We now return to the fabulously messy life of your Authoress. Finally back from 10 days at Stradbroke Island. (is this writing bigger than it should be? Or is that just my computer?)
Adi was happily ensconced within her new room in Brisbane, suitcase half unpacked and an uncommon amount of sand magically appearing it seemed, from the creases in every article of clothing she owned, even the ones she hadn't taken to the beach.
Her new Lord of the Rings Two Towers soundtrack was booming out her favourite tune as she was tucking her new DVDs back into their cases on her bed, a rather silly grin on her face.
Erik entered the room, closing the door behind him and looked the humming blonde up and down.
"You're brown." He stated flatly.
"I know," Adi answered, replacing The Hunger into it's case, "You don't happen to know what David bowie's doing with himself nowadays do you?"
"No."
"Adi darling, what have you done to yourself with those tan lines?" flicking through her wardrobe and hanging up clothes, Jacques flapped a tragic hand at his Authoress who shrugged
"As Mel (I miss you so much!) would say. Meh."
"What happened to pale translucent period skin?" Erik asked sardonically.
"I remembered I could tan." Adi replied dreamily, swaying to the music. Erik groaned, recognising the look in her eyes. There was no way they were going to get that update finished now. With a sigh and a swirl of his oh-so-sexy cloak, he turned to leave. And bumped into Adi's other classic cloaked demon muse, who was looking rather different today. Taller, for one thing, with greyish hair and slightly crooked teeth.
"What happened to you?" Erik heard himself asking. Dracula shrugged, raising an eyebrow and a very well known voice issuing forth from his lips.
"Our dear little word witch has been somewhat obsessive about certain versions of my tale of late," he explained, "And so…" he spread his long fingered hands delicately. Erik looked amused.
"Of all the versions to choose though."
"Is it so very hard to believe?"
Erik considered this, "No. Not really."
"She's OVID" Julian explained from his seat on the floor, playing solitaire beside the wardrobe.
"She's what?"
"Suffering fits of Orgasmic Voice Induced Delight."
"Or Delu'shun," Kolper grinned, swigging from a brown bottle.
"Christopher Lee?" Erik asked disgustedly.
"Isn't he sexy!" Adi enthused, hugging her Satanic Rites of Dracula happily. "He'd have made a great you, you know Erik."
"He would not!"
"Would so!"
Erik sighed again, "How much longer are you going to be like this?" exasperation darkened his words.
"Forever and ever." The Authoress smiled. Erik gave her a long look. Then he bent and gathered up her CD holder and the DVDs scattered across her bed.
"I'm confiscating these." He told her bluntly, "Until you see fit to conduct yourself in a manner more fitting to an Authoress and finish your update."
Adi snapped out of her OVID coma faster than a Sue could say "pink glitter"
"Erik!" she shrieked, "Don't you dare!" she dashed out of the room after her muses dramatic black cloak, very nearly breathing fire. The muses left in the room all looked at one another and shrugged. Julian glanced at the readers and flashed his fangs. "And now for something completely different."
The New Years Eve Costume Ball of the Opera Populaire was an enormous and fantastic event. Silk streamers of pale blue and gold ribboned out from the wide balcony, embracing the marble walls. Tapered candles burned in ornate sconces and a minor orchestra filled the room with festive music. Dancers and drinkers laughed and whirled about the floor, eyes bright with joy and mouths wide with smiles.
From behind a marble column, fitted with a false door, Adriana tugged at her dress and tossed her hair behind her shoulders for the sixth time.
"Tell me I look good?" she pleaded plaintively, Erik looked down at her and she offered him a weak smile and shivered, he smiled. "Your elegance and vibrancy far surpasses any of those strutting peacocks out there," he murmured.
"Yeah right," she snorted, "But thanks, here goes nothing." She slipped under Erik's arm and walked calmly out the door. Erik was to hide until everyone else was slightly further gone in drink and once an enterprising and well paid off ballet rat was to emerge with a dozen or so white and black men's masks from the costume department to distribute amongst the crowd. Hidden by a heavy curtain, the Theatre Wraith counted silently in time to the music for eight counts then stepped out.
In a gloriously dramatic and slightly Sueish moment, a black clad Angel with blood on her wings appeared at the second balcony, overlooking the entire floor, right on time for a cascade of falling notes from the violins to her right.
Most of the floor (excluding those already drunk, in corners or doing the thousand other things one finds oneself undergoing at a party) gaped for a moment as the dark vision looked coolly and regally down at them. Then rather anticlimactically, returned to their dance or their drinks, the women to discussing fashion, and the men to discussing the women.
Adriana smiled faintly behind her mask and accepting a flute of champagne, glided down the stairs to enjoy herself.
Because let's face it. As entertaining as eavesdropping is, no girl doesn't love making an entrance.
"Claude of the Marsilles of Nice," the gold brocade on the fop's frock coat creaked as he bowed to Adriana. Surreptitiously taking advantage of his lowered position to peer down the front of her rather delectable dress. Adriana who had been watching the shadows from behind her mask, turned her head to find him openly staring at her and managed a hasty nod of acknowledgment.
"I had heard there was some fuss about the masks with tonight's gala," Claude followed up on his self introduction, squeezing as close as the crowd would allow to the red winged mystery gazing across the room, "But it seems they are as plentiful and," he raised an embroidered kerchief to his nose and sniffed, "and decorative as ever. Wouldn't you say?"
Another nod, the bloody angel was mute as a statue.
The dandy, obviously groping for something to say, jumped on the violins being sawed in the balcony above them. "Ah the waltz!" he cried, he bowed and attempted another peek down the black dress. "My lady, you are obviously a stranger in these parts, might I entreat you to a dance?"
This time it was a shake of a blonde head and the slight rustling of a number of scarlet feathers that indicated the refusal.
"Yes well I suppose it is rather garish is it not?" again the kerchief rose to the powdered face.
Adriana, who had personally seen Erik writing the list of music to be played and outlining precisely who was to be playing it some weeks before down in the lair, very calmly kept her mouth closed and entertained herself with several imaginary death related torturing of men in bad fashions and obviously suffering from colour blindness. However her left index finger did twitch slightly.
"Well apart from the music I thought it a rather lovely ball," the fop went on pompously, Adriana merely looked at him, he glanced at her, a bit flustered. Why wouldn't she speak? "You mustn't see many like this back where you're from." The girl's steady gaze was beginning to unnerve him, he decided an escape was in order.
"Ah! I do believe I see my friend waving, you must excuse me." He hurried off in a puff of snuff and rustling clothes. Adriana slowly stepped back into the shadows.
"You never cease to amaze me, my dear." Erik's voice wove into her ears. "I keep my face hidden behind a mask so that none may behold me, and yet you are able to hide your emotions far more aptly than I ever may."
"Practise," Adriana murmured, keeping her face impassive. Under the pretence of adjusting her dress, she brushed her fingers along the back of her skirt, feeling the rustle of black satin until her fingers connected with dark velvet. Erik's black-gloved fingers traced up her arm, raising goose bumps on her pale skin.
"You are cold, my dear one." His icy breath purred beside her ear.
"Only on the outside," she whispered in reply. Erik chuckled seductively,
"Do not allow yourself to be forgotten, my love, your fops and butterflies eagerly await your glorious presence." His arm slid to the side of her waist, resting there, Adriana felt him drawing closer. She leant back slightly and Erik pressed his sensuous lips to her smooth neck. He bit down gently and Adriana stifled a gasp, trying not to swoon.
Erik ended his kiss and slid his hand up and down her back, gently pushing her forward.
"I want you to dance with me later, Erik," she murmured into the darkness behind her, a ghostly laugh echoed in her ears.
"I shall insist upon it, my Angel of the Shadows."
(A/N) Oh, wow, yum.
Much later, when noses were turning red and a considerably richer Beatrice had run her little mask delivering errand. (it should be noted, in passing, that the managers had not approved of any masks in the least, but with so many wealthy Parisians showing up and a certain letter suggesting vast sums of money donated in patronage by a certain Dutch mask maker recently moved to Paris sitting innocuously on an office desk, they had had no choice but to accept, and possibly call for a stronger drink.) Erik joined Adriana out on the dance floor.
It would be impossible to say that his appearance caused hardly a ripple, and even more impossible to say that it had caused a splash. Erik's height and grace made him instantly noticeable but the fact that many in the room were now wearing masks as well and were taking full advantage of the free booze provided, lessened this impact far more than a red Death aficionado would have liked to have seen.
Her wallflower act now abandoned, Adriana glided around the room rather happily to the music, pausing to smile at one or another and even share a word or two with another patron. Christine and Raoul were conspicuously absent. She dropped a wink to Odile as she passed on Erik's thin arm, the diva's eyes widened at the black dress and wings, then she dropped a respectful curtsey, blue and gold satin rustling as she dipped.
"What on earth is she wearing on her face?" Erik murmured incredulously, as they headed towards a dark corner under the balcony. "It looks like the flattened silhouette of a diced orange."
Adriana didn't say anything. Her sigh however, did.
"Don't tell me you designed that monstrosity?" he demanded in a whisper.
"Erik?" Adriana murmured, pressing close against him to allow a crowd of dancers to pass, the Phantom swallowed, "Yes?"
"Odile's mask is the profile shape of the Sydney Opera House. One of Australia's greatest national icons and an internationally recognised tourist destination with near perfect acoustics. I made Odile's mask in that shape because I enjoy dramatic irony and because it's not fair that you're the only one with an Opera House of your own here."
Erik's grip on her arm tightened, "There is an Opera House in Sydney? How could I not have known this? Why didn't you tell me?"
"Ease up," she shrugged, "It's another ninety years or so before it's even thought of, let alone designed and built.
"Oh." Erik's voice was flat with disappointment, "Very clever."
"Thanks."
AN: The "forever and ever" is from David Bowie in The Hunger which has the bloodiest and most sensual first ten minutes I have ever seen in a film. And I would just like to moan about the fact that I found Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera audio book today in Angus and Roberston, read by none other than the immortal Christopher Lee (sexiest 84 year old on the planet) I mean, cant you just imagine his voice reading that book? And the frakking bastards only had it on tape! (I only own a CD player) Why me cruel world? Is being jobless not enough for you?
I also patent OVID (such a delightful term, dont you think?)