~*~Author's Note: Its about time for a disclaimer since I haven't done one yet and I don't feel like getting sued...I don't own Erik or any other character from Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera, blah blah blah...if I use quotations from anything its with the highest respect...I'm not going by anything written in Susan Kay's Phantom because its just a glorified Phanphic (I love it, though! Please don't hurt me, lol!) and from this chapter on (I'm thinking specifically of what I have in store for the next few) anything that seems to correspond really doesn't...blah...the following is MY adaptation of a well-known Greek myth, and I didn't get the idea from an author here on ffn whose name will immediately spring to mind, I'm just a myth junkie. Don't steal my myth 'cause I didn't, I wrote it myself...yeah. Anyway. Back to the regularly schedululed programming. I'll be back with more very soon!
Within two days, life had settled into a pleasant camaraderie and thoroughly surreal domesticity. Erik was a surprisingly good cook and while they never ate together (because of the mask) dinner became a pleasant time of idle chatter for them both.
The rest of the hours were spent in exhaustive learning and teaching, with the girl showing admirable patience. She was frequently astonished at the actual use she was putting to the tedium of school and was, for the first time in her life, glad of it. What kind of door had she opened that night that seemed so long ago- could it really have been less than a week?- when she'd gone in search of the dressing-room?
Gwyndolyn sighed contentedly and rose to clear her dishes. Erik rose also, to take his food into his room and eat. "Wait," she said, coming back from the kitchen with a fruit in her hand. "I got some pomegranate at the market for dessert, would you like some?"
"I didn't know pomegranate was in season this time of year," he replied, coming back. "I would like some, thank you."
He followed her back into the kitchen. It had been a source of amazement to Gwyndolyn the moment she beheld it. The main feature, a cast iron stove, dominated the limited space, and was remarkable in that the smoke it produced went directly into a fireplace six stories above it. She went to the left of it now, pulling a knife from a drawer.
"Maybe that's why it was so bloody expensive."
Erik made a small noise that could have been either amusement or annoyance, and fetched two bowls from a cupboard.
"I can never pass up pomegranates," she said whimsically. "They remind me of my favourite Greek myth."
"Hades and Persephone?" He asked, vaguely surprised.
"Yeah."
"Such things fascinate you, do they not?" He was thinking of another story that paralleled.
"Mm, I guess you could say that," she said, deliberately ignoring his reference. She continued rather dreamily, "A young goddess plays in the meadows and spies the most unusual, beautiful flower she'd ever seen."
"A flower of darkness sent by the God of the Underworld, who had seen the beautiful girl and fell in love with her." He picked up the story.
"As Persephone bent to examine the plant, the ground opened up-"
"And Hades appeared with his chariot drawn by black horses to steal her away from the light and make her his queen."
"Though he had frightened her at first, Persephone soon found that Hades was kind and gentle, that he truly loved her. She still could not forget the sunlight and her mother, so she refused to eat and rarely spoke-"
"In order to punish her dark lord."
Gwyndolyn was cutting the fruit as she spoke. "Her mother Demeter, goddess of the harvest, was heartbroken. She quickly discovered who was responsible for her daughter's disappearance and went to Zeus for help-"
"But alas, the clever Hades had just made a present of a new lightening-bolt to his brother, and so the king of the gods was not so quick to help his sister Demeter against him. In her grief, she refused to let new plants bud and the world grew as cold and desolate as her heart."
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they were moving towards each other in the telling of the story.
"Persephone, meanwhile, was growing tired of sulking and began to warm to her situation. It was not so bad, really, living in the world of the dead. She was Queen, after all, and her King did not seem disposed to take on his brother Zeus's wandering ways. She began to weaken in her resolve not to eat until she was restored to her mother."
"She was not aware, however, of her mother's efforts to free her. Zeus had grown tired of his people crying out to him for mercy, and the sound of their begging prayers for a harvest filled his ears night and day. Finally he agreed to help Demeter. One thing, he warned her, could keep Persephone from reaching the sunlight once more; she must not have tasted of the food of the dead. If but one crumb had touched her lips, she could never be free of the Underworld."
Their voices were weaving a picture of the ancient gods and the stone walls seemed to melt away to reveal the soaring heights of Olympus and the darkest corners that lay beyond the river Styx. Gwyndolyn's eyes were shining and she was feeling rather lightheaded, so real was the picture being painted.
"Hermes was dispatched immediately to fetch the young goddess from her living tomb, for Demeter was sure that in her grief, Persephone would not have been able to bring herself to eat."
"At the very moment the messenger god began his decent from Olympus, Hades was once again cajoling his bride into eating. Surely but a few seeds from this pomegranate will not harm you, he was saying. Persephone could not think of any reason to refuse the fruit any longer as it was her favourite and the seeds were so very small. Just as she was putting the eighth seed to her mouth, Hermes appeared and, horrified, dashed it to the ground. Because Zeus was so worn from the destruction of the world and so tired of Demeter constantly pleading for her daughter, he agreed to a compromise."
They were standing abreast of each other now and Gwyndolyn's hands dropped, forgetting their task. Her breathing quickened, but not audibly.
"Since Persephone had eaten seven pomegranate seeds, for seven months of the year she would be required to return to the darkness and reign as Queen of the Underworld, but the rest of the time she was free to live above ground with her beloved flowers."
"That is why there are seasons, for Demeter still grieves when her daughter is forced to return to the dark, melancholy cellars of the deceased."
Gwyndolyn focused and raised her eyes to meet Erik's. She had been looking past him, lost in the story but now she was fully cognizant and ready with her reply, an ending of her own fabrication and one she particularly fancied. The air seemed to crackle as she stepped inside his penetrating gaze and finished the story.
"What Demeter doesn't know, though, is that Persephone secretly enjoys her new home as much as the old one of light and looks forward to each willing return..."
A sharp intake of breath from Erik. Gwyndolyn wondered at the beating of her heart. Could he possibly hear it? With agonizing slowness and painful timidity, he was reaching out his hand, and in a sudden flash of insight she realized he meant to take her hand in his. His long fingers twitched slightly at the tips as she raised the knife to put it down onto the counter. Time was moving as if through thick molasses and she angled her head slightly, never breaking eye contact. She heard the knife handle strike the hard countertop and flinched ever so slightly at the sound. It had been enough.
"Ouch!" she gasped and snapped her head to see the source of pain. A small, rounded drop of bright blood oozed from her finger.
The spell was broken. While she was still gazing in perplexity at the sharp knife in relation to the superficial but still highly uncomfortable wound on her finger, Erik had taken several steps back. Quickly ascertaining that there was no problem without needing to ask, he had food in hand and had disappeared into his room.
Gwyndolyn sighed, almost tearfully without knowing why and looked back down to her finger, which had stopped bleeding. Her body was coursing with adrendaline and she stifled a giddy laugh in reaction as she looked at the pomegranate. All that and Erik hadn't even taken any.
Within two days, life had settled into a pleasant camaraderie and thoroughly surreal domesticity. Erik was a surprisingly good cook and while they never ate together (because of the mask) dinner became a pleasant time of idle chatter for them both.
The rest of the hours were spent in exhaustive learning and teaching, with the girl showing admirable patience. She was frequently astonished at the actual use she was putting to the tedium of school and was, for the first time in her life, glad of it. What kind of door had she opened that night that seemed so long ago- could it really have been less than a week?- when she'd gone in search of the dressing-room?
Gwyndolyn sighed contentedly and rose to clear her dishes. Erik rose also, to take his food into his room and eat. "Wait," she said, coming back from the kitchen with a fruit in her hand. "I got some pomegranate at the market for dessert, would you like some?"
"I didn't know pomegranate was in season this time of year," he replied, coming back. "I would like some, thank you."
He followed her back into the kitchen. It had been a source of amazement to Gwyndolyn the moment she beheld it. The main feature, a cast iron stove, dominated the limited space, and was remarkable in that the smoke it produced went directly into a fireplace six stories above it. She went to the left of it now, pulling a knife from a drawer.
"Maybe that's why it was so bloody expensive."
Erik made a small noise that could have been either amusement or annoyance, and fetched two bowls from a cupboard.
"I can never pass up pomegranates," she said whimsically. "They remind me of my favourite Greek myth."
"Hades and Persephone?" He asked, vaguely surprised.
"Yeah."
"Such things fascinate you, do they not?" He was thinking of another story that paralleled.
"Mm, I guess you could say that," she said, deliberately ignoring his reference. She continued rather dreamily, "A young goddess plays in the meadows and spies the most unusual, beautiful flower she'd ever seen."
"A flower of darkness sent by the God of the Underworld, who had seen the beautiful girl and fell in love with her." He picked up the story.
"As Persephone bent to examine the plant, the ground opened up-"
"And Hades appeared with his chariot drawn by black horses to steal her away from the light and make her his queen."
"Though he had frightened her at first, Persephone soon found that Hades was kind and gentle, that he truly loved her. She still could not forget the sunlight and her mother, so she refused to eat and rarely spoke-"
"In order to punish her dark lord."
Gwyndolyn was cutting the fruit as she spoke. "Her mother Demeter, goddess of the harvest, was heartbroken. She quickly discovered who was responsible for her daughter's disappearance and went to Zeus for help-"
"But alas, the clever Hades had just made a present of a new lightening-bolt to his brother, and so the king of the gods was not so quick to help his sister Demeter against him. In her grief, she refused to let new plants bud and the world grew as cold and desolate as her heart."
Slowly, almost imperceptibly, they were moving towards each other in the telling of the story.
"Persephone, meanwhile, was growing tired of sulking and began to warm to her situation. It was not so bad, really, living in the world of the dead. She was Queen, after all, and her King did not seem disposed to take on his brother Zeus's wandering ways. She began to weaken in her resolve not to eat until she was restored to her mother."
"She was not aware, however, of her mother's efforts to free her. Zeus had grown tired of his people crying out to him for mercy, and the sound of their begging prayers for a harvest filled his ears night and day. Finally he agreed to help Demeter. One thing, he warned her, could keep Persephone from reaching the sunlight once more; she must not have tasted of the food of the dead. If but one crumb had touched her lips, she could never be free of the Underworld."
Their voices were weaving a picture of the ancient gods and the stone walls seemed to melt away to reveal the soaring heights of Olympus and the darkest corners that lay beyond the river Styx. Gwyndolyn's eyes were shining and she was feeling rather lightheaded, so real was the picture being painted.
"Hermes was dispatched immediately to fetch the young goddess from her living tomb, for Demeter was sure that in her grief, Persephone would not have been able to bring herself to eat."
"At the very moment the messenger god began his decent from Olympus, Hades was once again cajoling his bride into eating. Surely but a few seeds from this pomegranate will not harm you, he was saying. Persephone could not think of any reason to refuse the fruit any longer as it was her favourite and the seeds were so very small. Just as she was putting the eighth seed to her mouth, Hermes appeared and, horrified, dashed it to the ground. Because Zeus was so worn from the destruction of the world and so tired of Demeter constantly pleading for her daughter, he agreed to a compromise."
They were standing abreast of each other now and Gwyndolyn's hands dropped, forgetting their task. Her breathing quickened, but not audibly.
"Since Persephone had eaten seven pomegranate seeds, for seven months of the year she would be required to return to the darkness and reign as Queen of the Underworld, but the rest of the time she was free to live above ground with her beloved flowers."
"That is why there are seasons, for Demeter still grieves when her daughter is forced to return to the dark, melancholy cellars of the deceased."
Gwyndolyn focused and raised her eyes to meet Erik's. She had been looking past him, lost in the story but now she was fully cognizant and ready with her reply, an ending of her own fabrication and one she particularly fancied. The air seemed to crackle as she stepped inside his penetrating gaze and finished the story.
"What Demeter doesn't know, though, is that Persephone secretly enjoys her new home as much as the old one of light and looks forward to each willing return..."
A sharp intake of breath from Erik. Gwyndolyn wondered at the beating of her heart. Could he possibly hear it? With agonizing slowness and painful timidity, he was reaching out his hand, and in a sudden flash of insight she realized he meant to take her hand in his. His long fingers twitched slightly at the tips as she raised the knife to put it down onto the counter. Time was moving as if through thick molasses and she angled her head slightly, never breaking eye contact. She heard the knife handle strike the hard countertop and flinched ever so slightly at the sound. It had been enough.
"Ouch!" she gasped and snapped her head to see the source of pain. A small, rounded drop of bright blood oozed from her finger.
The spell was broken. While she was still gazing in perplexity at the sharp knife in relation to the superficial but still highly uncomfortable wound on her finger, Erik had taken several steps back. Quickly ascertaining that there was no problem without needing to ask, he had food in hand and had disappeared into his room.
Gwyndolyn sighed, almost tearfully without knowing why and looked back down to her finger, which had stopped bleeding. Her body was coursing with adrendaline and she stifled a giddy laugh in reaction as she looked at the pomegranate. All that and Erik hadn't even taken any.