Kirsty
(What'm I gonna do, What'm I gonna do, What'm I gonna do! This isn't right! She would never!) "What am I going to tell him?"
"Tell whom?" Giry holds my eyes, her own are filled with something between rage and fear. "What am I going to tell him Giry? He'll go mad!" Her hand closed over my mouth. "Careful! We must be careful! YOU will tell him nothing, I will do it, no buts! I know him better, I know how far away to stand! I want you to go see Diana, make sure our manager has not hurt her. Don't question me Kirsty! Go on! Go!"
Giry
Kirsty runs in the direction of the office, her slippers slap the floor. The rest of the cast is in mixed confusion. I take my cane and whack the floor, hard.
Thank God this still works. The lot of them look my way, but all are silent. "…We are rehearsing Faust, are we not? Then we must rehearse! Not gossip!" The stage director, good man Philip, nods his agreement. Slowly the gears start moving again, the company takes back up the motions that are needed to run the theater. I lean against the wall, it's at times like these I feel my age… what will I tell him? How do I say Diana's being forced into another marriage? He will be furious, but please let it be hot furry, I can take that. Not the ice, don't give me the ice…
…what, is, this? Who are these men! "Monsieur's! This is an opera house! Not a lounge! Please take your leave!" They almost resemble The Persian mixed with a bulldog, strange men from Persia? One of them steps forward, it's hard to make out what he say's the accent is thick… "we are… employed…keep order in…protection from…we are…serving as guards."
"Why do we need guards? This isn't right!"
"We don't need yer protection either!"
"I don't like the look of them… bloody savages."
"That man's walking around without a shirt on!"
The noise overwhelmed everything; the foreigners seemed unfazed as the cast grumbled right in front of them. (So we now have Persian guards? My, how… convenient.) One of them looked my way, his eyes narrowed, I was taken slightly aback at how he loomed over me.
"You, are not dancer."
…My goodness, a genius as well. "No monsieur, I am not." His eyes narrowed further, "…you are a servant?" The nerve of this..! "No, monsieur, I am not." His eyes grew cold, "You are a what?" I take a firm grip on my cane, "I am the ballet mistress, Monsieur." His eyes squinted, as if translating, then he smiled. "Ah! I understand! You are supervisor of the dancers!" The rest of the cast is frozen, confused. "It is good! It is woman's work! Very good!" The ballet Corps is stepping about anxiously. Philip "Ahems" from the corner. "Madam Giry has been the head of the Ballet Corps for many years monsieur, so I suggest you behave yourself, as she basically runs the whole theater."
The Persians frown, the man before me looks down at me again. "…You run the theater? No, you do not. Is man's work." He leans down, "while we work here, you do not run theater. Is not your place, understood?" I will try, not to kick him so hard, that his knees pop off. The dancers gasp and turn their heads away. I must say nothing, or I will yell. "You do not understand? I make simpler, you, woman, will not, run, theater. Is better?" he grins at me, showing the insult is intentional. I do not lower my head, nor look away, but hold his gaze. "I will do my job, monsieur, it is not the place of a guard to tell the cast how to run a theater." It takes him a while to realize I've snapped back, his fists clench. "WE, in charge now. Owner has given us power, YOU are woman, YOU will obey man."
His companions called out something in Persian, and slowly, he smiled. "We have been promised, free run of theater, we sleep here. You will bring us food," his eyes turned to the choir and dancers. "And we will make use of your harem." The chorus shrieked and ran for the wings, the Persians laughed.
Meg
(What could Jonathan have done to her? She is in danger, we all are. Opera ghost, will you be able to win this fight? Can you? The opera's king lion is long past his prime…)
The passage is damp, slippery, and I nearly loose my footing as I pass under a flickering torch. (Are you even now waiting for me?) The ramp is getting steeper; my feet are sliding around on the floor. Around the corner the lake's icy shore comes into view. I have heard so many stories about this lake, and I have been part of the biggest. I remember how the viscount braved its booby trapped waters to rescue his fiancé from the theaters specter… Christine… were you as afraid then as I am now?
I can see his eyes glowing in the darkness… he did know I was coming, that's unnerving, to say the least. I hope you will appreciate this Diana, I am probably putting myself right into a noose for you! He turns as if to go. "Wait! Erik wait a moment! I need to talk to you!" Within two feet of him my candle goes out. He soon proves to me the impossible, his eyes are even creepier in total blackness.
"My dear Meg, what brings you down here at this time of day, and with such poor precautions?" The sudden flaring up of a match almost sends me into hysterics, he takes the candle from me and relights its wick. He is different from the last time I saw him, he seems to have put on a little weight, allowing him to loose the emaciated appearance. "Erik. I must tell you, Diana's in danger. She went to speak," his grip is like steel! His eyes bore through mine like fire threw a thicket. "How is she in danger! Tell me!" his grip tightens, I think I can feel my wrist breaking! "Gasp! Erik please! You're hurting me!" he released me, snarling under his breath. He will kill me if I don't continue. His gaze is murderous. I braced myself, "She went to speak with the manager, and an hour later he came out and announced they will be married, after our next production."
His eyes, there is such pain in his eyes… pain and confusion, as if he is quietly dieing inside. "I know that Diana loves you! She would never do this on her free will, there must be some way he is forcing her!" He turns away from me, trembling… no, not trembling, vibrating. His form has straitened to tightly, like a stick about to snap, his hands have become claws. Those eyes…They char the mind, they glow with hate. And I am so relieved, this is the hot anger mother spoke of, this means I am safe. He turns back to me, his voice harsh. "There's more, isn't there." It's not a question, "Yes… there is more, he has placed Persian guards in the theater, they have insulted mother already. He has left the building, and he has left you this note. I found it on his desk when I went to find Diana." the feeling in the pit of my stomach is becoming painful, warning me to run while I still can. "…let me see it." Slowly, I hand him the paper, he turns from me, opens and scans it. I see only a sentence. "…So we will be changing the opera schedule, and in place of Faust will be…"My candle goes out again, and the wafting smoke obscures his form in the dark. But I knew, somehow I knew. And his eyes met mine, and I recoiled from them. Ice, I entered ice. In a voice to shame a whisper, with not a hint of emotion, he hissed,
"…So be it."