Second chapter people and it looks like I'm starting strong. I'm determined to carry this baby to term and have a healthy delivery to a living corpse (what?). Annnnnyyyyyy way I'd like to thank Italiana30 for being the first to favorite story. You are a doll my dear, here have a red rose on me (black ribbon included ;D). So in this chapter we get some Phantom goodness. Excited? You should be, it's Erik after all.
But I digress, here is the disclaimer. I solemnly swear that I'm up to no good (wait! wrong movie, sorry ^^;) and I do not, I repeat NOT own Phantom of the Opera or Susan Kay's Phantom, because I have a tendency to abuse my power of ownership and would do horrible (although hilarious) things to certain characters of POTO. That being said chapter two, enjoy!
Erik walked the passageways of his ruined opera house.
Alone. All alone with his madness and misery.
He did try so hard not to think of the cause of his pain, but all he could envision was curly brown hair, brown-green eyes, pale skin, soft voice.
No! He commanded himself harshly. Do not think of her!
His brooding was brought to an end when he heard voices above him and footsteps causing the dust to fall from the wood planks above him.
Someone was in his opera house.
He'd dealt with enough vandals and delinquents in his time to know that these people above him were idiots. They weren't even trying to lower their voices or skillfully sneak around.
Brazen fools! He would show them why no one came to this haunted place anymore…
He quickly traveled the passageways from underneath the stage and came to his once favorite hiding place in box 5. Looking down on the stage he was surprised to see the old managers standing with an older man and a young woman.
Before he could focus on what they were saying the managers turned to lead them off the stage and to the back. The young woman went to follow but stopped, and stayed behind.
Erik watched, as she turned back to the center of the stage, and looked about her. To his surprise she pulled out a tape recorder and began to speak.
"Auditorium. Extensive damage to floor seating from chandelier, also in ruin." She looked up at the ceiling, and continued. "Extensive fire damage to the ceiling…" her focus was brought to a halt when the board beneath her right foot cracked, and she was barely able to keep standing as her foot fell through.
Erik barely checked himself from helping her, and watched as she slowly pulled her foot back through. She examined her ankle, and, seeing no apparent damage, placed her weight back on it.
"Right. Extensive fire damage to the ceiling and stage, minor smoke damage from what I can see to the walls towards the far back but will have to have closer inspection."
The woman had just put her tape recorder away when the older man she was with came back from the direction they had left it. "Adele! There you are! I was worried."
Adele… it was a French name, yet he could tell by their accents neither one was. They sounded English but he couldn't be quite sure.
"Sorry dad, was just taking some notes." Adele replied.
Ah, so a father daughter pair had come to his opera house? He leaned closer to hear and see them better.
"Well, what do you think so far?" Adele's father questioned as he came to stand beside her.
Adele looked around once more. "Like I said before it's going to take a lot of work…" she looked at her father. "but I'm hopeful. Really hopeful."
Her father smiled, and placed his arm about her and pulled her into a hug. "If anyone can turn this place around it's you, Adele."
"Thanks dad." Adele hugged her father back, and Erik felt a pang inside of his chest.
He wondered what it felt like to have a loving parent with such faith. His own father had died before he was born and his mother despised him from birth. The closest thing he had had to a father was Giovanni… but in one fell swoop that had been taken from him.
The two departed from the stage, and he followed behind at a safe distance, sticking to the shadows so as not to be seen.
Sometimes Adele would stay behind from the group and pull out that silly little tape recorder and make notes, and those times he dared to venture closer and take a better look.
Her hair was a shining black that looked soft to the touch, pulled back in a severe chignon although several strands refused to cooperate and fell out about her face, which he observed her push back behind her ear in frustration. Her eyes were a pale blue, icy almost in their appearance and in the way she looked at things about her as if she could freeze them with a glance. Her skin was pale, and if he was to be the poetic and cliché sort (which, he couldn't help, he was), he would say that she appeared she only went outside at night, where the moon could cast its glow over her skin that would soak up the rays and keep her flesh that same porcelain color. Her lips were pale pink, the bottom one full while the upper lip was thinner, but in a flattering, complementary way. He'd estimate her in her mid to late twenties, but with her style and manner of dress he couldn't be sure.
He enjoyed hearing her no nonsense, factual voice, although he told himself it was because he'd been lacking in human company for almost two years. He summed her up as lovely, not an extraordinary beauty, but she certainly had a certain charm and appeal to her that he didn't mind looking upon.
When they finished the tour, traveling to all the places that were still safe to travel to, they walked back to the front door. When Firmin went to hand the keys to the father, it was Adele who took them with a slight bemused smirk at their expressions. They walked out, and he heard the key turn in the lock as Adele secured the house.
Which left him to think about the fate of his beloved home.
It appeared as if the opera house had been purchased by this father-daughter team. And from what he gathered they planned to renovate the place.
Would there once again be operas performed in the Opera Populaire?
He didn't dare get his hopes up. He knew where that path led to. Hope was something that ruined hearts and minds.
Still, he would keep an eye on little Adele and see what plans she had in store.
Little Adele let her mind wonder. Little Adele said 'am I fonder of Phantoms or shoes, roses or of chocolates?' well, it's really hard to pick now isn't it? Next chapter Erik sees Adele again and the renovations begin. Do be nice and R&R.