I always pictured the scene of someone falling off the balcony everytime i see one.

let's see, anything else to say...hmm. nope!

Enjoy chapter 14!

# Part Fourteen:

She could almost touch it, the necklace was right there…fingers centimeters away the necklace turned into a sneering face as she fell. Lark was falling, falling, the ground coming closer and closer as she fell off the ledge; that sneering face laughing. The floor was near now, the pain would be incredible, the pain…a mask in the distance, ignoring her pleas, falling, falling… "ERIK!" Lark awoke in a cold sweat as her body trembled like an autumn leaf in a cold wind. She looked around, her heart jumping, frantically wishing she knew where she was.

This was not her room, nor anywhere in the Opera Populaire that Lark knew of. She started to feel a little panicky and was about to jump up as a piece of the wall opened and Erik walked past. She watched him, her mouth hanging open as he muttered quietly under his breath, digging in a cupboard that Lark hadn't noticed. Taking papers out he shook them out and picked through them before selecting one and putting it in a pocket of his cloak. He glanced at her, his eyes amused behind the mask. "Oh, you're awake, good."

The girl just stared at him and then the whole night came back to her in a flash. "Oh!" she said slowly, mostly to herself, "The ledge, I fell. You caught me? Yes, yes, you did I remember…" Erik just shrugged and walked out another door, returning a moment later with a cup of something Lark couldn't name. He placed it firmly in her shaky hand. "Drink," he ordered, "it will clear your head." He walked away leaving the room muttering under his breath, "Clearing as much it can in her head at least…"

Lark had too big of a headache to feel insulted, she grimaced and swallowed the cup's contents in one huge gulp and gave a small gasp as it spread through her veins like a wildfire. It had a stinging aftertaste but none the less, the girl's head felt clearer than it had a moment later. She coughed then sat up and looked at her surroundings. She was in a different room than the dinning hall she was in before, its interior quite pretty for someone such as Erik. Though, Lark had that feeling that this was a room for a girl, not for himself. Rubbing her shoulders, she got up out of the bed and nearly toppled over from a bit of dizziness that still clung to her. "Dang…" she said irritably, smacking the side of her head gently in frustration.

A chord drifted through into her room, she listened closely as it wavered into her head, it was beautiful but then it stopped with someone's cry of frustration. Crossing over to the door she saw Erik leave out of, Lark peered out into the dark halls of the house. The sound was coming from another door. Pattering soft as a mouse, the child moved towards the door and eased it open, hoping it was the right one. Yes, Erik was in there, sitting at the organ's bench, scratching out something on the music sheet before him. Mumbling under his breath and tapping a finger unconsciously to an unknown beat, he didn't notice Lark at all as he scribbled something down, looked at it then shook his head. Coming closer, she could her him mutter something. "Damn, damn, damn," he cursed darkly, crossing a section out. He kneaded his head for a moment, and then turned around swiftly in his seat staring straight at Lark with a scowl.

She took a quick step back as he glared at her, the girl didn't realize she was peering over his shoulder. "I can't concentrate, mademoiselle, when you are breathing continuously down my neck." He said, gold eyes flashing. Lark blushed and stepped away from him. "Sorry…I didn't mean…to pry…." She mumbled, backing away hastily. He gave her one more glare then turned back to his music, playing a few chords stopping only then to scrawl it down. 'He's very devoted to his music…' Lark thought curiously, 'he didn't even notice that I wasn't in here in the first place.' She walked over to the paper covered desk that sat near a dark shape that was covered with a canopy. She assumed was a bed and didn't take any more thought to it. Plucking at the papers on the top of the desk, she shifted them gently; checking to make sure Erik wasn't bothered by her noise. He didn't even glace at her. Sorting through them they were mostly more music sheets, some written on some not, but there were a few below those. Pictures, all hand drawn. Lark looked at them in surprise, then at Erik, then back to the papers.

So he was an artist, and possibly an architect, since there were sketching of beautiful buildings and landscapes. But the one that caught her eye was the one of a woman; it was deeply buried in the pile. She was very pretty, with long brown hair and a gentle, beautiful face with large brown eyes. Why there was a sketch of this person…

A hand came out from behind her and snatched the picture away. Lark turned, he was standing behind her giving the girl death glares. "Don't go through my possessions, mademoiselle." He told her coldly, tucking the paper into his pocket. He pushed her away from the desk, glaring at her. The girl walked a bit away from the desk, bowing her head in apology. But…Lark bit her lip then had to ask, "Is she real?" Erik stiffened. "Does that lady…in the picture…is she real?" the girl repeated curiously.

Erik turned away from her and walked back over to his organ. "Yes, she lives and breaths like any other person." He seated himself down and drew his music sheets back towards him. "What's her name?" Erik's hands clenched into fists as he spun around to face her. "Stop asking questions!" he said irritably, his eyes flashing a dangerous gold. Lark nodded quickly then sat near a corner. He gave her a warning look before turning back to his music.

'He's an unusual person…an unusual person indeed.' Lark thought sighing, taking out a few small pebbles out of her pocket.

Updated. XD

He really is an unusual person, there's some truth to that for him. no offense, Erik! No! not the Punjab! AHHH!