Note: Okay, Yulia is going to start plotting in this chapter, but don't
worry; I promise this won't be another woman story. I swear! So…don't
flame…
Chapter 6
Yulia sat down on her bed, shaking. He was going to kill her! He was actually prepared to kill her! He said she would be safe so long she didn't insult Christine, which meant she wouldn't last more than a week.
The young woman sighed. She was sarcastic by nature, and she hardly ever meant what she said. And furthermore…a man living by an underground lake beneath the Opera House was of the fantastical. She wanted to see him again. Ordinary men were dull and hurtful, but this man was far from ordinary. Every other man ignored her; this one was willing to kill her, which meant he had to focus at least some attention on her.
But Yulia wasn't prepared to die, yet. Therefore, she decided there was nothing worth with calling on him again to explain her personality so he wouldn't wrongly strangle her.
Finally feeling calmer, Yulia changed and went to sleep.
After a long day of rehearsal, Yulia watched for Christine to leave and then quietly made her way down to the lake. Instead of calling for Erik, she was struck dumb by the thunderous music that poured out from across the lake. She had never heard anything like it; it was playful and mocking on one level, and devastated, humiliated, painful, and passionate at another. It surrounded her, captured her, stripped her senses bare; she sunk to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Suddenly, Yulia felt herself being pulled to her feet.
"What are you doing here?"
She looked at him, feeling a hundred miles from her body. "You…are you mad? That music…you can't play that music!"
"It is from my opera, Yulia Alexandrovna; I wrote it."
"An opera? You can't play that in front of people! It's dangerous…Oh, my God! My God!" she cried.
"Enough of this foolishness! Why are you still crying?" he demanded.
"Whatever happened to you to make to write something like that?"
"It's a comedy, Yulia Alexandrovna."
"It' so much more, and you know it. You know what you're doing! If anyone's ever lost something, someone…it'll tear their hearts out!"
"You've merely heard a sampling; you don't even know what it's about. You don't know anything! Why are you here, Yulia Alexandrovna?"
"I…I wanted to tell you that…"
"I'm waiting, Mlle. Kazakova."
His glare was paralyzing her. Her continued sobbing clearly wasn't helping soothe his temper, either.
"I'm sorry…but…that sound…I can't say…"
"Stop wasting my time, child! I must finish my Don Juan Triumphant…"
"What?" she asked abruptly. "Why would you write about such a disgusting man?"
He smirked. "A comedy-drama about the famous lover will surely delight the Parisians. Perhaps it because you are not French, that you do not understand."
"Poshol na khui!"
"Hold your tongue, Yulia Alexandrovna! I've warned you about it before!"
"Forgive me, Monsieur, but it is my nature! Now, good day to you, and be careful with that music!"
"Mlle. Kazakova!"
"Yes?"
"Never let me see you down here again," he warned.
Yulia stared at the masked man in evening clothes for several long moments before nodding and heading home.
Yulia scowled as she sipped her tea. He was not composing a frivolous opera for the masses, but a dangerous combination of sex, anger, and pain. It frightened her. Still, she had yet to hear any lyrics to it, and she doubted she ever would. She hoped that it stayed locked away in the cellars, where it would never threateningly entice the human spirit like the serpent and Eve.
She slammed her cup down. This Erik fascinated her as much as he terrified her, and her curiosity was winning the battle.
She sighed. All his actions centered around Christine, who had the young vicomte for a suitor. Judging from that music, the man held deeper secrets than she originally thought. Sweet, innocent little Christine would never be able to live around such a force.
Unfortunately, the Opera ghost didn't seem to realize that.
Then, Yulia's twisted mind began to format a plan. Christine did not have anyone she was really close to, save Raoul de Changy and her Angel of Music. If she lost Raoul, she would undoubtedly go to her angel, even if she was afraid of him. However, she wouldn't be able to stay long, as her fear would overcome her. Then, Erik would be left alone and miserable, and then she could step in. She wasn't sure what she wanted with this man, only that she wanted to learn more about him.
It was selfish, in a way, as well. If she was with him, she wouldn't have to deal with the superficial world of men. The phantom had created his own world, a beautiful, terrifying one, that entranced her senses and promised her freedom and liberation.
Yulia grinned slyly. This would be a cruel operation, but it would benefit Erik, if only by having him get over Daaé.
For now, though, all she had to do was figure out how to handle the small matter of Raoul de Changy.
Chapter 6
Yulia sat down on her bed, shaking. He was going to kill her! He was actually prepared to kill her! He said she would be safe so long she didn't insult Christine, which meant she wouldn't last more than a week.
The young woman sighed. She was sarcastic by nature, and she hardly ever meant what she said. And furthermore…a man living by an underground lake beneath the Opera House was of the fantastical. She wanted to see him again. Ordinary men were dull and hurtful, but this man was far from ordinary. Every other man ignored her; this one was willing to kill her, which meant he had to focus at least some attention on her.
But Yulia wasn't prepared to die, yet. Therefore, she decided there was nothing worth with calling on him again to explain her personality so he wouldn't wrongly strangle her.
Finally feeling calmer, Yulia changed and went to sleep.
After a long day of rehearsal, Yulia watched for Christine to leave and then quietly made her way down to the lake. Instead of calling for Erik, she was struck dumb by the thunderous music that poured out from across the lake. She had never heard anything like it; it was playful and mocking on one level, and devastated, humiliated, painful, and passionate at another. It surrounded her, captured her, stripped her senses bare; she sunk to the ground, sobbing uncontrollably.
Suddenly, Yulia felt herself being pulled to her feet.
"What are you doing here?"
She looked at him, feeling a hundred miles from her body. "You…are you mad? That music…you can't play that music!"
"It is from my opera, Yulia Alexandrovna; I wrote it."
"An opera? You can't play that in front of people! It's dangerous…Oh, my God! My God!" she cried.
"Enough of this foolishness! Why are you still crying?" he demanded.
"Whatever happened to you to make to write something like that?"
"It's a comedy, Yulia Alexandrovna."
"It' so much more, and you know it. You know what you're doing! If anyone's ever lost something, someone…it'll tear their hearts out!"
"You've merely heard a sampling; you don't even know what it's about. You don't know anything! Why are you here, Yulia Alexandrovna?"
"I…I wanted to tell you that…"
"I'm waiting, Mlle. Kazakova."
His glare was paralyzing her. Her continued sobbing clearly wasn't helping soothe his temper, either.
"I'm sorry…but…that sound…I can't say…"
"Stop wasting my time, child! I must finish my Don Juan Triumphant…"
"What?" she asked abruptly. "Why would you write about such a disgusting man?"
He smirked. "A comedy-drama about the famous lover will surely delight the Parisians. Perhaps it because you are not French, that you do not understand."
"Poshol na khui!"
"Hold your tongue, Yulia Alexandrovna! I've warned you about it before!"
"Forgive me, Monsieur, but it is my nature! Now, good day to you, and be careful with that music!"
"Mlle. Kazakova!"
"Yes?"
"Never let me see you down here again," he warned.
Yulia stared at the masked man in evening clothes for several long moments before nodding and heading home.
Yulia scowled as she sipped her tea. He was not composing a frivolous opera for the masses, but a dangerous combination of sex, anger, and pain. It frightened her. Still, she had yet to hear any lyrics to it, and she doubted she ever would. She hoped that it stayed locked away in the cellars, where it would never threateningly entice the human spirit like the serpent and Eve.
She slammed her cup down. This Erik fascinated her as much as he terrified her, and her curiosity was winning the battle.
She sighed. All his actions centered around Christine, who had the young vicomte for a suitor. Judging from that music, the man held deeper secrets than she originally thought. Sweet, innocent little Christine would never be able to live around such a force.
Unfortunately, the Opera ghost didn't seem to realize that.
Then, Yulia's twisted mind began to format a plan. Christine did not have anyone she was really close to, save Raoul de Changy and her Angel of Music. If she lost Raoul, she would undoubtedly go to her angel, even if she was afraid of him. However, she wouldn't be able to stay long, as her fear would overcome her. Then, Erik would be left alone and miserable, and then she could step in. She wasn't sure what she wanted with this man, only that she wanted to learn more about him.
It was selfish, in a way, as well. If she was with him, she wouldn't have to deal with the superficial world of men. The phantom had created his own world, a beautiful, terrifying one, that entranced her senses and promised her freedom and liberation.
Yulia grinned slyly. This would be a cruel operation, but it would benefit Erik, if only by having him get over Daaé.
For now, though, all she had to do was figure out how to handle the small matter of Raoul de Changy.