Ok so here it is, Chapter 2! Sorry for the long update, I've just been really busy at work and will probably continue to be so. I've decided that I'll be doing shorter chapters so I can update a little more frequently for yous guys :3
Anywaysees, read and review ;)
The agenda of the day was to get settled into their temporary dwelling, but not before dropping in to see the opera house.
"Wow..." Meg breathed as she stepped out of the carriage and looked up. While not as ornate as her Opera Populaire, the theater Meg and Madame Giry would call home was as large and foreboding as the rumors dictated; two seven story buildings greeted them, sewn together with a large, slightly shorter building between them. It was almost deceptive in it's outer appearance, looking more like standard New York City offices than a place of performing arts- in fact the only thing that seemed to give the clandestine edifice away were the posters of American actors and singers that adorned the walls and the minuscule ticket box in the center of the entryway. Meg wondered why the owners accepted such a bland facade in lieu of Roman columns with half naked sculptures depicting the basis of drama and comedy like her former home or at least an elegant tandem curved stairway. The thought was so baffling and mind consuming at the time that she failed to see where she was going and bumped into someone.
A homeless looking man who was plucking up a discarded flyer for the Met's opening show went crashing to the ground. Some of the passersbys and opera employees looked in the direction of the commotion but upon realizing it involved a vagrant, quickly resumed their lives, Madame Giry included.
"Forgive me!" Meg cried, reaching for his arm, "I was not paying attention, oh do forgive me."
"There is nothing to forgive, Miss," the voice slithered out from under the man's tattered sun hat, creeping with a familiar chill through the air and into Meg's ears. She froze in her tracks, eyes and mouth wide with frightful shock. Her heart jumped into her throat before palpitating manically as the world around turned grey and slowed, 'Th-that voice...' She wondered.
"Meg, what are you doing?" She turned to see her mother was almost inside the theater, " I told you not to be lollygagging about!"
Meg turned back to see the man had vanished, she looked around, bewildered, "Where?"
"Morgana Angelique Giry," Madame Giry called, showing Meg she meant business.
Masquerade!
Visions of the days of the Opera Populaire swirled about inside her mind; the dancers, the singers and the man who haunted its very existence were as ghosts about her head.
Masquerade, paper faces on parade...
...Did I not instruct for box 5 to be kept empty?
"Whoa..." she said to herself, trying decipher between the true world around her and the world within her mind.
Christine, Christine, let me see her...
I'm frightened...
"No..." she whispered, frantically trying to shoo away the memories and get a grasp on reality once more, "It couldn't be...it's not him..." She said, smiting the images like a snuffer on a candle flame.
...Who is your Angel of Music?...
Breathing, Meg rose and with the world clasped tightly in her gloved hand looked around, the mystery man nowhere to be seen; vanishing as quickly as he came.
"Meg!" Madame Giry shouted, the blonde jumped and with one last glance, started inside after her mother.
The answer that plagued her thoughts prior to the incident with the homeless man would come from within the walls of the Met. From the massive stage that sat nestled in the center of a gold and burgundy theater. It was so much like home and yet so different, the layout was similar, though there were less private boxes and no sculptures. The blazing Sun chandelier greatly outshone the now infamous one of the Opera Populaire and was framed by four intricately drawn portraits of cherubs in the heavens. There was not a single moulding that did not sport some hand made engraving. She'd been instructed by her mother not to gaze about like the foreigner she was, but the large stage, bustling workers and practicing orchestra were too much for her young heart to ignore.
"Madame Giry, how exciting to see you here so early!" A voice called. The dance instructor and her daughter turned to the left to see a very flamboyant wisp of a man bounding down the third row towards them, his arms wide open.
Madame Giry faced him calmly and stuck out her hand in offerance before he had the chance to embrace her, "Monsieur James Diversey, I presume?" She asked. Meg had to stifle a laugh; her mother was a great many things but the hugging sort was not one of them.
Mr. Diversy lost none of his energy to her rejection, transferring it into a rather vigorous handshake that nearly took off the elder blonde's arm, "You presume correctly," he said, his green eyes twinkling, peppered mustache splitting apart in a wide grin, "I am the stage director as well as the academy's arithmetic instructor. Forgive me but you are far more handsome than the rumors imply."
Madame Giry straightened, "You're too kind, Monsieur." She stated simply, elbowing a snickering Meg. She got her comeuppance when her mother shifted to introduce her, "My daughter had also accompanied me on this excursion," she announced, leaving her to suffer the same overzealous salutation, "You've also brought-Meg, is it?" He asked, eyeing the girl like a new puppy. Meg pulled away, curtsing to make up for her abrupt retraction
"How marvelous." he continued, "Well I do hope you'll forgive the state of the theatre and hold it as no measures of my capabilities," he stated, gesturing to the chaos of the work going on.
"Naturally, Monsieur, it is we who have arrived too early," Madame Giry stated, "We misjudged the length of the trip from England to America. I am just as eager, however to start my work."
"That can most certainly be arranged, Madame, I'll just need to notify the headmistress." he nodded to an older lady on the stage to remind him of that promise before turning back to the two women, "For now however, how about the tour of the theater and company?"
Meg's ears perked at that, the dance company as well?
He gestured for them to follow him.