And this is chapter five. Obviously. I just want to say one thing about it: the eye description didn't turn out at all the way I wanted it to. If you're confused about what I'm trying to get at: I'm sorry. If you do get it, then congratulations; you probably understand it better than I do. And I'm the writer, so that's really saying something.
One more thing—sorry about what I said at the end of chapter four. I've just haven't had the best week, well, month. Don't worry, I'll try not to complain about my reviews again.
And Erik will not be turning totally obsessive. Once again, don't worry. We hope gulp. I'll stop him before it gets really bad.
Now then, back to the story.
Amme stared at the man in shock. "You, you, you're…"
His smile became more pronounced. "The Opera Ghost. Or the Phantom of the Opera. Whichever you prefer."
Amme's eyes widened, taking him in slowly. His was perhaps two inches taller than her 6ft 4. Half of his face was covered with a white mask, which appeared to have been specially made for him, judging by how well it fit. The side of his face that wasn't covered, however, was finely structured—perhaps not the most beautiful man in the world, but would never have been considered ugly or even average. His hair was as black and thick as hers, and his entire air managed to convey nervousness and confidence at the same time, but it was his eyes that caught and held her attention.
They were, at first glance, black like his hair, but, when one studied them, one could see they were really a very dark brown. And the things the revealed! And didn't reveal! One could tell he was extremely intelligent by a single look! The strangest thing about them, though, was how, or how not, expressive they were. Amme could glimpse strong emotions behind them, but, like his face, most of it was hidden.
All this examination took Amme about two seconds. He barely noticed she was doing it.
"You're the Phantom of the Opera?"
He nodded. "I am."
She took a deep breath and tilted her head. "I don't like you," she finally announced.
At this statement, Erik immediately started cursing himself. What had he done wrong this time? "Why not? You don't even know me!"
"True," Amme agreed slowly. "But you're still annoy me."
"Why?" He snapped. "Because I surprised you in a dark alley?"
"Yes to part of that."
"Which part?"
"I don't like being surprised." She said simply.
The Phantom took a few moment to take that in. "If I apologize, will you forgive me?"
Amme tilted her head the other way. "Perhaps."
"I apologize for surprising you."
She considered. "Don't move," was her next startling announcement.
"Why?" Erik was both curious and suspicious at the same time.
"Just do what I say." With that, she turned around.
There was a long pause as she stood there with her back to him. While Erik was glad she didn't seem too terribly angry with him, he felt like he was being ignored, and he wasn't enjoying that.
Finally, she looked back at him, a frustrated expression on her face.
"I'm not going to disappear just because you look away," Erik said, miffed.
"Be quiet."
Amme closed her eyes, but her frustrated expression only intensified with each passing second. At long last, she took a deep breath, through nose and out mouth, before opening her eyes once more.
"Did you leave?"
He blinked. "No, I'm pretty sure I'm still here."
"But then," She paused a few seconds. "How do you do that?"
"Do what?"
"Disappear like that."
Erik looked at her in shock. Did she already know he could do that? "I didn't. I told you, I didn't leave."
"Not that," She corrected. "How did you…" she paused again. "What time is it?"
"Ten forty-eight." He replied. "Why?"
"I have to go. Starlight and Fate will be wondering what happened to me." She started to leave. "Tomorrow night at ten. You will be here, and we will talk. And so help me, you will tell me when you've arrived!"
"Fine with me," Erik smiled, wondering who on heaven, earth, and hell Starlight and Fate were.
So, Starlight asked as soon as Amme got back. What took you so long?
"He was half an hour late."
Doesn't seem to be a very punctual person, hm?
"Exactly," She smiled slightly. "Is Fate asleep?"
Out like a light.
"You should be too. How much sleep have you gotten today?"
Only ten hours. Starlight stretched and yawned. I am extremely tired. I just wanted to hear what you would say about this man before I get my beauty sleep. Not that I need it, of course.
Amme shook her head—cats were so vain. "Of course not, Starlight. Go to sleep."
Erik stared at the blank paper in front of him. The music that flowed from his quill so easily just wasn't coming. He couldn't concentrate. Notes were jumbled in his mind, but with no rhyme or reason to them. Nothing was working right.
"Are you alright?" Laetitia asked, concerned.
"I…I don't know?" He responded. "The music just isn't coming to me."
"Oh, that's too bad," He heard her splash her tail in the water. "I'd help you, but I really don't write music, or do I have any intention of starting."
He snorted. "If I wanted your help, I'd've asked for it."
Laetitia dived back underwater.
Erik turned his attention back to the paper. Why wouldn't anything come? It just didn't make sense.
Slowly, he placed his quill to the parchment, and then hesitated. Even more slowly, he made a curved line. The line turned into an oval shape, perfectly symmetrical. Inside the oval, he drew two more curved lines, much smaller. From that came two almond shaped ovals, slightly slanted.
His quill went steadily faster and faster, until Erik finally realized what exactly he was drawing. He, once again, stared down at the paper, and Amme Eledhwen stared back, the corners of her lips turned up slightly as if she were happy to see him.
He quickly finished the portrait, and smiled back at the woman. He stared at her for another two seconds longer before the notes in his head fell into a sequence that he was actually able to write down and have sound like music.
Grinning, he set the drawing aside, grabbed another sheet of paper, dipped his quill, and began to write.
Amme woke up soaking wet. Groaning, she rolled off the branch she had been sleeping on. The ground was soft beneath her bare feet, but not in a good way. Stepping lightly, she made her way across to where Fate and Starlight were, still fast asleep. They were both wet, too.
It didn't take long for Amme to find the blanket, which Fate was on top of. She gave a few useless tugs, and then poked Fate to wake her up. Fate didn't even twitch. At last, Amme gave up and dried off using her white shirt.
Too bad it wasn't sunny out: the drying process would have gone a lot faster, then.
When she had unwetted herself as much as possible, breakfast was her next priority. At least, it was until she saw the position of the little sun in the sky. If she didn't hurry, she would be late for "work."
Running fast to the theatre was her best option to make it on time, so that's exactly what she did.
Just before she made it, Amme had to stop short before crashing into the man who had just come out the front doors.
"Oh! Ms. Eledhwen!" It was Joshua Eddison. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you,"
"No," Amme said quickly. "It was my fault. I should have been paying attention to where I was going."
"Well, perhaps we are both at fault." He smiled at her. "I wish I got the chance to see you yesterday."
"I was very busy, Mr. Eddison, so I don't think it would have worked out very well."
"Please, call me Joshua."
Amme blinked. A while ago, she would have called him that without him having to give permission. "Would you call me Amme, then?"
"Of course. So, since you seem in such a rush right now, how about we have dinner tonight at ten."
"At ten?"
"Of course—you'll need to perform tonight, won't you? Otherwise, we could go earlier."
"I'm afraid," Amme said slowly. "I have to meet someone tonight. But tomorrow night at ten will be fine."
Joshua nodded. "Wonderful! I'll see you then!" He strolled off.
Amme walked into the theatre in a daze. Madame Giry immediately swooped upon her.
"You're late, Amme Eledhwen!"
"I am?" Amme asked, still confused. "I got up only ten minutes ago. I think…"
"It's one o'clock, girl! In the afternoon!"
"I'm not a morning person…"
"I can tell," Madame Giry frowned. "Why is your hair wet?"
"It is?"
"Yes!" She practically shouted. "It is! Now, tell me why!"
Amme blinked, and shook her head as if to clear it of cobwebs. "I got rained on last night."
"I see. Well, you'd better hurry up and dry it off. We have a new opera, and the Ghost has specifically asked for you playing the lead."
"I suppose he doesn't hate me anymore."
"Unless he's planning on humiliating you onstage. Now, hurry up! We don't have all day, especially since you wasted half of it already!"
"I didn't waste it, I was sleeping!" Amme protested as she left to her dressing room.
The Opera Ghost had watched Amme ample in and wondered what had made her act like that. He was, however, very glad that she had taken a hint and realized he didn't dislike her anymore.
To be exact, he was in denial that he ever disliked her.
What amazed him the most, and made him the happiest, was how she had told him to see her tonight. She demanded he be there. She wanted to talk with him some more! Despite what she had said before, he couldn't possibly believe she didn't like him now.
She wanted to see him again! Him!
And that thought made Erik euphoric.
Amme tapped her long fingers on her dressing table, waiting for the man with the mask to arrive. Hopefully, he would come on time that night, but as it was already one minute to ten, Amme thought it would be a long shot.
Maybe opera ghosts were always unreliable.
Precisely at ten o'clock, Amme heard a tiny cough behind her. She didn't turn around as she said "You're on time tonight,"
"I was on time last night," The Phantom disagreed.
"If you consider thirty minutes after the appointed time as punctual, then, yes, I suppose you where on time."
"Oh, I came at ten o'clock last night. I just was enjoying myself watching you, I didn't want to say anything."
Amme finally turned so he could see her frown. "You enjoyed watching me?" Her tone meant danger.
He shrugged. "You're an interesting person. You're different from everyone else; you do unusual things."
"How is combing my hair and leaning against a doorframe different from what other people do?"
"Other people would have left long before it was 10:30."
Amme's face lightened slightly. "Why must you be so annoying?"
The Phantom smiled, happy to see she wasn't glowering at him anymore. "I don't know. Why don't you just come up with a reason and stick with it?"
"Because I'm not interested with whatever I can come up with. I want to know exactly why you do it."
He sighed. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to be so irritating to you. Now, yesterday night you said you wanted to talk with me some more. What do you want to talk about?"
"How are you able to just suddenly appear into…my…dressing room?"
"I'll show you sometime," he promised softly. "Now, why are you so averse to this being your dressing room?"
"Because I know that it won't be 'mine' for long, so there's no point calling it such."
"Do you not like it? Do you want another one?"
"Does it matter if I like it or not?"
"As long as you're here, you can have anything you want." His tone sounded like he was making her another promise.
Amme, sensing the conversation was heading into dangerous waters, quickly changed topic. "Why do you wear a mask?"
The Phantom frowned. "Why do you want to know?"
"I don't believe in hiding yourself, even if it's only half of your face."
"Our beliefs differ, then. I don't want anyone to ever see my face."
"Why not?" Amme asked curiously. He didn't answer, so she pressed on. "I, personally, don't see why you would. I mean, if you were hiding from the law, or something like that, wearing a half mask wouldn't do much good. So, my best guess is that you're hiding something actually on your face, like a scar, or…"
"Can we talk about something else?" He snapped. A moment later, he couldn't believe he had stooped so low as to interrupted her. But Amme didn't seem to mind.
"I apologize. I should probably be leaving, anyways. I don't want to be late again."
"Wait!" The Phantom said desperately. "Can I see you tomorrow?"
Amme frowned thoughtfully. "Not tomorrow. I'm having dinner with someone. Will Friday be alright?"
"Friday is fine." He assured her, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Who are you going to dinner with?"
"Joshua Eddison. He wanted to see me tonight, but, of course, I told him I was busy."
Now anger was growing inside of him. "Did you tell him about me?"
"No, why? Do you want me to?" Amme looked genuinely confused.
"For right now, I'd rather you didn't. When the time comes, if the time comes, I'll tell him myself."
The first thing Joshua did when he picked Amme up from the theatre after the opera was present her with a bouquet of pink roses.
"Oh! Thank you!" Amme took them slowly. "You really didn't have to do this. I have so many flowers from being in this opera, I don't know what to do with them all."
"This isn't because of the opera," Joshua said, rather sourly.
"It isn't?" She frowned. "I don't think I can accept them then. You see…"
"We can talk during dinner," he interrupted hastily. "Come on, or else we'll be late."
The dinner was very nice, but Amme thought French people had some very strange tastes. Joshua didn't seem to think so, though, but judging by all he ate, Amme supposed he would have eaten anything.
"So, how are you liking France?" Joshua asked after he had finished his second course.
Amme swallowed the rest of her salad before answering. "It's very nice. Different, perhaps, but not necessarily in a bad way."
"I don't know about that!" He laughed. "Sure, the food is good, but some of the people! Rather odd, if you ask me. England is really the place to be, if you want good company."
"England is a nice place, too," Amme allowed. "But we really should not be comparing the two countries. After all, they are both wonderful places in their own right. Someone from France might perhaps not share your good opinion of England, just as you seem not to think well of the French."
"Well, you can judge unbiased like that, I suppose," Joshua said, beginning his third course. "Being from neither country. But I have to be loyal to my England, and the English and French have a long history of not getting along."
"But I know some others from England, and they have nothing, at least, very little, against the French people."
"Well, those people need to see a psychologist, then," he replied bluntly.
Amme frowned at her friends being insulted like that, but other then that, didn't dignify that comment with an answer.
He finished his third course before asking, "Are you ready to go?"
Amme nodded. She had been ready to leave for quite some time.
Joshua asked, received, and paid for the check. Amme stood up, stretching her legs. She had been sitting for an hour and a half in the same position, so she felt rather stiff.
"Did you enjoy your dinner?" Joshua asked as they left. "You barely ate anything."
She responded with a shrug. While it was true all she had had was a salad, she did not in any way consider that barely anything. Perhaps she just didn't eat as much as he did.
"Do you want me to walk you home?" He tried again, but she just shook her head. "Alright, then. Can I see you again tomorrow night? Same time?"
Amme once more shook her head. "The night after, perhaps. You can come talk to me tomorrow during lunch, though."
Joshua smiled. "Alright! I'll see you then!"
And, that was chapter five. Yes, I know; I'm so observant, aren't I?
Erik's progress—Erik is now more than just "crushing on" Amme. It's turning into a more possessive feeling. Not quite to how he was feeling about Christine. Yet.
Amme's progress—To put it simply, Amme is neutral. Erik and Josh could fight a duel over her, and she won't care who the winner was. Especially since they really wouldn't be gaining anything by it.
Josh/Joshua/Eddison's progress—Not much to say about him. Josh isn't aware of the Phantom, so he doesn't know about anyone to be jealous of.
If you don't want me to do this progress checks, just tell me and I'll stop. Otherwise, I'll do them every once in a while.