PhantomsHeart: Have a cookie! XD
Carkeys aka fophater1: Thanks, I also like originality... but a good fop-beating calms my nerves too!
letthedreamdescend: Yay! A devoted reviewer! I feel inspired!
Juliya waved her father goodbye as he stood out on the deck of the cruise ship, looking down at her, as it slowly started to move away from the dock. She watched the ship for a while as it set off into the horizon. Climbing back into the carriage, Juliya nodded for the driver to take her home.
Home, it just wasn't the same without her mother or father. Soon, the only child would be off to an American university to study the arts, and the de Morgan household would be empty. The house belonged to her mother's family, whom Juliya's parents inherited it from long ago. She knew that her father would not be able to bring himself to sell it, even if he did not intend on returning to the house.
As Juliya removed the shawl from around her shoulders, she glanced into the expansive hall mirror, which took up a large part of the wall between two doorways. She was never a fancy dresser; her fashion sense was not as strong as any of the other village girls. Juliya wore a simple cream-coloured corset and dress with lace bell-sleeves. Her very long, plain black hair was pulled into a bun. It was dead straight, so there wasn't much she could do with it. Oh, how Juliya had always dreamed of luscious curls but none of the attempts she made to achieve these seemed to work.
Placing the shawl neatly on the table, she touched one of the roses in the vase, which was also sharing the small table. They were left over from her mother's funeral, a simple gift from good friends of her parents as a sign of their condolences.
Juliya's thoughts wandered to the organ as she remembered the occurrences of the night before. It had been her birthday, which is why her father has bought her such an elaborate gift. But that was only one good occurrence among many bad over the past few weeks.
Continuing with her day-to-day life, Juliya painted, visited the local village and tended to her mother's garden. As evening fell,she came back to the house and reclined in the library as she usually did around that time.
As she lit the fireplace, the organ beckoned her back to it. There was some kind of strange presence around the antique; so much character could be felt.
A gentle smile across her face, Juliya's other instrument of choice, the viola lay in its case on one of the bookshelves.
She took the bow gently in her hand, and tucked the viola under her chin in the appropriate fashion.
Her eyes closed, Juliya mused with various songs she could remember by heart. She rarely played from sheet music that seemed all too awkward for her to manage.
She could play for hours, but didn't. Instead Juliya chose out a novel from the vast library and immersed herself in it, sitting comfortably on one of the lounge chairs. The dim fire had almost extinguished itself by the time she fell asleep.
Erik's eyes blearily opened a short while after the music stopped. Groaning, he pushed away the mesh grating and crawled out of the pipe organ, his dark unwashed hair was now long, down past his shoulders and hung over his eyes.
He stumbled through the unfamiliar room because his legs were stiff from crouching so long in the same position. Feeling his way around, he came across a bookshelf and followed it until he came to a space in the wall where there was a doorway. As Erik slipped out of the room silently, he caught gaze of the sleeping young woman, her white skin illuminated by the dim fire nearby. He could not see her features very clearly; she was dark-haired and quite young, but that was all he could tell… He did not want to linger and risk being seen.
The faint candlelight showed that the room he entered was a kitchen. As Erik crept through the room, he came across a flask of water and couldn't help but take it quickly in his hands and drink it all, abandoning the empty container on the table.
His eyes darted out into the hall as opened the next door he came to. As he crept out of the kitchen, his leg bumped something… a small table. In the silence of the night there was a crash. Shattered glass, water and flowers spilled out onto the floor.
In a panic, Erik fled quickly further down the hall, finding his way to a staircase. He discovered there were many floors to the house, and continued to climb until he reached the top floor, the attic.
As he fumbled on his knees in the strange room, Erik came across a box of matches and lit one to take a quick glance around the room. An old lamp fell into his sight and he lit it, bringing it into the centre of the room.
Sitting silently on the floor in thought, Erik examined his surroundings. There were trunks, many old paintings and mannequins of sorts. He was overwhelmed… How did he come to be in this place in such a short time? More importantly, why was his pipe organ brought here? How dare someone take it from him!
Curling up on the floor, the possibilities ran through his head. The phantom would look for answers when the time came, but for now he needed to rest and discover more about the strange house he was in…
Was he even still in Paris?
