Light
Love the moment. Flowers grow out of dark moments. Therefore, each moment is vital. It affects the whole. Life is a succession of such moments and to live each, is to succeed. - Corita Kent
The slow drip of melting snow finally drove Erik from his room. True, the warmth did mean that the weather was improving, and the sun was welcome after all the cloudy weather. The dripping water was a good excuse to leave the room, as he wouldn't be able to concentrate on his work, but truthfully he knew that he should attend breakfast. After all, he hadn't shown his face most of the day before.
"You are late," the count scolded as he took his seat.
"Am I not usually late?" Erik asked, "One would think that you would have become accustomed to it."
The count shook his head, "It's never too late to break a bad habit."
Erik shrugged his shoulders elegantly. He wasn't truly late; no one had even started eating yet. So he poured himself a cup of coffee and allowed the countess to fill his plate.
"I hope you're in a good mood this morning," Alex said, a smirk touching his lips.
"Oh and why is that?" Erik asked, lifting his cup of coffee.
"So my father didn't tell you then?" he asked.
Erik paused with the cup against his lips, eyeing both Alex and the count suspiciously, "Tell me what?"
"Nothing of importance," the count said, waving it off, "we might have guests this evening, but it will all depend on the weather."
"Ah," Erik said, sipping his coffee, "and why would they be visiting?"
"It's new years eve," Adrienne explained.
"They will be coming to celebrate with us as we usher in the New Year," the countess said cheerfully.
"That sounds…interesting," Erik said, taking another sip of coffee.
"It will only be one family," the count assured him.
"It is your house," Erik pointed out, "you can invite whomever you want into it."
Once the meal ended the countess asked Christine to join her in the parlour. She agreed a bit reluctantly, knowing that Adrienne wasn't going to be there with them. It was always awkward when alone with people she barely knew, so when she saw Erik starting in the same direction she felt a bit hopeful. However, upon seeing them, he quickly veered off towards the stairs.
Erik, dear!" the countess called gently, causing him to freeze on the spot.
"Yes, Madame?" he asked, turning his head slightly.
"Would you care to join us?" she asked, "or do you have something more important to do?"
"Not at the moment," he replied almost sulkily, "if you insist, then I will join you."
"Good, then come along," she said.
Erik sighed and followed them into the parlour, standing as they took their seats, then deciding upon the chair in the far corner. The countess clucked her tongue and shook her head, but didn't bother him about his seating choice. Instead she turned to Christine, who smiled nervously.
The countess smiled back kindly, "Are you looking forward to this evening?"
"I guess so," Christine answered, "it sounds like it will be fun."
"That's good, it always is," the countess smiled, "and you, Erik?"
"I cannot say," he shrugged.
"Have you never celebrated New Years?" she asked.
"Oh no, I have celebrated it," he said, "Though I have never truly seen the point of the whole affair. I never understood why I would celebrate the end of one year, only to enter another year or torment."
The countess shook her head at Erik's cynical outlook, "We celebrate in hopes that the New Year will bring something better than the year before."
"Well then, I still have very little to celebrate," Erik said, "but I will admit, I did have fun at the masquerades."
"Masquerades?" the countess asked.
"The Opera Populaire held extravagant Masquerades every New Year, and I attended them while I worked there."
"You did?" Christine asked, "Every year?"
Erik chuckled, "Yes, every year."
She couldn't believe it. All those years and he had been at every bal masque. It would have been unbelievable, except for the fact that it was Erik. He had never shown his face for all those years, or so she thought, and he hated crowds. But then again, maybe that was because in a crowd he stood out. At a masquerade he was just another face adorned with a fancy mask. Still, if the managers had known that the Phantom of the Opera had been, in fact, attending his masquerades.
"I thought that you didn't like crowds, dear," the countess commented.
"Perhaps not," he shrugged, "but the masquerades were different somehow. They were rather amusing, truth be told. There were extravagant costumes, hundreds of guests and music all night. They were terribly extravagant."
"Well, our get together will be no where near as grand, but I do hope that you will enjoy it anyways," the countess smiled.
"I will try," he murmured, and then quickly stood, "I think I will go for a walk."
"Of course," she nodded, "then put on some warmer clothes and be in for lunch."
He gave a small nod and exited the room, leaving Christine alone with the countess.
"Well, I do hope that you have been enjoying your time here," she said, "I know that you didn't intend to stay this long."
"Oh, it's fine," Christine answered, smiling nervously.
"Now don't be nervous, darling," she said, clucking her tongue, "I won't bite. You'd only have to fear that from my husband, or perhaps Erik on a bad day."
Christine couldn't help a small laugh, "I guess so…it's just that I'm still not used to, well, all this."
The countess nodded as Christine motioned to the room around her, "Ah, I see. Well, you'll get used to it soon enough."
" I guess so," Christine murmured. After all, maybe some day she would be used to the grand houses and the extravagant fashions.
"Just don't worry about it too much for now," the countess advised.
Erik sat down at the table and eyed his plate suspiciously. He wasn't entirely sure what it was they were serving for lunch, and was almost afraid to ask. Sometimes it was better not to know what it was one was eating.
"What is this, exactly?" he asked, curiosity winning over.
"Its casserole," the countess replied, "our cook makes a wonderful casserole, you know?"
"Do I?" he asked distractedly, pushing the dish around his plate.
"Yes, I am sure that you have eaten it at least once before."
"Ah…and may enquire as to what is in it?" he asked.
"Oh, there's meat and vegetables," she said.
"I see," he murmured, "casserole: the method in which we can mix an assortment of food together and claim it is edible."
"Just eat it," the count sighed exasperatedly.
"I would rather not," he said, "I do not like casserole…it is mildly unnerving."
Raoul had to suppress a small laugh at that statement. Even he himself won't entirely sure why he found it so funny. Perhaps it was that the infamous Opera Ghost was acting like a child, "What's this, afraid of a casserole, Erik?"
"Everyone must fear something," Erik answered, all too seriously, "you, for instance, should fear me. I fear casserole."
Alex snorted a laugh, and quickly occupied himself with his meal upon seeing his father's scathing look.
"I should hope that you will be better behaved tonight," the count scolded.
"Have I ever…" he trailed off thoughtfully, "hmm, perhaps that it's not the best question to ask. However, I do not intend to cause any trouble for your guests this evening. Almost as much as I do not intend to eat this casserole. Therefore, I think I will leave you to your meal."
"Just be ready by seven o'clock," the count said, as Erik got up to leave, "out guests should be arriving then, and we will be eating shortly after."
Erik gave a small nod, "Of course."
A/N:Sorry it took so long to update...yeah, I really don't like this chapter much. But then again I haven't liked anything I've written for the past couple of days...and probably won't for the rest of the week. But oh well, please tell me what you think in a lovely review.