I woke up to girls laughing and the sound of shoes echoing on the floor. I sat up, rubbing my eyes as I notice how I was laying in a bed. I looked around and noticed something strange. I was in what seemed a dorm, surrounded by ballerinas. One blonde hair girl was talking and making the most noise. Holy Shit.
It was Meg Giry. Christine Daae's best friend and one of the corps de ballet dancers. Her blonde curls tumbled down her back as she talked to another girl, holding onto a old wooden dresser on pointe. Goodness how could people ever dance like that?
But it was Meg Giry. I stood up and she quickly took notice, rushing over to me. "Victoire! Are you feeling ok?" Meg looked at me, a sense of worry in her eyes. She stood shorter than me, at 5 ' 4, the same height as Christine.
"What even happened?" I was so confused. If Meg was here, then that meant I was in my ultimate dream. I had to pinch myself, digging my very short nails into my skin. Yeah that hurt like hell. Guess this isn't a dream. So what the fuck happened?
"Darlin' you fell yesterday during practice and knocked your head hard on the stage." Meg said, going back on pointe and checking my head. "Just a little bump. Mother was right" Meg went back down on her feet and smiled. "You need to get ready we have practice for Hannibal today!" She smiled before rushing off with the other girls to go to either breakfast or the stage.
I really was in the world. I really was here. And I was really confused. I sat in front of vanity, which seemed to be shared. I was the same, I looked the same. Even then I had minor changes when I inspected. My hair was quite longer. My hair was only to my shoulders just yesterday before I woke up here. Now it reached to the bottom of my back. Why is it of all things my hair decided to grow? Now the once flatter strands are now long and curly, twisting in spirals of fiery red.
I sigh and look down at what I was wearing. It was the Hannibal slave girl outfit, a red and green striped top with gold trimming and small thin strips of red, gold, and green fabrics making up the skirt, all just connected once to the top. Along with the change of my hair, I noticed my muscles were more defined and stronger. I found quickly after noticing this fact I was also able to go on pointe just as Meg did. My body contorted to fit me into this world it seemed.
This all still didn't answer my question. Why the hell was I in the word of Phantom, and how did I even get here?
So, just as I suspected, my brain even knew each dance step. When to leap, when to spin, when to do anything. I didn't even have to think about it. But now I was struck with another question. Where was Christine? She was supposed to be here dancing yet I didn't see her. And I still haven't heard the shrill of Carlotta, the lead soprano of the Opera house. I danced as the other girls did, Madame Giry calling out each girl for their mistakes. Her hair was long and dark, pulled up into a simple yet formal bun. She looked as young as somebody in their early 30s, even for a lady in her late 50s. Soon, we stopped as she slammed down her cane as who I was guessing was the manager, Lefevre, and two older men followed him, seeming to be in their 30s or 40s. One of them even looked to be in his 50s. It took a moment but soon I noticed it was Firmin and Andre, the new managers.
They chatted quietly among theirselves and Madame Giry. I listened in, even if I already knew their conversation.
"Who's that girl, Lefevre?" Andre asked Lefevre, looking to Meg.
"Her? Meg Giry, Madame Giry's daughter. Promising dancer, Monsieur Andre, most promising." He simply replied, Madame Giry looking over at the mention of her daughter. Her head turned back and she banged her cane on the stage.
"Victoire Bournival, pay attention." I quickly corrected myself. I didn't realize it but I was a few beats behind. Seems my brain can't help me survive this all completely. I kept my focus on the dance, still listening.
"Bournival? Curious name." Firmin piped up, looking to Madame Giry.
"Any relation to the singer?" Andre piped up. Seems one of my parents was a singer in this world. And if I was here, I'll place my stakes on I won't ever meet them.
"Her daughter I believe, always had her head in the clouds" Lefevre replied, Madame Giry sighing and interjecting.
"I treat her as much of a daughter as I do Meg."
But once again, lo and behold, I started to think again. I knew this dialogue. This was meant for Christine. She was supposed to be spoken of, and mention of her father was to be made. And yet I still saw no Christine.
And then I saw it. Side stage in a big dress, the same top as ours but with a skirt made with a hoop and stitched together fabric, brown curls all tied up in a tall bun, was Christine Daae. She stood there, her face smug and hostile, in the clothes of Carlotta. I saw Piangi, who was meant to be Carlotta's lover and the lead male singer. Her was bald, and wearing a lopsided wig. He was playing the role of Hannibal, and Christine seemed to be playing as Elissa, the wife of Hannibal.
Christine came on, singing loud and clear, none of her shyness there as her voice went up and beyond what you may even deem possible. She probably slapped some angels in the heavens with her voice. But how? Carlotta was supposed to be singing, and then give an aria to Firmin and Andre, then the backdrop would fall right by her because of the Phantom.
But if Christine was already here, that wouldn't happen. Unless the Phantom no longer loved Christine in this world. Something told me that wasn't the case. No Phantom meant Christine would never have learned to sing. Ever.
Soon, Lefrevre interrupted when they finished their singing and Madame Giry banged her cane once again. I instantly looked above me, eyes searching. If I was trapped in this dream, I'm going to take my chances and look for the Phantom. The very one who I felt sorrow for, that I loved since I was a child.
"Thank you. As you know, for some weeks there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true and it is my pleasure to introduce to you the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire, Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles Andre." The people weren't shocked but some clapped a small bit.
They introduced them to Piangi and Christine, who was quite rude to them. But no aria. Carlotta was supposed to sing for the new managers and be interrupted by the Phantom.
Everything was wrong. What in the hell did I get involved in.