The day went swiftly by, and Elle was soon back alone in her room. The music for the song she was working on was still opened up on her piano, although she normally only sang during her lessons. When the clock struck eleven she knew that he would be there and she was ready. Since they were working on duets, he always took the part of Romeo and she played Juliette. The more she listened to his voice, the more she wondered why he was not in the operas. He had a singing voice that could easily win the lead, yet he always remained hidden. Even if he was a ghost he could still grace other's ears with song.
When she heard his voice singing from the walls she knew that it was time for their lesson. She immediately was snapped out of her reverie and became more alert. Her throat was clear and ready to sing when it was her turn.
"Listen, O Juliette!
The lark already announces us to the day!"
"No, no, it's not the day dawning
It isn't the lark
Whose song struck your disquieted ear,
It is the sweet nightingale,
Confidant of love!"
"It's the lark, alas, messenger of the day!
See its jealous rays
With which the horizon is gilded,
The candles of the night become pale
And the dawn
In the mists of the east
Arises smiling!"
"No, no, it is not day,
This lethal glow
Is nothing but the sweet reflection
Of the beautiful moon
Stay! Stay!"
They sang through the scene together, without any interruption. When it was over the teacher began pointing out the weak parts to his pupil, fine tuning the performance. The errors this time around were less noticeable to the untrained ear, but still frequent. She had a bad habit of singing a particular note flat when it was not supposed to be. This was pointed out to her. She accepted the critic like every aspiring musician would, ready to listen to each detail and fix the mistakes. Her instructor was exact and noted every tiny flaw. His patience with his student did not seem lacking, yet his tone was always serious and his manner professional.
Time flew by, and Elle fell asleep automatically. When she awoke she looked around, a bit confused. She did not remember going to bed, and she looked down to see that she hadn't changed the night before either. This brought her to the conclusion that she must have been exhausted and passed out after the lesson, which was plausible and entirely possible. The sleep did her good though, for she felt refreshed and an overall well-being.
Elle had to open the drapes to allow light to enter her room. The sky was darker than usual, overcast, and full of gray clouds. Instead of the baby blue sky or pink sunrise that normally filled the heavens, everything was an ominous shade of gray. The sun was hidden behind the thick masses; therefore the light was dim and almost nonexistent. She ended up lighting a candle and setting it on her vanity, not letting the gloominess of the day to get to her.
Unbuttoning the front of her dress, Elle began to undress. When she was only in her corset and shift she sat down at her vanity. Sitting on top of the marble surface was a fresh bowl of water that she used to wash her face and neck before picking out the dress for that day. She pulled on a beautiful light lavender dress that accentuated the fairness of her skin and hair. Then Elle sat down again, carefully brushing her hair with her comb. With one quick movement of her frail hand, which only comes with experience, she twirled the hair onto her head and pinned it down with one silver comb.
There was radiance about her face on this particular morning and she could feel the glow from inside her, like she was a lantern containing a candle that emanated a soft flame. This blush of warmth flattered her pale cheeks, making her appear lovelier than usual. It was with this cheerfulness about her that she left her room, happy to be joining her parents for breakfast, and entered the hall. She had barely gotten three steps when she saw someone heading in her direction.
The person was a man, in his late fifties, wearing a hat on his head that covered the gray bushy hair. His face was covered with wrinkles, which were more apparent due to the solemn frown that was upon his weathered face. When Elle got close enough to get a good look at him she instantly recognized him; it was the doctor that her father had her call for several weeks ago. He walked up to her, politely taking off his hat with a small bow, and slowed down for a moment. His aged voice, very rough, spoke to her. "Mademoiselle."
Then the doctor brushed past, continuing on his way. The sparkle of contentment that once adorned the young woman's face was suddenly frozen over. The shine in her eyes went dull, the flush of her cheeks went pale, and the warmth throughout her entire body became ice cold. Her welcoming smile turned into a worried frown. It was as if she turned from a blazing fire into a frigid icicle in less than five minutes. Her glacial expression turned from the man's exit over to where he had come from, and her eyes landed on her mother's door.
She took little steps towards the door, never moving her eyes from the doorknob. The girl was curious as to what was going on behind the door, yet at the same time she was scared to discover the truth. It was like Pandora's Box, she had to open it even though the result might be something unspeakable. Finally she made it down the hallway and was standing outside of the door. Her hand reached out, touching the cold metal of the doorknob, and began to turn it.
Right as she was turning, the knob began to move itself, and Elle jumped back. The door opened, and a figure stepped through the threshold. It was none other than her father, Monsieur D'aubigne. He had the same appearance as the doctor had, with the wrinkled brow and upside down smile. All the usual affability of his nature was extinguished and he looked on at his daughter with a heavy sorrow in his countenance. This was not at all reassuring to the girl who stood there stiff yet trembling. They stood there for a few minutes, looking into each other's dreary eyes, creating a deafening silence.
Then the man opened his mouth to talk. He kept his face firm, obviously trying to keep his composure, although to do that was a struggle. "Elle, the doctor said that there is nothing he can do. She doesn't have much longer."
She knew what he was talking about right away, and almost fell down with shock. Her father gave her a brief hug before moving out of the doorway. He kept his gaze on her, wanting to give her the support that she needed. Her eyes filled with burning tears and moved from him to the room. Then she looked back at him, knowing that she had to go in there and be strong, and could not find the words to reply. He looked on her with understanding.
Elle eventually entered the room after collecting herself, her father stayed out in the hall. She silently closed the door behind her, and stood there for a few moments, unsure what to do next. Her eyes rested on the bed that was settled in the middle of the room, with thick navy drapes surrounding it. The curtains were pulled back on the left side of the bed, and the girl stepped in closer.
When she made it within distance enough to see her mother she sat on a chair, needing the stability, and noticed that the woman's eyes were closed. She did not want to wake her, so she sat there, and out of nowhere began to sing quietly, like a mother singing her baby to sleep. It was odd that she could not muster words to say to her father, yet she could sing. She sang the song mournfully, similar to how songs are sung at burials and poignant occasions.
"Love, like a rose
Delicate and sweet
Yet withers away
In time, in time
But my love will never fade
Will never die"
"Darling," her mother struggled to speak, causing Elle to instantaneously stop singing and focus all her attention on her. The woman had opened her eyes and recognized her only daughter sitting on a chair near the wall. "Who is it that was singing just now?"
"It is just me, mama," Elle answered, rushing to her mother's side and taking her cold motionless hand in her small warm one. She kneeled at the side of the bed, holding onto her mother like if she let go then she would fly away. The silver comb had fallen out of Elle's hair with the sudden movement and clattered onto the wooden floor, unnoticed. The girl was too upset to notice that her hair was no longer on top of her head, but free about her shoulders.
"Can it be?" she asked, almost in disbelief. She slowly turned her face to the right and smiled at her daughter. Then she raised her other hand and touched Elle's cheek with maternal love. "I always knew that God had given me an angel."
Elle began to cry, tears of helplessness and tears of love, and with her free hand she wiped the tears off of her smooth face. "I love you mama."
"Sing for me, my dear. Sing me to sleep."
It was hard for Elle to complete her mother's last request, but she tried her hardest to hold back her tears in order to sing. She sang softly, like last time, and kept her green eyes locked on her mother's dull brown ones.
"One day, you'll drift out
Moving with the sea
May your dreams
Carry you back to me
And may your dreams
Be soft and sweet"
Right when she finished that first verse her mother's eyelids closed, and she knew that she was dead. Her lifeless body lied before Elle, with a strange smile stuck on her face. Madame D'aubigne looked like she was truly happy, and the girl was glad that her mother died pleasantly. Elle remained holding her icy limp hand, and burst out in tears. She could not believe that her mother was gone.
The door opened, but Elle did not look up to see who it was. She was too consumed by a sudden wave of grief. The next thing she knew there was a sturdy hand on her right shoulder. The physical contact caused Elle to look up, almost shocked into reality, and she saw her father's solemn face. She jumped out of the chair, dropping her mother's hand, and hugged him emotionally. He stroked her hair and let her cry hysterically into his chest. One tear trickled down his face and dropped onto Elle's cheek, flowing down and integrating with her own.
The funeral was held the next day, and almost everyone from the opera house attended it. Rehearsals and meetings were put off for the occasion, allowing the owner and his daughter time to grieve. This was upsetting to the two directors, for now everything was to be pushed back, but it was necessary. The opera house was to be out of business for a week of mourning, and then things were to return to normal.
Elle dressed in black from head to toe and, although her father, Nadia, and Hector all wanted to be there for her, she insisted on spending time alone. After the funeral she returned directly to the opera house and made her way to the small chapel. It was her first time being there since her tour of the building, but she acted as though it was a place that she frequented. She took off her black hat and placed it beside her before kneeling before the rows of white candles and silently lighting one, staying on the floor.
"Mama," Elle cried, resting on her knees before the candles and not minding that a layer of dust covered the floor. Not many people visited the chapel, and she personally had never seen anyone go there before. "Wherever you are, I hope you are well."
"Elle…" She heard her name whispered and she darted her head to look around. She was alone, or so it appeared. Convinced that she was simply hearing things, she turned her head back around to face the lit candle before her and then put her head down, as if in prayer. That was the main light source in the dim-lit room, for the stained glass window kept out most of the sun. "Elle… dry your tears, my child."
That time she knew that she heard someone speak. She drew her head up, pushing back some of her dirty blonde hair with her right hand. Again she thought that no one was there, but then suddenly there was a shift in the dark corner. From the shadows a man slowly emerged dressed in all black except for a bright white mask that covered half of his face. She had seen that mask before, but she had thought that it was only a dream. Maybe she was dreaming now…
A black gloved hand stretched out towards her, waiting for her to accept it. A frown graced the young woman's tear stained face as she looked from the hand up to the person offering it to her in confusion. She seemed hesitant at first, not sure what to do, but something inside her mind urged her to move. Her petite fragile hand gently settled on the larger masculine one and the gloved fingers closed over it. The strong hand helped pull her to her feet, and led her away from the dim light into complete darkness. Her hat was left on the dust-covered stone ground, abandoned, along with the solitary white candle.
A/N: Thanks a ton to my readers, especially those who review!
Anri- Thanks
Galasriniel- lol, you'll see. P.S. You seem to have a thing for llamas, don't you?
Kiwi Anime- Thanks again for the tips.