-Olivia pops out of some portal and falls into her space at fanfiction. net-
-She sees a rather crusty looking dark room covered in forgotten papers and cobwebs, disintegrating pencils and old sheet music. There is also conveniently a skeleton sitting in a chair by a writing desk across the room, a broken pencil clutched in its boney fingers and poised over a slowly browning piece of paper with the word "why?" scribbled over and over again on it. Taking a cautious step further into the room, Olivia says a gentle hello into the room and the only reply is the echo of her voice.-
Olivia: Whoa… what happened here?
-Somehow, the sound of her voice causes a chain reaction, where the once lifeless skeleton suddenly rears up, yawning as if it had just finished a long nap and rubbing its ball less eyes. After a moment of stretching its bones, seeing as it had no muscles to stretch, it suddenly catches sight of Olivia. Olivia pauses, Skeleton pauses, and the all of a sudden the Skeleton leaps to its decaying feet and launches itself across the room at Olivia.-
Olivia: AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
-Suddenly, the Skeleton embraces Olivia with its fragile arms and forces Olivia's head to its skinless chest, rocking her back and forth and making it hard for Olivia to breathe. In some supernatural way, this Skeleton without vocal chords or lungs finds a way to laugh hysterically as Olivia tries to push herself away from the decaying form.-
Skeleton: You're back! You're back! I can't believe you're back! Oh! There is a God!
-Olivia gasps for air.-
Skeleton: I'm never going to let go again! Never again! I'll never let go Jack, I'll never let go!
-Finally, Olivia finds a means of escaping the Skeleton's death grip, and whilst using one hand to hold back the flailing corpse, she stares wide eyed with realization.-
Olivia: S…Su… Sumner?
-Skeleton pauses, before screaming in excitement.-
Skeleton Sumner: Ah! You remember me! Yay! I didn't think you'd recognize me.
Olivia: Well… you do look… a little different. Done something different with your… skin?
Skeleton Sumner: Yea, I lost it. Sort of happens you know, after you die because you starved yourself to death for waiting so long, and then you're just a rotting corpse, so the flesh just kinda falls off after that. And just between you and me, the anti- ageing cream does NOT work.
Olivia: Oh…well… you look so… fresh.
Skeleton Sumner: Oh, well thank you, a girl does what she can.
Olivia: I, uh… I can see that. So… Sumner… what happened here? I remember it being so clean and sparkly when I was last here… and I distinctly remember it having that new car smell.
Skeleton Sumner: What do you think happened here Olivia? Look! Everything's dead! You're stories dead! You left! For a month and five days!
Olivia: I've been gone longer before…
Skeleton Sumner: That is beside the point! The point is you left us, starving for more… and you never came back! You never came back! Why Olivia! Why!
-Skeleton Sumner then falls into tears… which don't come out because she doesn't have eyes nor the means to produce water.-
Olivia: There, there. Don't… uh… cry? I'm here. Look, I'm back. See? I told you I would always come back, and I have… a little late but back all the same.
-Skeleton Sumner sniffs pitifully.-
Skeleton Sumner: Do you mean it? Are you really back?
-Olivia nods and suddenly Skelton Sumner jumps into a frenzy of excitement and barrels across the room over the dust old desk. Olivia follows, coming by the desk just as Skeleton Sumner is brushing off the cobwebs with one long boney finger. After chasing away the spiders and dust, Skeleton Sumner gathers a pile of papers from one side of the desk and places them in front of Olivia.-
Skeleton Sumner: You've got a few reviews to reply too, although I'm pretty sure your fans have forgotten you by now.
Olivia: Bollocks! They wouldn't forget me.
-Skeleton Sumner looks at her blankly.-
Olivia: Would they?
Skeleton Sumner: Olivia… you vanished… for a month and five days. They have naturally moved beyond you by now. They have… found other stories to read.
Olivia: NO! It can't be!
Skeleton Sumner: I'm afraid so…
-Olivia drops to her knees and does a wonderfully overacted version of total agony.-
Olivia: NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
-Olivia continues to howl this at the top of her lungs until she runs out of air.-
Skeleton Sumner: You done now?
Olivia: Not quite yet… OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO –GASP-
-Skeleton Sumner smacks Olivia on back from where she has gone into a coughing fit from screaming so much.-
Skeleton Sumner: Look, why don't you just try posting your update and replying to their reviews? We can work out the grief later. As for now, you must remind our public that this story still lives… in a matter of speaking.
Olivia: Can I use your rib cage as an improvised xylophone?
Skeleton Sumner: Later. Right now, you must focus!
-Skeleton Sumner grabs Olivia's head and turns it toward the old reviews.-
Skeleton Sumner: Now, get to work.
Olivia: Alright, alright already.
-Olivia takes a seat at the old writing desk and stretches, preparing herself as she pops her knuckles.-
Skeleton Sumner: Don't do that, it's not good for your bones.
-Olivia laughs, does it again, and then picks up one of the less rotting pencils. With a deep intake of air, she takes off on the reviews.-
A Few Thanks:
theNightEnchantress: Yes, Christmas with Erik. Almost ironic how I wrote it in the middle of March, but still cool all the same. Sorry about the wait. Glad you liked the chapter though and I can understand the eagerness for the ball. It's going to be awesome.
TheAngel'sMaggie: I'm so sorry! You precisely asked me to update sooner… and I didn't. I'm sorry if I let you down or frustrated you in any way, and I'm sorry about the torturing. It's always a good thing to be eager to read, but it isn't so good when the person isn't writing, so my deepest apologies.
Juliette Delphe: Yes Sumner, at the beginning of this I turned you into a skeleton. It's symbolism! Anyways, glad you like our story too… seeing as it is OUR story, and it would be pretty pathetic for you not to like our own creation. Glad for your support though… although it is a little odd with the support of your own story lol.
Shimmeringtears: Hi! Sorry to have kept you waiting. Glad that you enjoyed our last chapter and the little turns it gave. Yes, poor Erik to be the victim of Ray and Ethan's stunts, but hey- girls got to do what a girls got to do. Real sorry that this took so long, I truly am.
Surf with music: I… am… SO… sorry that I didn't come back. You found time to review this story, I should've found time to update. Lots going on right now is all. Eight days until I am 18, and 26 days until I graduate. LOTS of stuff going on. I'm glad you enjoyed our last chapter. I greatly enjoyed writing it and bringing out a bit of the gentler side of things. I'm glad you are excited about the ball, and yes, it will be quite interesting with Christine and such. Just so I don't get your hopes up, Christine does not play a very big role- she's more so there to push on a few more things we have been planning to happen in this story. For the record, this is not an EC fic… obviously lol. I myself have a bit of a grudge towards Christine, which is shameful seeing as she is a fictional character… but still. Anyways, yes so the ball is going to be exciting. I'll try not to keep you waiting so long this time. The pieces you played in Band sound awesome. I think I've heard of that before- not sure. We are playing Fate Of The Gods, Rejouisance, Symphonic Festival, Amazing Grace -gags-, and In The Hall Of The Mountain King –hehe-. I'm glad you got all ones at Festival. Bravo! As for the thing about junior year, yea it's tough, but trust me when I say Senior isn't any easier, especially when dealing with what you are going to do with the rest of your life after this. Sorry about the poison ivy, hope you got better and don't scratch. The whole macheteing for tigers sounds cool though. At least you are doing a good service.
-Olivia leans up from finishing her reviews and looks at Sumner who has magically grown back her skin and with it the room looks shiny and new.-
Olivia: Well that's a neat trick.
Sumner: See. This is what happens when you update. Things are better.
Olivia: You're right. Sorry about the wait. Let's get this party cracking then shall we?
Sumner: Hell yes! I get to throw a party again?
Olivia: Not on the readers.
Sumner: Aww… damn. Alright, let's post this thing.
-With that, Olivia gets up from her desk, update in hand. She walks over to a large message board on the wall, and taking a few push pins, places the updates next to where the old ones left off.-
Olivia: Bon Appetite.
Hugs and love and all that jazz,
-Olivia W.
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She heard the door open in her dreams, and through the endless darkness grew some flickering, warm blaze of light, slowly stirring the heavy veil of sleep aside. Her weary mind was vaguely aware of a form entering her room, a body silhouetted by candlelight that cast obscure shadows across her bed sheets. Morning already, her drowsy thoughts concluded, watching blankly as the figure took cautious steps foreword. Was this shadow coming to wake her?
No- instead of bringing the light, the figure put it out. The gentle hum of the door swinging shut sounded as the shadow stepped fully into her room, once again bringing the silent darkness she had come to appreciate. No blinding sun, no harsh exposing light, just darkness, that comforting cover of night, that great mystery that kept her hidden, that kept her safe. Her fate would not find her here, embraced in a world of night and music, covered in his secrets. Safe with him, her heart spoke gently, unrestrained by the logics of the mind as it slept. Her weary eyes smiled fondly into the darkness, then fluttered closed as she embraced the night, accepting its magic as it lowered her to sleep.
She did not wake again until the light returned, corrupting the pure darkness with its severe radiance. Reluctantly her eyes creased open, only again to see that great shadow, silhouetted by the brilliant glow of candlelight beyond her room. The figure was paused in her threshold, the head turned slightly as if glancing over his shoulder at her, possibly considering staying with her in the darkness. She shifted slightly in her bed, slightly raising up to see him better, but just as she moved the figure made a quick escape, stepping beyond her threshold back into the light and wasting no time before shutting her door behind him. Again the darkness, but surprisingly to her slowly waking mind, the night did not feel so inviting and warm as it had moments ago, when the shadow had sat with her.
That brought questions to her mind. How long had the shadow sat with her? And why? What had been so important that he would go beyond his normal gentlemanly restraints and enter her room, uninvited? What had he wanted? What had he done?
Her mind now fully launched to life, despite her bodies complaints and wants for more sleep. What had he done? The question now rolled around in her head like a broken record, playing over and over again, filling her thoughts with slight paranoid suspicion. In a mix of sudden curiosity and the tiniest bit of unease, her hand flung suddenly from its limp sleep to her bed side table, groping the mahogany feverishly. Finally after several seconds of searching, she came to grasp the long match and flint she placed there each night, and with a swift drag across stone, struck the match to life.
At first, the intense birth of fire blinded her sight, causing several little white spots to appear in her vision for a few moments until she blinked them away. After a few moments though her eyes had adjusted and she was able to see clearly as she lifted the match to the wick of a partially melted candle, one of the blood red candles Erik had allowed her to use until he could collect other ones. For a moment her gaze held fondly to the dark wax and then drawing herself from her thoughts, blew the match out and rose from her bed. She shifted her naked legs out from under the warm sheets, attentively placing her bare feet down upon the icy surface of the cave floor that she still hadn't gotten used to. Shakily she stood, wavering for a moment as her legs awoke and then steadying as she took the brass candelabra in her hands. Drawing the crimson candle close to her, she took a few skeptical steps foreword into the still immense darkness. The night retreated from the light though, exposing its secrets to her eyes as she drew closer, revealing what the shadow had come to her for. Revealing what her shadow had wanted, what he had left behind.
Laid out across the glossy wooden top of her dresser was a wave of rose red fabric, spread delicately over the mahogany and hanging slightly down the sides. Placed in plain sight atop the folds of the fabric was something even more surprising, a crisp white note folded cleanly and accompanied by a delicate red rose. Blinking a few times part from sleep and part from confusion, she took those few confident steps through the darkness to her dresser, placing the candle on one spot of bare surface and dropping her hands upon the fabric. Her hands tingled lightly as she touched silk, and then dancing curiously across the fabric her fingers fondly stroked the velvet petals of the rose. Slowly she lifted the rose from its silk bed, bringing its precious beauty to her nose as she inhaled its intoxicating scent. God, how her mind had begun to associate this smell to her shadowed man. Roses, ink, and candles, he always seemed to have that scent about him and she thought of no one else when she smelt such things. Not like death, as so many had rumored in the world above, but like sweeter things, things that defined him.
Almost reluctantly, she placed the precious flower back upon its silk bed, curious fingers then carefully swiping up the folded letter and bringing it close to the candle light. The note wasn't enclosed in an envelope with its red skull seal as most his notes were, but instead was just simply folded as if he wished nothing to get in the way of her eyes and his message. Curious, was all she could think she carefully unfolded the crisp paper, all of this was curious. Still, her mind ignored the oddity of it all and sought the message he left behind, scribbled in swift strokes of red ink.
It began with, My Dearest Raylan, and her skin shivered with slight pleasure at the fondness in his words. Grinning slightly, she read on silently.
My Dearest Raylan,
First and foremost, let me apologize for the hour of bringing these items to you. I do realize that this was not properly timed, and that I might very well have woken you despite my best efforts at being silent. Forgive me, but I feared that if I did not take this opportunity that I would never work up the courage to speak with you on the matter in person. Understand, I have not had much practice in the art of courting.
Raylan's breath suddenly seemed to catch in her throat then, and she began to cough uncontrollably although she couldn't understand why. Had he wrote what she thought she read? Again, Raylan's eyes read over the short paragraph. Indeed, he had. It was there, in clear red writing, not a misspelling or a fluke. Courting, it clearly read courting. Had he gone mad?
"I thought you didn't like me," She said aloud to the darkness, "Like that at least. I thought you didn't care about me." Still stunned, Raylan somehow found the ability to read on as the letter continued with:
I'm sure the sentence above has at the least startled you. As I've come to partially understand your reactions, I have no doubt that my proposal has left you moderately puzzled. Please, allow me the moment to explain.
Oddly, Raylan found herself nodding, as if she were giving the letter permission to keep going.
First, let me simply say that I do enjoy your company, immensely. I have never met a woman so open minded and accepting of me, especially to my rather unsavory ways. In these last few days I have felt more at home with you two here than I have ever dreamt possible. You and Ethan, despite our various differences, have given me a gift greater than yards of fabric, candle sticks, and Lakota flutes. You have given me your friendship, your trust, and furthermore accepted me as family. I can not begin to express the depths of my gratitude. I was intending for tonight's Masque Ball to serve as some form of thanks, giving you the life you expressed that you so deeply needed in our last unpleasant confrontation. Still, somehow these simple thanks do not seem fitting enough for you, or perhaps, I desire something more.
Raylan didn't quite understand what he meant, her head tilting slightly as her gaze reached the end of the paragraph. Something more? What on earth was he hinting at?
I have no doubt of your confusion now.
That line was written alone, and Raylan could swear she could hear his soft amused chuckle ringing someplace in the back of her mind. No malice intended, just simply pleased at how well he had begun to be able to guess her reactions. Raylan out of habit simply rolled her eyes before she continued reading.
Raylan, these past few nights have been, to say the least, my deepest honor to have spent them with you. Everything, from teaching you to read music to simply seeing you truly smile at me has been more than this carcass deserves. I couldn't ask for anything more, and yet for my own selfish reasons and human curiosity, I am prepared to ask you for one last favor.
She swallowed hard then, unsure if she wanted to read further. What would he ask her? Would it be good or bad news? Would she regret reading it, or would it give her that old thing called happiness? Oh lord, how exposed would it make her? How fragile? Nervously her gaze fell back to the paper, taking in the red words where she had left off and continued slowly.
It is my intention, if you would have me, to spend tonight's Masquerade at your side. To clarify, as I have no doubt you are staring at this paper as if searching for the hidden meaning in my words, I am simply asking to play the role of your escort. I wish, once again if you will allow me, to spend the evening close to you, as your partner, to dance with, to accompany you in any way possible.
Again, Raylan found her breath catch in her throat and her eyes widen in shock, like she couldn't believe it was true. Was he… was he asking her on a date? She could only slightly feel her jaw hanging limply open and her eyes bulging as she stared absently at the paper, the surprise to thick for her to pay attention to her reactions at the present time. Had he really… was he really… he couldn't be. Again, her gaze read over the paragraph, and then again, and then another three times. Impossible… but he was. It was written right there, in clear read words, without a single flaw. He was asking her to be his date.
"But I don't understand," Raylan finally managed to mutter, as if she expected the letter to jump to life and answer everything for her, "I thought you didn't care for me… and now you're asking me to be your date? Where were the signs?" Raylan didn't need a magical talking letter to answer that question though. The answer came to her just like so many did, from the back of her mind where she buried the obvious truths and pretended to never have noticed. It answered simply that signs had been everywhere, symbols just like her own, discreet and yet so blatantly obvious.
It was the intensity in his eyes every time they met hers. It was the way he spoke to her, kind or vicious but always so full of passion. It was in his reluctance to touch her. It was his smile, no matter how small, when he would lower his walls to her childish enthusiasm. It was in the way he listened to her, in the way he watched her, in the way he said her name. It was in his actions when he'd go stark raving mad over her affections for Ethan, which he still didn't think she noticed. It was the way he guarded her without question, protected her despite all her faults. It was in his music. It was so horribly obvious that Raylan could have slapped herself for being so unbelievably dim-witted. So blind, both of them were so very blind.
After a few batted breaths, Raylan finally found the composure she needed to read on. What was left of his note was simply a closure, the few last apathetic words of uncertainty. They were written without the slightest air of emotion, making his insecurity of what her decision would be even more obvious.
If you are to accept, I have taken the liberty of providing you a costume for the ball. It should be fitting, and hopefully is to your taste. If my offer is taken, than I am requesting you wear the garments I am presenting. It will suffice as an answer to my question.
Humbly Yours,
Erik
Raylan stared blankly at the letter for some time after that, not reading it or trying to decipher the meaning in his words, just simply staring. There was no real question in her thoughts, no need to understand. Erik's letter made his intentions perfectly clear. Without thought, she let the letter fall from her grasp to lay upon its silk bed once more, her distant eyes following its decent to the red fabric placed so tenderly atop the mahogany. So it was a dress, a costume made of red silk, the answer to Erik's invite. Funny how such a simple piece of fabric could hold so many possibilities. This single object placed paths out before her that she had never dared to take, goals that she had never let herself wish for, places she could never go before. It placed so many uncertainties, so many wishes, so many choices and consequences in her head that only awaited the answer to a question.
Did she dare to trust, to love, to dance with death?
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Ethan entered the alcove just as some distant chime announced that it was eight o'clock, emerging from the darkness of his labyrinth hall and trudging with frustrated steps into the candlelit foyer. Now greeted by orange candle light, he appeared from the shadows dressed not in his usual carefree, raw American style, but instead presented a rather pleasing surprise. Dressed in the attire Erik had provided for him, Ethan almost resembled some elegant wood elf that one would read of in a fairy tale. The forest green costume draped about his form flauntingly well, showing off his muscular build and handsome complexion. The shade drew out the intensity of his deep sea eyes and golden skin that played a beautiful contrast against his oil black hair, which he had surprisingly combed back for the occasion. All in all, his appearance was a breath of fresh air from his usual rough American persona.
Of course, the air of dignity about him all but vanished as Ethan opened his mouth to shout angrily into the foyer, "God blasted! How in the hell do you get this damn thing to stay clasped?" With one large hand Ethan was fiddling desperately with the cuff link on his right sleeve, the small piece of metal fighting a bloody war against the oppression of staying clasped.
Almost as if on cue, from across the great hall the slightest creek of a door sounded and from behind it the tender brown eyes stared out at him in question. From behind the door her gentle Southern voice asked gently, "Having trouble?"
Ethan's eyes first bolted angrily at her, ready to spit all sorts of sarcasm her way, but as soon as he noticed that his dearest friend was somewhat hiding behind her bedroom door, every emotion changed to the oddest curiosity. "A bit," He answered blankly, and then inquired with slight concern, "Ray… what are you doing? Are you dressed? It's almost time to go."
Her gaze blinked once, fell to the ground, and then rose to meet his again with a look not quite readable for him to guess her thoughts. Her words shook slightly as she answered, a nervous quiver in her usually cool voice as she replied with a timid, "Yes, I'm dressed."
"Good," Ethan responded dully, his eyes still expressing his curiosity of her odd behavior. It wasn't like Raylan to hide from him. It wasn't like her to act so shy. It troubled him really. Raylan was always the strong one, always his rock, and to see such a mighty dynasty even slightly waver was all too unnerving. Laughing uncomfortably, Ethan made for a quick distraction, his eyes lowering to his arm as he fiddled slightly with his cuff links once more, chuckling softly, "I never was good at these things."
Then, as Ethan had expected, his boyish insecurity drew her like a mother to its infant from her den. Ethan heard the soft whine of door hinges first, followed then by the faint clicking of short heels upon a stone floor as she moved slowly from her room. His eyes came up when gentle, feminine hands took his cuff from him, long and graceful fingers clasping the fabric together with absolute ease. Ethan huffed; taking note of how easily she had been able to do it and how much trouble he had with it before muttering the softest thank you.
Raylan in response simply smiled and nodded, saying tenderly, "You'll learn."
Ethan nodded, relaxing a little from seeing his friend find the courage to emerge from the security of her room. He knew what this was about when he met her eyes, knew exactly why she had been so timid and out of character… or so he thought he did.
"Nervous about the Masquerade?" He prodded gently, allowing his free hand to cup hers protectively, "Don't be. No one will recognize us. We'll be in a crowd full of masked people. No one could possibly know us in such outfits."
Surprisingly, Raylan didn't smile as he had hoped, just simply shook her head full of auburn ringlets and sighed with slight discomfort, "It's not that."
With the smallest hint of concern then, Ethan drew her eyes to his, asking almost in a brotherly tone, "What is it, Ray?" Whether it was her odd anxiety or how she suddenly seemed to twitch uncomfortably in her own skin, it wasn't until then that Ethan realized that his dearest friend, not unlike himself, did not look her usual part as Southern tomboy. Curiously, Ethan took a step back from her to get the full effect of Raylan's new appearance, and the result nearly left him breathless.
Her costume was a gown of the deepest shade of maroon, accenting her dark chestnut hair and its subtle tints of burgundy. It draped about her form in a sort of ancient Greek theme, high at the waist with a sash wrapped just under the bosom and two finger thick straps that followed the curve of her body down to the sash, showing off a great deal of deliciously golden skin. A slit in the skirt of the dress ran up to her thigh causing the fabric to ruffle and drape over itself like a queen's train to the point where it rested on the ground. The dress overall had a simple design, accenting her luscious curves and gorgeous figure, flaunting her pure beauty in ways Ethan never could have imagined. On her feet was a pair of simple heels that lifted her maybe an inch from her regular height, red like the dress and matching its simplistic style. Simple yet elegant, a dress that brought out the perfection of her chocolate eyes and her wonderfully curling hair that hung free as ever in all its luscious glory. It was a dress that completed her beauty, a gown that Ethan knew would cause envy amongst the crowds of Aristocratic sameness.
Ethan stood stunned as his eyes rolled across her luscious form, while Raylan's gaze tried to catch his and seek approval. Oddly, Ethan couldn't bring himself to say a word, but instead found himself unable to do anything but stand there gawking like a half-wit. Meanwhile, Raylan once again began to fidget uncomfortably, her thumbs twiddling nervously against her stomach as she felt the weight of Ethan's awe filled eyes.
In reaction, Raylan felt that burn of a blush begin to rise tauntingly into her cheeks, and in attempt to keep the moment from being too uneasy, she offered swiftly, "Well… Ethan… you look handsome. That's a good color for you." She waited then for his usual spunky charisma, but to her displeasure only received Ethan's dumbfounded muttering.
"Ethan?" She prodded, hoping to get a real response opposed to animalistic grunts to come out of her comrade.
Unfortunately, Ethan has still not managed to gain control over his facial functions, even after Raylan made her best effort to close his mouth by pushing up on his chin. His mouth simply fell open lazily and released some made up dialect, causing Raylan to blush even further from the embarrassment than before.
After another moments muttering, Raylan finally released a heavy, uncertain sigh, questioning with the most unusual insecurity, "Does it look right? I'm not sure if I'm wearing it properly, or if I look even the slightest bit similar to high society. I tried to fix my hair better, but after so many years of ignoring it I don't have the skills to make it work right for me. I swear, I am really wishing I had cared more about my appearance in the past now, took a little bit more consideration, or practice, or something. I mean, it isn't like I should know- my number one priority when we've been on the run has certainly not been my hair, but still, I should of-"
Somewhere in the midst of her nervous ranting, Ethan had emerged from his trance, quickly rushing to her rescue from a nervous break down by placing one large finger over her lips and bringing her words to a halt. Instantly, her earthy eyes rushed to his in wild question, only to be soothed by endless blue wave of his own. His charming smile returned then, creasing over his thin lips to deliver that security he knew she needed, his voice filled with the deepest of sincerity as he whispered, "Raylan- every star in the heavens will be jealous of you tonight."
All the stars in heaven, all the idolizing of the Aristocrats, all the lusting of men, all their attention would be on her tonight, and while every eye would see her as lovely, no other gaze could fully appreciate her beauty than the vibrant green stare that quietly observed her from the shadows. Erik could not be more thankful for the darkness than he was now, that smothering night being the only thing that hid his gawking expressions from his company's probing eyes. Surely they would laugh at him if they saw his jaw hanging open as awkwardly as it was, or simply watch him uncomfortably as Raylan did when Ethan had given her the same reaction. Laugh at or scrutinize him, both of which he would openly admit he was not very fond of. Truly, he did wish his body did not react in such a way towards shock, but at the same time, how could he not?
There she stood in all her perfection, a living masterpiece floating in a red dress. That wonderful dress. It was more than just complementing to her figure, more than just a costume completing her beauty, it was an answer. It was the answer to the question that had kept his up all night, anxiety not allowing him the privilege of sleep. It was an answer that made his mind dance with forbidden ideas and once forgotten possibilities. It meant yes, and that alone made his head dizzy from the sheer pleasure of it all. Not to mention he was quite proud of his excellent taste on what style worked for her, and his ability to find the perfect costume for such a dazzling woman. For the night she was his precious rose.
After a moment of watching the two chuckle nervously, Erik took a deep steady breath, forcing his expressions to remain calm and his body to hold its powerful composure as he slid away from the shadows. He entered the light in all his evocative glory, coming to stand tall beside his glimmering organ and softly clearing his throat to allow his companions to realize he was there. As soon as their attentions turned to him, Erik felt the tiniest swell of pride as he caught the fleeting glimmer of excitement in Raylan's gorgeously dark eyes, although his delight quickly faltered as soon as 'the boy' opened his mouth.
Ethan, of course, had to state the obvious as he noted allowed, "Erik… yours and Raylan's costumes match!"
It was true. Although the two did have some noticeable differences in their attire, Erik had decided to go along with the maroon theme for the night, his coat tails and vest the same rich red as Raylan's gown. The slacks were a pure black, as well were the shoes and beaded patterns on his vest. Altogether his attire was simple, yet handsomely fitting and complementing to his strapping form. His face was not covered by its usual half mask, but instead bore a new mask that disguised the entire portion of his face from the bottom of the nose and up, a glossy black with subtle designs stitched in with red string.
His green eyes contrasting against the red of his costume shot near viciously to Ethan, before Erik released a sarcastic response of, "Your skills of observation continue to astound me."
To Erik's surprise, Raylan didn't scold him or send him a cross look for saying such things. She simply laughed for a short while before saying with her usual intoxicating Southern accent, "You boys play nice now. I don't want to have to separate you two."
"Because we are so 'fond' of one another already," Ethan replied, that same quirky grin crossing his lips before Ray punched him playfully on the shoulder.
"Behave," She commanded, and Erik couldn't help but smile at how she took charge, like an alpha wolf claiming her dominance over the foolish pup.
With the smallest chuckle, Erik took the moment to stalk gracefully down towards his friends, in a few moments coming to stand before them as they playfully batted at one another. They ceased their games when Erik extended his hands out from behind his back, holding out to them in his palms to delicate masks that were meant to disguise the face as well as his own. Both were black leather decorated with colored beads to match their outfits. For Ethan the mask was decorated with designs in gold and green beads, while Raylan's was lavished in different shades of red that made intricate designs of elegant beauty.
As his two companions took their respective masks, Erik warned heavily, "You must wear these at all times, and do not take them off until you are safely back here-for your own safety. I don't want either of you getting caught because you couldn't stop some intrigued guest from exposing your identity."
"Honestly Erik," Raylan laughed, smiling as she took the gorgeous disguise from his hands, "You shouldn't worry so much. By now Ethan and I have gotten so good at hiding out identities that I think we even fool ourselves at times."
"Yes! Is my name Ethan, Renold, Jon, or Little Timmy?" Ethan joked extravagantly as he placed the mask onto his face, "Bah, I can't remember who I am! Oh, the cruel irony of it all!"
In response Ethan received a firm elbow in his side from Ray, before she playfully stuck her tongue out at him as she placed the precious mask upon her face. Surprisingly, the masks looked rather fine on both his companions, the wonderfully designed pieces bringing out the intensity and mystery in their eyes.
After a moments more of joking, Ethan finally turned calmed down to say in a rather suave voice, "Well, shall we take our leave?"
"Yes, at this point we will be fashionably late," Erik agreed, his hand gesturing out towards the dark tunnel leading to Ethan's room, "I believe you know the way."
Ethan nodded, "Yes, but we would need to pass through someone's private quarters."
"I'm sure those rooms will be quite empty," Erik said, once again gesturing towards the hall, "No one in there right mind would be spending this night in their room. The noise alone wouldn't allow anyone to rest peacefully."
"Alright," Ethan chuckled, "I shall lead on." Then in a dramatic stance, Ethan took on the air of a member of the militia, marching quickly towards the dark hall.
Raylan watched him with a chuckle and was just about to trail after him when she noticed Erik's arm was politely offered out to her. For a moment she looked at him almost as if he had three heads, and then realizing exactly what he was doing she relaxed, carelessly entwining her arm about his and drawing close to his side. With a tender smile she allowed herself to gaze deeply into those green pools, letting them wash all doubt from her mind and drain every nerve from the pit of her stomach.
With a slight fond squeeze of his arm, she said with the purest of smiles, "You look great."
His green eyes flared with the same fondness, a handsome grin crossing his face as he dipped his head in thanks. Her touch caused his arm to feel weak, tingling with little sensations that ran up his flesh and trickled all through the rest of his body, teasing his senses. Erik replied then, his voice barely above a whisper as if it were a treasured secret between the two of them, "You're stunning tonight."
Raylan could feel the burn of a blush beginning to rise in her cheeks again then, of which she was thankful now more than ever that the mask hid her scarlet flush. After a moments silence she had battled back the burn, and now with a renewed calm she nodded towards the dark passageway, saying with a near mischievous grin, "Shall we?"
"Of course," Erik agreed, smiling once more at her radiant form before he made to lead the way into the masked world above.
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Every rich Aristocrat within Paris had filled into the grand entrance to the Opera Populaire that fine New Years Eve, dressed as shimmering extras to add to the magnificence of the theater adorned in its regal gold. Waves of white and black spun in circles along the Opera's glistening dance floor, forming patterns like a kaleidoscope with uniform colors. The orchestra was placed on a balcony overlooking the grand staircase, playing the elegant dance music that matched the night's festivities with impeccable pace. Everything seemed to shine this night with a light so pure and safe that it was almost heavenly, and almost as if the Opera had never faced the fires of Hell two years back. Now it was reborn with the comforting air of repetition.
When the orchestra changed its tune to a more formal, almost like presenting a Queen to her royal subjects, sounded the dancing came to a halt as all eyes were turned to the staircase. Atop was one of their prominent women of the night, the renowned Chalondra perched in all her glory with that pet for a Patron beaming by her side. She stood radiating in her cream white gown, standing in perfect contrast to the Patrons soot black dress suit, allowing them the ease of having the ability to blend in with the crowds. As the music continued, Chalondra and the Patron began an elegant decent down the staircase, allowing Carlotta, the second prominent lady, to make her grand appearance. She entered the threshold with an extravagant wave of her arm as the crowds gave a short applause, showing off the glittering fabric of her own cream white dress adorned in small diamond beads. At her arm was the pretty boy she had taken for a pet, a younger baritone much more fit than her late Piangi and looking a great deal finer in a suit than her last love. With another grand gesture, Carlotta and her pet descended the staircase as Carlotta continued to wave to the silent crowds as if she were royalty. The music continued, although no one followed after her, the managers holding back its greatest form of entertainment until the end. Instead the music just repeated until the two diva's reached the bottom of the staircase and were greeted with roars of applause. Once the cheering ended, the hall filled with a patient silence as the orchestra prepared for its next piece. In time, the director raised his baton, the orchestra lifting their instruments and turning all eyes upon his hands, waiting for the first beat. Then with an extravagant wave of his hands, the orchestra took a barely audible breath and flew into the new music… a song that now turned the easy emotions of the room upside down as the tune blazed into something similar to an Egyptian dance.
Then as the tune lead into its third measure, an elegant beauty in rich purple leapt from the threshold to the staircase in perfect ballet formation, landing gracefully on the leveled platform before the rest of the stairs that lead to the dance floor. She extended her arms out to the sides and made to give a short bow before flipping her wildly free blond hair back to reveal a face not so humble, but more so grinning with mischief. From below the crowds gave a short gasp of surprise from the appearance of something so out of the norm, most of all the marvelous Chalondra whose jaw had dropped and eyes were peering at the outcast like she intended to drill holes in the young dancer's skull. Still, the young dancer simply smirked at her elder and began her extraordinary show.
Vits was not in the hideous not quite eggshell cream gown her mother had insisted she wore, no anything similar to it. She instead chose the more rebellious path by wearing a costume to make her stick out, a gown of pure purple. Vibrant, rich purple and truth be told it could've hardly been called a dress. Vits was wearing a top that was barely decent, merely covering her small chest with an opening in the middle held close by silver and bronze beaded strings. The sleeves went down to her elbows and puffed out, the silver and bronze chains followed down her arms to her middle finger on each hand. The top ended just below her chest, leaving her well toned stomach bare for all to see chiseled abs. The pants continued the Arabic style in the same vibrant color, as well as a thicker chain around her hips that jingled as she danced. The chains made their way down her legs and ended with shackles around her ankles, in all giving her that outlandish costume like an Egyptian prostitute.
Still, her movements were graceful, and extremely sensual. She knew what she was doing, and it shown in the confidence of her steps and relenting passion as she spun her chains. Her body was extremely flexible as she twisted and leapt into the air following the music's every note with unparallel accuracy. At first her dance was purely show, proving that she could do it, and out shine everyone, but she chose not to, for reasons beyond the aristocrats' fathoming. As the music took a more sensual tone so did her dance, playing off her excellent body. Vits explored her feminist side with beauty, doing splits and spins that dazzled the eye. She expertly exhibited her body, and its grace and beauty.
Still following the music's direction as it took a darker note, Vits brought forth her daggers from the few folds of fabric along her hips. At first they were blurs as she twirled them around her body, tossing them, allowing them to fly through her hands with skill and ease, then the movements slowed down, so they were obvious. Now she conveyed a very important message to the audience: look but don't touch or face the consequence. Following the sensual warning, she dipped into a spin just as the music came to an elaborate end. Counter to the spin, Vits kept throwing and catching her daggers, having them do intricate and intertwining flips and tricks. By the time the music ended, Vits had spun down to the floor, and back up to a standing position. As the orchestra finished its last note, Vits finally took her deep bow, daggers still in hand. However, there was an indescribable feminine twist to her bow, the masculine trait about her vanishing entirely. Then the room was silent. She waited for the applause. It was slow due to the shock of the crowd-few had realized Vits was a female, but they couldn't mistake her dancing-she had been Romeo. After the shock had eased and the Aristocrats had realized that it was all a show the hall erupted into thunderous applause, after what to Vits seemed an agonizingly long amount of time.
The foyer was drowned in cheers then, shaking with the power of applause as every eye captured the exotic beauty exposed before them. She stole every gaze, seized every ounce of praise, and in a matter of speaking, ripped the rug right out from under her predecessors. The lights that the diva's emitted were brutally stomped out in the shadow of Vits grand performance and every guest there felt no shame in admitting that. The Aristocrats would be talking about her all night no doubt for she had gained the lime light... of which three individuals were entirely thankful for as they secretly entered the lobby. All prying eyes had been centered upon the deadly temptress with her spinning blades, and so none had taken notice to the three who entered so ominously.
Erik's green eyes shown with pride as he watched his protégé dance for all to see, her body graceful and magnificent beyond even his imagination. Most of all, he loved the reaction upon her mother's face, the utmost horror at being shown up by the child she had forgotten. It was the sweet revenge Erik wished he could have. At his side Erik felt the gentle tug of his arm as Raylan balanced on her tippy toes to see over the crowd's heads, holding tighter to him to steady herself. With a gentle smile, Erik drew his eyes from the elegant dancer and roaring crowds to his gorgeous companion, chuckling softly at her quiet attempts to get taller.
His gentle laughter drew her eyes then, and once again Erik felt that angelic peace as his fire submerged in the rich earth of her gaze. No doubt she would astound the crowds with her beauty tonight, standing like a vibrant red rose in a field full of white daisies, drawing every eye bored with the dull repetition of the Masquerade and its arrogant Aristocrats. It would not be long before the waves of sameness would calm down from Vits spectacular performance and notice the outcasts, and the beauty at his arm. They would all stare in awe at her, but no one would see the beauty he saw now in her eyes. That look she gave him, Erik knew, that infinite peace was meant for his eyes alone.
Of course, the moment between them was broken once again by the inevitable interruption of the American boy, Ethan popping practically between the two as he asked gently, "Now, is it just me, or are we going to stick out like sore thumbs in this crowd?"
Raylan again tugged gently at Erik's arm as if seeking comfort as she whispered back with acted confidence, "Don't worry Ethan, the more we stick out the less likely it is for anyone to suspect us. No one would think wanted convicts would make an effort to draw attention." At the end of her statement, Raylan's eyes returned to Erik less confidently.
Still, Erik simply smiled and with his eyes still on Raylan assured them softly, "Relax my friends; nothing will happen to you… I promise you this."
That heart melting smile had returned to her face again, but once more the moment disintegrated as Ethan announced sarcastically, "Oh that's comforting."
Raylan replied then to both her companions surprise in the most heart warming voice, her eyes holding fondly to Erik's as she grinned, "It most certainly is."
Erik swelled with a rekindled pride, Raylan blushed, Ethan rolled his eyes and sighed until movement on the dance floor drew his attention away from his flirtatious companions. Over the crowds head, he saw the retreating wave of purple fabric as the cheers died away and the music changed its exotic air to a soft hum. Vits had vanished from view, and now the hall stood in utter silence with the exception of that gentle chord below. The crowds waited in eager anticipation, coming to an almost eerie still that flooded the room with such silence that even to breathe seemed too loud.
Through the silence a gentle whisper was heard in Erik's ear, a soft note that came so tenderly it seemed as if it were coming from the heavens above. The noise pulled his eyes like a moth to a flame from Raylan's comforting gaze, turning his attention upon the grand staircase and the note that took a gentle hold on an old heart and beckoned it to live once more. It summoned him, this pure sound, called his name innocently, and promised him love with all the passions the body could ensue. It drug him mercilessly away from the one who held his arm, who touched him with silent promises that he now found himself ignoring entirely. This music, so familiar and sweet, a sound that filled him with a yearning long since vanished, a music that made him forget the one by his side and think of another. Another…
His Angel…
And then as if God had heard his prayers, as if the angels of heaven had brought her from her castle far beyond to the one she had left behind… she was there.
She was there.
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-Olivia stands back and looks proudly at her update.-
Olivia: You think they'll like it?
Sumner: If they do, they'll tell us… or come rampaging into this room and embrace you in a mighty hug before throwing you down and scolding you viciously for vanishing for so long.
Olivia: Oh… well… what ever works best.
Sumner: So, what will you do now?
Olivia: Me? The same thing I try to do every night Pinky!
Sumner: Try to take over the world?
Olivia: No, that's only on weekends.
Sumner: Oh, well what then? Go work on an update?
Olivia: Later. A new episode of Lost comes on tonight and I must watch!
-Sumner smacks Olivia on the back of the head and walks away.-
Olivia: What?
-Takes one last look at her update, and then scribbles something on the bottom corner before she takes off running after Sumner. Scribble says: "Thanks everyone! Hugs and love and all that jazz! –Olivia W." which is completed with a small sketch of a smiley face with a half mask on sticking its tongue out at everyone.-
-Olivia W.