she doesn't have the time to properly write in perfect calligraphy. As she turned the envelope over her breath caught in her throat and the world around her froze. Her eyes widened in fear, her lower lip quivered, and her hands started to shake.
She stared down at the blood red seal of a human skull and felt herself on the verge of exhaustion.
"Duo," she breathed out.
She shut her mouth and swallowed her fear. Gathering her senses together, Uno locked her jaw and carefully opened up the envelope as to not destroy the unique-looking seal.
If I had known such a seal was possible I would have used that over some stupid flower when Relena taught me calligraphy. She mused silently. But the skull…
Uno forced herself to forget her rising memories and focus only on the letter at hand. She removed the note and opened it up. Inside, more of that horrible handwriting stood before her in black scrawny ink, mocking her for the author's intelligence being under her level.
Uno,
I welcome you to my opera house. You have shown great ability in your audition that I look forward to seeing you perform on stage before many Parisian faces. Just by watching your rehearsals I know I won't be disappointed. Your talent at composing music has, as well, caught my attention and I feel honored to hear a fantastic piece created by your feministic mind.
I am looking forward to seeing more spectacular things with you now here.
Your obedient servant,
O. G.
PS: Learn this now: Do not disappoint me or you will greatly regret it.
Uno reread the message a second time before snorting at its nonsense. Me regret disappointing you? She scoffed out mentally. If you're my obedient servant than I believe you should be carefully not to disappoint me, you male chauvinistic asshole.
She frowned and stuffed the note back into the envelope and took a seat on the vanity chair. "I can't believe he called me feministic," she muttered softly. "Whoever this asshole thinks he is he'll quickly find out I hate being considered like everyone else, especially right now where all the other girls like me are so damned stupid and naive."
She stared down at the seal of the blood red skull and the rose and chewed on her lower lip. The two put together, for some odd reason, gave her a sense of calamity. It was as if death and beauty belonged together, which she believed anyways.
So I'm not the only one who believes it's possible to die in peace and in a beautiful way? Uno placed the envelope in the top right drawer of the vanity table then picked up the rose. She sighed and laid the rose back down. Some of the other objects that were seated in front of her were make-up boxes and other facial products. She figured they were delivered to her by Madam Giry; after all, the woman kept insisting to Uno that day in the market that she buy some war paint to color up her face. Uno only agreed with the older woman to shut her up but she's hated the products, no matter what the year; unless she was going to a high class, fancy dinner ball where she would have to be on her best appearance to rub shoulders with the government and other high officials she preferred to just look herself and be herself.
The door to the dressing room opened up and two young ballerinas stepped inside. Uno watched as they stepped up to the vanity tables in the make-shift hall before her and never strolled towards the back of the room where Uno was, which was all the more better. They sat down, began brushing their hairs, and began gossiping about their previous dates with some well-known lords and viscounts.
Uno knew her day first had just begun.
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