The next few days passed by in a similar fashion. Nina went to meals without Erik, who stayed in the room under the pretense of a headache. Phillipe walked Nina back to her room after these meals, always the gentleman, and after dinner, Nina would curl up onto Erik's lap until she fell asleep. The masked man would then carry Nina to her room and set her to bed. After this, he would go to bed himself, always falling asleep with thoughts of Nina floating around his head.
Despite this lovely program, Nina was continually pestered by the same three imbeciles of her first dinner. They wanted to meet this mysterious, jealous man that was the Spanish girl's husband. They talked endlessly about it and it had begun to wear wearily on Nina's nerves.
One night, a few minutes before dinner, Nina was waiting for Phillipe to escort her and was sitting in the woman's chair before the hearth, resting her chin upon her hand and looking up at Erik sullenly. He sat across from her, lazily flipping the pages of a thick, leather bound novel, not paying any attention to the moody girl before him.
"Erik, won't you come to dinner with me this evening?"
He glanced up at her and shook his head before returning to his book.
"Erik, those people are simply intolerable." She exclaimed with a huffy sigh.
"Exactly why I won't be meeting them anytime soon."
"Erik, half the time they speak they are simply going on and on about how they really must meet my husband. Won't you please come just once and shut them up for me?"
Erik could see Nina was completely exasperated and he closed his book gently rolled his neck tiredly and gave an exhausted groan. He had been up late last night thinking about Nina and her long dark hair, her beautiful eyes and her soft skin. He had kept waking up in the middle of the night swearing to himself he could smell her scent from his bed and wishing she was laying beside him. All week he had been aching with desire and it was starting to make him a little delirious in his arousal. He had spent the entire previous tossing and turning in his sheets and yearning for a body beside him to make his and all he could think of was Nina, asleep in just the room beside him.
Erik prayed that he would not do anything stupid and examined Nina.
Her dress this evening was forest green with cream cotton hemming along the skirt and top line. A thin strand of black hair fell across her shoulder and over her chest. Her blue eyes glimmered in the low firelight, hidden behind thick eyelashes, and he felt for a moment that they were enchanting him.
He felt another lustful stirring in his soul and Erik hoped that perhaps giving him a few moments without the sinful thinking that awakens in privacy would help with his. . . special situation.
"Fine." He said flatly. "I'll go to dinner with you."
"Oh, thank you so much Erik! I owe you a favor."
Erik felt his stomach twist, thinking of all the 'favors' she could give him.
A soft knocking came from the door and Nina jumped up suddenly, clapping her hands together once. She gave consent for Phillipe to enter and he did so, arms folded politely behind his back.
"Ah, Miseour Lefevre," Erik said softly when the younger man entered, crossing his legs. "I'm afraid your services won't be needed tonight."
"Oh, is that so?" Phillipe said brightly. "I am glad to hear you are feeling well again."
Erik nodded and stood, straightening his black cravat and giving Phillipe a strange, twisted grin that unnerved him slightly.
"Well, why can't I have two gentlemen escort me to dinner tonight?" Nina said, rocking back and forth on the heels of her feet like a child.
At her words, Phillipe laughed and Erik allowed himself a genuine smile.
"My wife, always the bohemian." Erik said with a slight shake of the head.
"Now come on, you two." Nina said, grabbing each man's arm with her own. "I don't know about you both but I am quite famished."
When these three made their way to the dinner hall, Erik took notice of the boy playing the piano there, though he said nothing to him whatsoever. He was a mediocre player and only sounded advance for the pieces he played only seemed difficult at first listen. His dynamics were atrocious and his tempo changed every few phrases. On top of this, he was constantly paying far too much attention to whether or not the passengers of his employed ship were enjoying his performance. Anyone else on this ship would not have criticized this boy so much, but Erik took immediate dislike to him.
Ignoring this shallow playing, Erik sat across from Nina ind Phillipe's usual place. In turn, Phillipe sat in between Erik and Count Wilkinson. Nina took her usual seat in between Mademoiselle Triviet and Countess Wilkinson, and Miseour Triviet, ever the silent figure, sat on Erik's left.
"I must say, Miseour, it is a pleasure to finally meet you." Count Wilkinson reached across Phillipe unceremoniously and shook Erik's hand before introducing himself.
"And you." Erik said politely, if not a little quietly.
"Nina tells us you are a man of the arts, Miseour Ward." Said Mademoiselle Triviet and Erik flinched at her voice which frankly reminded him of a peacock's screech. This whore of a lady was eying Erik with all the flirtations of a prostitute and he grimaced at her, something she mistook as a genuine smile.
"I am a man of many things, Mademoiselle." He replied modestly, as silent servants dressed in white laid filled plates in front of each individual. The boy's poor piano skills were starting to give him a headache.
Already he could tell that he would be leaving this dinner with his hatred of people completely reaffirmed.
"Oh, indulge us, Miseour Ward. What kinds of things?"
Nina, who had been ignoring this shallow conversation like she had attempted to do the last few days, looked up from her dinner and Erik gave her a look as if to say 'How on Earth did you get me to agree to dine with these petty people?'. She answered him with an expression that was somewhere between grateful and guilty.
"I am an architect, scholar, magician, musician, composer." Erik said these and gave a small shrug, twirling a minute salad fork in his gloved hand.
"Quite impressive, Miseour. You must be very proud of your husband, Nina." Said Countess Wilkinson. Erik observed her powdered face and false hair distastefully. Typical of an upper class lady to do anything to stay young, he mused to himself, taking note at the obvious clinging to youth. He was certain that under her wig her hair would be gray and beneath the powder laid wrinkles, carved deep into her face.
"Indeed I am. He is a most extraordinary man." Nina's words were so soft that Erik began to feel the agony of lust again. Strongly discouraging a persistent flush to rise to his face at Nina's praise of him, he casually coughed before taking a sip of wine.
Nina managed to catch Erik's eye and they shared one of those moments transfixed in time where two beings see each other and realize they share something. What they share, however, they are unaware of. What they share is one simple word that is easy to say and fairly easy to spell but impossible to describe. What they share is the same thing Romeo and Juliet felt when they first caught site of each other at Capulet's masquerade. It was the very thing Nina had asked her God before when inquiring about Erik. It was a shared fate, and they felt it tremendously.
The others at this table, even the ones who Nina had not introduced herself and Erik to, witnessed this glorious event and fell silent. The only noise that penetrated the air was the pianists playing in the background and Erik's frayed tolerance of this finally snapped and he stood up suddenly from the table, breaking that heavenly moment.
Striding over to the grand piano, Erik motioned for the boy to move with a wave of his hand and he did, lifting off of the piano bench hastier then a rabbit, fearing this tempestuous man.
Giving the boy one final glare, Erik seated himself at the piano and paused, like he always did before playing. Taking in the ebbing flow of music that suddenly rushed forward to the tips of his fingers, Erik began playing. He played with such emotion and magnificence that we would no longer be able to scorn Christine on believing he really was the Angel of Music.
When he began playing, the entire room fell into an even deeper silence at his sonatas. These people felt a strange substance begin to creep into their soul. It is the feeling of witnessing true beauty and perfection for the first time. Some grinned, some wept, and some were put into a trance, much like Christine had the first time she was introduced to her Angel's music of the night. Despite these differentiated reactions, they all felt that same fantastic feeling. It was much similar to the feeling of falling in love for the first time, exactly what had confused Christine so thoroughly about her Angel, for she had believed it to be love.
Erik, who was not granting any attention to this groups peculiar reactions, rested his head against the top of the piano. The piece he played was something he had written himself during one of his long periods of depression and yearning for Christine's love. It portrayed this yearning perfectly. To listen to it was to ache and pine as Erik had and to immerse yourself in it fully was the agony the Phantom had felt when seeing his beloved kiss her lover on the roof of the opera house.
When his intensity began to soften and his mind became clearer, Erik stopped playing and looked up to see the inhabitants of this room in their catastrophic state. He smiled at them all and they stared at him.
The room jumped in unison when a strange noise, similar to a wounded animal, escaped into the air and Mademoiselle Triviet was disturbed to see her father with tears running freely down his face. The reason she was disturbed was because she had never seen her father cry before.
"My God man," This man said softly, speaking for the first time in front of this group. "You have touched my soul."
Erik nodded wearily and held out a hand to Nina.
"Come, dear. I am tired now."
Nina obeyed him and clung to his arm, like a drowning man clinging to a raft. She had been one of the ones put into a trance and had still not recovered from that fuzzy state of mind.
"Miseour Ward?" Said Phillipe softly just before Erik and Nina were at the door that led to the corridor.
"Yes, Miseour Lefevre?" He answered exhaustively.
"Will we be seeing you again?"
Erik shook his head and gave no explanation before leaving to his and Nina's quarters.
When they left, this room of people all agreed on one thing. He was a peculiar man indeed.
Once in their room, Nina closed the door quickly and slid against the back of the door and sat slumped against the bottom of the wall, a feeble moan escaping her lips. Erik's music had had an unexplainable effect on her and she had suddenly found herself immersed in an aching for sin.
Erik sat in front of her cross legged and observed her quizzically.
"What is the matter, mon Rosette?" He asked, clasping his hands together thoughtfully.
"Something has come over me suddenly. I feel. . . strange."
"Strange how?" He inquired. "Are you feeling ill?"
"No. Not ill. I want something. No, that's not it. I need something."
Erik swallowed a lump rising in his throat. Being in the presence of other people had not relieved him of his arousal and he was beginning to wonder if Nina was experiencing that same sinful feeling.
Slowly, he slid across the floor so that he sat against the wall next to Nina and she wrapped her arms around his neck before climbing into his lap again. When confronted, she would not be able to explain why she did this, only that she had needed to do it. When she did this, Erik copied her feeble moan, but with the full sensuality of a man. At the sound of his voice, she felt the place between her legs start to throb and he took notice of a sheen of perspiration appearing on her forehead. If he had not known what she had been experiencing, Erik would have rushed for a doctor at once.
"Saturnina?" He said, a strain running through his unearthly voice.
"Yes, Erik?" She replied, her eyes blinking open slowly.
"Take off your dress." He commanded.
She straightened suddenly and Erik looked into her eyes seriously.
"Take it off. Now."
Hehe, cliffhanger because I'm evil. As always, love to you all. And I must thank my reviewers for always saying such kind things. You are all simply lovely.