Hey guys. I've had a rough couple of days here to say the least (spent 6 and a half hours at the ER yesterday but I'm feeling loads better now). Anyone up for an update?
And before I forget: Don't own the orignial Phantom of the Opera characters. No sudden Leroux inheiritance or shifting of other copyrights lately so I'm still just a poor student. Imerely enjoy manipulating them.
Wow, new outlook of FFN is pretty nice. I didn't know this story was on 26 fav story lists! A bunch of them I haven't heard of; that's SO COOL but I'd love to hear from you of course! On the bio page of cm1000 I read that you like Darcy and Elizabeth and I went spastic; Pride and Prejudice is one of my absolute favs.
Sorry, I digress. A hundred thank you's to reviewers (and I hope you like your virtual Erik and Philippe plushies!)
DragonHeartRAB: Jeeze, quick with the draw there. very much glad you enjoyed it! Thank you!
Victorian Dream: I don't like using a lot of song lyrics usually (I can't tell you how many times I've read a story and gone through "Music of the Night" which, although it is a lovely song and symbolic in it's own right, gets old) but this one was just rather appropriate. :) Thank you!
phantomann: oooo! A patron! That would rock. Just not Raoul; since no one seems to like him, he'd be rather bad for business now wouldn't he:) Thank you!
twinlady: Almost over being sick (I think) and once I'm done here I think I know where to go next. Who says wishing and hope don't work:) Thank you!
Emily Willow: Yay! Glad to have won you over a bit more. Thank you!
phantomgoddess34: Haaa you make me chuckle. Yay, you liked the ending! (Tee Hee, that's another one added to my favorite parts, too) Take a break from bouncing, here it is! Thank you!
Killer Veggies: Interesting, yes indeed. I just hope I did it some form of justice (fingers crossed...eep). Thank you!
nightbug08: (snicker) sneaky Erik indeed. Enjoying your plushie? Thank you!
Neori: yep, very impossible or to quote my keychain, "Why be difficult when you can be impossible?" I never really thought that one applied to me as much as the others but hey. It's easy to see Christine's face, close your eyes and imagine. Okay so maybe that's not always easy but it sounds good in theory. No, I don't imagine the Emmy Rossum look. My mind's eye Christine looks a little different though I like the darker hair better than blond and now I'm rambling. Thank you!
arwen1604: hee hee. yep, I'm mean. awww thank you! And "my Erik" just told me to say thank you for him, too :)
Melinda Daae: Ah, glad to hear you enjoy it. and yes, you DO have to love Gerard Butler. While part of me says that Erik really shouldn't be so handsome, the rest of me doesn't mind the eye candy. I also believe there's no reason Erik can't have a nice body even if his face is...well... a little different. And you stole my idea for the next plusie:) I'll have to think of something else...hmm...ooo! and Thank you!
Midnight Tango: "You ever danced with the devil in the pale moonlight?" sorry, that quote sprung to mind when I looked at your name again. Name the movie! And I'm honored to be considered a favorite.Waits over (briefly). Thank you!
Lizzie Black: Hello again! glad to have caught you by surprise there. Send me something to work on! ;) Thank you!
And thanks again. You know, this section is getting really long. I might get to a point where I won't have room anymore...then I'll just have to fill it with MORE STORY.
Anyway, on with the show!
Last Time:
He smiled to himself; this was too good an opportunity to miss. Taking a deep breath, Erik released his angelic voice to the same tune. "Flattering child you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror." Christine's pacing form stopped and she stared wide-eyed at her own reflection, numbly sitting in front of the vanity.
Emerging from the edge of the frame, cape elegantly flowing after, he finished in a strong whisper: "I am there inside!"
And now:
With a cry of surprise, Christine covered her mouth with her hand watching as Erik stood behind her reflection. "Erik…" was all she could manage. Expectantly, she whipped around in her seat.
But there was no Erik standing behind her. She reassured herself that his reflection was indeed in the mirror before turning around again.
Her face fell in disappointed confusion. "No. It's just a ghost. Just a ghost…" Running her fingers through her curls, she gripped them tightly and leaned forward, cradling her head as she wept.
Mildly surprised by Christine's reaction, Erik resisted the immediate urge to touch her, the real her. But to exit the mirror now would ruin any cover story he could contrive and possibly only frighten her further. He managed to settle with placing his hands reassuringly on the reflection's shoulders as he hummed a soft tune.
"Why do you cry, Christine?"
She looked back to the mirror and smiled lightly as she placed a hand over one of his, sadly unable to feel it.
Christine sighed shakily; she had no reason to lie to a ghost. "Because no amount of wishing will bring you back, Erik. It's all my fault. I never should have left. Why are you here? A specter brought forth to torment me?"
"You know nothing of torment," he reposted brusquely.
Christine was unfazed. "I've lost my mother, I've lost my father, in many ways I've lost Raoul, and I've lost you. No, I never went through life as you have, Erik, but I've suffered enough. Why are you here?" she repeated.
"I wanted to see you again," he replied honestly.
Christine squeezed her eyes shut though tears still managed to leak out. "It's only going to be that much harder when you leave again."
"As I recall, you were the one who left last time."
"Only because I thought you didn't want me to stay. You commanded me to leave!"
"You've disobeyed me before, Mademoiselle. Or should I say Madame de Chagny?"
"That's not fair, Erik."
"Fair. Yes. I suppose it isn't but then again I've been the butt of an endless joke from God all my life. Why should I be fair?" Part of Erik's mind raged against his tongue; all his pent-up emotions sprung from his lips before he could stop them, despite Christine's obvious distress. "You left without a word, Christine. Without a word."
"What would you have had me say, Erik? I was confused, put through one of the most traumatic and exciting experiences of my life. No one was thinking straight that night," she pointed out. "Sometimes I still don't know what to think," she added quietly.
Erik curbed his anger. "I'm sorry, Christine." He began to move to the edge of the frame.
"No! Don't go!" Christine cried out urgently, her voice slightly choked. Erik froze and turned his head slowly. "Please, don't leave me, Erik."
Erik nodded solemnly, sliding back into view.
"Erik, I'm sorry. For everything. You gave me music, something I thought had died with my father. You taught me how to sing with the backing of my heart and you risked everything to help me. I still can't sing without my Angel of Music flooding my thoughts. And I betrayed you, left you for dead. I would ask your forgiveness but I don't deserve it." Her eyes were dry but she refused to turn her bloodshot gaze upon Erik.
His anger melted as he tenderly placed one gloved hand under her (or rather her reflection's) chin and drew her gaze toward him in the mirror. Christine naturally followed her reflection's shift and remorsefully met Erik's consoling brilliantly-blue eyes.
In his heart, he had already long forgiven her—she who had been the first to kiss his inhuman lips and touch his soul—but his redoubt was too fragile to speak the words. "Could you ever find it within you to forgive a deformed monster for his numerous crimes?"
"Never a monster, Erik. I will forgive you everything on one condition, sing for me?"
"I'd rather you sang with me. It has been far too long since you've graced the world with your voice, Christine."
"If only the world could have known the song of a true musician with the voice of an angel. Who has been there to hear your voice?"
"An acquaintance of yours, actually. Philippe is a rather hopeless student though." Erik bit his tongue—nearly drawing blood, he noted—not intending to reveal so much.
Christine's eyes bulged momentarily but she recovered herself quickly brushing the comment away. "What shall we sing?"
"Whatever my lady wishes," Erik swept a mock bow.
With a bittersweet smile, recalling lessons long past, Christine launched into an Italian aria from La Traviata only to have Erik join her in a duet as the characters sang of hope.
The entire inn roused from their slumber as the echoing strains of a heavenly duet saturated the air…at least until a couple ungrateful tenants shouted for their disturbed rest. Christine grinned sheepishly and docked her tone, reminding herself that there was no need to project in such a small space. The mirror vibrated lightly as Erik, too, continued to sing in softer tones that were no less intoxicating.
Christine sighed contentedly as the last strains were released from her throat. Blinking slowly, she sat back in her chair.
"You're out of practice, my dear." She grinned lightly, acknowledging it to be true. "Though it has been more than I could have hoped for to hear you again." Erik collected himself and began to slide toward the edge of the frame again.
Christine immediately protested, "No! Erik, please don't leave!"
"If that is what you wish, Christine," he replied smoothly, despite his growing anxiety of the lightening sky. "I will stay until you fall asleep."
"I wish we didn't have to say goodbye again."
Erik, unsure of how to reply, said nothing but merely nodded. Christine stood up, leaned toward the mirror, and kissedit lightly, saddened that it was her own image that had to meet it and that she could only feel the cold, smooth surface. She ran her fingers over where Erik was, again only meeting the touch of her reflection's fingertips rather than reaching him.
"Goodnight, Erik. May the angels watch over your soul."
"They are too busy watching over one of their own, she's masquerading as a human down on earth." She smiled lightly before walking over to her bed. Pulling the covers about herself, she watched Erik in the mirror for some time before her eyes shut, too afraid that it would be the last time she would look upon her Angel of Music.
∞†∞
Philippe paced in the room he had designated as his own. Erik still hadn't returned; he could feel it. It was one of his special skills, being able so sense one of their kind. Closing his eyes, he focused his mind, straining to feel where he was… a slight twinge in his subconscious reported back; he was somewhere on the east side of town and he'd wager his gold pocket watch—a de Chagny heirloom (complete with a picture of Adele) that he supposed rightfully belonged to Raoul at this point—and ten minutes in the sun that he was with Christine.
Sighing lightly, Philippe sat down heavily into a nearby chair. He could get used to life here, he mused, though he doubted he could stay much longer.
The clairvoyants had seen more about Erik than an impending death. No, there was something more. A journey, yes, and something more. Something important. The gypsy mystics had never failed in their premonitions—especially under their dark alliance sprung from their superstitious fear and the promise of protection should they comply—yet Erik's reading was hazy at best with only vague outlines and random moments of clarity portraying a few specific events. Somehow, he was important to the Circle.
And somehow I'm involved. Philippe didn't understand why the Elders of the Circle had chosen him to recruit a new vampire—he himself was but a child in their standings. There were many things he didn't understand, despite the additional information the Elders had told him. There was more, Philippe was sure, though he knew better than to ask; impertinent questions were not tolerated by the Elders. Erik knew nothing of the entirety of his reading no more than any other vampire did but for what the Elders chose to tell. And even then, the truth that you heard was not always the truth you thought it was.
Philippe sighed again, reaching for the bottle of wine. He reflected back to what pieces of information he'd been given on his own reading, or rather what he'd been able to decipher: there was something with Raoul and a warning against shattering glass. Yet the rest of what the Elders had told him (even that was relatively short) was a befuddling mess.
Blinking slowly, Philippe glanced at the clock on the mantle: the sun would be up soon. It was too late to chase after him now. Philippe reasoned that he'd just have to pray that Erik found some safe place to stay for the night.
∞†∞
Authoress Babble: yep, can't go an entry without this. As always, eager for what you have to say, be it good, bad, or ugly (just please be pseudo-nice about it, not total bashing). I'd love to be a writer someday but I'm not arrogant enough to ignore that a heck of a lot of polishing is in order before I make it there.
Don't know when next update will be; never know what cards life will deal next.
Again, love it or hate it, please let me know! (Reviewers get Punjab Action! plushie Erik (complete with lasso) and a new Philippe plushie who states "I hate mirrors" when you squeeze his tummy. Start your collection today! j/k)
Much love, all.
