This is chapter three, yippee!
In chapter one, Marie Anne Tessier was, in fact, diary writer.
The only thing I own is my imagination, which I bought used at a second hand store for 6.79. And no one seems to want to buy it for seven dollars, so now I can't even make a profit from it…
Amme Eledhwen sat down against a tree and sighed. The tiny black cat crawled under her hand, begging to be petted. The tall, black horse nudged her shoulder, wondering what was wrong.
"I don't know, Fate," She sighed. "Everything, I guess. It's just…I wish I could go home."
Well, we can't, the cat meowed. So stop your moping, it's depressing me.
Amme laughed humorlessly. "So sorry, your majesty."
You should be. Now pet me.
Amme obeyed the tiny creature.
"I have to go to my new 'work' in a few hours." She whispered. "You're lucky you don't have to do something like that, Starlight."
I don't see why you don't like it. I always thought you enjoyed singing. Why should that change now all of the sudden?
"It's different," Amme protested.
How? You sang for that Tessier just fine, and didn't mind too much.
"It's just…" She struggled to find the right words. "It just doesn't help people, you know? It entertains people with money, but why would I want to do that? It just seems a stupid way to make a living." She finished with a sigh. "Anyways, with Tessier, at least I could still travel around, if not choose where I was going. Here, I have to stay put, and I don't like it."
I can't argue with that, Starlight agreed. The cat nosed her gently. But complaining won't do anything, so stop it.
Amme entered the opera theatre with the same measure of wonder that she had the first time she saw it. It was, after all, a magnificent building. However, no matter how magnificent the theatre was, it didn't ease her homesickness. Strange that staying in one place made her homesick when traveling did not. Perhaps that was because when she stayed, she had more of a chance to miss her home.
Amme turned when she heard footsteps coming towards her. Meg Giry was clearly in a good mood, skipping towards the strange new girl with a cheerful expression, her long blond hair fanning out behind her.
"Hello, Amme!" She grinned—most definitely in a good mood.
"Good morning, Meg Giry," Amme replied politely, rather taken-aback by the happiness radiating out of the other.
"Just call me Meg, so I won't feel too guilty calling you Amme. It is alright for me to call you Amme, isn't it?" Meg asked, suddenly uncertain how the strange new girl would like being on first name bases with her so quickly.
"I do usually prefer Amme over anything else."
"Wonderful!" Meg's cheerfulness returned at an almost alarming rate. She resumed her skipping, with Amme keeping up easily. "I do hope you'll enjoy your first full day here."
"I'm sure I will," Amme said, slightly insincerely.
They walked, or, in Meg's case, skipped, silently for a brief moment. Then Meg said conversationally, "Carlotta, the leading lady here, as allowed you the 'honor' of being her understudy for the next few weeks until we get a new opera."
"Thank you for telling me," Amme thought a moment. "You don't like Ms. Carlotta?"
Meg shrugged. "I don't know if anyone really likes her. She's rather spoiled, you know? And that doesn't endure a person to anybody, really."
"True,"
Just before they entered the theatre, Meg turned to study Amme. "You know, the longest thing I've ever heard you talk about is your homeland. Do you always give such short answers about everything else?"
Amme opened her mouth for a fraction of a second before closing it again. Finally, she said, "I'm not sure. I didn't always."
"What happened?" Meg asked curiously.
"That's rather personal, Meg Giry." For the first time since Meg had met her, Amme's voice contained more than a little trace of emotion.
"I'm sorry," Meg said hastily. "I don't mean to pry."
"It's alright," Amme murmured. "It's not your fault." Louder: "Shall we go in?"
Upon entering the theatre, Madame Giry greeted them by saying, "Meg Giry, what took you so long? I wanted you here thirty-three minutes ago!" Meg opened her mouth, but Madame Giry held up her hand. "No, Meg, I don't want to hear your excuses." Now she turned to Amme. "Now, I have some bad news for you."
"I already told her about being Carlotta's understudy," Meg piped up helpfully.
"That's not bad news, Meg! That's considered a great honor!"
"Considered," Meg repeated. "But it also means she'll be spending plenty of quality time with Carlotta, and that's something no amount of honor can improve."
Amme's mouth twisted up into something that almost resembled a smile.
"Hush, Meg. That's not what I was talking about." Madame Giry turned back to Amme. "The Opera Ghost has, I'm afraid, taken a disliking to you."
Amme's tiny smile disappeared. "The what?"
"The Opera Ghost! Surely you know who the Opera Ghost is?"
"There are no ghosts here," Amme said with certainty.
"Now, how do you know that?"
"I do, trust me."
Madame Giry shook her head. "Fine. If you must know, he's not really a ghost."
"Why would a man pretend to be a ghost?"
"What makes you think the ghost's a man?" Meg asked.
Amme actually rolled her eyes. "'He's not really a ghost.' Most women are not called he's."
"That's not the point!" Madame Giry said in frustration.
"Perhaps," Amme concurred. "But, the question is: why does he dislike me?"
"Oh, I know this one!" Meg said happily. "Because you took away all the audience from his new opera! Which is, incidentally, the same one you'll be Carlotta's understudy in."
"So now the ghost slash man writes operas?"
"Yes, he does," Madame Giry said impatiently. "But the point is, he doesn't like you, so you have to be careful and don't do anything else to annoy him."
"Wait a second," Amme frowned. "How do you know he doesn't like me?"
"I know this one too!" Meg sounded a little too proud. "He sent a note, correct?"
"Exactly," Madame Giry approved.
"So," Amme said slowly. "If I am to understand you correctly, an opera writing, note sending ghost who's not really a ghost but a man dislikes me? And I shouldn't annoy him…why?"
"Because he'll kill you. Actually, in his note, he was already sending you death threats. And you'd better hope he doesn't carry them out; they sound painful."
"So then, how should I not annoy this opera writing, note sending, over-reacting, ghost man?"
"Well, for one, don't call him that. For another, don't annoy or be rude to Christine."
Amme frowned. "Christine de Chagny? Where does she fit into this equation?"
"The Ghost was in love with her," Madame Giry sighed.
Amme waited, but that seemed to be the only answer she would receive. "Really? Absolutely fascinating. I'll remember that."
"And not to annoy him," Meg reminded her.
"And not to annoy him," Amme repeated. "Got it."
Madame Giry looked at her hard. "You don't believe a word we're saying, do you?"
"Not really."
"Well, at least you're honest," Madame Giry shook her head. "If you get killed, it's not my fault."
"Don't worry, I won't blame you."
Madame Giry shook her head again and stomped off. Meg watched her go with some apprehension. "I should probably go too. See you later, Amme. Have fun with Carlotta."
"I'll try."
The two women exchanged a quick smile, or, more like, Meg smiled while Amme's mouth turned up a bit. Then Meg ran after her mother.
"There you are!"
Amme didn't turn as Carlotta stalked up to her.
"Excuse me, girl, look at me when I'm talking to you!"
Amme still remained stationary. Finally, Carlotta was forced to step in front of her.
"Now, come on! I have to rehearse, and you have to watch and memorize my every step and line."
When they reached the stage, Carlotta made Amme sit in the front row of the audience.
"Pay attention!" She called over her shoulder.
Amme crossed her arms, half-closed her eyes and put her feet up on the chair in front of her.
"Hello, Amme Eledhwen."
"Hello, Christine de Chagny," Amme replied, half-closed eyes still fixed obediently on Carlotta.
"Having fun?" Christine sat down next to Amme.
"Perhaps," was the brief response.
The two women watched in silence, Amme memorizing Carlotta's "every step and line."
"Do you like the opera?" Christine asked.
"It's lovely,"
"The composer would be happy to hear you say that."
"Even if he doesn't like me?" Amme asked innocently.
Christine shrugged. "If he knew you said that, he probably would like you much more."
"Interesting."
Christine looked at her carefully. "Madame Giry told me you don't think the Opera Ghost exists."
"She's right."
"Well, I can tell you that you're wrong; he does exist and I've seen him."
"Madame Giry told me that he was in love with you."
Christine sighed. "He was. He might still be, but I hope not."
"Really."
"Yes, that would just hurt him even more because I'm very happily married and expecting my sixth child."
"Congratulations."
"Thank you. I don't hate him, of course, even though he stalked and kidnapped me. I mean, if I did hate him, I wouldn't care about him getting hurt, would I?"
"I suppose not."
"Yes." Christine glanced up. "He watches the performances from box five, did you know that?"
"No."
"Yes, well, whenever someone is in there during a performance, he'll usually scares the person out."
"He does sounds terrifying."
Christine couldn't tell if Amme was serious or not. "You still don't believe he exists, do you?"
"Correct—I don't."
"Why not?" The brunette asked, frustrated.
Amme didn't answer. Instead, her head jerked up at an impossible speed, and she scanned the theatre, frowning.
"Is something wrong?"
Amme shrugged, still looking up. "Is someone watching us?"
Christine sighed. "The Opera Ghost probably is."
"No, he's…she's…it's? I…don't know?" She phrased it like a question.
"The Opera Ghost is a he."
"So I've heard," Amme sounded annoyed, but not at Christine. She was now glaring at the theatre. Absentmindedly, she rubbed the back of her neck.
High above the two talking women, watching the rehearsal out of the corner of his eye, the object of Christine and Amme's conversation was busy eavesdropping on them. He nearly fell off the rafters when Christine had confirmed her pregnancy. It was more that he was surprised Laetitia knew before him than him thinking Christine and Raoul would…well, maybe he was surprised about that. If he were Christine, he wouldn't look twice at Raoul.
Then again, if he were Christine, he would be in love with himself, so maybe it was a good thing he wasn't her.
The fact that Amme did not believe he existed didn't astonish Erik too much. She probably won't believe anything that wasn't in front of her nose.
However, that she retained that disbelief after Christine had pointed out that she had seen him did surprise him. It showed that she didn't trust Christine! How dare she? What had Christine done to earn such distrust?
What unnerved him the most, however, was that Amme Eledhwen, though she didn't acknowledge his existence, still could tell that he was watching and listening to her. He knew some people had a sixth sense, but still…she seemed annoyed about something that was in some way connected with that, and frustrated as well. Her eyes were, at that moment, dancing around too fast for human eyes to follow, as if she was determined to find whatever was vexing her.
Thanks for reading; thanks for reviewing—when you do, at least. Tell me what you're thinking thus far!