"Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus"
Manon awoke to the smell of cinnamon in the air.
She cracked her eyes open and looked about her. She was once more nestled deep into luxurious bedding. She stretched, but carefully this time. She sat up slowly, propping an elbow on the arm of the carved wood of the divan - then stopped. Yet again, she had woken up in a place she hadn't fallen asleep.
Manon frowned, thinking. All too quickly she remembered the earlier progression of events. She remembered the awe of seeing this cavern, the beauty of the pipe organ, and the flood of pain that seeing the violin had provoked. Oh, Charles.
Manon buried her face in her hands, trying to scrub the thoughts away. She comforted herself that at least Erik was not inclined to press her for answers and explanations.
Erik. She hadn't called him by name yet. How funny that she had begun to in her thoughts.
She sat up a little straighter, searching for both him and the source of that glorious smell.
There was a doorway she hadn't spotted before. He was seated in an alcove set behind the organ. A heavy curtain was now tied back from the entrance, and as she approached it she could see that every wall had been transformed into a bookshelf.
It was a library, crammed with hundreds of books, some in good condition, some with peeling spines. Other shelves held an assortment of small mechanical contraptions, some completed, and some half-finished, flanked by a hodgepodge of other parts and folded sheets of paper with diagrams sketched on them. It was a room unlike the rest of his home. It seemed smaller, cozier, without the intimidating scale of the rest of the cavern.
With the half-formed plan of apologizing for collapsing – again – Manon approached. Erik was sitting back languidly and examining a sheet of music with a frown of concentration on his face. A steaming cup sat at his feet, presumably the source of the aroma Manon had awoken to.
He looked up as she entered, glanced at her matted hair and the velvet throw dragging behind her, and gave her a small nod of greeting before turning back to his page. Manon bit her lip and studied the floor, unsure of what to say or do.
She was saved the trouble of deciding.
"I trust you slept well?" he preempted, his voice low and even in the heavy silence. "The bed may perhaps have been more comfortable, but given the circumstances the divan did seem to be the more logical choice."
He stared at her a moment more. Manon shifted uncomfortably and drew the throw more tightly around her as she felt his gaze penetrating her. He said nothing more on the subject and returned to the music in his lap, and she breathed a sigh of relief.
Not having been instructed as to where to sit, Manon made her way to a cushioned chaise a few feet from his.
After settling herself in, she realized there wasn't much to do. She chewed on a thumbnail, studying him surreptitiously from beneath her lashes. He was rifling through the papers now, studying one for a moment before flicking it away impatiently. He let out a long, slow sigh and ran his broad hands tiredly through his dark hair. She shifted uncomfortably in her chair, wishing all manner of evils on the wound in her side.
Manon watched jealously as the Phantom took a long draught of the cinnamon-scented drink in his mug. As he lowered it from his mouth his eyes flicked over to where she was sitting quietly in her chair. She blinked and lowered her gaze, horrified to be caught staring so blatantly at him. She hurriedly adjusted the velvet throw around her, but could not help but guiltily glance up at him again as she did so. For an instant, his eyes once again met hers.
Good grief. It was like some inescapable, humiliating reflex, try as she might to stop. The infuriating thing was, he kept catching her at it! He would glance up at her from his music just as her eyes flicked to him. He would regard her calmly, and she would be trapped momentarily in his eyes as they stared at one another, until she would flush and drop her gaze, annoyed at herself and annoyed at him.
Damn it, Manon! You're acting like a schoolgirl. She vowed to keep her eyes on the books on the shelves. Momentarily she was distracted by wishing she could read their glittering titles.
It was some minutes before she found herself glancing at him yet again, and of course it was at precisely the time that he looked up again as well, holding her with a knowing glint. She wanted to stamp her feet in embarrassment and irritation.
Resolving to turn the situation on its head, she decided to hold her ground and wait for his boldness to fail. Perhaps that would break this absurd spell.
The next time their eyes met, Manon stared into Erik's eyes with unnecessary aggression. Unexpectedly, she found herself lost in those their tawny depths. Her gaze relaxing, she felt her mind slacken as she returned his steady, calming gaze.
Were his eyes gold, or were they green? It was surprisingly difficult to tell. They were a deep, whiskey gold, yet were infused with flecks of deepest green.
Manon steeled herself as an odd breeze rippled through the cavern and stung at her eyes. She tried her best to harden her gaze, and noticed with annoyance that he seemed completely unaffected. Her eyes began to water, and maddeningly, she was forced to look away and blink several times to regain her composure.
She stared at the lake, feigning nonchalance. Feeling that she knew what his reaction would be, Manon decided to pretend nothing had happened. She kept her eyes on the opposite wall, but was dismayed to feel a childish, embarrassed smile threatening to overtake her lips.
She tried to halt the corners of her mouth from tugging upward, but to no avail. Glancing at last to her adversary, however, she was secretly delighted to see a similar expression on his face. When their eyes met again, he broke into a wide, slow smirk.
"I win" he crowed quietly, with a cock of his brow.
Manon burst into relieved but unsure laughter, shrugging helplessly. The tension and awkwardness had lifted with the rich, sound of a laugh that has been far too long out of use.
Erik sat up straighter in his chair, relaxing.
Much to his annoyance, when Manon had first sat down, the thick air and her presence had sufficiently distracted him from his work so that he could make no progress whatsoever. He tried futilely to critique his music. There was no point, really, except it was the only proof that he had existed these past three years.
To clear his thoughts, he took a long draught from the hot spiced tea at his feet, and while doing so he caught her eye. She had looked away quickly and he had smirked.
He was used to people staring at his mask, He knew that when they looked, it was because they were wondering what sort of horrible deformity lay beneath it. But somehow, this woman's now frequent glances up at him didn't seem to have that puerile curiosity.
At this point he was entirely unable to concentrate on his music as he found himself continuing to glance up, where her eyes would inevitably meet his. In the silent but furious battle that followed, he was both greatly entertained and unable to put an end to it. He never felt the need to look away before she did, teasing her mercilessly with his eyes every time he met her gaze again. It was hard to say who looked at the other first.
After a time, she had emboldened her gaze and stared at him fiercely, as if determined not to look away again. As usual he was unable to resist a challenge. Her face softened ever so slightly, but she kept right on staring.
To his good fortune, a cool breeze rippled through the cavern moments later. He was too used such things to care. But Manon wasn't, and was the first to break the eye contact.
Erik was filled with a ridiculous jubilation that he had triumphed and was unable to prevent the churlish "I won," from escaping, and in its wake all tension lifted and Manon burst into laughter. He couldn't help but give a low chuckle of his own.
When was the last time he had actually laughed? Not a dry chuckle, not sarcasm or a sneer, but genuine, honest-to-God laughter? Years, certainly. But he just shrugged to himself, and the pair of them just sat there, foolishly, laughing away at nothing at all.