Still more coming! Please review! Thanks!

-Olivia N.

Her day had flown by in the blink of an instant, almost as if had not happened at all. Madame Dacio had been on her tail all day, watching her with those scrutinizing green eyes of hers, critically judging every piece of fabric that she handled. Every stitch and hem was inspected, every flaw was caught and no job well done was commended. She keep at Raylan, pressing her to her limits, testing whether or not this foreigner would crack under the pressure of having a job done well and on time. Strange as it was Raylan would not utter a word of displeasure or disgust; just continue diligently working as well as she could until Madame Dacio was satisfied with her 'amateur' work. Being the rookie Raylan was made to stay behind once all the seamstresses were done and clean up the mess they had left behind. It didn't please her to have to do others jobs but she wittingly kept her mouth shut and did as she was told, silently and thoroughly sweeping up what cut fabrics remained scattered on the floor.

Vits leaned against the door, waiting. He still had a million other things to get done after showing Raylan to his room. He sighed, telling another stage hand his orders, for the fifth time. He was ready to scream. His tone was harsh and cold, with colorful words thrown in liberally. In irritation he tapped his foot against the door, impatient. Had he known she would take this long Vits would have finished making the cuts for the set, fixed the tarp, and would be dealing with the problem an idiot stage hand was complaining about-and then picked her up. Hadn't he told her to be ready? He sighed impatiently to show his annoyance, in which Raylan simply lifted a finger up to him, silently asking him to be patient as she finished sweeping. Vits gave her a glare and growled under her breath. The growls turned into violent swear words as he saw the Patron sweeping down the hall with a grin on his face.

The Patron called out, still smiling, "Ah! Miss Chalondra! What a lovely job you did on repairing that set!"

Vits responded with forced pleasantry, and a dark threat beneath her tone, "If you didn't make me use cut rate wood I wouldn't have that problem."

The patron gave her a false smile-both knew she was right, "Well, you still haven't painted the Act 3 Set. You need to get on that-oh and of course you'll have finished repairing the curtains? That rip looks awful. Plus the stage could use a fresh coat of wax."

At that point stress had boiled over and Vits exploded, "What rip in the damn curtains! I just fixed the bloody things last fucking show!"

The patron visibly flinched as Vits bellowed. He responded innocently, "The one Carlotta put in there this morning."

Vits took a deep breath trying to keep herself from strangling and raising her voice to the impudent man standing in front of her. It didn't work, "If you cannot control your monster how do you expect me to work! AND WHY IN FUCKING HELL DID YOU NOT TELL ME ABOUT THIS EARLIER FOR GOD'S BLEEDING SAKE!" Vits added several swear words for good measure. She really had a large vocabulary, a very large colorful one. Everyone nearby flinched and shuddered, the children and those with a weaker stomach ran.

The patron backed up a step, at the expression of rage, then grew a back bone and took several steps foreword, "Chalondra Vitusia! I will not be spoken to in that tone! I expect these things to be done by curtain!" With that he walked off, shaking pathetically.

Vits swore up, down, and all over, smashing her fists against the walls that wavered but held. Trembling with rage she spun upon Raylan, asking tersely, "Are you ready yet!"

Raylan had dropped the broom she had been using, now standing shocked in the center of the room, her mouth hanging slightly open in surprise and a deep shade of scarlet crossing her tanned cheeks. Her voice was very shy and weak as she inquired, "You...you... you're female?"

Vits looked her up and down, giving her the look that she offered to stupid people. "Yes! Now are you finished! In case you didn't hear, I have more shit to do in less than a night that people do in their goddamn life times!"

Raylan jumped, her hands beginning to shake in utter terror. Her face had gone pale from Vits outburst and even more timidly than before she said, "Yes, I'm ready." She took her two suitcases into her hands, standing with a hunched, weak posture as if waiting to shy away from the apparently enraged woman.

Vits nearly ran through the vast and winding halls, taking so many numerous twists and turns that Raylan could barely keep up. Vits curtly told her new roommate over her shoulder as she stormed on, "Stay close and remember, I won't tell you twice." She lead the ways through the halls, occasionally barking orders to various people to do certain things-all involving the issues the patron had told her or getting people to deal with them. Everyone she spoke to jumped at her command, and followed the orders she gave. Before Raylan had the chance to memorize their travel, Vits opened a cheap wooden door leading off of one of the main halls; apparently her apartment.

The word small is too big to describe her place. The space was tight, but not cramped-there was barely anything in there. An ice box and a stove with a sink served as a tiny kitchenette, with a two person wooden table that barely sat one. Less than two steps from the table sat a worn down and thoroughly beaten couch that sagged with age and use. It hadn't been moved in a good ten years or so, and was left over from many previous owners. A canvas curtain, resembling a ship's sail acted as a divider into another room that was currently blocked from Raylan's view.

Vits growled and pointed to the couch, "Yours. Keep it neat." And with that she turned on her heel and left, shouting orders as she went.

Raylan released a long withheld sigh once Vits had left the room, only then placing her two suitcases in front of the couch that was apparently her sleeping arrangements. Cautiously she made to sit on the couch, very carefully lowering herself onto the slumping cushions in fear that it would suddenly fall out from beneath her. When it did nothing more but squeak from the sudden weight she allowed herself to relax, leaning forward and picking up the larger of the suitcases. She placed it tenderly beside her and opened it, lifting the top to expose the few garments and accessories to her name. In this suitcase the only thing that stood apart was a medium sized red, leather bound journal with one long leather string tied about it to keep it closed. She removed the journal carefully and with both hands as if she feared dropping it and the precious book shattering into a million unmatchable pieces. After placing the book securely in her lap she recovered a small sharpened pencil stashed within the piles of clothing and then closed the suitcase, lowering it to the ground along side its smaller twin. The smaller suitcase caught her eyes as she began to rise back into the couch, that beaten and worn thing that was barely holding it's self together. It had marks all over it, scratches and indentions as if it had been kicked around several times before. Her eyes looked viciously at it, her lips thinning with a pent up rage, and if glances could burn hers certainly would have set the small case a flame. Slowly she willed herself to tear her eyes away though, and with a heavy sigh she leaned back into the couch. Her attention was directed to the journal then, her hands running fondly over the red leather, caressing its glossy binding. This book was her everything; her life, hopes, dreams, secrets, and mistakes. It held within its precious pages every miracle and disaster she had performed, every gift and curse. It was her memories, her heart and soul- the one object she would protect with her life. Her finger tips danced over the pages as she opened it, her eyes lazily skimming over all her past written out before her. She flipped through them slowly as if taking in all the information is contained until she reached a blank page, the lone paper beckoning her as once more her life begged to be written. And so the hours passed, Raylan remaining captivated in the magic of the written language until she caught the sound of the apartment door handle being fiddled with, in which she immediately slammed the book shut and stashed it beneath the sofa cushions.

Vits walked in, exhausted and tired from shouting. But Vits didn't just shout, she also did the work, more often pulling more than her own weight, and spent a great deal of time double checking others work-she took no chances. Her green eyes glanced over to the couch. "Oh, you're still up," She commented, her voice sounding out of energy, and needing a rest. Vits walked sluggishly the not quite two steps it took to get to the sink, in which she pulled a glass from a small cabinet along the wall, and got a glass of water from the rusting sink. She drank, draining the whole thing before refilling the glass and sipping slowly on it.

Raylan nodded cautiously, still unsure if she would be walking on egg shells with Vits. "I don't sleep often," She said simply.

Vits shrugged and said warningly, "Just be able to meet your obligations"

"Have no worries. I'll be fine," She allowed silence to come between them then, waiting for Vits to finish her water before speaking again. When she was done Raylan said apologetically, "I am sorry for before- I truly had no idea that you were female- not that I am implying that you seem more male or anything. You just didn't seem very... feminine."

Vits chuckled, her voice not hinting that Raylan's statement had offended her, "You're not the first; I doubt you'll be the last. It seems harder for women to know that I am female, most men know it right away," She shrugged, adding lightly, "I have no desire to act my sex, so I don't."

Raylan nodded, allowing the conversation to end with that. Vits was entitled to her opinion- she would not press her own upon her. Resting her head upon the sofa cushions she stared aimlessly at the ceiling, listening only to the occasional sighs and groans Vits omitted. Her mind had begun to drift into that numbed state again, once more thinking in time with the sound of her breathing but just as her eyes began to get heavy, memory interrupted her process. She saw that figure in her mind again, almost as if it were there, hovering in the rafters, a dark and looming shadow. She could not recall much more than that darkness that stood apart from its black surroundings, except for that her mind could scarcely remember the color white. Opening her eyes she lifted her head from the pillow turning her gaze upon Vits again, a small question written in her expressions.

Vits looked at the girl lying on the couch, she set the glass down in the sink harder than she intended to, and so it rang through the silence in the little room. She sighed; waiting to collapse into her hammock and get what sleep remained from the night. Her eyes noticed the look Raylan was giving her and so she said tiredly, "What in the name of all that's good do you want?"

Raylan was slightly taken back from Vits words to the point of almost reconsidering asking her, but curiosity had always and would always get the best of her. "This afternoon," She began, her eyes glistening with eager anticipation, "when you were talking with Madame Dacio and I was waiting for you in the hall- I had been watching the rafters, for no reason at all except to look at something, and just when I had begun to drift to sleep I thought I saw...well I'm not sure what I saw. For one moment there was this shadow, this figure that stood out amongst the darkness, but before I could get a good look at it, whatever it was had vanished. I know it sounds crazy, and maybe my mind was just playing tricks on me, but I could have sworn I saw something up there."

Vits nodded, and her words were dry and simple as she replied shortly, "It's him. The Phantom Of The Opera."