Chapter 8

Upon Marinette's first observations the chapel offered nothing interesting, but the hair on the back of her neck did stand on edge. There was a sort of electricity in the air and Marinette's heart began to thunder. The silence that filled the room was worse than any construction noise she'd encountered in the weeks prior. The chapel was a bland gray and the only source of light was through a small stained glass window. The colors reflected against Marinette's pale skin as she admired the work. It was strange that such a detailed window would be found in a place that looked as though it hadn't been visited in years. Even in the Populair's prime, there was a high doubt that only a handful of her employees visited here. Marinette's theory had only been proven correct due to the few pictures she found at the altar.

Many of the photos were in bad shape, slowly withering away from years of neglect and stale air. But one stuck out to Marinette, a handsome man gazed back at her, in his hands he grasped a bow and a violin. His dark hair and eyes were alluring and for a moment Marinette found herself lost in them. Marinette lowered herself to her knees and slowly reached for the photograph. Her fingers stopped just short of grasping the picture, it felt wrong to touch something that had been so precious to someone once. But, then again if it had been so precious it's owner wouldn't have forgotten it and left it here to rot away with time. Carefully, Marinette took it in between her thumb and index finger. She brought the picture closer to her face and inspected it in more detail. "Who are you?" Marinette asked herself quietly as she turned the picture over.

In delicate faded writing there was a name transcribed on the back. "Gustave Daae?" Marinette gasped softly. This must have been Christine Daae's father, well it was no wonder she was renowned for her beauty. Marinette placed the picture back in it's rightful place next to the melted wax candles. A soft wave of sadness washed over Marinette and for once she allowed herself to be swallowed by it. She hadn't known much about Christine, now knowing that she too had lost a father...Marinette could relate to Chrsitne. It was clear that she'd spent many days and nights in here mourning deeply for her father.

Slowly and quietly Marinette dug into her shallow pockets and pulled out her most beloved possession. It was a photo of her own, faded and well loved from years of Marinette keeping it on her person. It was small, but it was the only picture she owned of her family. Her father had purchased it while they were at a fair. Marinette could feel the tears sting at her eyes as she looked at her younger self and her father's tired, worn face. They hadn't known it yet, but her father had just begun his battle with his sickness. Her mother...well years ago Marinette had torn her head from her shoulders and thrown it into her families well. All that remained was her mothers thin and rigid frame, with her disgusting hand resting on her Papa's shoulder. Pushing her mother from her thoughts Marinette set her picture down next to Christine's father. She would have to remember to come back and light the memoriam candles. For now a silent prayer would have to do, Marinette closed her eyes and sat in the quiet room.

Despite the electric atmosphere, the room had a serene undertone and it put her at peace. However, she was ripped from her peace when the sound of a boot scraping against stone broke the silence. "Hello?" Marinette's voice rang out as she dug her hand back into her pocket. She had always kept a dagger on her...for reasons. Nothing but her own echo answered her, as she stood slowly. Looking back at the photo's Marinette began to feel uneasy and she decided it would be better if she returned to where the living dwelled. Carefully, she walked to the entrance of the chapel and looked outside of the door. If there had been someone there, they were long gone now. Hurriedly she made her way back the way she came.

Later in the evening while every member of Marinette's small opera family enjoyed a lively conversation at dinner; Marinette sat quietly, her jaw set and her eyes fixed on the toast in front of her. "Mari? Are you sure you don't want more to eat than that?" Meg asked as she slowly sipped her broth. Like Marinette had predicted a few of the ballet rats came back with sniffles and Aunt Giry thought it best to nurse their cold with bone broth. "Yes, I'm sure Meg. I'm just tired, is all." Marinette shook herself from her stupor and sent a reassuring smile to her cousin. Meg gave her cousin a look and then shrugged her small shoulders. Through the entirety of dinner that was how the two remained. Marinette in her own world and Meg sneaking glances at her. Once the group disbanded, Meg ran off to confront her cousin about her true feelings.

"Mari!" Meg dashed forward before her cousin could close her office door, for good measure she stuck her foot out to stop it from shutting. "Yes Meg?" Marinette's voice was small and quiet. "May I come in?" Meg smiled softly. Without a sound Marinette swung the door open and walked to her small bed. Meg followed cautiously as she took in the sights of Marinette's room, it was the first time she'd step foot in it. It was simple and clean with minimal decor and hardly any trinkets. It was a big difference from Meg's room, her mother had once compared it to a gypsy bazaar. "You were quiet at dinner tonight, well I mean you usually are but you don't space out the way you did tonight. Are you alright?" Marinette sighed as she patted the spot on her bed that sat vacant next to her. Without another word Meg made her way over and sat down gently next to Marinette, almost as if she were trying not to frighten off a skittish squirrel.

"I went to the chapel today." Marinette quietly confessed, Meg felt the air leave her lungs and her pulse quicken. "Alone? Mari...you've heard the rumors about that place have you not?" Meg scolded lightly. "I did, that's what drew me to it in the first place...I didn't know what to expect but it wasn't the emotion I felt." Marinette sighed. "What do you mean?" Meg pried, this was the most her cousin had ever confided in her and she relished it. "I found the photo of Gustave Daae down there and it made me miss my own father. I don't think I've ever properly mourned my father's death. Let alone discuss it with anyone...not even my Nonna. It was too difficult to speak of so everyone in the family busied themselves." Marinette could feel tears pricking at her eyes. "Would you like to talk about it?" Meg took Marinette's hands in her own and soothed her.

"Yes, it's time I faced this part of my life."