Priorities
A/N: Uh...yeah. It's the first Phantom fic I've ever decided to be really serious about. I don't know...All of my other ones were kind flops, so I hope this one is better, since I'm gonig to actually put it up! The title may change, but I don't know yet...Please R/R!
Summary: A new dancer joins the Opera Populaire corps de ballet, and becomes friends with Christine. When everyone's beloved Opera Ghost starts feeling neglected, what will befall our poor Sebille? And I swear, this is not a story where Erik falls in love with the new girl. HE BELONGS WITH CHRISTINE! DOWN WITH RAOUL! -blush- I didn't say that.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognisable from Phantom. I own original characters and a lovely 2 disk collector's edition soundtrack that inspires me.
I'll never say I wasn't afraid of my mother, because there were times when I feared going home to her anger more than walking the streets of Paris at night. But I think that she feared me, as well. I had a very bad temper, and had nearly killed a person before because of it. If I were to ever lose my temper in our small apartment, vases, windows, and mirrors didn't long survive the storm. But, while I was merely destructive in my fury, my mother had a way of cutting your soul open with sharp words, and then rubbing the salt in with the truth.
She was a small woman, just over five foot, with short, dark curly hair. I guess I didn't look much like her, and we didn't share much, except our horrid shortness. I had long, straight brown hair, and pale skin. Back then, I had stunning blue eyes, the only thing I was ever vain about. My father had left my mother a year after I was born, so I did not remember him. Mother never talked about him, but I know that he is dead. All I have about him is an old, yellowing newspaper article, no more than four sentances long. All it said was that a man had shot himself in a bar, along with four other people. Lovely, right?
I didn't have much talent in singing. Mother was always telling me that, anyway. But I loved to dance. I had been taking lessons from the woman who owned the building my mother and I lived in. Our apartment was over a seamstress' shop. My mother could sew, so the owner let us have the apartment above the shop as long as my mother worked there. The owner of the shop was a young woman, about twentythree, I believe. She had been dancing since she was three, but when when her mother died when she was thirteen, her father had gotten the shop, and my mother needed work and we need a place to live. So while Mother made lavish dresses and suits, the young owner of the shop taught me ballet. I was four when she started teaching me, and she told me that I appeared to have a talent for it.
My dancing was one of the few things my mother and I agreed on. She had always held contempt for me, though I was never completely sure why. I did not think it was because of my talent for ballet, because it was one of the only things she ever complimented me on.
"Sebille," she said one evening after watching me dance, "you have an extrodinary talent for twirling like you do. It's a pity your face is so plain; you will never make it as a dancer." I was only eleven at the time when she said this to me. I suppose it had hurt me, for I had thought that at least my mother didn't think me to be plain. When I left home to dance in the corps de ballet in the Opera Populaire, I was fourteen, and had grown up a bit.
"Maman, you must let me go! You told me yourself that I was hopeless at sewing, so I'm of no use here at the shop! Ever since I was young you've told me that I would never amount to anything, but now that I have the opportunity to make something of myself, even if it's dancing in an opera house, and you just keep crushing my dreams! What have I ever done to you to make you loathe me so?" I screamed at my mother, a case filled with a few precious items and lovely garments made by my mother at my feet. "I'm no longer the plain little girl who danced for you three years ago in the shop! I've grown up, and there's nothing for me here! Why must you keep me here, when you know how miserable it makes us both? What have I ever done to you?" Tears streamed down my face. The man who had owned the shop had died suddenly, and his daughter, whose name was Faye, didn't want the shop, and entrusted it to my mother. She knew, as well, that I had no wish to stay there. She had connections with the ballet director at the Opera Populaire through a cousin who was one of the better dancers there. She told me that she had spoken with the ballet director, and I was welcome to come and audition, so to speak, for a place among the corps de ballet.
Suddenly my mother erupted.
"What have you done to me? You took my beloved husband, my home, and my livlihood! You took away my life, you little wretch! Why should you be happy, when I sit here all day, making fine dress for the people of the higher class, when, had it not been for you, I could have been one of them! Now, go! Leave! Go and twirl around until your legs snap and your feet wither away! And when you wear your vibrant dancing costumes and dance for the nobles who come to dither away a night at the opera, remember that I could have been one of them!" And she took my arm in a vice-like grip I didn't know she possessed, took my travelling case in her other hand, and dragged me to the door, slamming it in my face.
I stood there, trembling and crying silently, staring at the door of what had been my home for eleven years. Knowing that I wasn't going to be coming back, and realizing, with a bit of shock, that I didn't particularly want to, I picked up my case, and started of to the Opera Populaire.
Christine idly listened to the gossip of the corps de ballet as she prepared for bed. This nobelman had been caught with that nobelman's wife, and other such things. Suddenly, the door of our dormitory swung open, revealing Madame Giry leading in a short, pale girl. Madame Giry waited until she had all of the girls' attention before entroducing the new member of the Opera ballet.
"Girls, this is Sebille Harvey. She will be joining us in the corps de ballet. I trust that you will show her around, and treat her with the same respect that you have for everyone else." Madame Giry then took ahold of Sebille's hand and led her to an empty bed next to Christine's.
"Sebille, this is Christine Daae. On her other side is my daughter, Meg Giry. You may follow with them and ask them any questions you might have. Now I must bid you all goodnight. We will practise tomorrow morning at ten thirty!" And with that she strode out. Christine watched as Sebille's pale cheeks reddened under the stares of the older ballet girls. Soon, though, the other girls found the poor, trembling creature uninteresting, and went back to their gossip. Meg got up from her bed and went over to Sebille.
"Oh! What lovely blue eyes you have! You should really lift your head up more so everyone can see! I'm Meg, but of course you already know that! May I ask how old you are? I'm fifteen now, and Christine here will soon be seventeen." Now, both Sebille's and Christine's faces flushed.
"I'm fourteen. I'll be fifteen in three months." She lowered her eyes to her case, which she had set on the bed. She opened it and took out a night gown. It was Meg's turn to blush.
"Oh! I'm sorry! You must be tired. It's very late. Usually, my mother doesn't allow us to stay up this late, but tonight she said we could. I wonder if it were because you were coming..Oh! I'm rambling again! Come, let Christine and I help you get ready for bed!" And so Sebille found her first friends in the intimidating, new world of the Opera Populaire.
Please R/R! Cookies if you do! Even if it's a flame...But if it's a flame it will be considered thoughtfully before being fed to my new kitten, Phantom, who I swear will eat anything...Even French Onion Sunships... o.O
Anyways! I think this is going to go mostly between Sebille's POV, Christine's, and Erik's, and of course, the first person thang. And Meg isn't a big part of the story. She's just there because she's friends with Christine...
Stop reading my mundane babbles and review, please! -hopeful grin-
Oh! And before I forget, I don't have a spellchecker or a beta. My computer yells at me everytime I try to get a spellchecker, so I'd really like a beta. If anyone wants to help, feel free to ask! -another hopeful grin-
-Kitty-