What Doesn't Kill You…
MissCyraf
26
"Not Alone Anymore…"
Everyone rushing around to get the last of the decorating done, Kathryn and I were able to sneak out early unnoticed. She had a "surprise" for me, I was suspicious. I strode to my room, excitement and nerves warring for dominance within me. Kathryn had ducked out to get the surprise, I went to my room to get ready. Firstly, I need a mask. I had only found out that it was a masquerade earlier in the afternoon, by chance overhearing a conversation of two performers. Mask, mask…where…costume room? I made my way to the door to head to the costume room, but was nearly plowed down by Kathryn. She clutched a brown satchel to her chest, her hands folded over it protectively. After we stumbled backwards from our collision, the first thing she did was glance into the bag, making sure its precious cargo was safe. Sheepishly, she grinned up at me. Raising a brow, I watched intently as she pulled out the contents of the bag. Two shining silver combs, inlaid with mother of pearl and sprinkled with seed pearls sat in her upheld palms. Strings of more seed pearls hung in loops below the combs, the mother of pearl accented by silver roses, their petals curling outward in a fanlike fashion. My breath caught, and with a quick glance at Kathryn for permission, I touched at the combs lightly, almost afraid they would shatter under my fingers.
"I though' they would lovely with yer hair an' dress, they were my mother's." She smiled up at me, taking my arm and leading me back into my chambers. Seating me on my little chair, she produced a comb and dipped it into my water pitcher at the side of my bed. I had already bathed, early in the morning, and scrubbed my hair extensively, but let her do what she had to. Running the wet comb through my hair, she was able to tame back the rebellious curls, creating elaborate twists of hair that lead to two braids in the back of my head. I felt her slide the combs securely into each braid, grinning as she grunted, trying to get stray hairs to stay in place. Finally, she stood back, admiring her handiwork. Satisfied, she held aloft her hand mirror for my opinion. As I stared at myself, a brilliant smile broke out over my face, I hadn't had my hair effectively upswept since I had gotten short hair. The combs were stunning, standing out of my red auburn hair drastically, sweeping out to the sides like wings, little curls bouncing around them.
"It's gorgeous! Thank you so much!" I spun around squeezing her in a hug. She laughed, relieved that I liked it.
"Now, if you go an' mess it all up, I'll have t' bury you under the opera house with the Ghost." Hesitating at her words slightly enough to not be noticed, I flashed a devious grin at her.
"I'll take good care of it, and the combs. Cross my heart, hope to die." Her brow wrinkled slightly at my phrase, but she nodded, getting the point. "Oh! It's a masquerade, so I need a mask…Come with me to raid the costume room?" Her response a low chortle, we made for the costume room.
Digging through the trunks, it didn't take very long to find a suitably beautiful mask to match the dress and combs. On a stick, it was white, silver flowers, glass beads of silver and white covering it. White ribbons and feathers plumed off the side with the stick, the ribbons curling down the stick to rest on my hand. Kathryn also managed to dig up a pair of white slippers, made of soft leather. Practically tearing the rigid boots I had worn since my arrival off my feet, I snatched the slippers. My feet covered in old half-healed blisters, the squishy slippers felt like they were made of clouds. Grinning broadly, my excitement building with every second, we quit the costume room, proud of the great finds. Holding the mask up to my face as we walked back to my room, I tested how well I would be able to see. Not all that well…whatever. At least it looks good. Make up came next. Kathryn watched with fascination as I dabbed concealer on my bruise. I smeared it over the unsightly mark, the bruise all but disappearing. Satisfied that only the most trained eye would even be able to tell that I had been bonked around, I dabbed it under my eyes to cover purple circles. Next, a soft red-brown eyeliner and mascara. Finished off with my rosy lipstick, I smacked my lips together loudly, I spun around for Kathryn's appraisal. With a lopsided grin, she pointed at my lips.
"Where can I get some of that?" I chuckled as I handed her my lipstick, giving her a brief demonstration on how to apply it.
"Never used glamories before, they're so expensive tha' only the high class ladies have 'em. How did you come by 'em?" She asked, applying it and then smacking her lips like me.
"Oh…where I come from, they're cheaper…" It's not a complete lie… She helped me struggle into the dress as always, then held up the mirror for my self-inspection. I grinned foolishly as I clapped my hands over my breasts like I did whenever putting on my bra, kind of like a gorilla beating his chest, and twirled for her, thrilled with my costume. The look she rested on me was almost of motherly pride, patting at my hair and dress to fix stray hairs and invisible dust.
"Nothin' more can be done, Gwen. You look perfect." I blushed, absorbing the praise like a sponge.
"Now if I don't trip all over this thing and fall down the stairs, I should be ok…" Joking aside, I felt a little nervous, and my clumsy feet were a cause of the anxiety. She smiled tolerantly.
"You'll show those high class bastards tha' any ol' girl can join 'em. 'High breedin'' nothin'." I chuckled, her accent becoming thicker with her indignation.
"Alright, I guess it's time to go…" Apprehension tickling in my stomach, she gave me a gentle shove towards the door. Nodding more to myself then to her, I held my head high, mask up, and strode towards the main hall of the Opera Populaire.
o o o o o
After two days of sheltering himself in his underground caverns, he had begun to grow restless, taking to agitated pacing just to fill his time. Slightly irritated he still was at the girl, his outright repulsion to the plan of attending the gala had all but dwindled away, the idea of getting out of the caverns appealing. After weeks of spending most of his time above ground, squandering hours, days, on end in the cold, moist, darkness of his chambers seemed more distasteful that he had ever thought before. Surprisingly, he had begun to look forward to the evening of light and sound, contagious excitement and dizzy frivolity. And company, however distasteful…He thought of the nobility that would be surrounding him, Gwendolyn, he reluctantly admitted, was hardly distasteful. …And I will not be alone anymore… He had begun preparing hours early, now too eager to concentrate on anything else.
A slight hum escaped his lips, a few notes from a piece he had written years ago. Catching himself, he paused, hands froze on the half-buttoned waistcoat, sudden surprise arresting his motion. He hadn't uttered a musical sound since Christine had left, his music, the sound of his own voice, too tied to the thought of her. So much of my music had been written for her…why did that not hurt? Now it hurt, Christine's image summoned from the depths of his mind. But the music…I did not connect it with her…Pressing the pain back within, he dug for a reason for the music that he had emitted. Christine had nothing to do with it. What I have played, thought of, recently has had nothing to do with her…None at all…Scowling, he refocused on the buttons of his vest. Confusion pestering him, he hated being confused more than anything, he glanced at himself in the mirror.
Strapping in a heavily embroidered black suit, he wouldn't look too different from the other guests, aristocrats from around Europe, dressed in the latest fashions. His 'costume' was a bit older, but with some alterations he had made based on keen observations, he would blend right in. And now for the mask… A masquerade gala, how like the nobility to wallow in a celebration of deceit. As he slipped on the mask, he stared at himself, acknowledging his own part in the deceit. "God has given you one face, and you make yourself another…" His usual now, all black, covering everything but his mouth and chin. Altogether, he looked clean-cut, relatively fashion forward, and hopefully, intimidating without being obvious. In simple black, he would not be recognized, Red Death had been extremely recognizable. Then, though, he had wanted to make a scene, wanted to be recognized and feared. This night, however, was not about him. For once, I do something that is not centered around myself…The thought was alarming, disturbing. Why do I go so far to indulge the fantasies, most likely, of a simple girl? He didn't want to push the thought, turning his attention back to his image in the mirror. Scoffing privately at the elaborate costumes the aristocrats would be wearing, he smoothed down his clothing, admiring the simple, sophisticated black. Let the fops have their pretties…He swirled his cape around his shoulders to cover the sword hanging from his belt. Just in case of problems… Gwendolyn's foolish plan ensured that there would be problems, and he wanted to be as fully prepared as possible. Smoothing out his jacket once again, he appraised his look. It will do...Despite his apathetic thoughts, though, a shadow of a smirk played on his lips. If he could just ignore his face, what he knew lay behind the mask, everything else looked perfect. Turning from the mirror, he made his way to the small gondola to leave for the gala.