Author's Note: There are...technically two cameos. One has been around in prior chapters, mentioned only but hints have been dropped in those instances. The other is new, but a vibe should be there.
Whoever can identify the inspiration of these two characters, name them in a review(or PM). If you are Correct, the next Chapter with Erik and Christine will post shortly there after.
If you correctly identify one of them, virtual brownies will be given.
Jolly Sailor Bold
As Il Muto began, Raoul de Chagny sat within the confines of Box 5, watching the scenes unfurl on the stage below. Though he watched, he was not really seeing or hearing anything that went on apart from when Christine graced the limelight. It was wonderful seeing her again, an old friend and sweetheart that he had nearly forgotten. She was divine, and had all who watched her sing in her grasp.
But his mind pondered the day as well as her sudden absence the night before. Realizing she was there so close, was a welcome distraction from reality since his return from his last voyage. Life seemed to be in a kind of downward spiral ever since tragedy stuck on the high seas that left his mindset scarred from what he saw. Two months on and a return to Paris did nothing to stem the nightmares he had. Nor did it stem the imagery of what happened that was still too fresh in his mind. Whenever he closed his eyes, they were there again. The horror, the bloodshed, the agony. The sheer ruthlessness of what he had witnessed was almost too much the bear.
He always enjoyed music and the arts for its ability to distract the mind for a few hours, offering a bit of comfort to his internal turmoil and unrest. In the realization that Christine was there and among the budding and rising stars of the opera's future, Raoul was all too eager to seek her company. It was comfort to him as a youth when his existence proved toilsome at home, and she was the exquisite respite.
Between her imagination coupled with an ever-sunny demeanor and her father's skill with the violin, Raoul immensely enjoyed being with them. In truth, he almost wished he was not a de Chagny; if only to live a bit more freely to whim than what his parents and family wished of him. He would spend entire days with the Daaés if could. With them, he gotten to learn of a part of life that was so very different from his own.
But in that time with them, it allowed to Raoul to appreciate the privileges of what he had more. It was his hope that with Christine at his side, he could find genuine joy again and bring her into his world as she and her father had welcomed him in theirs. She deserved it after all. Wealth, privilege, and to want for nothing while luxuriating in comfort.
Yet, it an unexpected twist, her interest in seemed lacking. Any other woman he met leapt at the opportunity at having a courtship with him, wanting a bit of what he had to offer. Not Christine though. It took effort to convince her to share a meal with him. While they ultimately had a grand time together, their conversation over dessert could have gone better, it was true. But it was hardly a detrimental turn.
Certainly not as detrimental as the topic of her singing teacher, Monsieur L'Chantseur. It was obvious to Raoul the name was but a farce, and the so-called thoughtfulness of his decidedly cheap selection of flowers was thinly veiled attempt to woo Christine's favor. Damnable as it was, it appeared to be working as talking any sense into her went nowhere.
Christine's absolute innocence in understanding just how the world worked was concerning. Such a sweet creature as her needed guidance and protection; and Raoul wanted to be the one who gave it. Especially in consideration that Monsieur Daaé in all is love for his daughter, sooner fed her fantasy and ideals of how the world spun rather than give her a truer glimpse of reality. Such an altered view in the way of things would only make her more suspectable to exploitation.
For Christine's happiness, as well as his own for needing her in his life. Raoul had to find a way to win both her attention and affection. If not, someone else, perhaps this L'Chantseur, would swoop in and take her into a world of misery that would be so unworthy of Christine. God help her if she were ever to end up in a loveless marriage with someone who failed to realize the remarkableness of the girl she was. Kind, sweet, innocent… Christine.
Thundering applause drew Raoul out from reverie as it percussed through the auditorium of the Palais Garnier. He leaned forward in his chair to join the cacophony of clapping hands by the end of the second Act. Then as the curtain swept shut Raoul leaned heavily back into his chair a moment, to determine just how he wanted to spend the intermission. Socialize with other members of his circle, or seeking out Christine's company backstage.
Though, as life seemed to have it as of late, Raoul was not granted much in the way of choice as the shift of his weight caused a snap in the air. The seat then bowed beneath him a mere handful of seconds before the whole collapsed in on itself. First, the velvet seat of the chair completely snapped and sank his buttocks down through it until his knees were wedged up to his chest. From there the legs of the chair crumpled in on him.
~x ~x ~X~ x~ x~
"What I find concerning, gentlemen, is that this is the second time that such an event has happened when I sat in that Box," Raoul snapped at the pair of managers that were too obsequious in their demeanor to please him, even by his standards. "First the seat is suddenly wet and then dry as though I wet myself on my own, and now tonight? It collapses! Utterly unacceptable!"
Raoul, Firmin, and Andre were all gathered in the office where Raoul was seated in one of their chairs. The Doctor who was in attendance that night, some foreign fellow, was wrapping up his brief examination of the Vicomte.
As a way to ensure that should some medical event arise that there would always be a doctor at hand in the house, the Palais Garnier liked to keep a known doctor at every performance. A ticket was but a small price to pay for the convenience. From an ailing attendee to a ballet dancer who stepped wrong, a physician was necessary to have around in a pinch. While Raoul knew nothing was wrong with him beyond his own bruised ego, Messiers Firmin and Andre were instant that this Doctor Mehri made sure he suffered nothing more than bruising.
"It was merely an accident, a weakened chair that is as old as the Garnier itself," Firmin spoke in his most mollifying tone. "If anything, it suggests that we merely to have each chair inspected on a regular basis, monthly perhaps? While the auditorium is being cleaned, it shouldn't be too much trouble."
Raoul watched as the Doctor shook his head to himself while tucking instruments of his trade neatly into the sizable leather-bound tote with a snapping clasp at the top.
"And what's to stop something else from happening, gentlemen?" Raoul, still perturbed and hardly pacified. "How many incidents have been happening in this place?"
"Hardly much of any consequence," spoke Andre. "We've only been here for a near fortnight, we are still learning all the quirks."
"You mean they haven't told you?" asked the incredulous Dr. Mehri.
"Told us what?" demanded Raoul in his thinning patience.
Dr. Mehri's dark brows shot heavenward for only a moment before he composed himself into a matter-of-fact tone. "Box 5 is haunted. I cannot tell you how many fits and panic attacks have happened from those who have been seated there."
"There are no such things as ghosts," Raoul groaned and the absurdity of the notion, from a man of science no less!
What the Vicomte failed to see was the shifty eyes of weary glances between Firmin and Andre.
"Yes, and while I am inclined to agree," Mehri nodded as he picked up his bag. "There is no question of the fact that something doesn't like it when that Box is occupied. Every time new management takes over, they sell the Box, and those ticket holders always have regretted their purchase. Now if you'll excuse me gentlemen, unless there is anything else, I have left my son long enough."
"Yes, that will be all," Firmin grumbled, eyes narrowed to slits. "Enjoy the rest of the performance, Monsieur Mehri."
The Doctor left and Raoul glared at the duo of managers left in his wake. "Just what was he talking about?"
Andre and Firmin glanced to each other again in their wariness. "There have been some… unsubstantiated rumors, Monsieur," began Andre. "Nothing to worry about, merely trivial matters that can happen in any theatre. Only the staff here like to blame everything on the Ghost and superstition rather than their own incompetence."
"Like what, precisely? I assume there is more than mere 'mishaps.' Especially considering that twice now, I have been accosted in the same Box by a rampant chair with a mind of its own!"
They shrunk back. "A few counterweights for the backdrops have been known to give out…"
"Give out? I daresay with all the money my family and I are funneling into this place, the least you could do is make sure everything is good repair? God forbid something else happens, at this rate, someone is likely to be killed. That just would not do well for business, now, would it?"
"No, no, of course not!" Andre agreed. "We are still learning all there is to know, we are working to fix these things before something else occurs, you have our word on that, Monsieur."
"You will do well to keep it, Messiers," Raoul said as he took leave of them without further comment.
A short time later as performance was drawing to an end, Raoul stepped into the wings with a fresh bouquet of roses in hand. Christine was on the stage of course, and Raoul did not want to distract her from her work when the finale drew closer. But he also wanted to be near to secret her away before anyone else could get the chance again. Perhaps he could make up for the sour taste that the end of lunch possibly left in Christine's mouth.
In addition to seeking more time alone with her, Raoul wanted a chance to see this tutor who made a habit of gifting Christine those Swedish flowers.
Yes…a tutor, Raoul thought in his skepticism of the situation. Her reaction in the dressing room only gave him confirmation that there was something more than a mentor mentee relationship transpiring.
Raoul's green eyes swept over the people and faces of those who lingered backstage and in the wings. He took in every male feature that was not moving curtains and props until he found one soul who had no face at all, but a mask. By the main curtains that parted the stage from audience stood the curious fellow whose ivory color mask denoted musical notations across its surface. If anyone ever was to described to have an ectomorph's frame, it was that man. He was tall, long limbed, and impossibly lean. Dark hair was cropped short and neat, but errant ringlets threatened an otherwise immaculate presentation.
A nagging feeling gnawing at his stomach told him who it was, but Raoul was never one to favor a mere guess. He stepped over the actor who was playing the Count that was as Christine was singing of heartbreak from a loveless marriage with the Count and that her lover was her true love, but could not give her the life she desired.
"Excuse me," he spoke quietly to Murphy, was it? "Do you know who that gentleman is, over there? In the mask."
Murphy blinked out of his daze from watching Christine and glanced between Raoul and the masked man by the curtains with Madame Giry. "Uh…yes," he said as though clearing his mind from a fog. "That is Monsieur L'Chantseur. He is her vocal coach," he said with a nod towards Christine. "Alison and I tried to catch him last night, but he vanished during curtain call. I wouldn't mind getting a few vocal tips from him."
"Why him?" asked Raoul with a glance to the masked man, who briefly met his gaze with a spark of something in that look before L'Chantseur focused on Christine again.
"Christine's been here…six or seven months? Her voice was pretty but, barely above a whisper and just…empty. Hardly strong enough for even chorus. Now? Well, just listen for yourself."
"Beautiful," Raoul sighed as he looked back to the wonderful woman on the stage singing with all her heart.
After a few moments of taking in the music and song, Raoul pressed with his curiosity. "Do you know why he wears a mask?"
Murphy shrugged and grumbled, "Something about not wanting to be recognized. Really, don't know or care. If you want gossip, go to the rats or Buquet." With that, Murphy stepped away from Raoul which marked the end of the conversation.
When Raoul looked back towards L'Chantseur as the applause rose in the conclusion of Christine's aria, the man was gone as though he was never there.
It took time to reach Christine's side when the performance ended. Although Raoul was within reach of her backstage, she slipped away like water through a weak fist. When he finally found her, she was nearly to her dressing room door at the escort of Madame Giry.
"Christine!" he called as he hastened his step to catch up.
Christine's posture stiffened as she was slow to turn towards him with a tired smile spreading across her rouged lips that was in stark contrast to the pale powdered make-up of the rest of her face. "Raoul."
The stern woman beside her glanced between them, before letting out a small sigh as both hands came to rest on the rounded head of her cane.
"I was planning to take you to dinner, to celebrate another triumphant performance," he smiled as he presented her with the bouquet of roses.
She clumsily accepted them, with a small glance to Madame Giry for a long moment before the older woman gave a slight nod and stepped away and vanished into the dressing room.
"I thank you for the flowers and invitation, Raoul, however I must decline," she intoned softly as she adjusted the plethora of roses in her arm much like a mother would a young child.
"Decline? You have plans again?"
"No… Raoul, you must understand that this has been a very long day for me. From rehearsals, to lunch, to performing tonight— I gave my soul to song and now I am dead! I want nothing more than to retire to my bed before I faint."
"Then, I shall take you home and perhaps we can pick-up something for you to eat along the way."
"No, I am not of mind for company right now," she said, her voice still light and soft but her smile fading.
Before Raoul uttered another word in effort to convince her otherwise, a new voice interjected itself to the conversation.
"I cannot say I would be surprised, after a performance such as that, Mademoiselle."
Raoul turned on his heel to the newcomer while behind him, Christine tilted her head to see as well.
Dr. Mehri stood in the corridor with a small boy beside him. The boy held a bundle of flowers in hand, cheap ones that were readily available just outside the opera that vendors who operated out of small carts sold before their stock of the day died. The boy was beaming at the sight of Christine with the widest of smiles.
"I beg your pardon for the intrusion Mademoiselle, Vicomte," Dr. Mehri apologized with warm smile. "We had hoped to catch you and compliment your performance last night, however it seems we just missed you."
"Well, it seems that fortune is in your favor tonight, Monsieur…?"
"Kian Mehri, and this is my son Danyal. I'm one of the on-call Doctors for the Opera."
"Ah yes, I've seen you around quite a bit. Usually when one of the dancers twists an ankle," Christine spoke a nod and a smile, turning her attention towards the boy.
Danyal shuffled forward shyly as Christine stooped to his level. "You sing like an angel," he said as he added his flowers to rest over Raoul's bouquet.
"I'm told that quite a bit," she grinned in response.
The boy's complexion that matched his father's olive skin darkened in a flush. "Because it's true."
"Thank you for such high praise, Danyal. And I'll be sure to think of you whenever I look upon your most generous gift."
Raoul had to focus on keeping the tension forming within from showing.
Danyal gave Christine a small hug before scurrying back to his father's side.
"Thank you for your time, Mademoiselle. We look forward to the next performance, and enjoy a restful evening. I'm sure such a showing has been more than draining," Dr. Mehri bade with purposeful eye contact between Raoul and Christine. "It usually is for all the great ones."
"Thank you, Monsieur Mehri, and Danyal. Goodnight."
The pair left with gentle nods, leaving Christine and Raoul alone again.
"Christine," Raoul said after a few moments to ensure they were alone. "At least let me take you home."
"Thank you for the offer Raoul, but I will be returning home with the Girys. We will have dinner soon, but not right now. I want nothing more than to be out of this costume and climb into bed. Goodnight Raoul," she asserted before turning back to her dressing room and vanished inside.
"Goodnight, Christine," he barely managed to reply before the door shut behind her.
Author's Note: Danyal = Daniel. It is a Middle Eastern origin, with a slight but apparent change in pronunciation.