Author's notes: I got the backings, so now I have good materials to practice my soprano! Il Muto and the beginning of AIAOY, guys! Anyway, chocolate for people who guess where the song is from! It should be pretty obvious...
angel718 - heh
Enrinye – Thanks, Z. Yes, those are the expected questions.
PersonageoftheUnderverse – I understand the word "kawaii", so don't worry. Thanks a lot. My Japanese is limited to greetings and such, but I used to be a fan of enough cartoons to know what kawaii means :)
onelastchance– thanks a lot!
Nyltiak – I will, or at least, I will try to. Thanks and read on!
lady kathrin – Ich spreche Deutsch, also mach dir keine Sorgen. Danke, hier ist mehr!
Nota Lone – Yes, pillows rule the world! Anyway, here you go!
phantomphan85 – here is another chapter.
X X X
Chapter 6 – Stair-chase with a Cat
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Later that afternoon, Christine finally got out of bed (after being threatened with a bucket of icy water by Meg) and moved to checkpoint 2 – the dressing room. She was still early, she knew. Normally, she would put on some make-up and try to fix her dress, but a part of her told her that it would be too modern to try to impress a ghost that waltzed out of your mirror with your good looks, no matter how hot he may be.
She dressed plainly, sat down in the dressing room and waited patiently. Her script – the one she knew she would be rehearsing with Erik – was on her vanity. Raising an eyebrow in understanding when she saw that it was the Countess´ part, she didn't have to sit there for long. In no time, a voice rang through the room.
"Christine…"
Biting back a mischievous grin, she smiled brilliantly and walked towards the mirror, which swung open as she approached, revealing the only person who could ever come up with the idea of a mirror trap door, having created many similar gadgets in the past.
"Good afternoon, Erik." She noted politely, slightly pleased to see that he seemed surprised that she treated him so civilly. Then, he must have remembered that she had no idea of his circumstance, but dismissed the thought. When he said nothing, she added: "I have the script, but… I thought you knew – I didn't get the lead this time. I play the Pageboy." with a good show of uncertainty, since she really didn't know what his reaction would be.
"You need not worry about that. The silent part shall go to the one who deserves it – Carlotta. We will rehearse the lead. Last time, I also told you that you would be Elisa, did I not?" Christine nodded, fishing in her dual memory for that memory. "And you got that part. It will be the same with this production."
His tone suggested that the matter was settled, so Christine decided to remain silent and followed him down to the lair. Though there was no singing this time, it was as entertaining as ever. The self-igniting candelabras still amused her, and she tried to remember the way down this time. She even realized that the tunnel was indeed a bit darker and gloomier than she thought it was.
Christine knew she had rehearsed operas before, but that was before she lost her ingénue persona. It was just a memory – now, she got to get first-hand training. It wasn't easy. Then again, she didn't expect it to be. It took her a lot of time to pronounce the words and sing them at the same time, breathing was a bit of an issue, but overall, she thought she did quite well for her first try.
"We shall continue tomorrow." Erik said after what seemed like hours. Christine sat down with a curt nod, hoping to catch her breath after a particularly long coloratura.
After about a minute, she noticed him watching her, so she smiled reassuringly. "I am alright, but a bit sleepy – I've had little sleep yesterday."
He nodded slightly. "Understandable – you are not yet used to all the crowds of admirers." There was a note of bitterness in his voice, so Christine decided to go for the best approach.
"Attempts to escape from them are exhausting, yes." It seemed to have gotten the right reaction, from what she saw in his eyes from afar. "But the training is more important than my sleep right now… Il Muto is not that far away."
Observing her for a moment, Erik noted quietly: "You will play the lead, Christine. Don't concern yourself with anything other than studying the part."
"Even if I don't, I can still sing it for you." Christine added, beaming. She had other things on her mind as well, without having to study the main part of an opera, but knew that it was crucial to their success on the long way.
She could see his lips form a small smile. "And you can sing part of a song for Carlotta as well. You have to change the pronoun, though. Page 31." He instructed when she peered at him quizzically.
Christine picked up her script and searched for the page. When she found it, she stared at it at first, then smiled, then laughed merrily, fully aware that she was being watched closely. But it seemed that for once, even though her singing entirely perfect, because she was still suppressing giggles, Erik had nothing to comment.
Pooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrr fool, she makes me laugh, hahahahaha…
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The double rehearsals – the official ones and the lessons – were pretty much exhausting, and Christine began feeling the strain soon. With no other way to do this, she began drinking coffee – she would have preferred coke, but there was little of that in the nineteenth century, thus she had to give up any hopes of finding that particular soft drink.
Meg, who was very much occupied with her own rehearsals, had taken up the task of planning "AIAOY" and the night of Il Muto. They had a bit of a fight with Christine about that – Meg wanted to go "by the book", so that they would get to "DOM" without problems, but Christine refused to spend months with Raoul and no one else, so there was a slight problem with that.
They hardly even had time to talk now, if they wanted to be well rested for the next day. The schedule was training, eating, sleeping. It didn't allow anything else. But as the opening night of Il Muto approached, both were confident that they had done their best. Meg was getting pretty good at the dancing, and she was actually beginning to enjoy it, thinking of it as of a parody – and since Il Muto was a comedy, she decided she liked it a bit more than Hannibal.
Christine's rehearsals were getting demanding. As Seraphimo, all she had to do was know when to gasp, where to go and what to do. The worst part was getting close enough to Carlotta to pretend they were kissing behind the various objects the diva would hold on the stage, since the Prima Donna always gave her such a ridiculous sour face that Christine had to restrain herself from laughing in her face. She didn't, once, and got a lecture from Monsieur Reyer… but after Carlotta was gone and Meg proceeded to do a parody of her in front of the whole staff, Christine's reactions were understood by all.
What concerned Christine more were the lessons with Erik. She was a bit anxious each time, because she had to improvise a bit. The basic rule was not to ask about the mask. As long as she left that subject alone, everything was fine. But if it was hard to work with him watching, it was even harder to pretend she didn't notice when they weren't working, and she was mostly having a bit of a tour of the lair.
It would have been understandable that he wanted to make sure she didn't get lost of break something… but Christine knew better. Consequently, when she found her stockings carefully folded on the bed where she had slept, she burst into silent giggles that fortunately weren't heard, since he was playing the organ at the time. She would have very much liked to see the look on his face when he found those, but decided to ask later.
At the night of the show, she was keen to get into her costume. She loved the old-fashioned crinolines, but having a chance to wear trousers again – even if it would be breeches and not comfortable Kenvelo jeans – was more than welcome. This time, Meg had a laugh about her own costume.
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Pooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr fool
he makes me laugh
hahahahaha!
Christine had to resist the urge to roll her eyes for the zillionth time. Carlotta was trying to sing elaborately, so she was worse than ever. The ensemble was good, she noticed, Don Attilio and Mini-Piangi were hilarious, and she once again strutted around the stage like a queen, occasionally hiding behind Carlotta's poodle lady costume skirt. It would be amusing if the gigantic wig would fall off, she thought, but she still occasionally, looked at the throat spray that was nearby.
Then, she spared a glance seemingly at the chandelier, but could now distinguish a dark shape behind it. Faintly, she smiled and glanced at Meg, who noticed it a split second later, but by then, everyone had been alerted to its presence, when a booming voice rang through the opera house.
"Did I not instruct that Box 5 was to be kept empty?" There was annoyance, irritation and mild anger in that simple statement, and though he might have spoken the words quietly, it sounded almost like a roar.
"It's him – the Phantom of the Opera!" Meg whispered to the other performers, knowing that it was her job to say this every time he appeared.
Christine almost didn't remember that she had to start the toad incident. "It's him…" she whispered then, almost only mouthing the words. If anyone had paid attention, they would have realized that the words weren't spoken with fear – quite the opposite.
Carlotta was never one of the world's greatest thinkers, though. "Your part is silent, little toad!" she hissed at Christine, turning to the audience with a brilliant and slightly forced smile.
Frowning, Christine muttered: "And yours should be silent," adding two very 21-century-ish swearwords to that, forming the initials f. b. and, to be polite, calling the diva a female dog that was in the process of mating. Carlotta didn't seem to have heard her, or, if she had, chose to ignore her.
Again, she began singing the lines, after having her dose of throat spray. Christine and Meg exchanged a smirk. She was two thirds into the "hahaha" line, when she began croaking. Meg didn't even bother biting her lip to stop herself from laughing. It wasn't worth it – the scene was too funny. After several loud croaks, Christine was holding the bed prop for support, she was laughing so hard. The whole audience roared with laughter, and Meg saw even Raoul chuckle a bit in his box.
Two very pale and near-vomiting looking managers emerged on the scene when the curtain fell, speaking their expected lines. Christine, who had been in the middle of laughing with Meg, who came closer to have a brief chat, felt a hand grab her arm and yank her forward. Suddenly, she was in front of the audience, her eyes widening a bit.
"…when the role of the Countess will be played by Miss Daaé!" Firmin announced, still a bit shaky. The audience stopped smiling – the aftermath of their laughter – and began to applaud her. Before Christine had a chance to even smile at them, André pushed her back behind the curtain.
"Go, go, go!" he mouthed and she felt Madame Giry rush to her aid, taking her to her dressing room.
"…the b-b-b-ballet from act three!" André stuttered, and Meg burst into silent giggles. Then she realized that she had to get off stage – she wasn't dressed properly for that particular scene, and anyway, if a corpse was supposed to be dangling from the flies soon, she didn't want to risk anything.
She had never liked Buquet anyway.
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A red rose with a black ribbon – Christine found it in her dressing room as she changed into half her next costume and her "Little Red Riding Hood" cape. Madame Giry was watching her carefully, but when Meg´s practiced scream rang through the opera house, Christine didn't waste any time. Immediately, she ran out of the dressing room and made a beeline for the roof.
"Christine, wait!" she heard someone – Raoul, probably – call after her, but she wasn't about to give him the chance to catch up. If there was anything she refused to be doing, it was doing the Disney-style romance scene with him. Not that he wasn't kind of sweet, but when she had to choose between him and you-know-who, there wasn't really any choice to make.
Even though she was in a long dress, he couldn't really compete with her when it came to running up the stairs. When you climb up to the top of St. Peter's basilica in Rome on a hot sunny day, which has at least a dozen staircases and over three hundred stairs, a few dozen stairs isn't nearly enough to scare you.
She had just shut the door when she realized that there was no way out of the rooftop. Either she would hide somewhere, or she could climb up and get to the real roof of the opera, or she would face the cliché sweet comforting of a lovesick fop. There was no chance of climbing in that dress, and she wasn't proficient enough in it to climb that high. Therefore, she chose option no 1.
The hem of the red cape had just vanished behind the nearest statue when she heard footsteps and the door quickly opened somewhere behind her.
"Christine!" Raoul´s voice called out.
He can't possibly be this stupid, Christine thought. He's bound to search and find me.
but apparently, Raoul was under the impression that Christine would rush to him the moment she would hear him, so he didn't bother searching. Perhaps he simply thought he took a wrong turn somewhere and lost her in the corridors.
With a sigh of relief, she stepped into the light from behind the statue, panting a bit and holding a hand over her lungs. She then froze. She didn't have a plan, and Erik was bound to be nearby. And throwing a tantrum would be a bad move, should he choose to reveal himself now.
Think… think, think, think, she told her mind over and over again. and then, after a few painful seconds when she pretended to go get a better view of Paris at night, she got an idea. It would seem weird, perhaps, but she thought it would be a nice touch. For a moment, she considered "Learn to be Lonely", but decided that it would give the wrong impression – and it would be weird that she knew the melody. Instead, she chose another song.
Daylight
See the dew on the sunflower
And a rose that is fading
Roses whither away
Like the sunflower
I yearn to turn my face to the dawn
I am waiting for the day . . .
Midnight
Not a sound from the pavement
Has the moon lost her memory?
She is smiling alone
In the lamplight
The withered leaves collect at my feet
And the wind begins to moan
Memory
All alone in the moonlight
I can smile at the old days
I was beautiful then
I remember the time I knew what happiness was
Let the memory live again
Every streetlamp
Seems to beat a fatalistic warning
Someone mutters
And the streetlamp gutters
And soon it will be morning
Daylight
I must wait for the sunrise
I must think of a new life
And I musn't give in
When the dawn comes
Tonight will be a memory too
And a new day will begin
Burnt out ends of smoky days
The stale cold smell of morning
The streetlamp dies, another night is over
Another day is dawning
Touch me
It's so easy to leave me
All alone with the memory
Of my days in the sun
If you touch me
You'll understand what happiness is
Look
A new day has begun
She didn't necessarily crescendo as much as she should have – the song was more of a whisper, actually, but she hoped it would have the desired effect. Surely enough, she was genuinely startled when a voice sounded almost directly from behind her.
Christine…
