Anything that burns...
Dinner was... interesting. It seemed to Vara that she was the fifth wheel in this little outing. Ida and Carly seemed to have taken a shine to each other, asking each other questions and telling stories most of the night. And Mimi bathed Charlie in admiration and questions, which he greedily sucked up with coy grins and cocky laughs. Really the only time Vara had a part of a conversation was if she was brought up in some story one of the twins was telling. Two hours in, Vara was on her sixth drink. 'I may as not even be here.' Vara thought in dismay. Gathering up her courage, she was about to suggest she head home to get some work done when Charlie, who also was knee deep in the liquor lake, slurred out.
"I know thish night club. It'sh right down the way." He swiveled his head, grinning heavily at his friends, old and new. "let'sh go dancing." And before Ida could protest, Mimi grabbed her right arm, Charlie her left, and dragged her to a large building with music pumping out of every crevice. As soon as the were in, Vara was left alone on a crowded dance floor. Pushing her way to the bar she sat on a stool, and signaled the bartender for a shot.
"What do you want, doll?"
"Anything that burns."
The world swam in and out of focus. Teetering and pitching on invisible waves. Light filtered in and out of the storm, leaving blank spaces in Vara's sight, and in her memory. After three more shot of the mystery spirits, Vara left the nice easy stage of drunk despondency and quickly dived head first in the roiling waters of anger. She left after seeing her friends, who she thought she would be spending the night with catching up and having fun, having some 'fun' of their own. So with heels in hand and one last chug she stormed out, leaving a trail of angry tears with her.
By the time she reached the opera house, the waves became tsunamis, pitching her unto walls, tangling her feet, splitting her head in two. In a drunken haze, Vara tried to think of where to go to weather the storm. The storm blocked all light, and when it returned she found herself crying in a dusty corner, on a little blanket and pillow. Heaving herself unsteadily to her feet Vara tried to take in her surroundings, just barley managing to see.
"My chapel?" Vara mumbled to herself. "I'm alone." A tear rolled down her cheek catching on her chin, a sniff caught her voice.
"I'm always alone. Those...Those..." then the sniff, turned to a growl. "Those ASSES!" Vara began to stalk clumsily back and forth. "Those absolute Asses! We were suppose to have dinner," Vara turned and stalked towards the window. "We were suppose to have fun! And they didn't even attempt to have ANYTHING to do with me. I was a side comment." Vara turned and stalked. Pitching her hands in the air to exaggerate her anger. She stopped in front of the cream robbed angel, barley making out the rose she drew weeks prior. "I was a joke..." she fell to her knees, the anger hurricane, turning into hot steady rain.
"I'm not a joke!" she sobbed to the wall. Hot tears burning her face. "I'm not..." her feeble voice lapsed into drunken shuddering breathes.
Vara's body began to grow weak from her hyperventilating, and just when black dots began to swim in her vision, she heard a voice...
"My Dear, you must try and calm yourself." It was soothing, that crushed velvet sound, rich and soft. Vara's body tensed from the shock of another person seeing her, but her breathing did lessen ever so slightly.
"That's it, just listen to me, trust me. Breathe in," Vara did a shudder still heard in the inhale.
"Breathe out." The voice settled across the room like a warm blanket. "Deeper this time, Dear." Vara shudder at the thoughts that flashed in her bubbly mind, as the voice rumbled on.
"In" Vara sucked in a breathe, calmer but still shaking.
"Out." That velvet voice seemed to come everywhere at once, encompassing her. The breathy quality it took on, the drawn out 'Out', led more thoughts, darker thoughts, strung along the corners of her mind, tingling her neck and spine.
"One last time," He said, whispering it, as if it was a precious secret.
"In." Whispered, yet commanded, Vara closed her eyes and breathed in, waiting for the inevitable 'out', enjoying the bubbles that seemed to be floating in her head, down her neck, settling at the base of her spine in little tingles. She held on, when,
"Out." Warm air settled across her neck as she exhaled smoothly. Eyes opened, and the world still rocked, but gently, almost soothingly. Where once the room felt cold and dark, a gentle glow permeated the room.
Vara turned slowly seeing a few candles lit in the room, though one corner held darkness. Peering in, Vara offered a hesitant, "Hello?" She jumped as two golden orbs shone in the dark. Pinned on her figure, waiting. Vara took another deep breath, and was slightly disappointed that the bubbles she felt didn't buzz with her inhale.
"Thank you." She offered suddenly feeling very self conscience. A deep chuckle floating over her, making those damn bubbles pop again.
"I couldn't in good conscience leave you in such a state." The eyes looked her over, eating up her disheveled appearance. Dress crumpled, hair askew, eyes shining. Erik felt a rush go over him, a tremor of manhood he had thought long past him. Pushing down such dark, heated thoughts he continued. "Though you don't seem in a state to speak with me." Vara flushed at the comment.
"I... may have gone over board." She gripped the front of her dress, biting her lip in shame. "I was upset, and... couldn't control myself." Erik's eyes trained onto her lip, watching as teeth nibbled the pinkened flesh. 'I know how you feel' He thought to himself as the heat began to rise ever so slowly. Pushing it o the back of his mind, he saw an opening.
"I shall leave you be, until I know you are well... That is unl-"
"Don't!" Vara surprised both at the quick yelp, heavily dripped in desperation. Flushing even redder. "I don't... I..." Vara looked away, "Stay?" She had felt that warmth start to leave as the man, ghost began to make his leave. The rocking was lulling her, but his warmth was keeping her steady. Somewhere, deep down in the waters of her drunken mind, she knew it was a bad idea. But it was cold without... somebody near her.
The Phantom repressed a smug grin. A matter of presence. No voice manipulation, just being a solid figure in her hazy, teetering, liquored mind. Smug as he may be, a small sliver of guilt did pin itself over his heart, digging a hot needle in slowly. He covered it with a cold, bony hand and bowed as a gentleman should to the lady before him.
"As you wish..."
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So... yeah, I'm trying to update, cant promise much though. I think I captured a good little scene. And the drunken haze... Yeah not fun to happen in real life. Thank God I was home and not in the streets of Paris.