Messages and Laments

Amelia was still stunned quite a while after she heard the news. Caitlin and Marie told her at supper what her new job was to be.

She was to be a messenger.

She never actually thought about that as being a job. But after a little reflecting on it, Amelia realized that the Opera House could really use not only one, but a few. There were important messages to be sent on opposite wings, certain notes to be acquired, and special gifts to be received. She thought that the job would be rather fun. The position of a messenger meant that she would have to go all over the Populaire, and she loved everything about it. Perhaps she would even be able to explore while on trips.

Marie explained what else she would do while they were eating.

"Every morning, you need to check in with the manager, Monsieur Francois, at nine o'clock sharp and see if he has any messages that need to be sent. Once you are done with his business, you go to Monsieur Reyer and do the same with him. Either of them could have at least ten memorandums or just one package, it will depend on the day."

It sounded a little demanding, but it was still a job. She was about to ask a question, but Marie continued.

"You will also check with the gentlemen in charge of the post, incase certain parcels need to be delivered personally to anyone. All of these people may send you somewhere else to get something for them or for other reasons, so you'll need to know your way around. Do you think you can handle it?"

Amelia smiled and said, "Of course! This is what I have been waiting for. All this time I've just wandered around the Opera House. I have it memorized like the palm of my hand."

Marie was glad that she was so eager to get started because she was to begin the next morning.

Erik stared at the rock ceiling, becoming more pensive by the moment. The soft sheets of his bed were inviting, but he didn't want to fall into the shadow of unconsciousness yet. Every time he looked at the ceiling, he could see Amelia somehow. He heard himself sigh. When Caitlin told him what Amelia's job was, he wasn't sure how to react. Could he get closer to her this way?

He took off his mask and set it on the ground next to his bed. It was getting uncomfortable lately. The long, pale fingers of his right hand felt the contours of his deformed cheek. Erik tried to swallow, but a lump in his throat made it difficult. Why did this have to happen to him? He had been through enough; he didn't need this. But, then again, maybe he deserved it. That was why he had this face, wasn't it?

A sarcastic smirk appeared on his lips. Amelia probably would have slapped him if she heard him say that. The curvature of his lips slowly formed into a grave line. How was it that everything he thought led to her? His eyes began to sting. The salty tears burned his eyes because he was too proud to let them escape. Erik had done this almost every night, and he was tired of it.

Slowly, he sat up and raked his hand through his hair. His eyes swept the room, and they settled on a black case. Hopefully playing would help him calm down. Erik walked over to the violin case and opened it. The way the violin gleamed in the candle light made him even more troubled. Why do you taunt me? He shut the case and sat back on his knees.

Erik looked at a candle. I longed to teach the world, rise up and reach the world… No one would listen. When I first met her, it was almost as if she was crying out 'I hear you! I hear your fears, your torment, and your tears. Don't worry.' The violin case begged him silently to open it again. His fingers meandered along the edges of the case, and after hesitating, opened it. This time, the violin was more comforting; it seemed to be asking him to play and become better so he would be able to teach.

His heavy eyelids closed once he put the bow on the strings. A poignant melody seeped from the instrument. One would be able to tell that the player was a beginner, but it was still beautiful. As he finished the song, words – no, lyrics – rushed into his head and he searched frantically for paper.

Amelia took a breath and knocked on the manager's door. She heard some rustling and then the door opened. A man in his late twenties stood there, she assumed that it was Monsieur Francois. He held out his hand.

"Oh, you must be the messenger. Excuse me for not being prepared. I wasn't sure if you had started yet."

She shook his hand and stepped into the office after he stood back for her to enter. Monsieur Francois glided over to his desk and searched through a few cabinets, grabbing a paper or two from each one. Amelia could hear him mumbling something about not being prepared. She smiled and said, "You don't have to rush, Monsieur. This is my first day."

He looked up from a drawer and gave her a small smile. The manager continued to look through his desk for another minute. Once he finally got everything together, he handed a small stack of papers to her.

"All of the notes have names of the ones who are to receive them. There are only about ten recipients."

Amelia nodded and was about to leave, but he spoke again.

"I don't want to sound rude, Mademoiselle, but I expected the position of a messenger to be filled by someone…older. How old are you, anyways?"

"I'm fifteen, Monsieur," Amelia replied.

"Well, you seem perfect for the job."

She smiled and thanked him, and then left to deliver the notes.

It took her a little while to find everyone who had a letter. All of the people were widely spread throughout the Opera House. Amelia smiled when she realized that there was only one more envelope to deliver. 'Giselle' was all that was written on the front. She wasn't exactly sure who Giselle was or how she was supposed to get it to her. Well, she figured, I'll just ask Monsieur Reyer when I go to him next.

After quite a few twists and turns, Amelia found Monsieur Reyer's office. She was about to knock, but she heard raised voices. Her hand stopped right in front of the door, and Amelia replaced it with her ear. She didn't want to intrude, now did she?

"What do you mean it's not here yet?" it was a young woman's voice with an accent.

"I'm sorry, Mademoiselle, but –"

"I don't want to hear your excuses, Charles. Just notify me as soon as you get it."

Amelia's eyes widened when she realized that someone was coming towards the door. She ran as quickly and quietly as possible to the nearest corridor. She would just pretend that she was coming down the hall when they came out. Once she heard the door open, Amelia slowly made her way towards the office.

A young woman was walking heatedly down the corridor. She looked older than Amelia, but not by very much. Her ebony hair ended a little past her shoulders. The way she was dressed made her look upper class; her dress was a deep violet, and it was obvious that she was wearing her corset as tight as it would go. Amelia didn't let the young woman's clothing fool her. Any upper class woman wouldn't act desperate in front of someone at an opera house.

Amelia caught a glimpse of the woman's eyes. They were a dangerous-looking green and it seemed almost as if they could see right through you. She raised one perfect eyebrow at her, and then kept on walking. Monsieur Reyer was standing in the doorway. He sighed and made to go back inside.

"Excuse me, Monsieur," she said.

"Oh, bonjour, Amelia," Charles said wearily.

"I'm sure you must know that I am the messenger. I've come to collect any letters you would like to be sent. I also I have one question."

"Of course, come inside. I have a few pay checks and whatnot to be sent out."

Monsieur Reyer began to rummage through his desk. He seemed more prepared than Monsieur Francois had been. All of the envelopes were stacked together with names and room numbers on them. Amelia smiled, slightly relieved. This route probably wouldn't take as long as the previous one.

"Um, I have a note from Monsieur Francois, but all that's on it is a name and I'm not sure where to find her."

Charles looked up. "Well, what's the name? Perhaps I can help you."

Amelia handed him the envelope. "It says Giselle."

His eyes widened. She looked at him hopefully.

"Why don't I just deliver it personally? I know exactly who she is, and where to find her," he said, voice cracking a few times.

"I know you're trying to be helpful, Monsieur, but I was instructed not to let anyone else deliver the letters. It is, after all, my job."

After a moment or two, he nodded.

"You can find her in the dancers' quarters. Giselle is in the orchestra, but she insists on having a finer space. She shares a room with the dancer named Colette."

"Thank you, Monsieur."

"Oh, and Amelia?"

She turned around.

"Giselle is a little… catty today."

Erik sat up in his bed, eyes only partially open. He had stayed up later than planned the night before, writing his first violin piece with piano accompaniment. After yawning, Erik looked over at the music sprawled out on the floor and smiled. He wondered if he should show Monsieur Reyer at their lesson the following day. Perhaps he would just reveal the music; the lyrics were a little personal.

Erik got dressed and picked up the music. Once he sat down at the piano, he realized that his mask was still off. It felt nice to be free and not have to hide. He ran his fingers through his hair. Ignoring the impulse to put his mask on, Erik set the music out so he could play the piano. Why couldn't Amelia have wanted to play the piano? It would have been much easier for him to teach it to her.

He sighed and began playing his new song. Erik didn't even bother singing. Mornings weren't so great for his voice. One of his fingers faltered on a key and he opened his eyes. B flat, not B natural. He corrected himself. At the end of the song, his stomach made a noise. It must be at least ten o'clock, usually I wake at eight. He really needed a clock down there.

As he neared the top of the stairs, Erik's heart jumped in realization. Amelia would probably be at breakfast too. At this new awareness, he skipped the last few steps and walked quickly through the corridors. After entering the dining hall, Erik's eyes swept the room. He saw Peter and Marie, but no Amelia. Slowly, he made is way towards them, realizing that she was most likely still delivering letters.

Once he reached the couple, Marie smiled sympathetically. Erik gave her a minute smile back. He was glad to have a friend like her. She knew what was on his mind, and why he felt the way he did. Sure, he didn't have a lot of friends in his lifetime, but Erik knew that she was the best friend a person could ask for.

He rested his chin in his palm and stared at his plate. This was going to be a long process.

"I'll have you know that I am a very fine messenger."

Erik's dark eyes widened. He looked up to see Amelia about to sit down next to Marie. He and Peter immediately stood, showing their manners. Amelia looked at the two of them and smiled slightly. Erik could tell that she still wasn't used to good manners yet. The two young men sat back down and listened to Amelia's story.

After receiving the location of Giselle's room, Amelia went straight to her destination. Once she reached the door, she lightly knocked. There were quick footsteps and then the door opened. Both women on either side of the door stared at the other. This was the young woman Amelia had seen storming out of Monsieur Reyer's office.

Giselle knew that this girl saw her act churlishly towards Charles earlier, but at the moment she didn't really care.

"Can I help you?" she asked, sounding impatient.

"I have a letter for Giselle."

"I am Giselle. And it's about time I got this letter. Why does a young girl have this job, anyways? You know you should really – "

Amelia handed the envelope to her forcefully and left her steaming in the doorway.

"I don't know why she was so eager to get the letter. I mean, I'm sure it wasn't her salary. Monsieur Reyer would give that to her."

Marie agreed, and the four fell silent and began eating. After she ate quickly, Amelia stood and said that she'd better finish her route. When she was gone, Erik sighed softly and picked at his oatmeal.

"I don't know why you don't just tell her," Peter said.

"How would you tell Marie? 'Oh, we used to be lovers and I would like to get back together with you as soon as you get over yourself.'"

"He's got a point," Marie said.

The couple began discuss things that didn't really interest Erik. He didn't feel like listening anymore, so he stood said, "I'm going to go practice."

Marie looked up at him and then back down at his bowl. "You barely touched it. I don't care if you're going to go practice; I want you to eat at least five more bites."

Erik clenched his jaw slightly, and then gave her a crooked smile. "Yes, mother."

Once Erik had gotten out of sight of Marie's mothering eye, he decided to walk around the Opera House for a while. He had plenty of time to practice and he just needed to be alone for a while…not below people.

The architecture of the building still amazed him today. Erik decided that one day he would get a pad and draw parts of the wonderful structure. He was thinking this as he rounded a corner and collided with someone walking swiftly. The two apologized at the same time and then both realized who the other was. It was Amelia who ran into him.

"Erik! I didn't think anyone came in this wing until late afternoon."

"I guess they usually don't. I was just walking."

"I used to walk all the time before I had this job."

The pair began walking together, Erik helping her finish her route. By the time they were done, it was noon. The two made their way to the dining hall and ate together with Marie and Peter. This meal was more comfortable than the previous one. Erik liked it this way.

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