Christina drew a shawl over her shoulders. She was worried about
Erik. He had not appeared in her dreams for almost a week. Had she offended
him? Why hadn't he returned to talk with her? Christina was tired, she had
been proclaimed well by the physician only yesterday. A small cough was the
only reminder of the night Erik had carried her home. She sat in the
bumping carriage as it rolled over stones and mud. It was twilight and the
sun was leaving behind a trail of brilliant gold in the sky. She missed
Erik terribly. His presence warmed her dreams, and kept the nightmares at
bay. The Opera House loomed in the distance. Her heart skipped a beat in
anticipation. She hoped Erik would welcome her back.
She felt her way along the wall of the lair. "Erik?" She called. He was not there to meet her with his usual greeting. She had no way to find him in her blind state, but to feel her way around the lair. "Erik?" She called out again. She placed a stray curl back into her bun that was laced with black ribbon. She was sure her expensive black silk dress was dirty with all the dust that lined the floor. Her hand bumped into something. It was wooden. A door? Erik had never shown her this. She felt around to see if she could find the handle. When she'd found it she twisted it, and the door popped open. She felt her heart beat faster. Could there be traps in here, or other dangerous things? She carefully inched her way into the room. Christina's feet bumped into boxes several times. She felt bruises forming on her toes. Her delicate shoes were no match for rough heavy boxes. She stilled suddenly. She heard soft breathing. Someone was in the room with her! "Oh please let him be well," She prayed silently. She placed her hand back on the wall to begin inching forward again. A few minutes later her foot came in contact with something that wasn't a box. It was softer. She bent down and placed her hand on the object. It was a shoulder. Someone was lying on the ground. She searched with her hands anxiously to find the face. It was Erik. "Erik!" She cried. She grasped his shoulder trying to pull him up. She somehow managed to get his body leaning up against the wall. Tears pricked at her eyes. She placed a finger out in front of his mouth. she felt warm breath hit her skin. He was breathing. She caressed his good cheek with the back of her hand. She was so tired.
"Don't be sick," She pleaded softly. The tears were falling faster now.
"Christina?" Erik said slowly.
"Oh Erik," She said drawing in a sob.
"What's wrong?" Erik asked noticing her harried appearance. He wiped a stray tear away from her face.
"Why are you in here? Are you sick?" She said frantically. He placed his hands on both of her shoulders heavily and got her to sink down next to him. He hadn't had to deal with a frantic female in a long while. He almost laughed. She thought he was dead? He forced the laugh down and took his time trying to calm himself. If he laughed now she would never forgive him.
"I'm not sick," He said seriously. He took her in his arms. His arms were warm and strong, and they comforted her immediately. She settled her head against his chest.
"Why didn't you answer me?" She said meekly.
"I was sleeping," He answered simply.
"In here? I thought you had a bed," She was so confused.
"I prefer the floor to the bed sometimes," Erik smiled.
"You scared me," She said softly. She had used all of her energy searching for him. Now still days after her being almost deathly ill she got tired easily, and with grief from her grandparents deaths still haunting her it was easy to see why she had cried.
"I tend to do that to a lot of people," He said trying to make her smile. He was rewarded with a tired smile.
"I missed you," She said. "Why didn't you come to me?"
"I couldn't my dear," He said softly. "Shhh, don't worry I won't leave you like that again," He comforted, tightening his arms around her gently for a moment. She murmured something he couldn't hear. Her eyes closed slowly. She had fallen asleep. That was easy, he thought silently. He hadn't meant to frighten her. He felt more at home sleeping on the ground by his collection of paintings. He couldn't explain why. He slowly picked her up and gently set her down on his bed, drawing the thick covers up close to her neck. He reached underneath a blanket and slipped off her shoes. He couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. He shook his head. That girl. He smiled. He slipped away from her quietly, content to let her sleep alone.
Erik's mask had always been central part of his being. It represented who he was, and shielded his face, blinding people to the truth of what really lay underneath. He paced the floor. He had turned the thought over in his mind many times since he had met Christina. Would he or wouldn't he take off his mask and reveal to her what he truly was? That was the haunting question that lingered in his mind. She was blind, but that didn't mean she couldn't "see" with her fingers by placing them on his face. He frowned and flipped through the piles of music he had written over the years. There was his old musical his life's work Don Juan Triumphant. Now it seemed worthless, like a young boy's scribble over many expensive pages. He turned through the reams and reams of cream paper. He wasn't even really looking at the titles of each piece. He was doing something with his hands as he thought. He would never get anywhere with Christina by hiding behind a mask all of his life. He needed to reveal to her his true self. By doing that he would rid himself of the constant fear that she would discover it uninvited by ripping off his mask herself....
She felt her way along the wall of the lair. "Erik?" She called. He was not there to meet her with his usual greeting. She had no way to find him in her blind state, but to feel her way around the lair. "Erik?" She called out again. She placed a stray curl back into her bun that was laced with black ribbon. She was sure her expensive black silk dress was dirty with all the dust that lined the floor. Her hand bumped into something. It was wooden. A door? Erik had never shown her this. She felt around to see if she could find the handle. When she'd found it she twisted it, and the door popped open. She felt her heart beat faster. Could there be traps in here, or other dangerous things? She carefully inched her way into the room. Christina's feet bumped into boxes several times. She felt bruises forming on her toes. Her delicate shoes were no match for rough heavy boxes. She stilled suddenly. She heard soft breathing. Someone was in the room with her! "Oh please let him be well," She prayed silently. She placed her hand back on the wall to begin inching forward again. A few minutes later her foot came in contact with something that wasn't a box. It was softer. She bent down and placed her hand on the object. It was a shoulder. Someone was lying on the ground. She searched with her hands anxiously to find the face. It was Erik. "Erik!" She cried. She grasped his shoulder trying to pull him up. She somehow managed to get his body leaning up against the wall. Tears pricked at her eyes. She placed a finger out in front of his mouth. she felt warm breath hit her skin. He was breathing. She caressed his good cheek with the back of her hand. She was so tired.
"Don't be sick," She pleaded softly. The tears were falling faster now.
"Christina?" Erik said slowly.
"Oh Erik," She said drawing in a sob.
"What's wrong?" Erik asked noticing her harried appearance. He wiped a stray tear away from her face.
"Why are you in here? Are you sick?" She said frantically. He placed his hands on both of her shoulders heavily and got her to sink down next to him. He hadn't had to deal with a frantic female in a long while. He almost laughed. She thought he was dead? He forced the laugh down and took his time trying to calm himself. If he laughed now she would never forgive him.
"I'm not sick," He said seriously. He took her in his arms. His arms were warm and strong, and they comforted her immediately. She settled her head against his chest.
"Why didn't you answer me?" She said meekly.
"I was sleeping," He answered simply.
"In here? I thought you had a bed," She was so confused.
"I prefer the floor to the bed sometimes," Erik smiled.
"You scared me," She said softly. She had used all of her energy searching for him. Now still days after her being almost deathly ill she got tired easily, and with grief from her grandparents deaths still haunting her it was easy to see why she had cried.
"I tend to do that to a lot of people," He said trying to make her smile. He was rewarded with a tired smile.
"I missed you," She said. "Why didn't you come to me?"
"I couldn't my dear," He said softly. "Shhh, don't worry I won't leave you like that again," He comforted, tightening his arms around her gently for a moment. She murmured something he couldn't hear. Her eyes closed slowly. She had fallen asleep. That was easy, he thought silently. He hadn't meant to frighten her. He felt more at home sleeping on the ground by his collection of paintings. He couldn't explain why. He slowly picked her up and gently set her down on his bed, drawing the thick covers up close to her neck. He reached underneath a blanket and slipped off her shoes. He couldn't believe she had fallen asleep. He shook his head. That girl. He smiled. He slipped away from her quietly, content to let her sleep alone.
Erik's mask had always been central part of his being. It represented who he was, and shielded his face, blinding people to the truth of what really lay underneath. He paced the floor. He had turned the thought over in his mind many times since he had met Christina. Would he or wouldn't he take off his mask and reveal to her what he truly was? That was the haunting question that lingered in his mind. She was blind, but that didn't mean she couldn't "see" with her fingers by placing them on his face. He frowned and flipped through the piles of music he had written over the years. There was his old musical his life's work Don Juan Triumphant. Now it seemed worthless, like a young boy's scribble over many expensive pages. He turned through the reams and reams of cream paper. He wasn't even really looking at the titles of each piece. He was doing something with his hands as he thought. He would never get anywhere with Christina by hiding behind a mask all of his life. He needed to reveal to her his true self. By doing that he would rid himself of the constant fear that she would discover it uninvited by ripping off his mask herself....