Authoress: My Space Bar Hates Me!
Erik: You broke it remember?
Authoress: Hrmph! Stupid muse, Biology fact this time…A flower blooms depending on the amount of uninterrupted darkness it receives, not light.
…(Glances at her Phantom memorabilia) Struck me as a rather special fact.
(Snigger) You know, the first part of this chapter I wrote, was written on my left forearm in the middle of an incredibly boring school assembly in which my principal announced my name as "ah(as in father)-dee(as in deed) Sanders" instead of "A.D. Sornders" (Phonetic spelling there folks), grr, nearly refused to go up there and shake his hand, all my class were laughing at me, especially as I was picking my way through the year 7's and flinched, I was just, "You dare call me that and I will tear you limb from limb, bash you to death with my pencil-case and show you the many wonderful uses of a cheese grater." Took me half a period to work around my arm and transcribe it all onto the computer…Now that's dedication!
(Glances at Reltistic) Very glad I gave you a cape now…heh
No review replies! Gotta get to dancing!
The dark drip-plink-drip of the damp catacombs below the Parisian Opera House echoed down the dark tunnels, Erik was halted, one hand resting against the rusty grating of the Rue Scribe entrance. With a heavy push, the grate eased open, a tinny squeak shrieking into the shadows of Paris. A black gloved hand reached out as Erik pulled himself up like an acrobat, legs first his cloak rasped over the rough stone and he flicked it round his thin frame, cloaking himself in darkness. Adriana gathered her skirts in hand and jumped up onto the step to take his hand, her own cloak slithering over the pitted stones as Erik drew her out. A stray wind pushed the hair away from her shoulders and against her face, she tangled the strands around her fingers to pull them away from her face, blowing them out of her mouth with a resigned "Huff". The same wind pressed Erik's heavy cloak against his thin shoulders and sent the edges fluttering around Adriana's blue form, effectively enclosing her in a shadowed triangle. Adriana succeeded in tearing away the hair from her face and realised Erik was staring at her, "Ye-es?" she asked quietly, as if speaking to a very small child, Erik's eyes burned into her soul as his lips moved in a silent prayer, he recognised the symptoms all too well, he was growing addicted again, she was corrupting him with her childish ways, a fine and painful counterpoint to the passionate and hungry proud feline that stood before him, hair tangled and knotted about her shoulders like a wild thing. He lowered his head and ran his tongue over her lips, tasting the delectable sweetness and spice he knew she reserved for he and he alone. A hitched sigh escaped her throat and she tilted her head back, tongue flickering out to meet his. Erik pulled back sharply, 'Mine' his eyes spoke possessively, and he leaned in to kiss her again, for now at least, the Phantom was in control.
Adriana leaned tremblingly against him, her mind hazed as he dripped hypnotic poison slowly, temptingly, into her mouth, goddamnit she was as bad as he was (Though she was a Phangirl, so at least she had an excuse).
The creaky rumble of a passing carriage alerted and reminded them that they were not alone in this dark alley. Erik's grip tightened on her arms, enclosed in rich brocade, and he released her. "Are you ready?" he asked in a low, majestic voice, Adriana nodded, touching shaky fingers to her lips as she shrugged her cloak over her shoulders more fully. Erik could not resist lifting her face up to drift his tongue across her lower lip again, his slow caress burning like fire. "Stay close to me," he warned, "And remain in the shadows whenever possible."
"Whatever you say," Adriana muttered, slipping her hand into the arm he offered her. the two shadows slid gracefully out of the alleyway and out into one of the main streets of Paris, blending into the darkness away from the gas lamps which enclosed those close in a bright circle of warmth with the ease of months or years of practise.
To Adriana, Paris was a carnival, crowds of gaily dressed folk flocked to the latest rages, candle lights were strung up around late night café's, prostitutes and whores clung to the shadows, wrapped in tight dresses and whistling at men who shambled past with darkened eyes. A small show was set out, with acrobats and stilt walkers dancing intricately around one another, a painted mime climbed an invisible rope and a fire eater spat flames to the delight of a group of enthralled onlookers as painted dolls, made up to look as though they were made of china, curtseyed and pirouetted, holding out dishes for the wealthy to drop a few coins into.
Erik hurried her along, allowing them to step into the light only when necessity permitted, and then at a stiff walk, like a snobbish lady and her rich suitor. Adriana lost some of her natural ability to blend into a crowd, which far surpassed her talents at being invisible, with Erik leading her through the streets, a figure so mysterious that one might have taken him for a shadow of a cloud passing over the moon, if it were not for the blue dressed lady constantly at his side.
They paused in the darkness over a low-slung bridge spanning the Seine, Adriana leaned out over the marble railing and peered down into the cool, murky water below. A black outline was her cloaked figure, flanked by the reflections of the stars above. She caressed the gleaming white marble with one hand, "This is prettier than I remember," she murmured to herself, Erik looked at her sharply, "You have been here before?"
"Once," she sighed happily at the memory, "I was fourteen, four years ago," she paused and frowned, "Or some however many years into the future," she turned to Erik, "How does that work?"
Erik puzzled over it for a moment then shrugged, "I'm not certain," he replied, drawing her back and against him as a gaily-chattering couple passed them. The man tipped his hat to Adriana and the woman smiled, Erik was a silent statue as he gazed on the young couple, Adriana swept a simple curtsey, "Bonsoir, Madame, Monsieur," she said quietly, "Comment allez-vous?"
"Bien, merci," The woman smiled and they tried not to stare curiously at Erik's tall shape, finally the Phantom nodded to them both, his face still hidden by the black mask and fedora. Once the couple were off the bridge he turned to Adriana again, "You are full of surprises tonight," he murmured, "Where did you learn to speak French?"
Adriana shrugged, the square of visible collar glowing in the starlight, "All those years of watching Madeline finally paid off," she chuckled, Erik rolled his magnificent eyes and covered her hand with his on the cool white marble, "We linger too long," he warned.
"Alright," Adriana sighed, she skimmed her other hand over the moon-drenched stone, her fingertips discovered a small, carved bump, a tiny flower, and her eyes widened in delight. She took a step to the side, away from Erik, and stood, both thumbs pressing on the miniature petals, grinning in ecstasy at the pale golden glow of the street lamps lining the walkway either side of the Seine.
"Oh now what?" Erik snapped, irritated, Adriana ignored his tone, turning to look at him with pale moonlight tinting her irises, the excited smile still turning up her lips. "When we came here, Dad told me that he wanted my first trip to Paris to be with a man who would always love me. We were on this bridge when he said it, right here," she carressed the little carving happily, like a grandmother looking over photographs of her grandchildren, "I remember this bloom, Lily of the Valley, my birth flower."
Erik regarded her seriously for a moment, her smile of sheer happiness was still so much the innocent child, "I see," he said slowly, his eyes caught the sight of a large party stumbling, wine soaked, towards them. He rested a hand on her waist and pulled her gently away. Adriana pressed her hand hard against the flower, pushing the imprint into her palm through her glove, "Bye Dada," she whispered, and her grin flashed white teeth in the darkness, "Catch ya round Mick,"
Erik led her from the bridge, wrapping an arm firmly around her waist, the pressure of his fingers reminding her where and when she was.
Neither of them saw a robust, proud figure detach himself from the end of the party, which passed them by and rub a hand over the carved Lily of the Valley, midnight blue eyes flickering back to the shadows moving swiftly towards the rich, elegant restaurant bearing the name The Persian in gilt paint letters on the bold coloured front.
Short, but don't hate me, Holidays finally started today so I'm FREE! And I don't see you doing 7 exams within a 2 week period in less than 5 weeks! I just cant seem to write this chapter. (Bangs her head against her desk) Naomi, I'm sorry but I need my muse back…please?