Erik watched as the Baron stormed off. He wasn't going to play, never
again for this haughty beast. Knowing his faults was one thing, but looking
past them and abusing his gift was another. He sat, brooding, until a
footman came to claim him for the concert. It was going to be a long night.
**
The tiny theatre was aglow, as it had been for countless nights, and the Baron sat in the front row. The young lady next to him squirmed each time he placed his hand upon her arm, but he only flashed her his wolfish smile, hoping that Erik would turn her head for him. His servant came swiftly to his side, and whispered discreetly into his ear. He stifled a look of anger and surprise, and rose from his seat. Excusing himself, he made a rush for Erik's room.
**
"Erik," the Baron's voice was hard and unforgiving. "Did I not warn you?"
Standing with his back to him, Erik nodded, and threw his cloak back. "You warned me. And yet, I still insist that I will not play for pigs."
This made the Baron's jaw snap shut. He growled, "Then I suppose you await your punishment?"
Erik's silence provided him with the answer he needed. The Baron motioned for his footman to hand him his weapon of choice. Erik turned bravely to face him, uncertain of whether to take his punishment, or to defend himself. He knew the latter was out of the question as soon as he set eyes on the apparatus in Montegue's outstretched hand. It was a horsewhip, but there were strips of metal and glass fitted to it, giving it a primeval look. Uncivilized. The Baron ordered his servant away, and came after Erik as soon as the door was closed. Erik stood up to him only until the contraption stuck him. It was most painful, and as the Baron whipped him, clothing and flesh peeled away simultaneously. He was beaten until his back was a latticework of blood and ripped cloth, the Baron's shirtfront stained red. There was a glint of madness in his eyes that only Erik could have noticed. Though in extreme pain, he'd learned to shut off all feeling and thought; to force himself elsewhere. The Baron sensed this, and try as he might, he could not beat him fiercely enough.
Exhausted, Montegue finally gave up. He dropped the whip to the ground, and stooped to sneer at Erik. Lying on the ground, he could only look up at the man, but he could see the monstrous look of horror flash across his face. During the course of the thrashing, Erik's mask had loosed from his face, and now his ruined flesh was unprotected. The Baron trailed his eyes along the parched, yellow skin, the hollow hole where a nose should have been, the jagged lip. He couldn't control his violent shaking as he stared at Erik, and he turned away from him. He vomited, then fled from the room.
**
The Baron's shock and disgust at what he had just witnessed was still hitting him with full force. He'd released his rarely contained madness, and the emotions were still running strong within him. There was a willingness to return to the room and beat the monster all over again. But, before he could do so, the girl he'd been sitting by earlier appeared before her. She was the tease he'd been trying to turn since meeting. Her low-cut dress, the fashion of all the courts, seemed to spark a new wildness in the unstable young man. She saw him, and rushed to him when she noticed the blood that soaked his finery. She was alone.
"My goodness," her youthfulness amazed him, for he never realized that she was so young, "What has happened? I came to find you. . ." She perceived the gleam of wild abandon in his eyes, the look of a beast that would rip some small creature to shreds. He grasped her roughly by the hair, dragged her into a nearby bedroom, turning only to shut the door.
**
The tiny theatre was aglow, as it had been for countless nights, and the Baron sat in the front row. The young lady next to him squirmed each time he placed his hand upon her arm, but he only flashed her his wolfish smile, hoping that Erik would turn her head for him. His servant came swiftly to his side, and whispered discreetly into his ear. He stifled a look of anger and surprise, and rose from his seat. Excusing himself, he made a rush for Erik's room.
**
"Erik," the Baron's voice was hard and unforgiving. "Did I not warn you?"
Standing with his back to him, Erik nodded, and threw his cloak back. "You warned me. And yet, I still insist that I will not play for pigs."
This made the Baron's jaw snap shut. He growled, "Then I suppose you await your punishment?"
Erik's silence provided him with the answer he needed. The Baron motioned for his footman to hand him his weapon of choice. Erik turned bravely to face him, uncertain of whether to take his punishment, or to defend himself. He knew the latter was out of the question as soon as he set eyes on the apparatus in Montegue's outstretched hand. It was a horsewhip, but there were strips of metal and glass fitted to it, giving it a primeval look. Uncivilized. The Baron ordered his servant away, and came after Erik as soon as the door was closed. Erik stood up to him only until the contraption stuck him. It was most painful, and as the Baron whipped him, clothing and flesh peeled away simultaneously. He was beaten until his back was a latticework of blood and ripped cloth, the Baron's shirtfront stained red. There was a glint of madness in his eyes that only Erik could have noticed. Though in extreme pain, he'd learned to shut off all feeling and thought; to force himself elsewhere. The Baron sensed this, and try as he might, he could not beat him fiercely enough.
Exhausted, Montegue finally gave up. He dropped the whip to the ground, and stooped to sneer at Erik. Lying on the ground, he could only look up at the man, but he could see the monstrous look of horror flash across his face. During the course of the thrashing, Erik's mask had loosed from his face, and now his ruined flesh was unprotected. The Baron trailed his eyes along the parched, yellow skin, the hollow hole where a nose should have been, the jagged lip. He couldn't control his violent shaking as he stared at Erik, and he turned away from him. He vomited, then fled from the room.
**
The Baron's shock and disgust at what he had just witnessed was still hitting him with full force. He'd released his rarely contained madness, and the emotions were still running strong within him. There was a willingness to return to the room and beat the monster all over again. But, before he could do so, the girl he'd been sitting by earlier appeared before her. She was the tease he'd been trying to turn since meeting. Her low-cut dress, the fashion of all the courts, seemed to spark a new wildness in the unstable young man. She saw him, and rushed to him when she noticed the blood that soaked his finery. She was alone.
"My goodness," her youthfulness amazed him, for he never realized that she was so young, "What has happened? I came to find you. . ." She perceived the gleam of wild abandon in his eyes, the look of a beast that would rip some small creature to shreds. He grasped her roughly by the hair, dragged her into a nearby bedroom, turning only to shut the door.