Disclaimer: Nope, don't own 'em. (But my plan for world domination is coming along nicely)
When Erik woke for the third time, it was to the whistle of a boiling kettle and the comfortable clatter of plates being put on a table. Erik's hand groped unconsciously for his mask, but retracted when he remembered it was no longer there. He sighed, the mask afforded him anonymity and respect, it was the only face he had ever shown to the world, the mystery of the mask was no easy thing to part with.
And yet...the lack of fear in Louise's eyes, her seeming unconcerned actions, as if his face was just as any other, it gave him a strange feeling. Was it hope?
No. Hope was not for a creature such as him, he belonged to the cold darkness where no light could ever find him, but still...
He was shaking his head in bewilderment as Louise appeared at the door.
"Ah, you're awake," she smiled, "How do you feel?"
Erik raised his eyebrows, musings forgotten, "How is one meant to feel after having one's leg torn open and suffering from the seven-day fever?" he asked. She looked quite pretty today, with a rustic kind of charm. She was dressed in a blouse of dark lavender and a simple brown skirt, cut in an older style, unlike the new bustles of Paris, it hung from her waist in soft sweeps that whispered around her ankles. Her feet, he was noticing, she seemed to prefer bare, rather than cram them into wooden heeled shoes. Lord knows he had seen enough ballerinas weep as they put on their street clothes after spending hours on their points.
"As weak as a kitten and as hungry as a wolf cub, actually." Louise replied tartly, stepping over to feel his forehead, "Well, your temperature's gone down, do you think you can make it to the kitchen for breakfast?"
Erik nodded and started to struggle up, then stopped as he realised he was only wearing a thin nightshirt. (Yummy!)
"Uh, my clothes Madame?" he asked a little shamefacedly, slipping back into formality to hide his embarrassment.
"Burnt," Louise replied a little absently, examining the stitches on his head. "They were beyond repair." (Authoress goes into momentary mourning at the thought of the Don Juan pants and ruffled shirt being thrown onto the flames). She withdrew her gaze from his forehead and dropped it to his half bare chest. Erik could have sworn he saw a smile quirk on her lips, through a curtain of blonde hair, "Ah yes, don't worry, I'll fetch you something." She slipped out the door and returned a few moments later with an armful of the dark fabric he had seen her with when he first woke...With the sun lighting red glints in her hair... the pewter cross lying gently on the curve of her neck...and the sweet subtle smell of rosemary...Erik shook the thoughts from his head as he sat up. (An after effect of the fever, that's all) he told himself, (that's all).
"Try this on," the object of his thoughts announced cheerfully, handing him the dark blue mass. It was a dressing gown, he realised, obviously it had been altered a number of times, but still looked long enough to fit him.
"Your husbands?" he asked, pulling on one sleeve, Louise shook her head,
"Its just me here," she answered his underlying question. "I'm friends with a group of players who pass this way three or four times a year. They leave costumes and props with me for alterations or because they are simply worn out. That," she indicated Erik's dressing gown, "has been a mages robe, a sea kings cloak, an admiral's jacket and Romeo Montague's star-crossed lovers costume in which he hid beneath Juliet's balcony and proclaimed his love."
"But soft," Erik quoted, "What light from yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun! Arise fair sun and kill the envious moon, already so sick and twisted in her livery..."
Louise laughed and clapped her hands in delight. "Romeo, oh Romeo, wherefor art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name..."
Erik was impressed, she spun the words with passion and rhythm that would have equalled any stage actress.
"Well done," he approved, feeling rather pleased with himself as he had managed to get into the dressing gown without causing himself any more bodily harm. Louise smiled at him, and again he caught the flash of silver at her throat.
"You should try the old church across the fields over there," she motioned to the closed window. "It was never consecrated, the old priest died just before the ceremony took place. Its old, but the acoustics are magnificent."
"So whom does it belong to now?" Erik asked as Louise opened the window to allow in the cool morning air.
"Me, actually," she answered, Erik stared, and Louise shrugged. "It was on Farmer McKinnon's land, but when he died, the property was divided and sold. I got the church, a small meadow and a good portion of the forest, which is useful for my concoctions." She flashed him a wicked grin, obviously remembering the day with relish, "Got it for a song and a dance," she stated proudly, then clapped her hands to her mouth and started to giggle. "Oh Lord that came out something awful!" she exclaimed, Erik stared and she coughed. "My apologies, Monsieur, I don't know what came over me."
"That is quite alright mademoiselle," he replied, motioning for her to continue, he found himself enjoying the way she spoke, with reckless abandon and slightly left of what propriety dictated, and she could laugh! She could laugh with him without a mask and they were not taunting chuckles that came to her ears, but simple enjoyment of amusing oneself in conversation with anther person.
"Anyway," she continued, once her fit of giggles had stopped, "The poor church, they were actually going to tear it down, can you imagine?" she sorted in disbelief, "A beautiful stone monument, pulled apart for scrap, complete with stained glass windows and an organ the township nearly went broke to pay for." She sighed, "The extent of human stupidity never ceases to amaze me." She shook her head, leaning her palms on the windowsill to gaze outside where the birds trilled sweetly.
Erik was sitting up now, covers pushed back, "A organ, you say?" he asked excitedly, both longing for and loathing the thought of cool ivory keys beneath is fingers once more, to while away the hours entranced in the haunting soul of music. Louise turned from the window to face him,
"You can play?" she asked brightly, at his nod her face broke into the most radiant smile he had ever seen, "That's wonderful! It needs some work, I know, but I don't have the first clue where to begin." She gave a light laugh, "I'm afraid my talent for knowing a little something about everything ends with repairing a musical instrument." She walked back to Erik and slung his arm over her shoulder, grunting slightly as she helped him to stand. Leaning against her, Erik grabbed his crutch, straightening his dressing gown with a flick of his wrist, the two made their way down the hall to the large, warm kitchen. Louise helped Erik into a chair, blonde hair falling across her face. Without a thought, Erik brushed it back behind her ears and rested his hand briefly on her shoulder blade, drawing his fingers across the lavender cloth of her blouse, Louise stiffened.
"Please don't do that Erik, its very distracting," she murmured, moving away to the stove.
At first, Erik was hurt, angry at himself for thinking anyone could ever want his company or not be disturbed to the point of screaming by his touch. Then he realised Louise's features were not etched into the constant revulsion his bare face was met with, but held an ancient memory in her eyes, unconsciously rolling her shoulders, she stared off into space. Suddenly she shook herself and bent to the stove to retrieve the breakfast she had cooked.
"Are you alright?" Erik asked gently, Louise flashed him a smile.
"Of course, my mind just wandered a little is all," she replied brightly. But as she handed him a bowl of porridge he could see the old pain still captured in her stormy grey eyes.