Okay. This will prolly be my last chapter for today…Hope you all are with me so far…
Nico
Erik latched the delicate clasp of his cloak. The elongated mirror he stood before…the only one in his enormous home…reflected his image back into his eyes.
He had been forced to somewhat adapt to the ever changing fashions of the modern world. Gone were the high-waisted britches Erik was so fond of…gone also were the elaborate silken shirts he preferred to the starched white one he currently donned. His shoes were made of modern leather…more comfortable than shoes of his past, but with what Erik considered half the impression. Black slacks that flared slightly at his ankles covered his eternally muscular legs; a matching black vest met the top of the slacks neatly.
Only if one truly inspected Erik's attire would they notice the subtle accessories that dated him. Heavy silver cufflinks kept his crisp white shirt secure to his wrists. An ancient ruby-silk cravat was knotted carefully at his throat. A pearl pin secured it to his shirt. A large silver and ruby ring stood out against the tan of his fingers on his right hand, a prized possession, even though Erik could no longer remember it's origins.
And then there was the mask.
True, people of this era were much less discriminatory than those of his pseudo youth. It was a rare occasion that someone asked why he wore it…mainly because he never left the house…but when he did, he could still recognize stares of curiosity…of wonder…of fear.
He sighed, turning from the mirror.
The limo he had asked Edwin to order for him was waiting patiently on the elaborate cobblestones those modern twits called a "driveway."
The bitterly cold air hit Erik's face with painful force.
He entered the waiting limo quickly, ignoring the glare of the young driver who had opened the vehicle's door for him.
He had no time to worry about what the boy thought of him.
It was Christmas Eve, and Erik was going to the Paris Opera House for the opening night of their newest performance.
Mimi's legs were shaking. She stood behind the heavy curtains, her perfectly bowed slippers standing on her mark. The lights were dim; blues and pinks covered her skin, her delicate white costume. She turned to the right, to the left. Faces blurred before her eyes…the faces of the cast that had barely made an effort to support her.
She pushed her feelings of neglect aside…she had no time for that now. The swells of the orchestra were rising, indicating that the curtains were about to lift…
Mimi closed her eyes.
Box Five was once again left empty for him. It was his only request for his continued patronage. It pleased him to know that he still had a place that was solely his within these walls…a place no one else was privileged to enter.
From the vantage point of Box Five, Erik could see the entire stage and almost all of the audience. He was also able to see backstage, something he had particularly relished when he had first started watching performances. He enjoyed observing the scurry of the actresses…the flutter of costumes, the harsh words exchanged between cast members that completely dissolved once they were on stage together.
The music had reached it's pinnacle; it had been some time since Erik had arrived at the Opera House early enough to catch parts of the overture. It was a pleasant surprise.
The familiar sound of the curtain's pulley system pulled Erik's attention to the stage.
The velvet lifted slowly, first revealing perfectly shaped legs clad in white.
Erik's eyes focused through the darkness; through the false night the electrical lighting produced.
When the curtains were pulled all the way up, Erik felt as if he might be sick, even though he had not been ill in more than a century.
Standing there, with the pinks and blues dancing across her golden brown curls, wasChristine.
