tantalizing

date: 12 August time: 1:00 PM location: Église Saint-Gervais availability: open to all !!

He’s drunk - comme d'habitude. 

In fact, he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t drunk; the past few days have been a blur of meaningless clock-ticks, marked only by the clink of a bottle, signifying nothing. He began before the sun arose, and has not stopped since, finding himself wandering the streets between his home and the church without aim. In fact, it is a wonder he has found himself here, slumped on the steps of the church with flask in hand, bottle in breast pocket, and cigarette shakily propped between his chapped lips. Raoul can’t remember how he got here; he doesn’t even remember leaving his flat - he is adorned in a jacket and tie gifted to him by his dearly departed brother, and yet it smothers where it should comfort. Upon the steps he slouches, shrugging off his jacket and loosening his tie before the wake even begins. Bottle and flask thumping lamely against his body as he half-undresses, he wonders what Philippe might think to see him now. 

He thinks of their last conversation. Then he thinks of their first.

Another drink, and the thought is quelled; jacket discarded atop the religious statue to his right, he turns his attention entirely to his flask. Though it would behoove him to think otherwise, he hardly cares for his appearance, for what it means for the Chaney image, as is so much more dearly vital than the merit of their own souls. Raoul half-wishes a kind soul would take pity on him, usher him inside where only God can see his gaping seams; the other half only wishes that he had been able to fit more Pinot Noir into his unseemly flask. 

And so he cannot bring himself to move, cannot bring himself to care; with drink upon his lips he gives a silent toast to the departed, teetering on the edge of no return, the cavernous abyss into which he falls all too slowly, all too surely. 

Lisette felt as if she was stuck in a nightmare. The moments leading to Philippe’s death all felt like a haze, nothing sticking out to remember except a bottomless feeling of dread. Lisette had only felt that once in her life, when she had turned from a pre-teen into a fully-fledged teen. It was the beginning of the end, the moments before her life would be changed forever. And it was happening again. Lisette was left to wonder how many times this would happen in her life, and if she could take it happening again. She wished with all hope that she could predict when, if, it would and do something to stop it. She couldn’t take another heartbreak.

Now she found herself standing outside of church, staring at a man who seemed to have it much worse than she did. Or at least, he was taking things worse than she was. Lisette had discovered a good way to bottle things up, to shove them so far down inside you that you forget of their existence. With a sigh, Lisette moved to sit next to the man, and held her hand out to receive whatever he wanted to give her. “Care to share with another wayward soul?”

Time: 11:30 PM Location: Stuck at work, handing out and mixing drinks open!

This time around Narissa aimed to not only serve every customer with a smile, but get them as drunk as possible to, hopefully, silence them in no time. Disregarding her boss’ ratio of booze to water, Narissa always used a bit more liquor than ice, used cold liquor to make up for the ice cubes. Just one drink less would cut down her workload and the pain she had to suffer through. So, as she poured yet another drink for her newest customer, Narissa turned around and carelessly poured a bit more liquor than recommended (in order to cut costs and lie to all their lovely customers) – a bit of garnish, herself dancing slightly to the music – et voila! A drink for two, well, for once. 

“So,” she started, hoping they’d soon start to drink “how are we today? Anything new? Anything exciting? Anything that’s on your heart?” she mocked her customer, though it might’ve sounded genuine at first – even Narissa herself didn’t know at this point.

Lisette was one of those people who could easily read other people. It stemmed from a childhood spent around mostly adults, who all had their ideas on how Lisette should behave. She learned early on how to act according to a situation and could generally feel out if someone else was being sincere or not. This is, typically, why she did not like going to bars and the like. The people there never seemed to sincerely care about you.

But today was an exception. Lisette had a bit of a rough time lately and found herself sitting and watching as the person behind the bar mixed her drink. She could feel her leg shaking but could do nothing to stop it, eagerly awaiting the magical potion that would numb the pain away--sort of. It was still there but it was more like a distant dream.

When the person spoke to her, Lisette nearly rolled her eyes all the way in the back of her head. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation that she could tell the other person did not care for.

“Do you even care?” She spat out bluntly, taking the drink and gulping a huge amount of it. “Why even ask if you don’t care?”

date: august 24th time: 9:56 location: LE THÉÂTRE DE NUIT, lobby, at the party   status: open

It hadn’t even been that long after Philippe’s body had been found and instead of immediately going into an investigation--or hell, even just acknowledging that it had happened--the theatre was having a party. A fucking party, of all things. As if they were celebrating his death. As if any of this would fix things. Lisette was mad beyond belief--mad at whoever had taken Philippe away from her, mad at the police for not seeming to want to do anything about it, and especially mad at the entire theatre for not giving a flying fuck about what was actually going on. They would rather forget that any of it happened, sweep it under a rug. Quite literally.

Lisette stood at one of the many tables that was full of treats and booze, staring at the rug that sat in the lobby covering up the mess that was left of Philippe. She would drink a glass of alcohol--whatever she could get her hands on--before moving on to the next. Over and over and over again until she couldn’t see straight anymore and the entire room was spinning. Party away the pain. The phrase kept repeating in her mind but she couldn’t. She couldn’t just numb herself enough to forget any of this had happened--was happening--that everything leading up to this moment was nothing she had ever felt before in her entire life. And she didn’t want it to end but like all good things in Lisette’s life, it did. It fucking did and it hurt like hell. 

She moved to grab a hold of another drink--her long stare at the rug never faltering--when she felt someone grab a hold of her wrist and say something to her. 

time frame: august 10th, morning

setting: the lake museum of natural history

status: open to all 

There’s something about the phantom that seems best acquainted with the darkness and small spaces, the thick curtains of the theater that allow for no light or the passages beneath the stage itself where a hand on the wall is the best way to navigate, and yet, here he stands in the light of an open room, looking out of place at best: a forgotten relic of some long gone exhibit, one that should quickly and quietly be put away into storage as not to frighten the patrons. Before they start asking about what lurks behind the face covering. Before they ask is that supposed to be blood or dirt beneath his fingernails?

Unlike an exhibit though, he moves – his feet echoing coldly against the marble floor. Still, he feels at home here (despite his appearance) among the preserved, the not quite dead but the certainly not living. A museum is a purgatory of thoughts and things. His own thoughts seem to be haunting him, distracting him from the rest of the world, allowing him to take that corner a bit too quickly and a bit too short. When he rounds it and finds himself close to a face he was not expecting, he is drawn partially from his reverie, enough to accusingly ask the other about their presence.

“What are you doing?” he poses the question, seemingly startled by something living in his halls of the undead.

In her early years, Lisette spent a multitude of time standing in the spotlight. She was fawned over in every aspect of the word, to the point where she did not have a normal childhood. But that is not to say that she did not understand the beauty of silence, how there is no light without the dark, and how often people tend to forget that. Even though she was often the center of attention as a child, it came with a price. Something dark and sinister that was always waiting in the shadows.

That is likely why Lisette found herself in the position she was in, ruled by a man who preferred the shadows. Someone who sought out the light, who reached for it with broken hands. Even though Lisette was aware of Erik’s delight over the museum, she had rarely if ever saw him roaming its halls. In fact, if she really sat down and thought of it, Lisette wasn’t sure if she ever really saw Erik or if he was just a figment of her imagination.

She when she heard a voice and turned to face it, she was taken aback by the fact that the phantom was standing right in front of her. He was a fleshy man, not an incorporeal being.

Lisette took a moment to realize that a question had been asked before she finally answered “What are you doing?”, repeating his words like an echo.

The Point of No Return just as many locations that belonged to the vast empire of Annabella Chaney was no place Gigi felt much of an inclination to set foot in. In her quality of emissary though she knew it would have been easy to gain an invitation, favorable even. She couldn’t help the distaste she felt for the den of inequity that was this place though. It wasn’t so much the gambling or the drinking that had her turning her nose up in disapproval but the people throwing the dice, dealing the cards and sipping on champagne in there. She had grown increasingly distrustful as time went by and she was sure her mother would have something to say about her halo being tainted by Erik’s grimy hands. Of course, she would blame the loss of innocence of her daughter on her first born, as she did so many other things. The truth was Gigi’s innocence had begun evaporating long ago and this criminal underworld she found herself a part of was only accelerating the decay. Oh, she tried her best to be gentle, to be sweet and to trust others but even among her friends and her collaborators, she could feel judgmental eyes. To them, she was too naive, too warm still. One step further and she feared she would lose some of that warmth. Making a habit of frequenting places like The Point would be a mistake, she’d lose herself.

It didn’t stop her from stopping on her way back from work though, didn’t stop dark hues from looking almost longingly towards the building. Was it really disdain or morbid curiosity she felt now? Yes, she decided she had no time to waste in a place like this. Leave the darkness to people who like it best, she was always meant for light. It was no wonder she and Erik had such a hard time finding each other. She turned up towards the light like a sunflower, soaked in it, delighted in it. Not, Erik though he fled from it as if fearing it would burn him, preferring the cold numbness of the shadows. She had wondered often if it was simply out of habit or if he’d grown to like the loneliness. She never asked though.

Detaching her gaze from the building, she turned around on the sidewalk only to get the wind knocked out of her as someone ran into her. The hissing sound that followed the collision was but two words but spoken by a voice she would recognize anywhere. The strident demanding tone of Lisette Sorelli was not of the sounds once could simply forget. “Mon dieu, Lisette you don’t need to add insult to injury by screeching! Besides you’re not supposed to run from sidewalk to sidewalk, the red lights are here for a reason, ma chérie.”

Lisette’s mouth grew tight when she realized who she had run into. She knew that there was always a risk of running into someone who would ask questions, it had just not happened up until this point. The tightness in her mouth ventured down to her throat, leaving her feeling breathless for a moment. Maybe the two bodies had collided a little too hard. Then the tight feeling decided to move down into her chest, then finally her stomach, leaving her with a sinking feeling. 

When she spoke, her whole jaw was tight, making her words come out sharp and rigid “Are you the sidewalk police now?” she twisted her head around, closing her eyes in annoyance. She always hated getting hurt in any manner. Even as a little girl, Lisette spent so much time doing her best to avoid injuries. It was something ingrained in her and even though she didn’t get hurt in this instance, her mother’s voice still echoed in her head. Don’t play in the dirt, or the water. You can’t climb up the trees, you may fall out and hurt yourself. If you get blood on your new dress, you are going to get into a lot of trouble!

The sound of her mother’s voice in her head caused Lisette to feel dizzy; she felt as if the whole world was spinning around her, turning into a blur. She thought that she could feel her whole body swaying but wasn’t sure if it was all in her head or not.

One of Zhu’s admiring traits was her ability to observe everything and well everyone with utmost care. She was that type of person that always slept with one eye open - not because she was afraid of some ghosts or monsters but because she liked to always know every little detail and be prepared for any sort of issues. However, it still surely wasn’t time for sleep and with some free time on her hands, she decided to entertain herself a little. She wasn’t into gambling or any card games, they were dangerous and could drive people insane, especially when the whole game was rigged from the start. 

Of course, even watching others play became tedious after a while and due to the lack of oxygen inside of the place she had to step outside and go for a little walk. Smokers irritated her the most, but she didn’t really have the right to complain. After all, she was selling far more poisonous things. Out in the open, she felt a wave of relief wash over her and slowly, she started strutting down the street. 

But then she noticed a woman walking up and down the street and suddenly it became her mission to bump into her and strike up a conversation. It was too dark too properly see her face, but she had nothing to lose.’’Wow, there’s no need for such a harsh attitude, miss. You are the one who bumped into me. I deserved an apology at least. But why are you in such a hurry? Is there a building on fire somewhere?’’

Lisette stopped what she was doing to get a good look at the person who had bumped into her. She stood there in silence looking at the woman with an inquisitive eye, wondering what her next move was going to be. The woman’s words caused Lisette to turn her head to the side and purse her lips. She really had no time for people who clearly wanted to be a bother; Lisette would have to figure out a way to get rid of this woman.

“Pretty sure you ran into me, actually, so I’ll be waiting for my apology” she hissed, then added “and if there was a fire, don’t you think that the people in charge of putting them out would be taking care of it?”

It had been a nice break from the stress of rehearsals – a couple of pornstar martinis and what was SUPPOSED to be poker lessons from Raoul and Claude, but what had ended with Christine failing so miserably that she had ended up just drunkenly begging Raoul to trade cards with her whenever she had a bad hand and Claude, who had wanted a real game, looking on in ANNOYANCE. Tomorrow night would be the last dress rehearsal before opening night, and, in truth, even with as tiny a part as she had, she didn’t feel she was ready. The witch’s ballet had such complicated choreography; she knew herself and Odessa were falling behind all the other dancers in the company. 

And then it was so hard having to watch Carlotta sing The Jewel Song over and over and over, standing in the wings mouthing along with all the words and roaming the hallways in her downtime singing the notes over and over and over, clutching at her throat and wishing they belonged to HER instead of someone else. It was too much.

But it was almost tomorrow, and those thoughts were far from her mind right now. Wandering out of the casino, smile on her face and shoes in hand, giggling absently, she just barely noticed as someone a dozen feet away collided with another body, attention absently moving over to the pair as the smile faded from pink lips, replaced instead with a round o. Brow knit slowly as she recognized a blonde head of hair. 

“Lisette?” she called, a bit more loudly than needed be, “What are you doing here?”

Lisette twisted her neck at the sound of her voice, a ghost of annoyance on her face that was quickly replaced with a plastered-on grin when she discovered who had called out to her. Without looking, Lisette jutted out one hand to push the person who had run into her, as if to say “get lost” without actually saying it. Luckily for them both, the person decided that the situation wasn’t worth it and moved on their way.

With her grin still stuck on her face, Lisette responded “Oh nothing, just taking a walk.” The sentence dripped from her mouth so easily, like water from a fountain. Lisette had learned that the key to lying is that you had to believe what you were saying in order for it to work. Pick out a small piece of the truth and hold onto it for all that it is worth. In this case, Lisette was just taking a walk. To where or why was really none of Christine’s business.

Another key to lying was to turn the conversation around and make someone else the subject. “What about you, Christine? Tired of being stuck in the theatre with the rest of us?” At that, Lisette’s voice dripped with a bitter tone, as if accusing Christine of something.

Lisette knew that she wasn’t welcome at The Point of No Return. It was Chaney territory but Lisette was not someone who often cared about that sort of thing. She was there for a reason, although that reason was meant to be kept a secret. She stood outside of the building, its flashing lights sending a message that she would soon come to understand. This was it. This was the point of no return.

She had walked up and down the street for what felt like a thousand times, waiting for the signal. A million thoughts ran through her head: was she in the right place (it obviously was), had she misheard what time she was supposed to come, did he even truly care about her, was this all a set up. Every question that she gulped down her throat burned her tongue, snaking its way to her heart. 

As she paced back and forth across the street, she finally grew tired of waiting and decided to make her way across and towards The Point. As she placed one foot in front of the other, her feet pounding against the ground, she had not been paying attention. This caused her to run head-first into whoever managed to get in her way, making her forget for a moment why she was running in the first place. It must have been that she hit her head pretty hard against their shoulder.

“Watch it!” she hissed at whoever had the displeasure of running into her.

“Sure” Lisette answers “Completely original point you have there, comparing a woman to a rose.” She smiled brightly--but it didn’t reach her eyes. Sarcasm dripped like honey from her lips but one could hardly tell. “You should be careful when you try to pick her.”

Lisette tilted her head to the side and drug her tongue across her teeth before answering “You’re right. Men have been erasing women from history for centuries. But how is that relevant, officer?”

The smile that Lisette had trained to be painted onto her face as if she were a porcelain doll had disappeared. She looked up to the other woman with a sadness in her eyes that she refused to let spill out of her. 

She cleared her throat, swallowed before answering “You’re right. You better believe that I’m the most spiteful bitch of all.” 

Lisette’s plastered-on smile waned for a moment. Lisette was beyond confused as to why Gigi, of all people, was asking to sleep over. What was this, middle grade?

“What do you mean?” She asked with a tilt of her head “I’m sure you have better places to sleep over at.”