Dark surroundings with only the dim, familiar glow of candlelight provided some minimal illumination to the scene. Comforting warmth enveloped her, as did the sound of rich music playing from an unknown source. It was clear that this place was meant to be the underground lair, but romanticized in Christine's mind to be much more elegant than it was in reality.
She felt her hand being held as delicately as a blooming flower and saw the shadowy masked face of her tutor before her, seeming as though he had lied beside her. His face came closer and the girl felt a flush come to her cheeks and felt herself desire his touch with every fiber of her being...
"Christine!" Meg's shrill voice exclaimed from beside her.
The soprano opened her eyes, realizing that she experienced a very life-like dream and not Erik actually being beside her. There was a sense of disappointment as her heart dropped, but the blush had remained on her cheeks after waking up. She tried to hide it from Meg, running a cool hand across her cheeks before facing her friend.
"Pardon me, I fell asleep soon after Raoul left." Christine explained, sitting up slightly.
"That was likely a good thing, you didn't experience maman's wrath towards him."
"I simply cannot believe Raoul's audacity to come into my room, especially when he was so obviously unwelcome in here."
"Yes, quite improper to come into a lady's room. But some of the girls heard that the Vicomte is seeking a potential bride, and is highly considering you for the position." Meg gossiped.
"You make it sound like a working proposition." Christine snorted.
"Apparently so, especially since it would give you a title and several Lady's responsibilities. Come to think of it, becoming the Vicomtesse would be quite a job."
Both of the girls giggled, making further jokes about the silly habits of wealthy socialites like Raoul's family. It was clear that Christine was never meant for a life such as a Vicomtesse's: constant judgement, proper birth position, always being seen as a lowly opera singer, no longer allowed to sing on stage, and forbidden to see her Angel again.
No, it was not the life for Christine. She wished to spend her days enthralled in a simple, happy life with the music that had always been prevalent in her life. It became a necessity, just as water or food were to her. Erik provided the music to her ever since Gustave Daae died, but even he was gone now. The thought left Christine on a bitter note.
Meg had brought her more tea and quickly excused herself afterwards since rehearsals were underway, even as Christine was ill. However, her condition improved greatly overnight after hearing news of Erik. She needed to get well in order to see her tutor again and ensure that he was alright. It was her primary motivation to recover, besides the excitement of performing his Don Juan for him.
A week passed and Christine had progressed in her health, allowing her to attend rehearsals again. The entire cast seemed anxious about the opera, knowing it was written by the fearsome Opera Ghost and that the music was strange...very different from the older works they usually performed. These songs were dramatic, passionate, and included seductive lyrics of the star-crossed couple.
The complexity of the music proved to be difficult for many of the singers and for members of the pit orchestra. Reyer consistently had a headache forming after all of the corrections he made a thousand times a day. He only commended Christine for singing it as written, although he didn't know that her own instructor wrote the music and had been preparing her for it a long ways before these rehearsals.
By the end of each practice, everyone was exhausted. Madame Giry also seemed to be making the choreography challenging for the dancers, knowing that Erik would've wanted his opera to be known as a strenuous work for only the best of artists. Meg was given a solo part, and even she complained to her strict mother about the difficulty of the movements. The minute-est details had to be corrected or they appeared wrong. But the worst part was completing a series of multiple pirouettes on pointe followed by a grand jete into the arms of her partner. Her shorter stature made the leaps even harder for the blonde to perform, and she was meant to keep a teasing-vixen look on her face the entire time.
For Christine, the most challenging part of Don Juan was having to sing the suggestive lyrics to Piangi, the only man with the correct voice similar to the requirements of the part opposite of Amnita. He had never been too kind to the girl, always around that awful Carlotta who tormented Christine. Additionally, the Italian man was not exactly up to the appearance of a suave, debonair Don that could sweep a lady off her feet. She wished that her tutor's heavenly voice would be the one accompanying hers on stage.
"This is one of the few times you've actually joined everyone for dinner, Christine!" A younger ballerina named Claudine commented upon seeing the brunette enter beside Meg.
"Pardon me, Claudine. My instructor was very demanding and it was impossible for me to join everyone for dinner every night." Christine explained with a tone of finality, not wishing to discuss anything further.
"And it was all worth it in the end, what an amazing voice she has!" Meg cheered, sensing her friend's discomfort as they sat down at a table.
The other girls nodded in agreement and continued their boisterous chatting. But the brunette singer couldn't find herself fitting into the group of talkative ballet corps: she was so accustomed to eating leftovers later after having a wonderful music-filled evening with the Angel. This environment felt discomforting and foreign, even with Meg beside her.
In her own silence, Christine could only think of wondered how he was faring in that subterranean home of his, especially since Madame Giry said he was more afflicted than she'd been. The ache in her heart was caused from her worry over him and the desire to return to the lair. But it would be difficult to locate the way back on her own, even more so since Christine had only just recovered.
The brunette finished quickly, excusing herself from the table and not being missed by the crowd of gossiping girls. She walked alone through the dark, stone hallway to the dormitory and reminisced of times when her Angel's voice called her away. Erik would sing, somehow making his voice seem to appear from every corner of the room, and young Christine couldn't resist seeking out its source. The memories caused her almost to hear his singing once more, although she knew he was likely sitting at his organ in his sickly state. It was torturous to be without him.
Outside of the window, the moon was glowing brightly with twinkling stars dotting the black sky, which acted like a cloak over them. The delicate light was the only thing calming Christine in the night. If it wasn't for the tranquil view, the girl could've stayed awake until the wee hours of morning thinking about her poor Erik. But she fell into a soft sleep, dreaming of simpler times with her father in Perros-Guirec or back in the chapel when she first heard her Angel.