A/N: I'm so sorry for the delay, I didn't mean to abandon my little band of faithful readers, but you know how it goes. Stupid life thingy! Between university classes, ( Triple major. Go me!) helping a friend of mine move, the holiday, and a minor computer crash. . .anywho, a new chapter of delightful madness! As always, I hope y'all enjoy!
Your Most Humble and Obedient Servant,
SP
Disclaimer: (in the spirit of post Christmas phestivity. . .) And though it's been said many times, many ways. . . Idon'townitsonoonesueme!
Chapter 11: The Invasion Continues
"I'm telling you it should be a sunny yellow."
"No way! A nice earthy colour!"
C.C. watched Yavanna and Spork argue over which colour to paint the kitchen. She thought briefly about intervening, but knew that spats over furniture, colour, and the like were a normal occurrence whenever large groups of girls redecorated anything and that it would work itself out soon enough. She was right, after another minute or so of bantering the two decided on a butter yellow with some other muted highlights.
The attempt to reforge the lair seemed to be going well so far. Mia was happily deciding what kind of furnishings she wanted while Allison, using an amazing amount of skill C.C. never would have thought she possessed, had tapped into the opera house's experimental electricity system and was actually wiring the lair. Apparently her father worked a lot on houses and she had picked up quite a few handy talents. Bek, Masque, and Katie were all off in a corner with their heads together conspiring to commit whatever mischief they could while still living to tell about it. Blondie was somewhere doing. . .whatever it was she was doing, while FAB had snuck off with the computer, trying to find a corner of the lair where he could hide and play video games instead of being forced to do whatever heavy lifting the girls didn't feel like doing.
Leaving the other girls to work on the kitchen and other back rooms, C.C. returned to the front alcoves and began attempting to straighten up the jumbled mess. No, 'jumbled mess' was an understatement, That would be how one would describe your average bachelor pad or teenager's room. Erik's lair looked as though it had been hit by some new species of tornado that made a typical storm looks like a warm summer breeze. Everything was scattered everywhere. Erik seemed to know where everything was, but he had simply memorized the chaos.
C.C. felt the neatness gene inherent in every girl over the age of thirteen kick into full gear as she collected books, papers, music, and everything else under the sun off the floor and crude rock shelves and began to formulate a possible way to organize it all. She stopped momentarily to glare at the masses of curtains and tapestries that probably hadn't been beaten out in years. The whole structure, while amazing if you were an Anne Rice junky, just didn't strike the Authoress as the proper conditions for wooing an overly naive chorus girl.
With her now trademark dramatic sigh, she took stock of what exactly she had to work with. The almost crudeness of the rocky walls would make it hard to do anything serious, but there was definite potential to be had. Or, at least, she thought there might be potential, all she needed was a little insanity induced creativity to get the ball rolling. She didn't have to wait long.
"Mortar! Score!" Not quite knowing what to make of the sudden outburst from the back wing, C.C. rushed back to find Spork clutching several bags of dark grey powder. "Life is good!" she exclaimed as she beamed winningly at the Authoress. C.C. stared at her with a bemused expression on her face. Figuring it was best not to question her friend, C.C. followed Spork back to the kitchen. She'd get an explanation soon enough.
Twenty minutes later Spork stood in the centre alcove with Allison, who was proving to be quite invaluable, avidly discussing plans for the huge stone fireplace they were planning to build. "Well," Allison explained, "We could probably run it up to the main passage by the spiral staircase. No one should notice since even Madam Giry refused to go down past the second level."
"Um, how exactly are you going to run it up to anything?" C.C. asked warily. In response the girls simply pulled out a matching pair of sledge hammers. The Authoress looked torn between panic and insane glee at the idea of breaking a hole in the ceiling, she finally settled for an answer of "Sorry I asked." before turning away to tend to other matters. Other matters such as the newest arrival.
"What am I wearing?"
The sudden shout from another alcove made everyone jump. It wasn't the sudden appearance of yet another person that caused the start. It was the location of that aforementioned appearance. The shout had come from behind a very unassuming, but important velvet curtain from a very unassuming, but important alcove where a less then unassuming and very important mannequin was housed.
C.C., Spork, and Allison all shared a look and a unanimous "Uh-Oh." as the auburn haired Sunday stormed out of the alcove clad in The Wedding Dress, wig, and a pair of ruby slippers. Tearing the wig from her head, Sunday shook her hair loose and looked about herself, beaming. "Well," she said brightly, "that takes care of getting rid of the doll!"
C.C.'s face paled as she peered behind Sunday and confirmed that the Christine doll was truly gone. "Um, Sunday?" The Authoress asked her nervously, "Where did Erik's Creepy Doll o' Obsession go? Not that I'm not happy to see it go, but. . ." she let the sentence hang as she nibbled delicately at a finger nail.
Sunday regarded her for a moment before simply shrugging her shoulders. " I traded places with it, it's much easier to substitute matter then create it. I'm sure it's back with my harem of Eriks as we speak. A bit of a treat for them, even those who prefer their Christines blonde."
"What are they. . ." Allison started to ask before thinking better of it. "Never mind, I don't want to know." she finished. After all, some things are better left unknown.
"Do you have any proper clothing?" Sunday's sudden question brought the girls' back from the rather interesting place their minds had been heading as she picked at the gown she was still wearing.
"I, uh, have some sweats and stuff in the back." C.C. offered offhandedly. Her suggestion earned her an almost disdainful stare before she remember that in Sunday's little sub-parallel universe only the most fashionable Victorian wear would do. "There's a closet in the room with the, well, mounds of stuff back past that curtain over there." she amended. "There's nothing fit for a ball or anything, but there are a couple of nice evening dresses."
Several hours with little to no significance passed by in the lair. The ceiling was bashed a little, the fireplace was, set, built, and left to dry, the kitchen had been painted. Allison finished wiring for lights and basic electricity. The mirrors were washed, their covers beaten throughly and replaced, the furniture and candelabras were polished, and general organization had occurred. Sunday had transformed the alcove that had held the Christine doll in to a cozy reading nook complete with a plush seat and several of Erik's sketches of Christine hanging framed on the walls.
Sunday and Mia were curled up on the bed exhausted by the amount of effort they had put in. Behind them, Yavanna was painting a lovely circular mural of a garden on the wall surrounding the bed. Blondie still hadn't reappeared from doing. . .whatever it was she was doing, but C.C. wasn't overly worried, she'd show up sooner or later. Everyone else sat around the library munching contentedly on junk food from The Stash, as C.C.'s now organized collection of stuff had come to be called, swapping stories of how they'd found their way into nineteenth century France.
"You were playing in traffic?" Masque asked, eyeing Spork as she recounted her tale. Spork simply nodded and went on with her narration.
"Well, I'd already taught myself to write left handed, learned the alphabet in. . .sixteen different languages, and," she shuttered briefly, "did my homework. So I decided to go dodge some eighteen wheelers."
"Sounds like fun actually!" Masque added randomly.
"Anyway," Spork continued, "on the way I just happened to find an irrational particle accelerator, a liquid lunch, and a pair of rubber bands. I figured they could be amusing at a later date so I put them in my backpack that had just appeared out of the gaping plot hole. I guess they got jostled or something, 'cuz now I'm here."
"What about you, FAB?" Bek asked, throwing a Jaffa Cake at him as he sat distractedly in the corner. The biscuit hit him square in the chest before he neatly snatched it up.
"I was looking for my sister at her university. There was no one in the lab, so. . ."
Katie, Bek, and C.C. shared a knowing look. "You fiddled." they finished for him. FAB simply nodded. The three girls grinned at each other and proceeded to tell their version of his story, although they were probably just saying what they would have done themselves if left alone in a university lab full of intersecting things to meddle with.
"Let me guess. . ."
"There was a lovely looking machine. . ."
"Way back in the corner. . ."
"With all sorts of gizmos. . ."
"And flashy coloured lights. . ."
"And a big red button. . ."
"That said 'Do Not Push'. . ."
"Which, of course. . ."
"Was way too interesting to pass up!"
As the account was finished, all five girls in the room broke into insane laughter while FAB simply looked about a bit sheepishly.
Their laughter was broken off by a sudden growl from the other side of the lair. The girls looked as if they were deciding whether to be terrified of elated. Taking a deep breath C.C. smiled brightly at the group. "Erik's home!" she said cheerfully. As one the girls shot up and dashed towards the front with a massive, ear bursting Squee.
"What in the name of hell is going on here?" Erik demanded as they skidded to a halt in the main alcove.
Noticing the Punjab Lasso poised in his hands, C.C. walked up and deftly wrestled the weapon from his grasp. He resisted, of course, but after having as much practice as she had disarming her muse back home, he didn't pose that much of a challenge and she soon was clutching the noose to her chest, scolding him like a misbehaving child.
"Is that anyway to behave guests?" she chided sternly.
"Guests? You call these intruders to my home guests?" He snarled back.
"Yes, I do."
"Well, get them out!"
"Eventually."
"Now!"
"No."
"Get them out now or I'll. . .what are you doing to my leg?" While C.C. and her Phantom had been arguing, Masque had managed to sneak up behind him in hopes of carrying out what every phangirl thought to be her Divine Right: Erik petting.
Unfortunately for Erik, he had in that moment done the one thing you should never do in the face of a pack of rabid phangirls: show fear. They were on him in a flash. Erik started only to find himself held in place by several nuzzling, petting, snuggling phangirls with rather. . .friendly hands. The commotion soon brought the other three girls from the bed chamber and they eagerly joined in the fray. Only C.C. and FAB stood back, feeling sorry for the masked man before them, but far too smart then to try and get between a phangirl and an Erik snuggle. Finally C.C. figured it was time to call them off.
"Come on, girls!" she called, "If you suffocate him, he'll die. And that will be sad." There was a unanimous chorus of "Awwwww!", but the girls all began to peel of the Phantom one by one, most giving one last pet or strategically placed squeeze.
Erik looked a little worse for wear. His clothing was dishevelled and his eyes darted around a bit wildly. C.C. couldn't help but grin as she tossed him back his lasso. "Here," she called, "but you have to play nicely or I'll take your toy away again." Erik glared in return.
After the commotion finally settled, the girls began to watch the now armed Phantom with a mixture of apprehension and anticipation. None of them were quite sure how he'd react to any of their. . .well, most of them were improvements, anyway. It didn't get off to a good start.
"What exactly is this?" Erik growled, holding up a small rubber duck. For a moment C.C. simply stared at the little yellow creature. Slowly she allowed her gaze to wander of to the lake, her worst fears were then confirmed. Floating on the water were hundreds of little rubber duckies, their cheerful yellow colour glaring against the dark water. C.C. turned to face Bek, the Aussie was staring intently at her feet, fidgeting slightly as she attempted to avoid the Authoress' look.
"I thought you were joking!" C.C. exclaimed.
Bek grinned sheepishly in response. "Don't tell you hadn't thought about it yourself."
C.C. opened her mouth and then quickly closed it again, Bek had a point. The room fell into an awkward silence. Erik glared about the room, clutching his lasso as he eyed the girls warily. The majority of the girls eyed him back, all looking very much like some kind of predator you see on those Nature Chanel specials. Bek continued to look about sheepishly and C.C. looked torn between giving her a high five and strangling her. The silence grew more and more profound. Finally it was broken by a shriek.
"Moles! They're everywhere! Moles!" Blondie came streaming out of the back section of the lair. Skidding to a halt in the middle of the main alcove, glancing about self-consciously as she realized that all eyes were trained upon her. "You know," she attempted to sound casual, "you really should do something about the mole population down here."
With that the ice was broken. The girls resumed their regularly scheduled drooling as they led Erik around the apartment, showing him all the improvements and occasionally sneaking in a sly pet here and there. Mia, Masque, and Sunday seemed particularly good at the art of subtle groping, but they all had Eriks of their own back home and thus had gotten in a lot of practice. Erik continued to keep a close eye on them all, gazing at them as though simultaneously gauging their sanity and searching for a sign they were about to attack. Sadly for him they in fact had little to no sanity to speak of and were likely to attack at any moment. Once C.C. figured he had suffered enough at the hands of her fellow phangirls she gently shoved Erik at FAB and allowed the two to disappear into the back with the computer, the girls all sulk horribly.
"Why does my brother get to have all the fun?" Mia pouted
"Because I can leave them in a room together without having to worry about Erik being tied down and missing half his clothing when I get back." The Authoress stated deadpan.
"She does have a point." Yavanna commented idly. They all knew there was nary a phangirl who could be trusted alone with a Phantom. C.C. herself didn't know what would happen if she wasn't such a strong Erik/Christine shipper. It was like being kids in a candy store. They all knew that they were supposed to look and not touch, but what self-respecting kid actually followed that rule when left alone in a candy store?
The girls moped around the front chambers for several minutes chatting about nothing and straightening things that had already been straightened. Finally, C.C. couldn't take it any longer. "All right," she sighed, "go get him."
There was a unanimous cry of "SQUEEEEEEEEE!" as the girls tore off in the direction Erik had exited. It was followed shortly by a sound that, had it been uttered by anyone but Erik, might have been described as a shriek.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Many hours and much rejoicing later the girls began to think of improbable, yet possible ways to get home. They departures held little of the drama of their arrivals, but C.C. continued to be amazed at exactly how many ways the space time continuum could tear. The girls all gave C.C. a fond hug and few words before turning to Erik for a slightly more. . .lingering goodbye. And then they'd be gone, through whatever tear or freak accident they could think of to convey themselves home.
When they were finally all gone, she turned to Erik. "Well, that was fun!" she chirped.
"It certainly was an experience." He said dryly.
"What?" she teased. "You didn't like my friends? They were certainly friendly enough!" she couldn't manage to stifle a small giggle at memory. Erik was not amused.
"The only one of them that did something other then try and fondle me chatted incessantly about something called Star Wars and someone named Laura Croft."
C.C. giggled harder. "I don't doubt it." Finally managing to sober herself she added, "Okay. I won't send out return invitations any time soon."
"Thank you." Erik sighed, exasperated, before turning to lock himself in the library.
The Authoress looked about the newly remodeled lair. It really was quite the improvement. In fact, she thought it was almost time to introduce another character or two. It wouldn't be that much longer until it was time for the entrance of a particular little brunette soprano.
A/N: There it is. And good news. I have the next three chapters already written so there won't be another huge wait for the next one. Please review. Reviews feed my Eriks ego, which leads to him being a more muse-ly muse, which leads to more chapters! Just remember, no flames. I'm not supposed to play with fire since the. . .incident.
Muse!Erik: -storms in pantless- You did this! I know it! When I get my hands on you. . .!
C.C.: You can't kill me, remember? You'd cease to exist.
Muse!Erik: There are plenty of things I could do to you without causing fatality.
C.C.: Oh! Lookie there! Reviews to reply to! Shame, we'll have to finish this conversation later, much later.
MTL: Glad you liked. . um, you. I just had you say whatever I probably would have said in your place. ;)
Muse!Erik: -rolls his eyes indignantly- Yes, why have one increasingly annoying, and might I add mentally unstable, authoress roaming about the lair when you can have two. The things we muses put up with in order to exist!
Affirmed Hope: I doubt Erik will take it very well, but then again you never know!
Muse!Erik: Yeah, what self-respecting Opera Ghost would take well to his torture chamber. . .
C.C.: -banishes light saber again- No spoilers!
Blonde Charger: Hear that, Erik? She called me a wonder!
Muse!Erik: She must have been. . .
C.C.: She also specifically mentioned that you're not allowed to contradict her on the subject.
Muse!Erik: -huffs-