I have discovered I have the Evil Giggle of Doom! …not precisely an impressive title is it? Oh well, it's mine nonetheless.
One of the greatest cures for not thinking about something is activity, mind numbing, brainless, neural waste of space activity. When this backfires it is called inspiration or divine visitation of Muse. But this first kind of distraction was precisely what Adriana was after and so she threw herself headlong into her masque masking as Erik composed a mystery something he was referring to as "his pet experiment" which sounded to Adriana's ears like he had filched the piano from Clocks and lost it in the translation into music that can only be known as Erik. Because never let it be said that a decent piece of music or a passionate speech doesn't serve to kick start the muses. Either way, she enjoyed listening to him, often jumping up from the table she had dragged out from the kitchen and covered with any imaginable decoration and spin and dance until Erik decided he hated that particular piece of music and started on something else.
And so, happily paint spattered and serenaded and attemptedly ignorant of the streets of Paris running with blood, the Theatre Wraith planned her debut for the fashion conscious of Paris.
"Whose next on the list?" she grinned, setting a black and green mask aside.
"Maude de Vindo," Erik cast his glance over a parchment mixed in with a number of hastily written scores, luckily for Adriana, years at the Opera had served to give Erik a first hand view of those who were seen to be seen and afforded the Wraith her targets.
"Whose she when she's at home?"
"A flirting, lazy, self centred trollop,"
"The look-at-me-look-at-me type?"
"Correct,"
"Hmm…" she tugged out a hand held eye mask, the flask of navy paint, gold beads, blue feathers and gold and pink ribbons, "I think this lot should work,"
"Are you just choosing decorations at random?" Erik demanded, "That's the fifth time you've chosen colours that will somehow suit the personality and features of your victims, and you are yet to make a mistake," he picked up a plain silver half mask and turned it over in his fingers.
"I'm using the Seven Deadly Sins," Adriana replied, wrapping pink ribbon around the stick, "You tell me what they're like and I use that to choose the colours."
She set the mask aside and picked up a bunch of shining yellow beads, "Avarice, or greed is gold," she pushed a mass of feathers to one side and set it down, "Pride is purple," a handful of violet feathers were placed next to the beads, "Green is envy," a pot of green paint was pushed forward, "Gluttony is pink, lust is navy, sloth is light blue, and wrath is red," ribbons, sequins and more feathers joined the other items, "It's a pattern," she grinned guiltily, "That and I bribed Yayanne to find out what these women were wearing so I wouldn't screw up and give pink to a red head."
Erik blinked, then shrugged, "And yourself?" he asked turning a pot of glue over in his hands.
"No idea yet," Adriana answered cheerily, starting to hum an extremely rude version of Kookaburra Sits in the Old Gum Tree.
"Stop singing that," Erik told her, she giggled, "You got a better idea?"
"Possibly…"
Erik smiled and tugged her onto the couch beside him, its back facing the lake so that they could only hear the slow tide lapping on the banks of the shore.
"And what precisely might this better idea entail?" Adriana asked, curling her legs under her, Erik smiled again, "Close your eyes," he murmured, Adriana obeyed.
Taking her hands in his, Erik held them cupped against his cheeks, kissing first one, then the other in the centre of her palms, "Tilt your head back," he released the long plait that held her hair in place, letting it fall freely over her shoulders, he drew her arms around his neck and rested his own around her waist, "Come to me…" she did.
Adriana slid her hands under his shirt and traced the scars over Erik's thin chest, kissing over his torso until he groaned and puled her back up to plunder her mouth again. Fingers tangled deep in her hair, Erik pulled Adriana against him, feeling his desire swell as a single voice echoed across the lake.
"Mon Ange?"
Dum dum duuuuuuummmmmm… You all hate me now don't you? (finds nothing unusual in this arrangement) Luckily for you, the next two chapters are of a surprisingly decent length.
PS: Happy (late) Valentines Day! (beats muses into handing out red roses with black ribbons to all readers and reviewers, seeing as none of them were fond enough of their Authoress to get her anything themselves and Adi is once again left happily unromanced and Valentineless) Might've been nice to get a flower for once…or a book…meh. If nothing else, you all got something from me!