Music for the chapter: Beethoven's 6th Symphony: Movement V Allegro
Chapter 2: Forgotten Angel
Erik's body was simply laying there, having only passed out moments before. A cloaked figure hiding behind one of the larger pieces of statuary emerged. Quickly making it's way over to Erik, the individual tested his pulse and checked the overall condition of the person sprawled before him.
Through the silk material of the shirt it was apparent to the individual that Erik had not eaten for a long time. Each rib was pronounced and protruding, and all of his limbs showed signs of muscle atrophy. Erik's face was now visible, his fall having broken his porcelain mask into a thousand pieces and even cutting into his disfigured cheek. That wound bleeding profusely which only added to the crimson puddle developing around the fallen man. Even his disfigured face showed that his cheeks were hollow and his eyes sunken in from extreme starvation and malnutrition.
A crack of thunder and a quick flash of light alerted the figure from studying Erik. "It's dangerous to remain here", thinking quickly the mysterious figure picked up the limp man and easily tossed him over his shoulder. The broad shoulders easily accommodating Erik's now small frame. Erik emitted a soft groan as the figure moved to the door to enter the Opera.
"Yes, this is painful I know," The figure continued to speak as it kicked in the door to the Opera and swiftly made his way through. "This is what happens when one mistreats the gift that is our earth bound enclosure. Long ago, I once taught you this. Though as stubborn and feisty as you are, you never seemed to learn the lesson. Amongst other one's as well" a smirk played across the figure's lips as he shook his head at the small joke.
Carefully walking down the spiral staircase and through the hallways of the ruined opera, the figure continued to hold to Erik tightly. The boards groaned under the weight of the two and the holes amongst the roof gave way to puddles forming along the planks. However the figure moved with an unnatural grace and glided carefully down to the stage.
Upon reaching the stage, the figure stopped dead in his tracks. A curse emitted from his mouth in a foreign tongue as he noticed that from the orchestra pit and the steps from the stage, the wood and structure had failed and rotted away from months of disrepair. Stepping back and taking in his surroundings, he concentrated on a way to alleviate this obstacle. As he stared about, he let out a bit of a gasp at the destruction. He could tell that the building was once incredibly beautiful, probably just as amazing as some of the structures of his own homeland.
Gilded statues of angels and demons amongst Goddesses and strong figures decorated the many boxes, and the ornate styling of the Baroque period with a Persian twist filled the gigantic room. The once beautiful gold leaf that graced it all, was burned away in a grotesque distortion of it's once former glory. Flaking and rotting were all the figures, along with the delicate designs of paint that had once graced the arching walls that ran in sequence to the dome. Where, of course, the masterpiece and center to draw the eye had once hung. That of course was the largest and most disturbing part of the entire sight. The fallen chandelier lay in the very position it had fallen to on the dreadful night, crushing at least seven rows of seats that were once the very best position to view the stage. Glass shards lay about everywhere, even impaling some of the seats near by. Shaking his head, the figure regripped the limp figure over his shoulder.
"You were never able to leave without a grand finale.. were you?" he murmured.
Wrenching his eyes away from the sight, he concentrated harder on the task at hand. He then realized that he did not have much time; Erik was already warming under his touch from a deadly fever.
The distance from the edge of the stage where he stood to the ruined aisles was farther than he could jump on his own, let alone with the extra weight and the imbalance the situation presented. Walking back and forth along the stage, he realized that all of the rotting had completely ruined any chance of being able to make the jump even to the spots where the wood stretched. The chances of him jumping and landing on the wood closer to the stage were slim, let alone the fact that they showed signs of severe rot from the holes in the ceiling above it. Any chance of him landing there sturdily were completely thrown out the window by the reality that they would fall the twenty feet below into the orchestra pit.
Grunting with irritation of the set back, the figure finally resolved to placing Erik down upon the stage for a moment and retracing his steps back across the stage. Erik began to groan in pain as he rolled over, his eyes fluttering open slightly.
"One moment my friend.. although you won't remember this later, I'm quite sure I'll be more then happy to elaborate."
Erik's eyes could not adjust to the situation, and his vision was completely blurred with feverish pain. His hands were still stinging and his usually sharp awareness was non-existent as he gave into the fever. Erik knew that he was no longer on the rooftop, although he had no idea how he had moved. A voice kept ringing out into his ears, he caught a few words every now and then, including his own name being called. Confused and faintly apprehensive, he struggled to get up to fend from any attack. "Perhaps a mob member has returned to finish the job. Or maybe even a thief.." Erik's thoughts were interrupted sharply as a large figure moved rapidly towards him.
The dark object seemed to not be showing any signs of slowing down. At first two large wings and a pair of arms seemed to be reaching out. Erik gasped and drew back.
"Perhaps this is Death come to collect my soul for my sins".
Grinning, Erik leaned back and would have reached out his arms happily accepting his fate, if it had not been for the fact that the angel did not seem to slow down as it approached. In fact, the angel became more grotesque and deformed as it approached. It's wings took on a much more different shape, and it's arms seemed to sharpen and lengthen. The most frightening part of the ordeal was the way it screeched upon it's rapid approach.
Faintly startled and unable to see the creature as it approached, Erik forced himself to roll to his side to gain a better view of the creature. His maneuver had been a lucky one, for the creature never slowed down, and rushed past him ramming into and through the stage lights, shattering them as the giant form tumbled forward into the pit below. The ordeal being far too much for Erik's feverish state, he collapsed once again onto his face.
Emerging from behind the catastrophe was the hooded figure, standing where the giant creature had just bounded past Erik. Being quite satisfied with himself for having found the obnoxiously large prop, the figure stood back to take in the view. The paper mache Elephant served well as a standing point to cross the perilous edge. Staring over the side, he realized the method was by far much more ingenious as he had originally thought. Not only did the elephant's obnoxious mass fill the part of the pit, it was also most conveniently located directly across from the aisle. The handles designed for an inept human being to climb it's relatively low backside also served well as footholds instead of a slippery painted surface. As the figure stood there, he also noticed that he had neglected Erik's position. The limp body might as well be underneath the elephant's mass, crushed below in the pit. Wincing, the figure looked about quickly, and found to his great luck that somehow Erik's body had dodged the prop and was flung nearly fifteen feet away. Thanking an invisible figure above in the strange tongue, he quickly moved over to the body. Then, once again, tossed Erik easily over his shoulder and preceded on his way. Crossing with little effort to the aisle and maneuvering his way out of the opera house and out into the storm.
Reaching the final doors the figure kicking them open, busting the boards and nails that closed them tightly. The figure then realized that Erik was already burning up with a fever and that he would not survive the trip if he ran home in this current storm.
Sighing, he reached for his own pouch. Hailing for a cab, a carriage near by stopped and the driver leaned down to observe his customers. Greeting his curious eyes was one of the strangest sights he had ever seen. A man in a dark, yet exotic cloak with another man draped lazily across his shoulders. The Driver's eyes must have shown a flicker of fear because the figure then approached and held a powerful fist in his direction. The driver nearly fell from his perch. The horses began to show a nervous nature as they felt the stranger approach. However, the fist relaxed and a note fell into the driver's hands.
".. To.. There.. pul..ease" the stranger stuttered in a thick accent. The free arm pointing to the west direction out of the square towards the train station.
Pulling the note to his face, the driver noticed it was foreign and rather colorful. "Sorry, but I only accept francs Monsieur."
Even though the figure barely understood the man's words, he knew that the money was no good in this odd European country. Leaning Erik's body further down he searched lightly along his back and found that luck was with him. Stuffed in Erik's pocket was a small pouch with several notes placed systematically. Assuming the larger symbols meant the larger note, he simply grabbed one and tossed it at the driver. The driver quickly snatched the note before it fell and read it, his eyes then widened. Sitting there in shock for a moment the driver simply gaped at the note. Taking this for a large bill, the figure coughed lightly in impatience.
"Oh! Yes. Pardon me Monsieur!" clambering from his perch, the driver clumsily opened the door for the both of them.
Shrugging, the figure assumed that the bill was indeed most likely larger then the fare for the cab would ever be. Giving into his ignorance, he graciously accepted the overpaid cover and transportation, carrying Erik in with him. Then sitting on the worn velvet coushins and placing Erik carefully on the adjacent seat. Smiling lightly, the figure sat back as the cab driver closed the door. The drive then quickly hopped on top, whipping the horses strongly and urging the carriage forward in the storm. Silently, the figure placed a foot upon the edge of the other seat to prevent Erik from slipping off from the bumpy ride. He then absent-mindedly pulled the hood down from his cape.
The stranger's features were softly curved with a sharp edge to the cheeks and nose, skin color more of a darker beige, and dark raven hair cut short about his scalp. His appearance was not distinctly native to France at all; in fact he was native to Persia. Aged and tired, but still strong in nature, he simply sat back to enjoy the rest of the ride.
Erik stirred again at one of the rougher bumps in the road. Moaning lightly his bloodshot eyes opened. The light was incredibly painful and seemed to stab through his eyes as Erik attempted to adjust them to his new environment His eyes scanned the inner cabin of the cab, stopping abruptly as he stared at the figure across from him.
".. Nadir?" he croaked..
Smiling, the Persian simply nodded.
Erik couldn't stand the shock and simply fell unconscious.