A/N: Clearly I've lost my mind, but not my muse. I will be rewriting old fics from various accounts of poor literary choices past. Enjoy.
The world famous Palais Garneir stands not a building, but a dream; a heavenly mirage that graces an earth made filthy and unworthy of such of opulence by the tarnished souls that walk it.
The opera house itself is a hallowed place, halled with elaborate multicolored marble friezes, columns, and lavish statuary, many of which portray deities of Greek mythology; every corner, vault, and ceiling paying homage to that most sacred of gifts that is music and music alone.
At it's birth fourteen painters, mosaicists and seventy-three sculptors delivered into the world it's ornamentation, a task, which when coupled with an account of the house's construction had taken no less than fifteen years to complete.
It's exterior features two gilded figural groups, Charles Gumery's L'Harmonie and La Poésie, crowning the apexes of the principal facade's left and right avant-corps. Whilst at the bases of the avant-corps there are decorated the four major, multi-figure groups depicting the lithe embodiments of Poetry, Instrumental Music, Dance, and Lyrical Drama.
Making up the theatre's front façade are the gilded bronze busts of many of the worlds' great composers. Located between these columns staring out at the world they keep reverent vigil. The sculptural group Apollo, Poetry, and Music, located at the apex of the south gable of the stage flytower, with the two smaller bronze Pegasus figures at either end of the south gable draw the eye with such majesty and wonder, with baited breath the winged horses seem bound to flight.
Located to the east of the building lay a gently sloping pavilion. Designed to allow the wealthy subscribers and social lights who bought their way into the sanctuary's halls to attain direct access from their carriages to the interior of the building rather than needlessly tiring their legs upon the main stairway. Covered by a large dome mirrored pairs of stoic obelisks mark the entrances of the Rotunda to the north and the south.
Once inside the mind falls away from the mudane cares and pains of life as the eye is treated to an interior resplendent with glory. Consisting of interweaving corridors, stairwells, alcoves, and landings the breezeways allowed for the fluid movement of vast numbers of people who would come clothed in layers of the finest silks, and adorned with their personal wealth glittering on their throats and wrists, yet still require space for socializing during intermission. Rich with velvet, gold leaf, cherubim and nymphs dancing or playing cats' games among the clouds, the interior is epitome of sumptuousness and splendor.
Featuring a large ceremonial staircase of white marble with a balustrade of red and green marble, that divides into two divergent flights of stairs leading into the Grand Foyer decorated with female torchères. From above the staircase the ceiling was painted by Isidore Pils to depict The Triumph of Apollo, The Enchantment of Music Deploying its Charms, Minerva Fighting Brutality Watched by the Gods of Olympus, and The City of Paris Receiving the Plan of the New Opéra. All of it culminating to a wickedly beguiling beauty that transfixed the curious nature of the mind, while transcending the bonds of mortality to give one a true sense of divinity.
The Grand Foyer is a hall eighteen meters high, one hundred and fifty-four meters long and thirteen meters wide. It was designed to act as a drawing room for all of Paris society where they were meant to gather and enjoy all of the finearies their standing afforded them. With an intricately decorated ceiling, painted by a deft hand in it could be found the representations of various moments in the history of music. The foyer then opens into an outside loggia at each end of which are the Salon de la Lune and Salon du Soleil.
At the building's heart lay the auditorium, having a traditional horseshoe shape it can easily, and comfortably seat one-thousand, nine hunrdred and seventy-nine before the stage which, heralded as the largest in Europe, is able to accommodate as many as four-hundred and fifty artists at a time. And yet the pinical of all this grandeur and luxury is the seven-ton bronze and crystal chandelier, designed by Garnier, the architect for whom the opera house was named. Cast and chased by Lacarière, Delatour Cie the total cost for the celestial piece which seemed to float with an elegance and grace that only complemented the happenings on stage came to thirty-thousand gold francs.
Yet for all the beauty and wonder the formal areas of the Palais Garneir held, the dormitories, and servants quarters shared little of this magnificence or glory.
Colombe Deveraoux was sixteen years old. A girl of no particular excellence or beauty she had dark brunette hair, dull green-brown eyes, a deep caramel complexion that betrayed the hint of an extramarital affair a generation or two back, and a slight, underdeveloped frame. Having lived in the maid's quarters since the age of twelve she knew well the differences between what was meant for the public whose purses overflowed, and what she, with her calloused fingers and habitual lifestyle of hunger, poverty, and shame was deemed worthy of appreciating.
In spite of all this however, it was there in the extravagant halls were Colombe had found her sanctuary from a violent and drunkard father, though, ruefully, her meagre wages still supported the wretch. She was a quiet girl, reserved, pious, and moderately well liked among the servants, though few of her betters ever took notice, at least not in the ways she would have wanted. Yet for all her obedience and calm self assurance she was also a girl who's will and sense of whimsy could get her into trouble, laughing late into the night with friends, gossiping, and finding all manner of activities with which to keep her wondering and inquisitive mind occupied.
Still, with all her simplicity and anonymity, Colombe was about to find herself part of a tragic tale which was anything but.