Please satiate me! Read and Review!
Adrian walked quickly through the halls of the Opera house towards the prop department. Madame Bufont had said to meet her there for more instruction, and it wouldn't do to be late for anything on her first day. Madame Bufont looked like the sort of woman who would not tolerate tardiness.
The door to the main workshop opened to a celtic knot of arms, legs, faux flowers and glue. Standing in the middle of the mess were Madame Bufont and a man who could have been seven feet tall. Both were talking above the swirling turmoil; they seemed to be very good friends. Madame Bufont saw her and gestured for her to come over.
" Come with us! It's quieter in the office!"
The three wound through the crowd till they reached the big man's office and shut the door. The giant turned to Adrian with a grin. He had a graying-brown beard and head full of hair paired with twinkling blue eyes. He must have been almost sixty, but his smile and eyes were youthful in their gaiety.
"Und who is this fairy-fey? I haf seen such a lovely frauline never before!" Adrian looked at him suspiciously to see if he was making fun of her. But detecting no lie in his booming voice, she relaxed. But only a little.
Madame Bufont gave the giant a disapproving smile, but there was a merriment in her eyes that forgave him.
"Adrian, this is Monsieur Bertrand Wagner (pronounced VAG-ner). You must excuse his forward manner, I am told that all Germans are this way. M. Wagner will be showing you some of the things you must know to take orders from the rest of the Opera House. I will see you at lunch!"
After Madame Bufont left, M. Wagner turned to Adrian. He leaned over slightly to look her in the eye. A grin spread across his face.
"The frauline vill not haf to vorry! I am confirmed bachelor, but I still retain the flowered speech of my youth, yes? Now come, we haf much to do!"
Adrian spent the rest of the day tailing M. Wagner through the various workrooms, her eyes taking everything in. Clearly this man was very popular, for there were many cries of " Good morning, Bear!" (a nickname Adrian found appropriate). He returned them with his brilliant smile, a laugh and a hearty, "Guten tag!"
M. Wagner pointed out various operations and described them with detail. Each faux flower had to be exactly right, the trimming on each tapestry had to match the images they portrayed exactly. He paid close attention to every detail and nothing eluded his gaze.
He seemed to care immensely about whatever problems his employees had with work or their home life, and asked anyone who drew him into conversation about sick relatives, financial problems or whatever seemed to be troubling him or her. At first, Adrian just kept quiet, but his genial manner made it harder and harder to keep herself guarded. Eventually, she decided he wasn't enough of a threat to guard against, and relaxed enough to ask the occasional question. He seemed to enjoy her questions, and answered them to the best of his ability. Though whenever he met her eyes, she detected a trace of fear and puzzlement. This set her on edge, and put another layer between them.
Finally, lunch arrived, and the two made their way back to the office where Madame Bufont was waiting.
"Now tell me, how went your day?"
Adrian made a quick report on the goings on in the prop department. It made the hair on the nape of her neck bristle to have their attention fixed on her, but she spoke clearly and briefly with no hint of fear. When she was done, Madame Bufont produced lunch and set it on a small table in the corner, while M. Wagner pulled up three chairs. The two elders talked about a shortage of camellias while Adrian quietly finished her baguette.
" Mlle. Cartier, there is some paperwork in my office that needs sorting, would you…"
Adrian nodded silently, thanked M. Wagner for her tour and glided noiselessly from the room. The two sat in silence while Adrian exited and her footsteps faded to nothing.
" Bertrand, what do you think?"
The giant scratched his head thoughtfully and smiled.
" You are most blessed to haf such a lovely and competent assistant, Manon. She is intelligent beyond her years, and organized as a library. She asked all the important questions, and I vould not be leery of giving her my position vile I take a break; she is that good. But…"
Manon nodded for him to go on.
" There is something strange about that one. When her eyes met mine, they were like glass eyes! No expression, no feeling, like a snake's! She just watched me, like she knew exactly vat vent through my mind, und she never vonce smiled, she just…I cannot describe it in this cursed tongue! Und the colors! I tell you Manon, not God himself could create them! There is something very strange about the frauline. Very strange indeed. I vould vatch her vere I you."
Madame Bufont gathered her skirts and stood up, thinking over her friend's words. Bertrand's judge of character was usually very accurate, and she had to agree with what he had said. That girl was like a ghost with her solemn, cynical eyes, looking at the world with cold calculation. She would have to watch Mlle. Cartier closely.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Adrian's steps were much heavier than usual. She was tired from the work she had done that day. Paperwork was much more draining than she would have thought. But still, she had a lot of practice in organization from before…
She shook her head to clear it. It would not do to lose control and let anything escape from its mental confines.
She was so very tired. A good night's sleep sounded heavenly, and if Isobel had nothing for her to do, she planned to fall into bed and go to sleep the second her head hit the pillow.
Suddenly, she stopped. She had heard a noise: footsteps. It could not be Isobel, she wore high heels, and this footstep was more of a padding than a clicking sound. Someone had followed her! Sleepy no more, she hastily climbed the steps, pausing every now and then to listen. Blocking the sound of her pounding heart from her ears, she listened again. Nothing. " I must be hearing things.", she thought. It wouldn't be the first time. But just in case, she went slightly faster than before.
Erik frowned thoughtfully. Strange, very strange indeed. Why was a woman living in this part of his Opera House? Normally, people avoided it as much as possible, as it had a reputation to be haunted, but then again, hadn't the last Opera ghost proved to be not so ghostly? At any rate, the place was as dark as pitch at night, and a little creepy.
He had noticed the girl earlier that day when she had entered Madame Bufont's office. She struck him as slightly odd, extremely intelligent and rather lovely. The polar opposite of Christine. Beautiful and innocent that girl may have been, but she was a conformist who wasn't strong on brainpower. This one was shorter, more slender and less voluptuous. Her heart shaped face, golden hair and ghostly pale complexion contrasted sharply with Christine's classical good looks and rosy glow. And her dress! The girl was dressed as if she had just left a nunnery, all in dark brown from head to toe without the slightest decoration to relieve the gloom. Christine rarely wore anything but pink unless a certain role required it. The only part of Mlle. Cartier he hadn't had the chance to examine was her eyes. The way that people stared when their eyes met hers had piqued his interest.
He had watched her work for a time, and the way her fingers moved suggested that she was ambidextrous and double-jointed. Every movement was precise, and she never fumbled once, as if she had everything she was about to do planned exactly in her head.
After a while, he had left, deciding that he didn't want to spend his day watching other people doing paperwork. After whiling away his day sketching new designs and architectural plans, he had returned to Madame Bufont's office at six o'clock to check on the girl. She was just leaving as he arrived. He had slipped into the hallway and followed her at a safe distance till she reached the foot of the stairs leading to the abandoned wing, and lighting a candle, began to go up.
He decided to head her off at the next landing. Using a passageway in the wall, he got there in plenty of time to open a peephole in the ornate carving. All trace of weariness was gone as she topped the stairs. She reminded him of a cat, poised and serious as the sphinx. It was then that he looked her full in the face for the first time.
What threw him off guard was not the coloring of her eyes, but the absolute cynical wisdom that caught the candlelight. In those eyes was every angry, cold, sad emotion ever conceived. It disturbed him greatly to see a mirror of himself in her. She must have been only nineteen. What could have happened to her that could instill wisdom so far from her years?
And suddenly, it was as if her eyes became frozen over; all emotion was gone, leaving a cold, bitter block of ice hewn to female form. She continued up the stairs till she reached the top floor. Opening a door at the end of the hallway, she disappeared within.
He was about to leave, when he heard a voice much different from Mlle. Cartier's. If a diamond could speak, it would sound as this voice did: cold, sharp, imperial and crystal clear. He went close enough to the door to listen.
" Good evening Adrian. You were employed?"
"Yes, Isobel" Her voice was soft and low, almost subservient and edged with weariness. "Do you wish anything of me, Isobel?"
"Not this night Adrian. You must go to sleep."
"Thank you Isobel."
Erik drew back, puzzled. Was this a mother, a sister, or maybe a friend? The tone of the woman reminded him of the way that the little sultana had addressed her slaves; as if they were filth. And the girl's voice made up the slave portion of the partnership. It was strange to think that those eyes could be paired with the voice of the slave. With a shrug, he decided he would address the problem in the morning. Now if he could only remember if there was a mirror passage to that room…
