Disclaimer: There once was a land dreamed in catacombs of the authoress's mind where all copyrights were hers and she frolicked in the feilds merrily with her pride and joy but alas, she awoke to find that the rights belonged to another, namely Leroux and Webber. Many times she returns to that happy place but we cannot all live there. Therefore, I merely manipulate but do not create (except for the plot and all other twists that are unfamiliar).
College work, a temporary job, an 8 page paper on poetry, Robbie introducing me to Buffy the Vampire Slayer, parent's weekend, choir concert... I personally don't like this one update a month crap either so I won't even ask for forgiveness; this is ridiculous. But I will thank all of you for reviewing! I really appreciate it, more than I can say. Thanks for the encouragement and all the little quips that make my roommate question my sanity further when I burst out laughing randomly. (And thanks to Nabria for catching those blasted little mistakes). HUGS FOR EVERYONE!
I actually had an epiphany the other day and sort of know how this is going to end now...-:sniff:- sorta makes me sad...
Anyway, without further adue...please, Enjoy!
The sides of the tent stirred gently in the breeze yet neither Erik nor Philippe paid it any mind. Rather, they were focusing intently on the voices just on the other side and catching only a few words despite their efforts. There seemed to some debate going on until the imperious voice of Donald sounded out both quietly and strong, "Enough of this. There is nothing that can be done about it now. We will see to the summoned before the sun comes up."
The entrance flap was thrust aside and Dane walked in, face expressionless as he glanced at the two of them. Philippe scrambled to his feet but Erik took his time, discreetly studying the other as he slowly stood up. "Come," was all he said before turning heel and leading the way.
Erik calmly trailed after but Philippe was making a conscious effort to keep up with Dane. Noting to himself that Philippe remained silent, Erik thought it best to follow suit for the time being, still not knowing what to expect out of the Circle. After a brief march, they came to the edge of the theatre carved into the hill with bits of stone jutting from the grass. Dane rounded on them and commanded, "Wait here" before striding up to where several others stood.
"You've been markedly quiet," Erik noted with the hint of a smirk.
"What can I say? Dane scares me." Philippe shuddered slightly. "I don't think he has any feelings to speak of. But you wouldn't know anything about that, now would you? Mr. I'll-hide-behind-a-mask-so-no-one-can-ever-make-out-my-expression. It's just creepy. That and I'm not too eager about this."
Doubtful that there was anything to be truly afraid of, Erik just shook his head and walked forward as they were beckoned. Philippe stopped Erik: "I'm serious, Erik. Caning is the least of what they could do. Be respectful. Besides, you're going to be reflecting me so make me look good."
"I think they'd be surprised with anything more than a slobbering idiot."
Philippe shot Erik a look before beginning to laugh as they came up to the cracked stone stage. All the elders of the Circle stopped discussing as the two of them approached, their faces set in grim expressions save for Dane who still betrayed nothing and Annabelle (she had to be, as lovely as she was) who winked and wore a seductive smile. All but Dane (who leaned near a partially dilapidated wall, arms crossed and studying) sat on the stone chairs carved into the hill while Erik and Philippe stood on the stage, mindful not to stumble into a gaping hole and lose a foot. All eyes then followed to Donald, quietly sizing up Erik and Philippe. Philippe's smirk fell away and visibly shuddered. Erik stared back into Donald, ignoring the freeze that had instantly followed when Donald's gaze had landed on him, refusing to be intimidated by paltry tricks.
"State your name," he demanded lazily as he sighed and sat back slightly, staring first at Philippe who instantly blurted out, "Philippe De Chagny." His gaze shifted again to Erik who said nothing. Philippe nudged him, silently encouraging him to speak.
"Erik."
"Last name?"
"It is not important." Donald's eyes flickered briefly but returned instantly to the same grim expression.
Philippe whispered urgently next to him, "Don't start anything you won't be able to finish. Just be a good little boy for once." Erik shook his head lightly.
Donald rose from his place and began to saunter back and forth as he spoke, hands clasped behind his back and partially inhibiting the normal flow of his dark cloak: "We have a bit of a dilemma. As farfetched as it may seem, our truce between the werewolves has been breached." Farfetched indeed, werewolves, Erik thought though didn't voice his opinion, instead scoffing quietly. Donald continued anyway, whether or not he had heard it: "This can mean a number of things for our kind. We had hoped that another hunt could be avoided but as it stands—"
"Hunt?" Erik interrupted, curious, only to be met by Donald's imperial glare, though whether it was meant to have been coated in ice or whether that was just his nature was difficult to decide.
"Yes, hunt. Werewolves are the better fighters so it is much easier to seek them out when they are less dangerous, without the magic of the full moon."
"Not very sportsmanlike, I suppose," the vampire who, judging by his handsome features, had to be Irving entered in, "but this is survival and war. From what we know of your history, 'fair' hasn't always exactly been your priority. But anyway, you were saying, Donald?"
"Regardless, you have been brought into the Circle and your reading was of a peculiar kind. Werewolves aside but not forgotten, you will submit to a personal reading; call it a preemptive measure lest you betray us," he added flippantly. "Come. Let us take care of this matter first. Then perhaps we'll know what to do with you."
Erik said nothing, though disliking the general sense that he was something easily cast aside. Philippe walked beside him as the rest of the group rose to follow, whispering, "I don't know if that was the best way to start. Might be best to not ask questions."
Erik gave Philippe a pointed look.
"Hey, I know what you're thinking, I'm not a wimp, I just learned my lesson and don't care to repeat it."
Erik only blinked slowly and gave him a skeptical look.
"Alright, so maybe I never really 'learn my lesson' but for the time being I'm going to pretend I did. On a different note, to answer you unasked question, no I don't know what's going on but I imagine the personal reading is due to the fuzzy initial reading. The vampires learned long ago that it was hell trying to make sure everyone was loyal to the Circle. Hunters have even managed to make it in; don't ask how it's just history. So the object is to avoid it before it happens."
Philippe stopped talking as the cluster stopped in front of the tents again. Donald was speaking with Sebastian who, though sullen, nodded respectfully and marched off griping, "Now I have to be the maid and clean up after everyone, swell," while grabbing a shovel that had laid on the ground. Donald then lifted the flap and motioned for Erik to follow, casting a baleful glance back that read no one was to disturb them.
The faint flicker of a few carefully placed white candles brought the tent to a warm glow and revealed what first appeared to be a mass of colorful scarves. The mass moved to glance over her shoulder at the new faces with a slightly fearful look in her eyes. Her hair, what was peaking out from a large kerchief about it, was wavy and bushy black with a few lighter streaks of mingling grey. Donald lead Erik to sit in front of her, and large yellow candle between them casting an eerie shadow across her features.
In the gentlest voice Erik had yet heard him use, Donald bent low from his stance and whispered next to her ear, "Sancha, this is Erik. We seek to know what his future holds." She closed her dark eyes and nodded lightly. Satisfied, he moved back and stood near the entrance, staring out the tent flap up at the full moon.
In a quiet tone, Sancha murmured, "Remove your mask please. I need to see your face."
"For both our sakes, I'd rather not. Half will have to do."
"But for the reading to work, I have to."
"Again, I will decline."
"Your identity doesn't matter here."
"It's not my identity I'm protecting."
She cast a helpless glance at Donald who was only watching the scene.
"I will not," he repeated.
"Oh, come now, certainly it can't be that horrible…" Erik only sighed and shook his head; she obviously had no idea. A few seconds later it didn't matter as, in a desperate effort to follow orders, she snatched the white mask from his face. Erik felt the cool air against his mutilated skin and resisted the urge to cover his shame instead glaring heatedly at the shocked gypsy.
"You wanted to see, take your fill," he snarled, the nasty grimace twisting his face even more so. A silent scream exploded from her features and she dropped the mask, placing her hands over her mouth.
Casually lifting the mask from the ground and dusting it off, Donald, crossed his arms over his chest and stated with a air of complete indifference, "Sancha, you need to finish the reading. I doubt you would want to breach our agreement."
Whatever little color was returning to her cheeks fled again as she turned back from Donald and faced Erik again, who was now merely watching her coldly. With shaking hands, she reached up and placed her palms on Erik's smooth cheek then the other. Once her skin made contact, she flinched back, retracting her hands.
"That is no ordinary disfigurement," she whispered, almost to herself. Stealing herself, she placed her hands on Erik's face again. Erik's eyes flew wide as the sudden jolt shot through and images flooded his mind. It was over in a moment, and Erik sat back trying to make sense of it all.
"Well?" Donald asked.
"This is one of the most difficult reads I've ever seen. But it is as I suspected; that is no ordinary disfigurement: his grandfather was a werewolf."
Erik looked at her curiously as Donald, with a bit more enthusiasm than he'd seen yet, said, "Yes, he could very well be a link. What did you see?"
"His reading was jumbled, though clearer than the first time. There was a woman, someone dear to you I think?" she turned to Erik for confirmation.
Mentally leafing through the random flashes, he saw Christine. "Yes."
"She needs to be brought in, complete what you started."
Pulling away, Erik shook his head and resolutely declared, "I will do no such thing if she does not wish it."
"But—"
"No."
She looked as if she was about to say something more but at the frosty blue glare changed her mind. "Fine."
"What else?" Donald demanded.
"Watch out for your rival."
"Well that goes without saying," Erik quipped before realizing perhaps Philippe had begun to rub off on him.
"He's closer than you think. Your gift is your music."
"Again, nothing earth shattering," Erik muttered.
"Do not cast that aside so easily. I saw it all. You could seduce with song as a mortal but now it is much more than that, amplified if you will. The very rocks and stones of the earth would crumble should you ask it. Granted, it would not be quite that simple but you will not obtain this until you—" she hesitated for a moment. "This is where it is hazy again. There is something else…some other ability I'm sure...but again, it is still too jumbled to be sure. As for what you're wondering," she glanced at Donald, "he will not betray your kind. As of now, I predict that you will have a long life but fate has a way of changing things depending on what you choose next. Be wary. War is eminent. For your kind to survive, you must help and—"
"Donald!" Annabelle burst through the flap. "The sun will be up soon, we must find cover."
Donald nodded and turned back to the two of them. "Thank you, Sancha, for your help. You may return to your family now and we shall contact you when your services are required again." He tossed her a small leather pouch that she fumbled to catch before scurrying out of the tent without looking back. Handing Erik his mask back, he raised his voice for the benefit of all those gathered on the other side of the tent wall. "Come, I know of a place where we can find shelter from the sun." Turning back to Erik, he added, "and we shall finish later."
∞†∞
Christine shook off that nagging feeling in the back of her mind and wordlessly followed Raoul through the large doors into the mansion. The Baron Castelo-Barbezac's estate was grand to say the least; even in her distracted state, Christine couldn't help but notice the height of the foyer and the giant pillars on either side. Alabaster stone, polished to a blinding shine, stair rails ran along the wide staircase as the help scurried down to greet their master and see to all his guests. There was no ceiling to speak of; the room seemed to open up to the sky and such windows were far from cheap. The last beams of sunlight gripped the edge of the glass, bathing the room in an orange glow. Paintings and fine tapestries covered many vacant spots along the wall. Even the servants had an air of splendor as they bustled past the two of them, rushing to bring in the luggage.
"Oh, it's wonderful, John!"
"I'm certainly glad you approve." The Baron smiled at Meg and Christine couldn't help but grin a secret smile of her own, pleased to see his affections seemed pure toward her best friend.
"What do you think, Christine?"
"I think it's marvelous, Meg. Who could think otherwise?" Christine then turned to the Baron: "Thank you for allowing us to come along."
"Indeed, it was my pleasure." He inclined his head briefly. "You will always be welcome here at any time, Christine, and I hope you take me up on that."
"I believe I shall have to," Christine laughed as she shared a significant glance with Meg, purposely disregarding subtlety in her fatigue and reveling in the blush that filled her cheeks. "I should very much like to be settled in if you would be so kind as to show—"
"Master? There's a gentleman here to see you."
"Just a moment, Gabriel."
The black-haired servant wrung his hands nervously and fidgeted, looking all the while as if he wanted to say something more but, by judging how his eyes fell to the other guests, didn't want to utter it in front of anyone else.
The Baron Castelo-Barbezac sighed lightly and conceded: "Alright, Gabriel. I'll see him. Where is he?"
"In the east drawing room, sir."
"Could you kindly please escort Mlle. Daaé to her room?"
"Yes, sir. Right away, sir," he replied, visibly relieved. "If you'll follow me, Miss?"
Christine, nodded and followed after him. The room was splendid; there was no better word for it. Yellow was a definite theme, Christine noted, as she walked past the lavish four-poster and to a spacious balcony. There was a knock at the door and Christine rose to answer it.
Raoul stood there with a grin which Christine automatically returned. "Here, Christine, put this on your balcony door to ward off any monsters." He pressed a charm into her hand from God knew what stall he had bought it from. "But don't worry about the other door. Vampires can't come into a house unless invited and furthermore, I'm just next door should you need anything." He kissed her forehead and hugged her to him. "I'll let you rest, my love. Just let me know should you want for anything."
He left and Christine tossed the charm onto the bed; humoring Raoul's fear was tiresome. Her bags had already been dropped off and she began to unpack. Glancing through her luggage, she found a box that held a dress that she didn't recognize. After a moment, Christine realized that Meg's purchases from the city must have been mixed in with her things.
Sighing, she grasped the box and walked through the dark wooden doors. She called out tentatively as her voice echoed down the empty hallway but no one responded to her. Thankfully, she bumped into a kind maid who pointed her in the right direction.
Unfortunately, the door that she apparently couldn't miss happened to look like all the others. Christine carefully peaked her head in one door only to startle two servants who had tried to find a quiet room and were so frazzled at being caught that they were of little assistance. From then on, Christine resolved to knock and to make herself heard beforehand. Sighing and marching up to another door, she raised her hand to knock and stopped inches from the wood when she heard voices from inside.
"Enough with the small talk," the Baron's voice, in a more irritated tone than she had ever heard from him, finally formed the first discernable phrase that should could pick up. "Why are you here?"
"As I was saying, we needed protection for the day." Another voice sent shivers down Christine's spine; it was a bass voice, if the man was a singer, but the light layer of malice still coated his words like veneer on a fine desk.
"Come now, there's no need to take that tone," a cooler, lighter voice took up, though no less chilling on Christine's nerves. "Don't worry, Baron Castelo-Barbezac. We will be leaving for the night soon. But I must ask if we can further trespass on your kindness and that we be allowed to return tomorrow morning."
The Baron's sigh was audible through the wood. "I suppose so. Truly, I don't mind helping any traveler no matter…" he trailed off for a moment, unsure of how to fill in that blank with an inoffensive phrase. "Regardless, should you need a place to stay, I would prefer having a bit of warning. Furthermore, I ask that none of your kind is to go near my guests, that my amnesty be extended to them."
"Consider it done," the second voice replied silkily.
Christine sprang back from the door, afraid to be caught, as the conversation apparently came to a close and the gentlemen began shuffling about. The visitors exited seconds later and she tried to make it look as though she were studying a tapestry on the wall. One of the gentleman wore deep green and had brown hair and a goatee; he marched down the hallway with a different sort of confidence and nodded gallantly at Christine as they passed. The other was shorter with his hair pulled back and grumbled to himself down the hallway.
The Baron walked out a moment later. "Christine, what are you doing here? Got a bit lost?"
She nodded, "I confess, I've been looking for Meg's room for the past ten minutes."
"I'll lead the way." Christine took the offered arm but suppressed her curiosity. "I suppose you're wondering who those men were," he spoke after a bit of silence. "We've had a few dealings in the past, I helped them and they helped me, but I hadn't seen any of them in a while nor did I expect to see them again. It's best if you avoid them."
"I shall do my best," Christine conceded.
"Ah! Here we are," he announced as he knocked jovially on Meg's door.
She answered promptly: "Christine! John! Do come in."
Christine allowed herself to be pulled in but the Baron declined, declaring that he had a few matters to attend to but that it would not keep him long. He then kissed Meg's hand and left.
As soon as the dreamy look had passed from Meg's face and she turned back to her friend, Christine giggled and Meg threw a few mockingly indignant phrases before succumbing to laughter herself.
"Now," Meg stated after getting a hold of herself again, "what did you need? I thought you were going to get some rest."
Christine held up the box. "This was among my things."
"Ohhh…" Meg looked slightly disappointed. "That was supposed to be a surprise. I bought it for you but I was going to give it to you at a different time." She brightened, "Aw well. I suppose you can have it early. Do you like it?"
It was a lovely gown and Christine assured her that the blue was a wonderful shade and that she'd wear it on the first opportunity. Their conversation fell to the journey, of which Meg had many fond memories of the carriage ride alone. Christine took a moment to inspect the view from her window, across the plains with a few trees in the distance. A cluster of people came from the house and began to disappear into the darkness, hard to differentiate from the black even in the nearly-full moonlight.
Babble: And so ends another chunk. I just finished writing that a bit ago so hopefully I caught most of the grammar and spelling baddies. I'm actually starting finals here and then Knox's uber-long break starts so with any luck I'll have another chunk up a little faster...after I write it, of course. :)
And the usual: Love it or hate it, please let me know! (just that little button in the corner to make me, again, enternally happy for now). Ideas... questions... comments... concerns... random blurbs...
Reviewers get the Intro to the Circle picture book complete with factoids and whatnot plus the new release limited edition of Erik and Philippe plushies to add to your collection!
Take care, all.