A/N: okeey, first of all, NOONE IS READING LIGHT IS BLIND! That's my fiancee's story (well, both of ours, really). He's ludivinelover. So go read and review him, he's veddy sad. Now for the review-replies:
RubyMoon2: Thanx for the compliment! Yesh, she's veddy Mary Sue-ish. Sorry 'bout tha'... No, she had rich grandparents who recently died and she was swindled out of their fortune by ruthless bankers and the like cuz she's underage... going off of my problem - can't read music, so the ability to memorize is greatly enhanced. Also, when you practically live on a song, it tends to be implanted in your brain. Sorry about 'the spell' being broken. As for your reviews on the poems... I'm glad you like the style. Thanks for being so frank with me. Grr... I HATE it when ppl quote Erik to me (especially when it's the version I HAVEN'T read (yet...) You say Ja Ne! ANIMEEEEEEEEE! woow... long reply...
clintongroth: Thanx. Ummm... WHY must you torture us about Light is Blind? Go look at your "porno" pics... Freakin' Geez... :)
Chapter 5: Angel, I Hear You!
"Are you quite sure?"
"You don't want us to escort you?"
"No, no monsieur's. I'm quite all right, I assure you. I simply wish to become accustomed to my new… surroundings… before retiring for the evening." Ludivine was having a time ridding herself of her overprotective managers. They had been following her every since her "disappearance," from which Meg Giry had rescued her. After reassuring Andre and Firmin that she would be safe and in no health risk to escort herself home, she finally sent the two on their way to celebrate their good fortune.
Making it a point to avoid the chorus girls and ballet rats, Ludivine began to explore the backstage areas. She gave herself a tour of all the places which held some significance for her – places in which an event, or events, concerning the Phantom had occurred. The catwalks, the set piece for Don Juan in which Ubaldo Piangi had been murdered, and, of course, Box Five again – all served as entertainment for the better part of five hours as she meticulously and thoroughly examined each location. Her guest finally brought her to her new dressing room – the same as had been used by Christine Daae on the night of her abduction.
She had heard that something had happened in this room. Ludivine knew that somehow the Opera Ghost had locked the Vicomte out and had abducted Mademoiselle Daae without ever entering or leaving through the only door. Now, she finally had the chance to find the truth. She stood with bated breath as she laid her hand on the door knob and gently turned it. She slowly turned it until she felt the lock slide from its holster. Tentatively, she pushed the door open, staring into the dark, unlit depths of her dressing room. Hesitating, she moved a quivering foot over the threshold of that place which had, for so long, haunted her imagination. Here she was… she would solve this; her personal quest would be fulfilled. She lit the gas lamps throughout the room. After light blazed throughout the area, she observed her surroundings and gasped. Everything had been left the way it was – even Christine's hair ribbons and stationary were still there. Ludivine moved, dazedly, throughout the room, gently touching every artifact within reach.
Her fingers brushed against the stationary, and she gasped as she saw the blood-red rose, tied with a black velvet ribbon. She had heard that this was his trademark, the Opera Ghost's sign that he had been there. She picked it up and held it to her face, savoring first the scent of the flower, then that of the ribbon. Her fingers lingered over it for a while longer before she saw the envelope.
It was lying next to a bundle of folded black fabric. The envelope was of parchment, unaddressed. Ludivine told herself that the envelope was not necessarily from him. It could very well be a letter from one of the managers, or a reminder for fittings. With a shaking hand, she laid the rose back in its resting place and picked up the envelope. The wax death's head seal on the back confirmed her suspicions – it could only be the Opera Ghost! Ludivine nearly tore the parchment; her hands were shaking so excitedly. Carefully, she pried the last of the seal loose and lifted the flap. She pulled the note from inside, set the envelope down, and opened the note.
Today, my dear,
I heard your voice.
It shed so – needed light upon my dark existence.
You can not imagine how I have hoped for your singular voice to bring me back to life. Here is your dress – I hope to see you in it soon, my Angel of Music.
Always your Humble Servant,
The Opera Ghost
Ludivine's heart leapt. And was pounding so hard that she could hardly believe it was not bursting from her chest. The Phantom of the Opera had heard her! And what wonderful things he had said about her voice… Angel of Music? That sounded strangely familiar. Why couldn't she place it? It was lurking at the edge of her mind…
Then there was that small, nagging feeling. It seemed to be warning Ludivine of something… What that something was, however, she could not tell. Her senses, typically clear as glass, were clouded by the sheer thrill of correspondence from the Opera Ghost. She picked up the dress and, shedding her own, donned the concoction of soft black fabric and crisp white linen. She found the hair decoration and out that on as well. Ludivine looked at herself in the mirror, smoothing the dress over her legs. She frowned. Something was missing. Casting about the room, she spotted the rose and smiled. Ludivine, taking the velvet ribbon from the emerald stem, made herself a necklace. She tied it tight around her thin neck, viewed herself in the mirror, and, finally satisfied, took the rose with her to the chaise. She took the blankets draped over it and laid down, pulling them over her. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scents of the rose, which was pressed to her cheek, and the dress, which she was sure had been handled by the Phantom of the Opera.
Ludivine's last thought before she surrendered to sleep was that almost all of her hopes had come true… now all that remained was to meet the Ghost.
Hours later, the lamps had burned down, leaving the dressing room cloaked in darkness. A tiny click came from the door as a key turned the lock from the outside. Ludivine turned in her sleep, but did not wake shortly after, a whisper could be heard throughout the room, once again but one word:
"Christine…"
The gaunt man from below the Opera approached the reverse side of the mirror through a secret passage ablaze with light, violin and bow in hand. As he reached the great slab of glass, his love's name slipped unwillingly from his lips in a whisper. Peering through the clear back of the mirror, he looked upon the sleeping form whose back was turned towards him. The man took a breath, realizing he had been holding it, and raised the violin to its accustomed place at his shoulder. As he gently ran the bow across the strings, a familiar tune began to spring forth, a cherished song poured from his lips.
Ludivine quietly drifted out of sleep as a sweet melody surrounded her, an angelic voice stirring her soul.
"Wandering child,
So lost, so hopeless,
Yearning for my guidance…"
Ludivine, still at the threshold of dream and reality, responded to the enticing voice breathlessly.
"Angel or Phantom,
Friend or genius,
Who is it there, singing?
The man did not understand the change of words, but continued to sing nonetheless.
"Have you forgotten
Your Angel…?"
Ludivine could not resist the voice which had grown more hypnotic, and sang to her Angel of Music.
"Angel, ok, speak!
What endless longings
Echo in this whisper…"
She rose, and began to wander throughout the room in a trance, searching for her Angel. Once again the man's voice poured throughout the room.
"Too long you've wandered in winter,
Far from my far-reaching gaze…"
Ludivine was so mesmerized now that she felt nothing but her soul singing, flying…
"Willing, my mind
Beats against me…"
The man did not understand why his Angel did not approach the mirror. Surely she could not have forgotten all that had happened between them? Still, he felt compelled to sing.
"You resist,"
Now, the dressing room filled with both their voices:
"Yet your I let my
Soul obeys…"
The man let himself be seen in the mirror, yet the girl seemed so enraptured that she did not notice. Her eyes were closed, tears streaming down her porcelain cheeks, arms raised, imploring her newfound Angel to take her…
"Angel of Music,
She denied you,
Turning from true beauty!
Angel of Music,
Hide no longer!
Come to me,
Strange Angel!"
It was then that she turned her face enough so that the man could see her face. This young woman with the voice of Christine was not his love! He stood, speechless, as he realized that his love had not come back for him, that he was still as alone as ever. He watched as the young woman collapsed at his feet. With barely a sympathetic glance towards the crumpled form before him, he turned and, with a dramatic swish of his cape, disappeared.
Ludivine's eyes fluttered as a sound woke her from her sleep. As she listened, she could discern organ music being played furiously. It came from far away, accompanied by a long, anguished moan:
"Christine! My Angel, come back! Christine…"
It was then that Ludivine realized that the voice had believed she was Christine.
"The Angel of Music… is the Phantom of the Opera…" she whispered before exhaustion once again overcame her.