AN - longest chapter EVER. Not to mention the end of the second part/book whatever you wanna call it.
reivews
PucktoFaerie- Claude is not dead, but Meg is lying to everyone. Etienne is her priest, and he was there, so he helps her perpetuate her lies. Did I spell perpetuate right? Damn it... Anyways, no I didn't take it offensively, I just try to reply to reviews as generically as possible so there's no fighting. I've seen was flame wars have done to good work or bad work, but it doesnt matter, all work is above that. I'm glad you like the story, and I appreciate you telling me, cuz when you do, I go back and fix it, probably making it more interesting to new readers.
Everyone else - I love you guys, but I'm not going to respond to EVERY review every time anymore... It has nothing to do with personally snubbing anyone, I just feel that if your not really asking anything then there's no point in responding, and if you are asking something, then sometimes it can be cleared up by reading... if you are confused or need anything add please respond to your review... oh man... what am I doing, you guy's aren't whiny little kids, you don't need to be coddled, I'm totally being demeaning.
Sorry guys, I'm sure you got the point... and don't forget, I always appreciate you guy reviewing. ALWAYS, no matter WHAT you say. For some reason I gage a review as a 'hit' to your story, if someone's not reviewing or at least reviewed once, then the probably don't like it.
But I'm crazy like that.
Chapter Thirty-One: Why?
Hide our sword now wounded knight,
your vainglorious gasconade
brought you to your final fight
for your pride, high price you've paid!
"Uncle Raoul." Adrienne called as he ran towards the man who was standing at the front door of the small and modest flat.
"Adrienne what have I told you about calling the Vicomte uncle?" Meg said to her son as she took one last glance in the mirror, before following behind him.
"That will be all Fleur," she called down to the servant who was still holding the door open for Raoul.
Meg looked at the man in front of her doorframe. Time does many things to men, but it did very little to Raoul. Suddenly a flash of memory halted her tracks.
"But Meg, it's a silly little thing that I want to keep secret!" Christine giggled and airily flew down the stairs.
"When have you ever kept a secret from me, come on Christine, just tell me." The girl begged behind her, equally as faerie-like.
Other then the pain filled eyes that held dark memories of the past, no one could tell how many years had gone by since his first arrival to the opera Garnier.
Sighing shakily, she began to walk down the long hall of the flat and thought of how she looked. She had been putting her hair into a fashionable bun, but Raoul had shown rather early, so she hadn't the time to place it all up, thus it was falling everywhere around her.
"It's vain." Christine explained with flush in her cheeks.
"We all can be vain sometimes Christine, as long as you repent it." Meg told her, hoping to get her to tell her.
"Alright, alright, but promise to not tell anyone!"
"Not a soul…." Meg squealed, holding up her hands in protest.
Today was a day off from her trying schedule of work and she planned to spend it with her son. This meant most likely a trip to the park and many hours running around, all over the neighborhood and in the apartment, so she had worn her modest, blue day dress which was Adrienne's favorite.
"Oh Meg, you know I told him to call me so a long time ago." He said picking up the young boy at his feet. Adrienne's blonde curls bounced as he laughed at the sudden change of altitude. Raoul watched as Meg continue to walk down the hall towards him. He waited for a reaction to his undermining of her parenting. She was usually a little rigid when he did so, but today he noticed she wasn't really paying attention. Instead, she seemed to have a lost, dream-like countenance on her face.
Christine looked at her warily, searching Meg's earnest face all while sharing a shy grin.
"Do you remember when Sorelli compared me to a dog? When she told me that I would have troll's and monster's in love with me forever?" Christine whispered.
"I remember… she used to leave spiders and other disgusting things for you to find, and cry out 'another suitor for miss Christine Daaé!'" Meg returned and held her hands up to her mouth to stop from smiling.
"YES! I forgot! And she always was soooo smug when attractive boys took a small notice of her, it was though they were BEGGING her for her hand in marriage!" they giggled in unison.
"Happy birthday little one, I brought you a present." Raoul said looking away from the beautiful woman in front of him, who never smiled, and now at Adrienne who was still being held.
"Really? You remembered! How wonderful, may I see?" Adrienne said squirming as if his Uncle Raoul was hiding the present behind his back. He rarely got new toys, yet he did not mind to terribly much. He had his maman, and she loved him very much. Although he was young, he knew that she did the best she could with what they had. He was always provided for, they lived decently enough, and he still had his friend, Fleur that helped his mother out.
"Hold your horses young man, it is not proper for a gentlemen to be so impatient." Raoul said continuing to laugh at the squirming young boy.
"I tell him everyday it's a virtue but does he listen, no. Hello Raoul." Meg said, finally approaching Raoul. She leaned in and gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.
Blushing he looked at Meg to see if she noticed. He thought of fondly how her hair was stunning down like that, it almost reminded him of...
"Christine, just tell me please!" Meg begged.
"Well, you must know that I know it's a sin, but I simply can't help it." Christine replied, earnestly.
"Oooh… sinful secrets! Do tell!" Meg said, her eyes flickering with excitement. Christine gave her a hestitant look, before indulging.
"I love that one day, I can do nothing but be happy and content with Raoul, and just... be around Sorelli and it will just eat her alive that I have the most handsome and rich husband in the opera."
"Christine! That's showing off!" Meg gasped, then smiled defiantly, "I simply adore it!"
He didn't realize it, but she was blushing under his eyes. He became aware of why she was blushing as well. She had not been that forward since she was younger. Lately she had been prim and proper like her mother, and that had been a lapse in her demeanor. Their eyes met and for a brief moment, they shared a moment of understanding about the child in his arms.
Raoul then put him down so that he could take the present from his pocket.
"Happy fifth birthday Adrienne." He smiled.
( ' ) '
-
Those who hear your voice
liken you to an angel...
"Papa I do not feel well." Danielle said coming into her father's room as he was playing on the massive organ. It was new music for once, making the child wonder if he was composing a new opera. He usually asked for her advice on certain arias when in a good mood, and she loved to watch him sit there wrapped up completely in the score in front of him.
"What is wrong little angel?" he said turning on the stood as the seven-year-old dizzily walked into his room. He had been working on the new opera he was trying to write.
Trying to, was the operative word, he had no muse for it what so ever. Things were not like they use to be, where he would sit down and write for pleasure, or as a way to escape the chains of this existence. Now he wrote so he could continue to provide in the somewhat lavish lifestyle he had grown accustom too. He knew he also did it for Danielle, and yet, deep down he knew that if they lived out in the country, or a small apartment in the city she would not care. She had the ability to make the best out of any situation.
He had stopped his career as the opera ghost years ago, and the money had not yet begun to dwindle, but that didn't mean that it would last forever. He needed to have some source of income still.
"I don't know." She said foggily and he would have ran to her side if he didn't remember he must give her a chance to make her way to him. He was always reminding himself not to smother her, that she was a flower who needed to grow.
"I feel very odd." She said approaching him.
Carefully he placed his cool hand on her head only to find its temperature was quite high. On a normal day, her smooth forehead would be warm under his icy fingers. Fingers that she had grown accustomed too. Yet, today, he could tale by her pale features and hazed eyes that a fever had taken her.
"Oh my dear Dani, perhaps you should lie down." He said getting up from the stood he had been sitting on and picking her up. These days of carrying her around will soon end … cherish them while you still can.
"Alright Papa, will you lie with me? Please?" She asked as her burning head came in contact with his shoulder and neck and he placed his on top of it.
How could she be sick? How could you let this happen? He asked himself. If you weren't so damn caught up in that disgrace of an opera you were writing, maybe you would have seen this coming.
"I will, once I make a remedy for that fever of yours," He said as he opened her bedroom door and placed her on the lavish bed that once held her mother in the state she was in.
"Promise?" she said sleepily rolling to her side so she could see him before he left and closed the door behind himself.
"I promise Danielle."
( ' ) '
-
Makes you glad,
makes you proud
All the crème de la crème...
Adrienne sat playing with the model horse that Raoul had brought him as a present.
"I still say it was too much." Meg said quietly watching her son play with the expensive looking figure. She secretly loved it when Adrienne was given nice things, but she didn't want her son to get spoiled, nor feel dependant on Raoul.
Deep down, she still remembered when he walked out of her life five and a half years ago and was waiting for the incident to happen again. She could not depend on anyone, except herself. Now, there was a new problem, she feared Raoul had overlooked. Adrienne adored her friend like a father and would call him so, if he didn't already get in enough trouble for calling him uncle.
What was she to do? She never wanted Adrienne to feel what she felt when Raoul left her. She didn't want her son to feel any pain of the sort. She cursed Raoul for finding a way back into her life and her son's. If it had just been her, she may have been able to handle these feelings of abandonment, but it wasn't just her.
She knew that Raoul cared about Adrienne deeply, even if it did bother her. As silly as she knew it was, she was jealous. The two held a special bond that she felt she was left out of, and she was his mother. Sighing, she was defeated knowing that she would have to get past these feelings. Raoul would never hurt her or Adrienne like Claudehad. He would protect them, and if not love her, love Adrienne in the very least.
"Too much indeed." She said quietly and sipped at her tea. She thought on Etienne, would he be coming over to give Adrienne a toy? Would he be civil to the man sitting in her living area?
"Oh come now Meg, what ever happened to the care free girl who used to love presents?" he said smiling and patting her hand as they sat side by side in front of the fire.
"She went away when she learnt of bills and work." She said laughing sweetly. Her blonde locks bouncing freely. The small creases in her brow smoothed and she looked all a twenty again Raoul mused. He made another mental note to make her laugh more often.
"How is work?" Raoul asked as he watched Adrienne made neighing sounds in the corner of the room. He was truly fascinated with the small toy that was given to him.
If he is happy now, imagine what you can give him if Meg will just agree, he thought. Which was another reason why he had come to visit her.
"Work is... well… work Vicomte de Chagny. Hardly anything to talk about on a fine Saturday like this." Meg said fixing her skirts trying to avoid looking him in the eye. She didn't want to tell him that she was going to be taking a pay cut in a few months, she didn't want to tell him that she may be out of a job soon after that. He would only offer her more money, false protection that she did not want nor care for.
The Opera was not doing as well as it could be in the last few years. After Christine, there had been Carlotta. She had stayed with the opera a year, and then offered a far more appealing contract in Italy. After the cow, the lovely voice of a Chantal Belmont sang as the Prima Donna for a few years. It was when her husband died that she held true to the traditions of any widower, and went into a year of mourning. By then her contract was given to a Valerie Dabien who could not sing if her life depended on it. The shrill woman was nice however, making her stay a bit longer then the audience would have liked. Yet, another tragedy fell upon the opera that year when she took ill and died. After that, there were not very many dedicated patrons of the opera, due to Miss Dabien's tendency to sound like a whiny violin, God rest her soul.
New Prima Donna's came and went, as did many to the opera. However, none drew the attention Christine had nine years previously or even Carlotta's hold on the audience for that matter. What they needed was a good opera, something that would draw people back, and something that was entirely new. How many times could you hear a bad singer play Marguerite when they had heard the best years before? If they didn't have the talent, they should at least have a fresh plot.
"Oh come now, there has to be something we can talk about." Raoul said quietly trying to catch her eyes.
"There is one thing, something you have been putting off my friend." Meg started, "How was the funeral?"
Raoul thought about the question for a moment. He knew what she was talking of, the funeral for Philippe last week. He had died finally of his old age and now Raoul was the soul owner of the entire de Chagny estate.
"It was a funeral Meg, nothing more really." He said uncomfortably. Was he going to tell her why he didn't invite her? He had not thought about it before coming. How was he to ask for her child to be his heir if he couldn't even feel comfortable bringing her to the funeral?
No that wasn't been it; he would of rather her been there right beside him. To have the support that she was always so good in giving. Nonetheless, he didn't want her to feel uncomfortable, and she surely would of around that, many depressed aristocrats.
"I read in the paper that your already the new Comte de Chagny, must be quite the change." She said awkwardly. Why had she even brought it up? It was in the past, nothing she could do to ease his pain or take his mind off it. Raoul's life was full of death of the ones he loved. From his parents at an early age, to his wife and daughter, and now the brother that he had indeed held dear to his heart.
"Well not really, listen Meg, about the whole thing." He said deciding to skip the part about how he didn't invite her. He was sure she already knew that it wasn't his wishes to leave her out of such a troubling time, in a way she had most likely been grieving as well. Although Philippe and Meg were not the closest people, they had both talked on several occasions about his problems years ago. They had many things in common when it came to his well-being.
"Remember how you said that giving Adrienne that present was too much? Well I'm not too sure if you are going to agree to this but I have to try. As you know, I no longer have an heir to the de Chagny estate. I want to make Adrienne that heir Meg; I want to treat him as I do now, but even better. I came to talk to you about Adrienne and how much this could do for him think of the education, think of the opportunities! He could have everything his little heart desires and the best that money can buy." Raoul said taking Meg's hands in an attempt to make her understand what he was offering.
"That is what I'm afraid of." She whispered looking in his eyes.
( ' ) '
-
In my mind, I've already imagined our bodies entwining
defenseless and silent -
and now I am here with you:
no second thoughts,
"Erik she's simply stunning." she told him as they sat watching Danielle play.
"Everyday she looks more like you m'dear, with the exception of her eyes." He murmured, as Danielle swung higher on the swings a distance away. Her back was to them however; he could still hear her melodious laughter as she kicked her legs harder to gain altitude. He looked to the sky and realized it was a beautiful day outside; the sun was shining brightly overhead and there was barely anyone else in the park to enjoy the weather.
"Why must you always do that?" She asked him a hint of anger in her voice. He looked over into her blue eyes and then back at the child they both loved dearly. "Why must you always refuse her? Why must you always bring up… him?"
"I do not know, old habit I presume." He sighed taking off his fedora to scratch his balding head. What hair he did have had been fading into a weathered grey over time. His skin had always looked like parchment, too old for it's time, thus making him almost timeless in an uncanny sense. The only way that you could tell he was getting older was the graying hair that sporadically adorned his scalp. She however, she still looked as though not a day had passed.
"You really need to stop that. It's been seven years and you still act as though you're not her father." She huffed and folded her arms across her chest, pouting her cherry lips in an act of defiance. He chuckled at this act of disapproval, wanting to tell her how she still remained gorgeous even when she was angry. Instead, Erik pulled her into his arms and rested his head against hers.
"But she's not mine, that is the point." He said sadly as they both watched Dani laugh as she swung higher and higher.
"Erik, I gave her to you. If I didn't know you were going to be a good father then I wouldn't of done such a thing." She told him as they both continued to observe the time pass. The wind gently whistled through the trees, causing them to tremble, but he could not feel the cool air against his face. It helped him to remember it was all just a dream, and that was why he always came here unmasked, it was the only time he felt comfortable enough too.
Sighing Erik pulled away from her and replaced the fedora. "I should go." He finally said.
"Alright, shall I see you tomorrow?" She asked hopefully. He looked into her eyes and saw the need there, the need to see Danielle as well as him again. She missed them both as much as he missed her but he had to tell her the truth. He had to tell the illusion, he knew she was just that, an illusion, an elusion to something greater that could have been, but never could be. She was a constant figment of his wildly out of control imagination.
"No Angel, I do not think so. I can't keep coming here." He replied and waited for her response. The shock he was expecting never did reveal itself on her breath-taking face although she still asked him why.
"I use to love coming here, but now, now coming here just leaves me realizing it's a fantasy." He said touching her lovely cheek. If he tried hard enough, he could feel her still beneath that touch, but not without trying, not without recounting old days. He felt nothing when he touched her; heavy ivory was all he could feel, cold beneath his touch. Sighing she leaned into his hand and covered it with her own.
"Oh Erik, when will you ever learn? Fantasies are not such terrible things. You were in my fantasies every night..." She said and pulled him close to here so their foreheads touched.
"I don't know what I'm doing." He whispered lost in her eyes, "I would have died if she wasn't apart of my life and if not, I would of left the Opera house. Now she's so old and I'm restless. I use to travel, I use to play, I use to create."
"You use to be alone." She told him smiling. "Come now Erik, you must have known that being a father would be mostly like this. You still create my angel, you write your opera's and you do your best with what you have. You are doing such a wonderful job too, all I have to do is look at her and I can tell."
"I'm so terribly lost most of the time. I think, what if she catches more then just a cold? And when she does I will blame it on the terrible condition of our home."
"She's fine my love, children get sick, it's a passing. You cannot merely buy a home for you out in the country. If you were able to I am sure you would have by now, my darling. I know you always have her best intentions in mind." She finished and allowed him to pull away.
"I feel I cannot offer her what she deserves. She deserves daylight and many other things. She deserves the company of other children. All I have to give is my music and knowledge."
"And love Erik. You mustn't forget love." She told him placing her hand over his heart.
"When will you learn that's always enough? It was enough for me, and it's enough for her. Such an extraordinary gift love is darling, especially coming from you. She is safe and protected with you with all the advantages you give her. I'm sure she knows it in her heart." She said and then leaned in to be held.
He closed his eyes and tried to breath live into his creation, he thought of what she had felt like holding her the night he spent beside her in bed. Suddenly, she was soft and warm in his arms as he held her close. The faint smell of vanilla still surrounded her, it made him sad knowing that this day would end.
"What if she asks me about that night? What if she wants to know why her father never came for her or who she is? What if she finally sees me for the monster I am and leaves forever?" Erik asked still needing to know answers.
"Then tell her the truth, it's never stopped you before. And Erik, do stop referring to yourself as a monster please? If she finds out the truth it's not going to turn her away, it hasn't yet."
"How can I trust you? You're just a fabrication of my imagination and memory," Erik said pulling her away from him so he could look at her. Slowly a smile crept across her face and before he realized it, he felt her soft lips against his. Euphoria swept over him, as he felt dizzy in her embrace. There mouths moved in a passionate dance with each other until finally, after what seemed to be ages, they both parted.
"Tell me I'm not real now." She whispered seductively. He tried to catch his breath, to think non sexual thoughts of his love, but she had aroused something within him.
"Good, then it's settled, I am real, and therefore, what I say goes. Now first thing your going to remember is to stop wearing that mask around her. How many times do I have to tell you or she for that matter?"
"But..." he started,
"No but's Erik, stop wearing the mask. It's a simple request and you shouldn't deny our daughter that."
"She is not ou..."
"Second thing you will stop doing is saying she isn't your daughter. She is more your daughter then anyone else's in this world... You have been raising her for seven years now. I think you have earned the status as father, don't you?" She asked him.
"Fine," Erik sighed.
"Good, and the third thing you must stop doing is feeling so useless. Anyone can see in her eyes the love she feels for you. If you lived in a run down shack in the village of Montmarte, she would not care. Therefore stop acting as though she would." She said taking his arms and wrapping them around herself. Lazily she reclined back into his arms and he felt her curls brush across his face.
"Is that all oh powerful and wise one?" He asked mockingly.
"For today the lessons are over yes." She giggled.
For a moment, they sat in silence and listened to the child sing to herself in the distance. Erik once more looked up at the sky to see signs that it was time to return soon.
"I have to go now." He said and reluctantly moved so she would leave his arms.
"I know, it has been a lovely day hasn't it?" She asked with a sad smile.
"Yes it has my love, you know..." He started then looked over at Danielle.
"I wish she could have met you, you both have so much in common I'm sure she would have loved you dearly." He said smiling.
"I wish too, but it's alright. I still watch, I'm always watching. Good-bye Erik, I love you."
"Good-bye Christine, I love you."
( ' ) '
-
This haunted face
holds no horror
for me now . . .
Erik woke up clinging to the clammy body of the girl beside her. She was cold now although perspiring, however, upon feeling her forehead he found her fever had broke. Sighing, he pulled her closer and wrapped the covers around her more as he listened to her calm breaths fill the silence of the room. She was his daughter, and forever would be. Slowly and hesitating he lifted his arms to behind his head and slowly undid the mask that covered half his face. Quietly he placed it on the table beside them and went back to sleep.
He had been sitting at the organ staring at the keys, lost in thoughts that transcended most, when she approached him.
Nothing was said at first, her burning stare said it all, and in her hand she held a small mouse, much smaller than the rats that inhabited the basement. He had told her many times to leave it alone, that it probably carried pestilence and that if she were to continue to play with it the possibilities of her not getting sick were slim. Whether she had meant to or not, she had continued to disobey him on the matter. He had peaked into her room only nights ago to see her holding the small mouse and talking to it, telling it things that's he would not tell him. Shaking his head, he knew what had to be done. To him, it wasn't about taking away her small confidant, but from protecting her from diseases that would ravage her small body.
While she laid in bed, fast asleep, he concocted a small poison, one that would kill an animal smaller then she, but not harm her if she were to accidentally eat it. He then dipped several small pieces of cheese in it and placed them around the house. He had completely forgotten about the small nuisance until now. There she stood, tears streaming down her face, anger etched her small jaw.
"Why?" she asked, "Why wont he move?"
"Danielle, put the little beast down, it is unwise to hold dead vermin." He casually told her, although inside his heart was breaking in two at the sight of her grief. He began to turn back to his organ when she interrupted his movements.
"Why!" She asked, the raw agony in her voice causing him to halt. She was only five in a couple days, but the power behind the words could have made him believe she was any age. He turned slowly towards her once more, calculating how he'd handle this situation, doubting himself once more. Had he made the right decision? There was no doubt in his mind that eventually Danielle would have gotten sick from some rodent. If not from the mouse, then from another that she would have been brave enough to befriend. She was attracted to ugly things like a moth to a flame, a thought he rather resented having. He knew she was just open-minded, that she did indeed love pretty things as well, but he couldn't help feel that his own ugliness forced itself upon her, distorting her view on true beauty.
He looked into her eyes, so green and glassy, her lips red and not without pout. Bile rose to his throat, fear ripped through his body as he realized what he did. He had not just taken care of a simple mouse, but he had killed. He had murdered something that Christine' s daughter had loved true. How could he ever be her father when he destroyed her innocence so? Now, he had to tell her, she could see her accusatory stare, her hate for him and brimmed over the edge.
"Danielle," was all he could whisper.
"What is death? Papa? Why wont he move?" She asked him, walking over to Erik so he could pick her up and comfort her. He breathed a shaky sigh, realizing he hadbeen over analyzing as usual, and did so.
"Death means that he won't move Danielle, he won't move ever again, because he can't." Erik told her, lifting the small body from her grasp, he looked at the dead mouse, and carefully placed it on the table beside the organ.
"He can't?" She asked the tear tracks drying, her little face smooth and pale white with splotchy marks.
"When you die, you leave this world my little one." He tried to explain hesitantly. He had thought by now she understood this process, he, after all, had made it clear to her growing up her mother was never coming back.
"What world do you go too?" She enquired, trying to process this extremely devastating news, hoping that her pet mouse would come back to her.
"There is no other world to go to m'dear. You just cease to exist; it's like... well I suppose it's likea candle. When the flame is lit, that is you and me… living. But when the flame is blown out, then it's like death… only, we as humans cannot relight the candle, after it blows out there is no way ofgetting ittoglow once more." He said, hoping to find a uncomplicated way to enlighten her on death.
"Does it hurt?" she asked, "Does being dead hurt?" she sniffled.
It onlyhurts to the ones that cared for the deceased so dearly, He thought.
"No, sometimes, dying hurts… sometimes it's painless. But actual death does not hurt, I would imagine it to be rather peaceful." He told her.
"Like momma?" she asked him barely above a whisper.
"Erik," Christine sputtered, a small trickle of blood fell from her mouth down the side of her smooth face.
"Like your mother," he responded, trying to get rid of violent images of Christine dying in the hallway.
"But, Ann told me that mama was with the angels." Danielle questioned Erik.
'Ann' was really Antoinette, who came to visit her sometimes. He'd give them time alone, and go for walks, or compose or sometimes just rest when they spent their time together. He usually did not want to intrude on their special friendship, one only two females can have, no matter what the age. It angered him to think that Madame Giry had been shoveling trite garbage of God into his little one's head, how he hated the idea that she would idolize some false lord over mankind, that she would be bound and chained by the laws of this God, who so reverently punished his creations all for crimes that he gave them the ability to commit.
"First of all, you will call her 'Madame Giry' in my presence, I have raised you with more decorum then that." He told her, through clenched teeth.
"Yes, papa." Danielle said, knowing she had hit a nerve.
"Secondly, you will TELL Madame Giry that I told you I don't want you to be subjected to her religious bias." He finished, rubbing his temples wearily. "Don't you believe in God, Papa?" She asked him curiously, as though she already did. This made him even more upset; he had to explain himself to everyone else around him, to Nadir, to Giry, to Christine and Father Mansart from years prior to this. He never thought he'd have to explain himself to his own child.
"I believe there is a God out there, my dear, but he's not the benevolent and wonderful being that Madame has lead you to believe." He told her.
"Then, what do you think he's like?" was the response, of course, in form of a question. Her questions seemed never-ending.
"Do you remember the spider that was in the corner of your room Dani?" He asked her.
"Yes."
"I think, God is a spider, and I think that, just like that spider in your room, he weaves a web in the corner of the universe. That is all we really are dear, knots in a larger web. The little strings between the knots are relationships. We are all connected, sometimes even if we are oblivious to the fact." He told her, creating a web himself, a web of explanations to things he himself never could understand.
"But the spider's web was beautiful." She told him, remembering her other good friend, the spider that had mysteriously disappeared one day after she complained to her papa of a red bump on her arm that was rather itchy.
"I do not deny that, for some relationships can be beautiful, and in the grand scheme of things, I do suppose it all is rather unique."
Even if it's also tragic, he thought.
"Then you believe that God can create beauty?" She asked him.
"I have no doubt in my mind that God, like any of his beings created after him, does not have a weakness for pretty things." He mused. Wasn't it you Antoinette, who told me that we were all created in his image? Even you said something to that affect, didn't you Father Mansart? Do you really think your god is this hideous? Choose one… did your God make a grievous error on his part, or is your god a disgusting creature like me? Or… is he neither, and instead a spider.
"Danielle, the web may be… unique, but God is not. He is the ugly and vicious spider; he manipulates the web for his own purposes, just like the spider in your room. He used to manipulate the web to catch prey." He told her.
"Then… I suppose, we are all doomed." She said, not knowing the true definitions of her words, and how close she was to being correct.