The Opera Populaire, Paris, December 1870
"Masquerade!
Paper faces on parade.
Masquerade,
hide your face so the world will never find you.
...
Masquerade!
Every face a different shade.
Masquerade,
look around - there's another mask behind you."
It was now the end of December, a time for one year to end and another one to begin, a time that people always like to consider a time of great change, an opportunity to put one's past behind them and start a new chapter in their lives. For monsieurs André and Firmin, the new managers of the famous Opera Populaire, the presently ending year has brought many challenges that, at first, made their new venture into the theater business a very stressful and frustrating experience.
Indeed, while mr. Firmin, who was always the more assertive of the two, had all the confidence that they would overcome whatever fate would throw at them, his friend, a rather timid man with slight neurotic tendencies, had more than once considered whether the artistic fame that naturally came with owning a theater of this renown, was actually worth the trouble.
However, as if some higher power answered their prayers, it was now over three months since they've last seen any signs of the Phantom. Their more than proverbial skeleton, or rather, a ghost in their closet, hasn't shown himself in those past few weeks even once, and there hasn't been a single note from him either. It seemed too abrupt and way too good to be true at first, and they were indeed worried about what sort of mischief he was up to this time, but as the days went by, they gradually calmed down and everyone was enjoying the relative peace and quiet that settled down around them.
And as the New Year was fastly approaching, the two men decided to treat the city, the opera and its most worthy of patrons to the most extravagant New Year's party they have ever seen. And since they were finally able to live without the masked man breathing down their necks, they decided to celebrate their triumph by making the party into a masquerade ball, to make it clear to everyone that they were not willing to let a specter in a mask spoil their fun.
The guests to this party, with the exception of a few selected people who had the privilege of being able to attend for other reasons then their status, were all wealthy and famous people who could afford to be present to such a prestigious event, most of them people who liked to flaunt their wealth quite ostentatiously and it was clearly visible in their costumes, which presented a rather spectacular array of colourful figures and characters that made for a truly astonishing show as the people danced to the music and enjoyed the appreciative glances they received from all the others.
"Masquerade!
Seething shadows, breathing lies.
Masquerade,
you can fool any friend who ever knew you.
...
Masquerade!
Leering satyrs, peering eyes.
Masquerade,
run and hide, but a face will still pursue you."
Among the many people that came here tonight was also one that was, in fact, playing a double game of masquerade than everyone else, for she was not here as herself, not even as the person she presented herself as normally. Katrina knew quite well that as a simple girl singing in a chorus with no ties to the people actually important to this theater she would never have been allowed here, so with everyone pretending to be something else tonight she arrived at the opera this evening as a young aristocrat that just moved to town and came to have a bit of fun. No one has questioned it tonight and she has mastered the appropriate manners a long time ago, but that didn't matter anyway as everyone was allowed to loosen up a bit during the festivities.
And she was able to enjoy a piece of the attention as she arrived dressed in a beautiful royal blue evening gown adorned with tiny, glittering blue gemstones and a mask topped with an arrangement of peacock feathers, her blond hair flowing around her head like a gentle waterfall. Her costume certainly a sight as she twirled around the dance floor, waving her emerald fan in rhythm with the music and she often felt herself being a subject of admiring scrutiny.
Still, the mask gave her the anonymity she needed and so she was happy to dance and join her voice with the others as they sang, until she saw Christine arriving in the company of no other than vicomte de Chagny, dressed as some fairy-tale prince and a princess, and she stopped and sauntered to the side of the dance floor, watching them both like a hawk.
Over the past few months Katrina was trying her best to fulfil her promise to her friend as she spent every opportunity she had, without it being too obvious of course, trying to remind Christine of her angel and, whenever they had the opportunity to speak about the subject, to put her mind at ease about the many worries she had.
Those opportunities did not come very often, so she was determined to use them as best as she could. The first time she did this was in fact the very same evening after that unfortunate incident at the production of Il Muto, when, as she left Christine in her room later that evening, she went to the roof and gently picked up a red rose she found there, a rose that Christine received from Erik the day of the performance and forgot about it in her emotional state.
The next morning, she met Christine after their rehearsal and presented her with the rose, saying: "You left this up on the roof. You're lucky I often come up there to think, so I found it." She then watched as Christine, still rather elated from all the dancing and singing, sighed as she took the rose gently from her hand and held it, her own hands slightly shaking as she did so. She held the delicate flower almost reverently, but her brow was creased with some other emotion as she lightly smelled the petals. "Is this from your angel?" Katrina asked gently to which Christine answered with a quiet: "I don't know." after which she went quiet and the two of them went to get some early lunch together.
Katrina knew that the damage done to their relationship was not going to be easily mended, but she tried, as gently as she could, to get Christine to talk about it, pretending to be the concerned friend she knew the young woman needed. She listened carefully as Christine told her about the night she spent in the Phantom's lair, about the wonderful night she spent in his magical presence, the feelings of joy and pleasure she could scarcely remember but that stayed with her even through the horrifying experience the next morning, as she foolishly opened the Pandora's box that was the mask on his face.
It was a bit hard for Katrina not to let her displeasure shown as Christine described the horrid visage she remembered, but any speck of emotion that escaped her carefully schooled expression she used to express her sympathy, even as, at the same time, she gentle appealed to Christine's kindness, trying to make her understand that his rage stemmed from his own self-loathing and vulnerability rather than any anger he might have felt towards her.
For Katrina, it was a rather bewildering experience. She has never played a matchmaker before and repairing such an unusual bond would not be easy even if there wasn't another man forcing his way into the mix. But sadly, that was exactly what happened as she watched the vicomte making an honest effort to spend as much time with Christine as he could.
It was making her own plans increasingly complicated; she could not push Christine too much or she might actually get suspicious of her intentions. At the time she knew that the vicomte was absolutely smitten with the young singer and that it was just a matter of time before he was going to ask for her hand in marriage.
That they were now a couple has become obvious some time ago, which was making Katrina really agitated, for she wasn't sure whether or not it was time for Erik to make his move now. With him gone Christine could breathe more freely, which left her in the ideal mindset to think of her angel in a more positive way again and Katrina made her best effort to make her remember only the good things, coaxing the memories out of her with a few well-chosen words of interest.
Now, after three months, she could only hope it was enough. She was here to observe the two lovebirds, but she also had no doubt that whatever the Phantom was doing for the past few months, surely he would not resist making an appearance when the managers mocked him so boldly.
"Masquerade!
Burning glances, turning heads.
Masquerade,
stop and stare at the sea of smiles around you.
...
Masquerade!
Grinning yellows, spinning reds.
Masquerade,
take your fill - let the spectacle astound you…"
It turned out she was right of course, for suddenly, as the crowd was still singing, blissfully unaware of what was coming, there was a scream from the back of the room and everyone turned in almost perfect unison towards the staircase where a new figure now stood and the whole room suddenly went quiet as they realized who it was.
Katrina stared at the Phantom as he stood there, motionless for a few seconds, before he slowly began to descend the stairs. His chosen costume, she noted with a smirk as she realized the irony that she was sure was not lost on him, was that of the Red Death from one of her favourite Edgar Allan Poe stories, but what truly made her stare was how utterly gorgeous he looked while wearing it.
The skull mask was slightly frightening, the black makeup behind it making his striking blue eyes stand out as he surveyed the crowd, but the red costume with a matching cape were so elegant and well-fitting she had no doubt many of the frightened young ladies present here still secretly swooned at the sight of him, and not for any unpleasant reasons.
Silently, she stepped closer now as he came to the bottom of the stairs, speaking so softly you could hardly hear him, but then again the room was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop. Katrina was amazed as she realized that here he was, in the middle of hundreds of people, and yet no one dared to even move, let alone try and stop him. Then, he presented his new opera - a masterpiece that he occupied himself with for the last three months when he was gone - named Don Juan Triumphant, which they were to rehearse as their next show.
It was fascinating to watch the man as he strutted around the hall with so much confidence, waving his sword around at everyone while he voiced his demands for the show, until his eyes landed at Christine. It seemed to her that he tried, and failed miserably, to be indifferent towards her, but the moment he approached and she looked at him with those big doe-like eyes of hers, that confidence left him utterly. The joy at seeing her again was clearly visible. Bless his heart, it couldn't have been easy for him to stay away, but it seemed it was the right thing to do, for as much as he missed her, she clearly missed him as well if the look on her face was any indication.
Katrina watched them, as everyone else did, with a small smile playing on her lips as they hesitantly approached one another, and she thought that her efforts did, perhaps, count for something after all, when she saw the vicomte stepping forward, calling out for Christine to come back, which brought her back from her trance, and she could feel the anger course through the Phantom's veins before it made its way into his eyes.
The Phantom stood in front of the gathered crowd of people, his hand closing around the hilt of the sword as his heart clenched painfully at the sight of Christine, who turned her head as she heard the sound of the young vicomte's voice. At that moment, he felt his anger rising at the insolent youngster, unworthy of Christine's sweet affection, who thought to claim what he coveted for himself.
But just as he felt an outburst of cruel words making their way up his throat, he suddenly felt the strangest of sensations. It felt as if… as if some other mind was gently touching his, he felt some intelligence behind the touch, some sort of intent, though it did not make him feel scared, rather it shocked him out of his anger completely.
Then, he heard someone's voice directly inside his mind that said: "Don't do anything stupid." It was a female voice he's heard before and he raised his eyes to look… and there she was, standing among the people, staring at him intently. She was wearing a mask too, but he, who has worn a mask his entire life, has recognised her face under it quite easily.
She gave him a small smile and then she continued, her gentle voice filling his head once again: "Patience and charm, my friend. Patience and charm." she said, adding: "Anger's not going to help you now, so put it away." Those words she said directly to his mind, her lips not moving at all, and he stared at her, wide eyed as he processed this, before the sight of Christine turning away from him brought him back to reality.
"Christine…" he spoke the one word with so much reverence and desperation that no one would be unmoved and indeed Christine turned back to him, looking as if she was eager to hear what else he wanted to say. But the only thing the masked man did was to gently take her hand in his and kiss it, sending a shiver through the young woman's body as his eyes never left hers, and then he strode over to a hidden trap door on the floor and with a move of his hand he disappeared somewhere below.
The young vicomte wanted to follow after him, but as he ran forward, he suddenly found himself falling to the ground rather ungracefully as someone tripped him, giving the Phantom enough time to escape, but when he got up to see who it was, the only thing he saw was a flash of blue as the person quickly vanished from sight.
