How to Brainwash a Thirteen-year-old Girl Without Even Trying (Much)
I would like to apologize for being a complete ditz and forgetting to make an important (well, no, not that important) note at the end of the last chapter. Yes, I know, what with all of the notes that were already made, how could I forget? But I did. Sorry. But you guys all lived, right? Right. Anyway, the note was about Silvie's hair. If you recall correctly, when Dib first started banging on her door, Silvie was holding a hairbrush. More than likely she was brushing her hair or had been about to but was rudely interrupted by the impatient Vicomte. Now, anyone with curly hair ought to know that this is an incredibly stupid thing to do. Brushing your hair while it's curly only results in a crazy mess of frizz. Do NOT brush curls. Ever. If your hair is wet, it's fine, brush away – this is actually a good thing to do – but don't brush dry curls. EVER. It's just common sense. Thing is, most "phangirls" are either unaware of this or do not care, as they have all their Mary Sues or Sue-ified Christines brushing their hair and, miraculously, their "long, luscious curls" remain longer and more luscious than ever. I guess all of these people have thin, stick-straight hair, huh?
♪ ♪ ♪
Humming quietly to herself, Silvie stepped out from behind her dressing screen and busied herself by tying her long, white bathrobe shut so as to hide the lacey white ensemble that resembles a corset of sorts, complete with a matching garter belt and stockings. This outfit, much like the ones of the ballet girl's seen earlier, is quite out of place in 1871. However, it shows off the sexy female lead's legs, chassis, and more, so it's all good.
The new prima donna, who appeared not to have noticed the sudden darkness, had just about managed to get her robe tied when, from every conceivable direction, a turbulent voice thundered:
"Incompetent worm!
This foolish human,
Prying at your secrets!"
Silvie winced as she glanced around, uttering what any sensible person would have said in her situation. "Oh, shi –"
"Disgusting stink pig!
This large-headed creature,
Thinking he can outwit meeeeee!"
With a gigantic smile plastered across her face, Silvie unconsciously coiled a dark, curly lock around her finger as she desperately racked her brain for an excuse for Dibier's behavior. Dibier's behavior, however, was quite inexcusable. He did, after all, plan on doing not nice things to her pixie. And, in Silvie's opinion, it was the Vicomte's own gosh-darned fault if he got himself DOOMed because he should have known that, as a being of unimaginably divine and ethereal abilities that was sent by a dead yet dearly beloved relative, the pixie was sure to be with Silvie at all times. Still, Silvie didn't want her guardian to get the wrong idea – she and Dibier were not going out. Vicomte or no, cute or not, rich or not, Silvie was not about to date that annoying little – Wait. He was rich? And cute? And a Vicomte… Well, she would certainly have to take this into serious – or as serious as Silvie ever got – consideration. But right now she would deal with her temperamental fairy.
"Pixie, it's you!
Oh, please, don't hurt me!
Your wrath is so mighty!
"Honestly, he means nothing to me!
Really, we're just good friends!"
Her pixie seemed highly delighted to hear his pupil so frightened at the thought of facing his wrath – for his wrath was, of course, a terribly mighty thing. In fact, he took it as a compliment and, as a result, his tone grew increasingly haughty, which is quite amazing if one considers how arrogant it was to begin with.
"Sniveling child, you're amusing.
And I shall reward your plea.
Gaze at your filthy reflection,
And you'll…see…me!"
"Yaaaaah!" Silvie yelped as she turned to see the foggy image of her dear little pixie materialize before her eyes in her sparkling, full-length mirror. Or…what could be called a pixie, I suppose, although this writer hasn't seen anything that looked less like a pixie. The thin figure that stood in Silvie's mirror was at least seven feet tall, easily towering over the small singer. Swathed in a long black cloak, the "pixie" grinned sinisterly from beneath a black fedora, his gray-violet eyes narrowed – one behind the glowing white half of a mask – as he watched his terrified singer. Unlike most human beings, Silvie lacked the common sense that would have told her right away that the person reflected in her mirror was anything but her dear little pixie, that she had been seriously mislead, and that it would be wise to turn and run screaming right about now. Then again, if Silvie had common sense, the story would be no more, and so she gazed into her magnificent mirror. Her large and glazed eyes, slightly agape mouth, and a dainty trail of saliva that trickled down her pretty chin completed the awed/stoned look that all Christines (including their reincarnates) excelled in.
Silvie began walking toward her mirror as a mysterious mist suddenly filled her room. There could be several explanations for this mist, either 1) It was all the director's idea because he wanted the scene to look spookier, 2) Someone was spraying for bugs since pesticides weren't illegal in 1871, or 3) One of M. Violet's spoke machines was on the fritz again. Whatever the reason, the mist was quite thick, making it rather difficult to breathe.
"Dear li – " coughed Silvie "—ttle pixie,
C-c-ome out ri-ight now!
This fog is getting to m-me!
"D-dear little p-p-ixie,
Ple-e-ase hurry up!
Don't forg-get my asth-m-ma! "
Upon hearing the singer's plea, the dear little pixie's smirk widened and he began to utter an eerily beautiful mantra.
"I'm not a pixie…
I am your Angel of Music!"
At this, Silvie broke out of her trance and stomped her little foot in anger.
"How many times to I have to tell you?" she demanded irritably, her hands balled into fists and placed on her hips. "You can't be an angel cuz I don't believe in angels! Ah'm a good Atheist, Ah am! An' Ah washed me 'ands an' face b'fore Ah come."
Her pixie stared, blinking in confusion. After several long moments of consideration, he shook his head, choosing to ignore his pupil, and continued his hypnotic chant.
"I'm not a pixie…
I am your Angel of Music!"
At once Silvie was drained of her anger, her eyes becoming as wide as saucers and her gray irises beginning to swirl and spiral – much like what happens in very silly cartoons whenever someone falls under hypnosis. Without thinking, she reached out for her mirror and began to move forward, albeit, she took her grand old time in doing so.
♪ ♪ ♪
Meanwhile, outside Silvie's dressing room, Dibier had returned, hauling 150 pounds of paranormal investigating equipment with him. Without even considering that the female occupant of the room may be asleep or possibly even undressing, the viscount placed a hand upon the knob and pulled. The door didn't budge.
"What the…" Raising a hand, he rapped his knuckles against the door. "Silvie? Is this about earlier? Look, I'm sorry about the pixie and all."
No response.
"I swear I won't really hurt it. I just wanna take a look at it."
Not a sound issued from the room. Dibier shifted impatiently from foot to foot. Finally, he could take not a second more of the suspense and began to pound on the door.
"Silvie! Come on!" he begged pathetically. "This is a scientific breakthrough we're talking about, here! Just let me in!"
"I'm not a pixie…"
"Silvie? Why are you talking to yourself? Did you," he added in an undertone, "forget to take your pills again?"
"I am your Angel of Music!"
"What? Bigfoot, is that you? If you ate Silvie, I swear I'll …I'll…man, what am I gonna do? Oh! I'll send my sister after you! Yeah, you won't like that, will you? Huh? Huh? Talk to meeeeeeeee!"
♪ ♪ ♪
As she finally reached her mirror, Silvie gazed dreamily into the eyes of her teacher. It never registered in her mind that, as she took a thoughtless step forward, the cool surface of the glass was not there to greet her and that she stepped through the mirror so easily that it was almost as if it wasn't there at all.
Silvie turned around to look at her dressing room, which was now nothing more than a distant memory, only to find it engulfed in fog. When she faced forward again a vast stone passageway greeted her. Oddly, instead of being dark and spooky like one would expect, the passage was brightly lit by… a bunch of seemingly severed, golden arms holding candelabras. To add to the strangeness of it all, the arms would bend from time to time, moving out of the way so people could pass through without receiving a concussion or third-degree burn.
Her dear little pixie (who Silvie was beginning to wonder if he was really a pixie at all) held out a strange, silvery, finger-less hand, but Silvie ignored it. Instead, she gazed at the golden arms for several seconds, narrowed her eyes, and turned to her magical companion.
"You stole those off of Beauty and the Beast, didn't you?" she accused, pointing to the arms.
Her pixie's eyes darted nervously back and forth between Silvie and the candelabras.
"…no," he answered bluntly. And, taking her dainty hand in his sharp, metallic one, he declared, "No more questions! Now sing! Sing for Zi – your…geh…pixie! "
Not wanting to waste another second, his metal arm shot out. The moment he had snatched up Silvie's small hand, an enormous blast of a terrifying, tremulous, incredibly '80s sounding chord sounded from an invisible pipe organ, rocking the corridor.
DUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!
DUNDUNDUNDUNDUUUUUUUUN!
DUNDUN!
Oddly enough, even though she was barely wearing any makeup to begin with, Silvie's eye shadow becomes rapidly darker as the seconds pass. Even more odd is the fact that her hair, though it was pulled back in a ponytail before, has suddenly hanging loose around her shoulders like some weird mushroom thing. Odder still is that, rather than sing the lyrics out loud like she had been doing, Silvie apparently decided that a change was in order and chose to sing them…in her head. What would one call that, exactly? Sing-thinking? Thought-singing? Sinking? Thinging? Whatever it's called, Silvie did it, her eyes wide and unblinking all the while.
I can't believe all this…It can't be true…
My pixie and the ghost
Are one in two.
Helpless to the music, Silvie clapped twice in time with the beat. The ghost kept stealing glances at Silvie, as if he expected her to suddenly perform a vanishing trick. He would then look forward again – presumably so that he didn't bump into a candelabra that was too slow to bend out of the way in time – with a very smoldering look.
Yet now I see the proof
And doubt has fled…
Again Silvie did the double clappity-clap along with the beat thing as they turned the corner and made their way down a curving staircase. Even though the ghost had the time to obtain a lit torch, exchanged hands holding Silvie, and lead the soprano part way down the staircase – which means that either he's a pretty nifty guy or that her singing is terribly slow – Silvie continued to thought-sing as if nothing had happened.
The ghost that haunts this Opéra is there…
Inside my head!
The pair found themselves at the top of a set of steps that lead further down into the bowels of the earth. At this point the author scowled, unsure of why she had written what she had just written because she didn't care for that particular phrase, mostly due to the fact that it made her think of terribly unpleasant things. However, it seemed to fit here, so she used it.
Meanwhile, back in parodyland, Silvie looked down the stairway to see that a beautiful WHITE horse – white, not black; and you knew it was white and not gray because its nose was completely pink instead of black – was tethered to an unseen post at the bottom of the stairs. Although no one mentions it out loud, the animal's name was César, and although he was no Mr. Ed, he was a pretty talented horse anyway. After all, he happened to have had acquired a very important role in the Opera House's production of the Profeta a while back. César did very well in his debut and would have gone on to be replace Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow in those pirate movies, make his own hit record, and eventually discover the cure for cancer, making him even bigger than Mr. Ed. That is, of course, had the Opéra Ghost not kidnapped him. But such is life. And anyway the ghost was about to sing, and so everything else was irrelevant.
"In spite of meddling fools
And Dib monkeys
Your thoughts have not been swayed –
You obey me!
"Don't think of turning back!
For when you've fled…
The ghost that haunts this Opéra is still…
Inside your head!
"Aww, what a pretty horsy!" Silvie cooed, reaching out to stroke the animal's gleaming mane. César nickered appreciatively as if to say 'Thanks, babe. You're not too bad yourself.' and began sniffing the singer's silky curls. 'And who does your hair?'
"Yes, yes," sighed Silvie's ghostly companion. "The filthy hair-beast is magical – now let's get moving!"
Before the girl could even react, two of the ghost's numerous silver claws grabbed her around the waist and threw her on top of the horse. César issued a shocked whinny just as Silvie let out an equally surprised yelp; the ghost rolled his eyes and seized the reins and began to lead the two down a slippery slope. Well, he tried to, anyway. For some reason César decided that he wasn't up to moving, most likely because he knew the harm the ghost had done to his career, either that or he was simply offended by the 'filthy hair-beast' remark.
"Grr…move, you stinking animal!" the ghost shouting, giving a furious tug on the reins. César remained rooted to the spot, appearing to be bored out of his mind.
"Why did I think this was a good idea?" the ghost asked himself. "We're wasting time, you miserable –"
"I don't think that's the best way t –" Silvie began.
"Silence!" the ghost ordered, whipping around to flash her a glare. Turning back to the horse, he threatened, "If you don't move, I'll let my robot come and play with you."
Apparently this was a terrifying proposition as César's began to plough forward with voracious speed.
"Y'know, this really wasn't necessary," Silvie said quietly to the ghost. "The horse 'n all. I'm perfectly capable of walking on my own –"
"You dare question my methods of transportation?"
"No! No, of course n–"
"And what did I tell you to do that you're…not…doing…right now?"
"Huh?" asked Silvie, scrunching her nose in confusion. "Oh…"
Despite the fact that she was riding a horse and therefore she have been quite unable to do any singing of any kind, Silvie opened her mouth and began continue the previous tune.
"Green skin and lack of ears –
It's mindboggling!
Yet despite all of this –"
"I'm a-mazing!" put in the ghost.
They turned the corner to see, in the words of Christine Daaé, 'a vast, glassy lake' stretched out before them. It would have been a lot spookier had a dozen or so waterproof candles hadn't been rising from the black waters, brightening up the caverns considerably. Leaving the distraught César tethered to another unseen post, the ghost grasped Silvie's arm and shoved her into a long purple boat of some sort – a gondola that seemed to be hovering in mid-air, just inches above the freezing waters.
"And as I/you think of this,
I/you fill with dread –
The ghost that haunts this Opéra is there…
Inside my/your head! "
As the purple gondola glided silently across the lake, spooky disembodied voices were heard echoing eerily as their words bounced off of the tunnel walls.
"Bow down…to the ghost of the Opéra… "
An out-of -place troop of electric guitars began to play as Silvie looked around in wonder.
"I bow…to the ghost of the Opéra…"
And since the fourth verse of the song is completely unimportant – and totally wasn't, like, all that good to begin with – Silvie skipped it and cut straight to her scarily high-pitched cadenza with her ghostly companion barking orders all the while.
"Sing, my human stink-slave," the ghost encourage, his purple eyes glittering wickedly as he steered the hovering gondola past a waterproof candle.
With wary uncertainty, Silvie carried her voice higher. Strangely, the pipe organ, violins, and out-of-place electric guitars seemed to grow louder as Silvie's singing grew higher pitched.
"Sing for Z—me…" the ghost urged in a low hiss. "Yesss…sing, my human stink-slave!"
Silvie glanced back at him fearfully, her mouth stretched in a scream as she threw herself into the music. The ghost smiled maliciously, seemingly unaware of the singer's peril.
"Sing for ZIM!"
As Silvie inched toward the thrilling high E – oh, no, wait. This is a parody of the movie, so it wouldn't be a high E, it would be an E flat since Emmy Rossum couldn't hit the high E, so they changed it rather than search for an equally attractive woman who could hit it. Worse yet, the pipe organ, violins, and out-of-place electric guitars increased their volume to the maximum so as to hide the fact that the note Silvie hit – and she did indeed hit it, openly, I might add – was a disappointing E flat.
All the while the author was complaining about Emmy Rossum's flaws as a singer, the purple gondola floated up to the shore of the lake. Lit by thousands of candles – some waterproof, some not – the cave was made up of a series of grottos that, Silvie saw upon closer inspection, each served as a different room. Almost like the layout of a house, there was a sitting room, a drawing room, library… Silvie's mouth fell open in awe as her eyes came to rest upon an enormous silver pipe organ. It had somehow been squeezed into a grotto that undoubtedly served as a music room, as the cavern was filled with various instruments – a viola, a violin, and, oddly, a trombone.
Without saying a word – and without bothering to help Silvie out of the boat, the jerk – the ghost climbed out of the gondola, being careful not to let the smallest droplet of water touch his person, and stepped onto the shore with ease. Striding in to the grotto that acted as a sitting room, he turned about. With otherworldly grace, removed his fedora, twirled it about for a time, and then threw it in the corner without a second thought – the second thought being that it could have landed on one of the many candelabras and set the room on fire. Silvie could now see why the ghost hadn't removed his hat earlier – that black pompadour hairdo did nothing for him.
An awkward silence followed.
Silvie looked around with an expression of impressed bemusement on her face.
The ghost cleared his throat extravagantly.
"Welcome to my
Secret spooky lair of DOOM.
Not many are permitted to come here,
So don't touch a thing
Or I'll melt your face off
Or something…
Something…"
Uncertain, Silvie attempted to climb out of the gondola, but only succeeded in rocking the long purple boat and splashing herself. The ghost ignored her, too caught up in his own brilliance to notice anything aside from himself for the time being.
"You shall serve in
My greatest, most amazing plan!
And then I shall fin'lly receive
All the praise I deserve
For succeeding in
My mission…
My mission…"
"Yes, and perhaps then I'll at last be rid of you," remarked a voice. It was a man's voice. Quite angelic, in fact, though scathing sarcasm tarnished it ever so slightly. The ghost whipped around, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.
"Heh?"
"You heard me," the angelic voice continued, sounding closer this time. "I give you room and board in my lair and you have seen fit to be as ungrateful as…" He paused and Silvie sensed that he was staring at her as he chose his next words. "As…humanly…possible."
"I feel no need to show respect for a huuuuuman," spat the ghost, folding his arms indignantly.
"Ha!" hissed the voice. "Human indeed!" Silvie gasped as an impossibly tall figure detached itself from the shadows and stalked toward the ghost. It easily towered over the green-skinned apparition, giving off an air of unimaginable power as it glared downward, its glowing yellow eyes narrowed behind a full black mask. "You ridiculous urchin," it scolded, raising a painfully thin arm to shake a skeletal finger at the ghost. "If I recall correctly, it took several weeks to convince you that I was human!"
"You made it confusing with your…" the ghost struggled to find the right words. "…talk about…what was it? "Angels" and "death" and "corpses." So of course not even someone of my brilliance knew what you were!"
The tall, thin man fumed at the ghost for several seconds, his inhumanly thin hands balled into fists of rage, before his eyes darted to Silvie who had given up all hope of ever exiting the boat.
"Aren't you going to introduce me?" he challenged, amusement lacing his beautiful voice.
"What?" the ghost asked dumbly, cocking his head to once side.
Silently the nameless man pointed a long, bony finger at the pretty little girl that was stationed in the gondola. The ghost gritted his teeth but complied nonetheless, albeit, halfheartedly.
"Erik, this is my filthy stink-slave…Silvie. Silvie, this is my horrible slumlord…Erik."
"Yes, yes, I'm horrible," Erik muttered. "I only allowed you to take up residence in my –" the next words he spoke rather disdainfully "—humble abode when no one else would. Oh, certainly, I'm the most horrific creature to walk this earth! No wonder she wouldn't marry me, as I am so hopelessly horrible."
"Exactly," agreed the ghost, not getting the sarcasm at all.
"Who…the heck are you?" Silvie spoke up suddenly.
The lanky man let out a chilling, yet undeniably beauteous laugh.
"Erik is many things, my dear," he answered calmly, suddenly speaking in third person. "Some have called him a genius, others a monster. One," he continued, his lovely voice growing mournful, "even called him an angel."
"But you're human?" Silvie inquired.
"There is no craft I cannot master, my residence is a house with a false bottom underneath an opéra house, and I have a face so painfully ghastly that my own mother wept at the very thought of it…but, yes, ma petite, I suppose I am human."
"Yes, yes," the ghost sighed. "That's very nice. Now be gone with you! My stink slave and I have much to do!"
The strange, thin man eyed him scornfully.
"Mademoiselle," Erik began at last with eerie calm, "it has been a pleasure meeting you. Although I feel I should warn you to do everything in your power not to be coerced by this…man. While I haven't a care for him and am barely familiar with you at all, I would hate to see either one of you suffer as I have." He turned to leave. "Oh! And, dear, if you're going to venture into the lake, do take care not to arouse the Giant Squid."
Silvie's eyes widened. "Whaaat...?"
"He's not normally dangerous," Erik assured her quite placidly as he strode out of the cave. "It's just that he gets cranky when his nap is disturbed."
And with that, he disappeared as quietly as he had entered.
The ghost shook his head.
"Finally…" With a look of absolute smugness spreading across his face, the ghost turned to his pupil, fully intent of launching into his plan and explaining exactly why she needs to be involved at all. He drew away, however, when he took in the girl's terrified appearance and silently cursed that miserable Erik human for telling Silvie all about the Giant Squid. Deciding that, no matter how much he liked it, dramatic was not the way to go, the ghost strode down to the shore of the lake, deftly lifted Silvie from the boat with the aid of his odd metal claws, and carried her to the music room.
The girl looked around, still quite afraid but slightly less paranoid than before. Tentatively she glanced up at her teacher who offered her a warm, if rather forced, smile in return. If his own amazing power would not sweep her off her feet, then perhaps his equally amazing powers of persuasion would.
"This plan is the
Greatest of my vast skills.
Unless, of course,
You count laser weasels.
There is much for you to seeIf you only side with me…"
Gifting her with a falsely charming smile, the ghost extended a hand – this time a black-gloved claw – and showed Silvie around his pad.
"There is no re-son
For any a-larm.
Join my side and
You'll see minimal harm."
He paused in front of a large worktable and watched as Silvie pondered over the countless number of papers that had been strewn across the table. Each crude sketch depicted what appeared to be Silvie herself in a black, corset-like outfit and a skirt made of fine yellow lace and standing in front of a crowd of cheering, drooling people. The girl arched an eyebrow at the childish scribbles and looked up at her teacher expectantly. He must not have noticed as he made several grand gestures and continued his song.
"Do not think of fear.
It is me you should revere!
Do not think at all; just remain standing still,
Just stay calm as I bend you to my will."
Though she was somewhat put off – not to mention severely freaked out by a large model of the Opéra House complete with tiny dolls crafted to look exactly like minute replicas of Silvie, Calamari, Mlle. Gazette, even the crystal chandelier – Silvie decided it was best to humor the ghost. She smiled a wide, not entirely convincing smile and he grinned back.
"Succumb to my amazing might –
It's real easy!"
He released her hands and began to ascend a stone set of stairs that led to his massive (pipe) organ. Suddenly, he turned around and looked directly into her eyes, his song growing more intense as it progressed.
"Succumb to a power you can't resist!
Succumb and you will fin'lly get the gist…"
A pause as he watched Silvie's face alight with understanding. His eyes widened expectantly and at last the girl gave the slightest of nods and the ghost smiled, his confidence fully restored – not that it had been very weak to begin with.
"There's no way you could possibly resist. "
He offered a gloved hand and this time she accepted it without hesitation. They glided past the pipe organ, barely noticing the enormous silver instrument as the lulling music embraced them both in a fine veil of comfort.
"All I want is
Total world dom'nation.
Say the word and
I'll start the invasion."
In a matter of seconds Silvie found herself only inches away from his face. Her eyes trained automatically to the mask, which seemed to glow in the same radioactive manner as her poofy, white "Remember Me" dress.
"Learn to trust in me!
Just do it, and you shall see,"
he sang, twirling her around with the help of several of his silver appendages. Surprised by the unexpected movement, Silvie let out a little yelp and barely prevented herself from tumbling to the cold, stone floor. After brushing off her lacy white robe, she flashed the ghost a nervous smile and gestured for him to continue.
"Eh…" he began uncertainly.
"An amazing world where you'll never need pills…
Just say yes and I'll bend you to my will."
Apparently, the ghost didn't feel that this was convincing enough for he started to throw attractive proposals at Silvie.
"You'll be rich, you'll be famous,
You'll have human slaves!
That's an offer that no one could refuse!"
In one fluid movement – and once again with assistance from his spidery legs – the ghost leapt through the air and landed gracefully on the organ bench, one claw clenched in a fist, the other raised dramatically skyward.
"You'll be great –
The world will fall to it's KNEES!"
Gasping from the amount of energy he put into that last note, the ghost turned his back to Silvie and murmured wistfully to himself:
"Then, at last, it will belong…to me…"
Silvie was picking at a hangnail when the ghost turned back around. He huffed, stood akimbo, and glared for several seconds before she finally realized that she was, in fact, being huffed, akimbo-ed, and glared at.
"Huh? Oh. Sorry," she apologized offhandedly. "Please, continue."
But the ghost was still pretty ticked off at her, and he expressed his anger by seizing her lily-white wrist and spinning her around until her back was but an inch away from him. Then, very slowly, he released her and allowed his silvery appendages to slide around her waist.
Suddenly, without warning, Silvie's hand shot out and grabbed one of the metal claws before it could go any further.
"Keep it above the waist, hot shot," she warned before thrusting the appendage back at him.
The ghost tilted his head to one side, deeply confused.
"Eh?"
"Oh," said Silvie, startled. "Never mind. Resume doing…um…whatever."
Without another word (and a haughty toss of the head), the ghost resumed doing exactly what he had been doing. And that was…singing. Not…something else. Singing. Still, he was a little too close for comfort for both Silvie and himself, but if that was what it took to gain control over someone, then the ghost would do it.
"Do not be scared.
Resistance will be noted.
Fear is pointless,
For I'll not be goaded."
Gingerly, shaking a little from nervousness, Silvie reached up and hovered her small hand just above the ghost's unmasked cheek, this completing the famous pose that the musical the Phantom of the Opera is most known for.
"No matter what you do,
There's no way I'll release you!"
Saying, rather, singing this, he spun her around and grasped her hands tightly.
"Human girl afraid of ev'ry little thrill…
Just wait until I bend you to my will."
Still maintaining a vice grip on her hands, the ghost dragged his singer past the pipe organ to another grotto, one whose entrance was blocked off by a long, crimson drapery. Silvie scrutinized it, intrigued. The ghost gifted her with a secretive smirk as he wound his claws into the scarlet material and gave a mighty tug.
The curtain fell away.
Silvie gaped.
The ghost beamed smugly.
Before them stood a waxen, utterly perfect replica of Silvie, looking like a sfumato painting behind a misty bridal veil. The tiny body of the mannequin was bedecked in a beautiful dress with a glistening bodice. It was decidedly pure white, like the first snowfall, to remind us all that Silvie was still, shall we say, innocent.
"Oooh…preeeety…" commented Silvie, not freaked out in the least as she leaned forward to get a better look at her twin. This turned out to be a bad idea, however. As luck would have it, at that exact same moment, the dummy (not Silvie, the mannequin) lurched forward, its forehead colliding with Silvie's own with a resounding DOINK!
Silvie's eyes rolled skyward.
"Urgh…" she muttered and collapsed.
The ghost sighed.
"Stupid human… Gnomes!" he called, at once regaining his old vigor. At once several robotic lawn ornaments appeared at his side. "Cart the earth girl off to bed! And be quick about it!"
The bug-eyed garden gnomes showed no sign of hearing his request, but they complied anyway. Lifting Silvie's limp form with ease, they hauled her off to one of the more secluded grottos, hitting her head on several inconveniently placed tassels along the way. The ghost followed closely behind. At last the odd party arrived at a large pewter bed that was, strangely enough, in the shape of an ostrich. The gnomes wasted no time in tossing the unconscious Silvie onto the mountain of velvet poufs and blankets, and hurrying away.
The ghost stared at the sleeping girl, noticing that a large bump was already beginning to form on her forehead from where the dummy hit her. Despite his disgust, he knew he needed the human if his mission was ever going to succeed. And so, once again using his odd metal appendages instead of just walking, he loomed over Silvie's bedside and sang.
"Hope is lost, that is, of course, until…
I succeed and bend you…to…my…will…"
♪ ♪ ♪
Sorry for the lateness of this chapter. Like I said before, it was difficult rewriting the lyrics to the two songs the musical is most known for. 9.6;;;
Notes
...the "pixie" grinned sinisterly from beneath a black fedora - I have returned the Phatom's fedora. Despite it not fitting in with the time period at all, it, IMHO, fits the Phantom perfectly and it annoyed me greatly that Gerard Butler did not have one in the movie. At first I thought it was because he didn't look good in hats, but then I saw a photo manip. of him wearing one and...well, needless to say, he looked very nice, which only ticked me of even more. So, I decided to restore the fedora for that reason and because Zim just looks too cool in hats.
The awed/stoned look - you cannot be a Christine unless you can pull of this look. Actually, you can't be Emmy!Christine or Brightman!Christine unless you can pull off this look.
The mysterious mist - I liked it, but I kinda thought they overdid it in the movie, so I played on that. Hopefully it was funny.
"Ah'm a good Atheist, Ah am! An' Ah washed me 'ands an' face b'fore Ah come" - My Fair Lady quote! Which was the only reason why "Angel of Music" was changed to "dear little pixie."
A bunch of seemingly severed, golden arms holding candelabras - actually, I found these much creepier than a dark, spooky passageway. Dude, they moved .
"You stole those off of Beauty and the Beast, didn't you?" - he did . I swear! Look for them!
The incredibly '80s sounding chord - is it just me, or does the music to the title song in the 2004 movie sound more '80s than the music in the original London cast recording which was written in the '80s?
Silvie's rapidly darkening eyeshadow - X3! Okay, seriously, look for this the next time you watch the movie. When Emmy first goes through the mirror, she had practically no makeup on and her hair is tied back. Then, suddenly, she's got this dark eye shadow and eyeliner on and her hair is down! QLF? But I'm kinda glad they did that, cuz it give me something to spoof on in this parody. :D
The clappity-claps - these are only further proof that the song is totally and complete '80s.
César - anyone who has ever read the original novel the Phantom of the Opera by Gaston Leroux...you will totally get this and have probably started building a little shrine to me. For those of you who haven't...WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING READING THIS? THERE ARE MUCH BETTER BOOKS YOU COULD BE READING! Ahem. That is to say, in the original novel, Christine is lead down to the Phantom's lair on a white horse named César who did indeed play a role in the opera the Profeta . And yes, using animals in live theatre was a perfectly normal occurrence, especially at a place as famous as the Opéra Populair. They may have had a horse lead Emmy down to the Phantom's lair in the movie, but he wasn't white and so, while I appreciated the nod toward the book, I was kinda annoyed. The black horse must emphasize that whole "dark desire" thing, I guess. But that one critic who said it was illogical and not in the musical at all irked me even more. Especially since it was clear that he'd never read the book. XP
Out-of -place troop of electric guitars - as much as I like the electric guitar, it just didn't fit in here. Not with the time period, not with the song (no matter how '80s-sounding it was).
Skipping fourth verse - they cut it! They bloody cut it and that wasn't fair. Many Phantom fans were ticked at this, so this is sorta my way of agreeing with them. They shouldn't have cut it. But think of it this way, guys: Did we really wanna hear Emmy and Gerik botch up another set of lyrics?
E flat - I have nothing to say about this except that it is absolutely, 100 percent true.
An awkward silence followed - it was awkward. I just wanted Gerik to say "Okee dokee! We're heeere! And now...I am taking off...my cape!" I just think he could've done that while he was singing, y'know?
Erik - hooray for the real Opera Ghost! In case you are wondering, yes, Erik is the name of the Phantom of the Opera. He is called that in every version I have seen, save for the musical since Andrew Lloyd Webber sees fit not to mention the fact. 9.9; His would be the most famous adaptation... But anyway, I digress. Erik is from Gaston Leroux's novel -- the very first version of Phantom -- and his description is accurate. Not only was half of Original!Erik's face deformed, it was his entire body. He even says that he is "made up of death from head to foot." He's supposed to look like a skeleton, you see. No nose, sallow skin, very thin body, and glowing yellow eyes that can only be seen in the dark. And he worse a full, black mask. Not a white one, not half a white one, and not a quarter of a white one like Gerik has. He's a little...crazy...but in an appealing way, at least to me. And he is the Phantom that reminds me of Zim the most. His personality, his quirks, even his description, somewhat. He even speaks in third person from time to time! Really, save for the fact that Erik is very tall, a genius at practically everything he does, and makes music, he and Zim are very much alike. To me, anyway. :D I threw him in here because I wanted to pay homage to Leroux and get the feel of writing his character, as I intent to write an entirely Leroux-based fic in the near future. Also, he makes a fun comic relief. He and Gir even get to have a tea party together.
"...No wonder she wouldn't marry me, as I am so hopelessly horrible" - yes, he is talking about Christine, just in case no one got that.
The Giant Squid - also known as the Squid of Lake Averne (the lake that's underneath the Paris Opera House), he is one big in-joke over at PhantomFans(dot)net. I am not entirely sure where he came from or who first thought of him, just that it is a huge running gag that never ceases to get a few laughs. Basically, in Leroux's novel, he mentions there being a monster at the bottom of the lake. We assume that the monster is Erik, but at some point someone got to thinking that it just might be something else. And thus, the Giant Squid of Lake Averne came to be. I do not own him, but intend to bring him up again before this fic is over.
His massive (pipe) organ – "Every time Erik gets bored, he goes down to his lair and plays with his organ." X3! Another running gag over at PFN. If you get it, you get it. If you don't, then...too bad. I'm not getting into those kinds of details.
Sfumato - it's the style Leonardo Da Vinci was most known for. :D
Inconveniently placed tassels - watch the movie. Right after Emmy faints from seeing the wax dummy, Gerik picks her up and carries her off to bed in a most gentlemanly fashion. However, the romantic mood of the scene is somewhat ruined when he walks past this hanging tassel and it hits Emmy right in the head. XD I'm serious, watch the movie; you'll se what I mean.