Whoa, I'm getting a lot of writing done! Must be because I have nothing planned during these Summer days. Whoo! I'm going to see Phantom tomorrow! Yes, it IS the play. Yes, I'm seeing it for the third time! xD Yes, you're all going to hurt me now, I know it.
Erik sighed and leaned back in his chair, staring at his completed work. He had worked on it for a very long time, nearly a month and now with it completely finished and perfected; he would have to use it. The human face of an elderly, plain faced man stared back at him, the eye holes empty of any sight and the nose its own shape so that it stuck up from its material. He had made a mask that, when worn, would make him look like an old gentleman, not handsome nor ugly, but a plain face that you would see several times over in a busy street. Erik hadn't told Rachel or Richard about his plan. Why would he for it was barely a plan at all. All he wanted to do was…he pushed it out of his head for now and looked down solemnly at the mask. "You are my only hope," he told it softly, plucking it up. He knew no one would recognize him for what he was, not that anyone knew him but if by chance Christine looked out or her bloody husband…He gulped nervously. They wouldn't see Erik, but an old gentleman outside their window and that wasn't suspicious was it? Taking a deep breathe, Erik placed the mask on and started to apply the necessary materials that would mold it to his face, transforming his old look completely.
O-o-o-o-o-o-o-o
He was lucky that Rachel was working again and Richard was out as he slipped out the front door wordlessly. He had checked before leaving in the hall mirror to make sure that his guise was complete. Erik wore a simple suit with a top hat and with his mask he looked like an old gentleman going out for a stroll. He didn't take the carriage, but walked down the street carelessly. Before exiting, Erik had grabbed a gold topped cane in the umbrella stand before leaving for extra measure. He leaned on it slightly as he hobbled down to the busy streets. Like he had suspected, no one even glanced his way as he made the long way down to the Vicomte's home. It wasn't hard as he had gone there plenty of times in his earlier years with Christine to observe the boy with hatred and jealousy. No, it wasn't hard to get there at all. Erik leaned heavily on the cane as he stared up at the magnificent mansion. It was, regrettably, more glamorous than Richard and Rachel's home. Erik ignored the front door and decided to stroll around the outside of the house in an attempt to see a window where…where Lark might be looking out.
Erik however found himself going around the gate of the rose garden, and, nearly missing the sight, spotted a small figure sitting upon a bench. His heart jumped up into his throat as he walked slowly to the other side and stared at the familiar face of the child. Her eyes were closed and a small smile was spread across her rather pale face. Perhaps this was a vain attempt after all, she looked content. Erik felt his hand clench tighter on the cane. He must hear it from her only! He wouldn't protest if she were happy there, but if she wasn't….He swallowed nervously and opened the garden gate, quietly as you please. Lark heard, though, and her head turned in his direction her eyes remaining closed. She knew someone had entered without opening her eyes. Erik made his voice scratchy and an octave higher as he spoke so she would not recognize the sound of his normal voice. "Good afternoon, mademoiselle." He said pleasantly though his hand shook as it hung onto the cane. Lark smiled dimly and looked around, eyes remaining closed to the world. "Is it afternoon already, monsieur?" she sighed curiously. Erik frowned in concern but dared not to go nearer. "Yes it is, mademoiselle, didn't you know?" he replied, keeping his voice carefree and unconcerned.
The small smile remained, though it turned cold. "No, I cannot tell if it is morning or night, monsieur." She opened her lids to reveal the glassy fogged eyes. "It's rather hard you see, when you're blind." My God! It took all Erik's self control not to cry out as he stared hard at the sightless eyes of this once so bubbly child. He barely was able to keep his false tone up when he replied softly. "I'm sorry, mademoiselle. Can you forgive an old man of his careless folly?" Lark's face brightened slightly as she gave a small, sad chuckle. "I forgive you, monsieur." She said, "not everyone can tell if I see or not." Erik started forward cautiously, the garden pathway gravel crunching underneath his shoes. "Do you mind if I join you?" he asked politely. The child's eyes widened as she nodded and scooted over to allow him enough room. He sat down lightly and rested the cane against the iron leg of the bench with a sigh. Erik looked up at the house looming over them, checking the windows for some sort of sign of someone watching. With a satisfied grunt he turned to Lark again and brought up the conversation. "You have a lovely house," he commented, watching for her reaction, "you are a very lucky girl to grow up so fine."
"No one has sat with me before." Lark said, completely oblivious that he had spoken. Erik, startled, shifted uncomfortably on the seat. "No one?" he asked, keeping his voice as gentlemanly as an old man as he could. She shook her head and felt a rose petal that was brushing her hand. "Everyone usually just says hello or nothing at all." She turned her sightless eyes towards her companion. "You are the first to want to join me, monsieur, why?" Erik leaned back and looked around at the tall rose bushes. "If you don't want me here," he said humbly, "I can leave." Lark's eyes became frightened and she gripped his arm. "No!" she cried breathlessly, "No, it's alright! I'm happy you're joining me!" Erik remained silent and she started, releasing his arm. "I'm sorry, monsieur," she apologized quickly, "I was just surprised…" Lark looked like she was going to cry but her eyes were strangely dry, like there was no more moisture in her eyes. "I've prayed so hard that someone else will talk me," she whispered brokenly finding a need to explain herself to this man she didn't even know. "And now you said hello and wanted to sit with me, you made me very happy!" Erik hesitated, wondering how someone else would respond to this, then just laid a gloved hand on hers.
"It's quite alright, missy." He said gruffly. "I merely thought you didn't want to listen to an old man's babbling." Lark didn't move her hand from underneath his and then took up her other hand to trace the satin gloves with wonder. "No," she said, "no, I want to listen!" She leaned forward and looked with sudden interest at him. "What stories can you tell me?" Erik swallowed, contemplating on what he should tell her. This child was looking vainly for something to interest her, to keep her mind off of….what? He sighed wearily and rubbed the girl's hand with his thumb as he thought. Then it hit him. Taking up his cane, he laid it across his lap and stared hard into the foggy eyes. "What do you know of the old Opera Ghost?"
Review please! They make me happy! And type faster!
Erik: You're pathetic.