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@operaspecter
do you ever have that one draft that you actually really, really, really want to do, but every day it gets older and older and harder and harder to reply to and you just cannot work up the energy to do it but you want to continue the thread SO FUCKING BAD BUT IT’S IMPOSSIBLE AND YOU WORRY THAT THE OTHER PERSON WILL THINK U DROPPED IT BUT YOU DON’T WANT TO DROP IT
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When is a monster not a monster? Oh, when you love it.
Caitlyn siehl (via insanity-here-i-come)
opéra garnier
The beautiful places:
Opera Garnier, Paris
Tell me that you chose me. That you love me. That you crave the dark.
Kristina Haynes, from Reassurances To Hades (via libranta)
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A Lost Soul
By her ‘profession’, Rosemary was a serial killer back in the United States known as Spade. It was a force of habit to keep her weapons on her person in case of an emergency. Although the empty and rather dusty building seemed like nothing of harm, the darkness gave her an eerie feel. The boards under her feet squeaked, her eyes felt puffy with dust and she could feel some sort of cold starting to come around her. The darkness didn’t suit her well. Pulling out her lighter, she went to the edge of the stage and started at lighting the candles at the edge of it.
Humming a bit, the disguised harlequin started to adjust to her own noise and own song in her throat. Letting the little bit of light illuminate the area, Ro started to meander about, holding her lighter at eye level. Walking backstage, she didn’t light anything else, wanting to have a way back in case she got lost. Once she was more adjusted to her own noise and presence of the stage, Ro let out soft sweet notes. Her voice had been trained and it was strong. The minor notes were rather unearthly and surreal.
Going about the wings, Rosemary looked about the costumes and smiled and smirked. Pushing some of them out of the way, the dust made her cough and drop her lighter. It went out by her feet. “Oh no,” she grumbled squatting down trying to grope about it. “C’mon, where’d you go?” Groaning, she got to her feet and founder way back to the stage, staring at the dancing flames, something keeping her here. The same feeling was back at her brother’s theater. It was something pulling at her heart and soul as to whisper, “Stay here. Don’t leave.”
Looking out to the dusty red seats, some of the building had collapsed in on itself and there was a large portion in the middle that was broken, but she could not put two and two together from what. Inhaling deeply through her nose, and sitting up straight, Rosemary let out a note. “Ooo," she sang, the short note resonating around. Smiling, she sang again and let the notes echo. Singing different notes quickly, there was a chord for a mere moment before the sound was absorbed.
A dark amusement crept across the opera ghost's masked features as he watched the intruder fumble about fruitlessly for her lighter.
Quite the foolhardy intruder, if he didn't say so himself. Did she mean to purposefully alert him to her presence? The opera ghost watched in silence, gauging her. One who came armed was likely not to be the sort to be searching for friendly company. Erik's hand silently crept to rest on the lasso at his waist.
"How unusual," he mused aloud, allowing his voice to resonate throughout the expansive space. "I did not think a trespasser would be one to fear darkness." The opera ghost remained cloaked in shadow, his voice the only indicator of his presence. "Nor did I expect a trespasser to sing; I cannot say it helps one to keep their presence unknown."
Hades & Persephone (AU) || Erik & Christine
It didn’t matter that he touched her; Christine had come accustomed to that rather quickly. Erik would do what he pleased, and didn’t care for anything standing in his way…Or at least, that’s how he came off to the young goddess, and she hadn’t the strength and will to fight back as of now. Perhaps in a few days, when she wasn’t feeling manhandled, and like a child. Oh, if only her mother was here. Her mother would take care of things, bring the King of the Underworld down from his pedestal…make him understand he can not simply take what he desired.
Christine kept her head hung, looking much like a scolded child, aside from a beautiful goddess, as she unwillingly allowed Erik to bring her to his domain. No doubt she was scared, no doubt she wanted to cry, but she couldn’t let him see her in a worse distressed state. Enough was enough, and shedding tears certainly wouldn’t move the God of Death.
When she was settled in the chair, she had expected some kind of lightness from the hearth, some kind of warmth, but there was nothing; it was only glowing. The young goddess watched the taller figure, unaware of anything else in the room. She was watching him, waiting for him to do something sinful…but then he began to speak.
She immediately turned her head to the side. Christine did not want riches, she did not want precious stones! She never desired royalty, and she never desired the crown of the Underworld. She wanted to go back home…She yearned to be back in her bed.
She already loathed this place entirely..how could Erik expect her to agree to being his Queen?
"I would like to go to my room."
Erik fought back his irascibility. He had offered nothing less than what all of mankind desired – power, and wealth – and she had scorned his offer in a heartbeat. For all he knew, didn't the immortal yearn for the same? He had seen countless mortals fall victim to greed, hankering after riches that always lay seemingly just out of reach.
A resigned breath.
The maiden was much more stubborn than he had anticipated her to be; with such an iron will, there was certain to be eternal dissent if one or the other did not give way. It was most unusual for the Dark King to not get what he desired... for one dared not trifle with the embodiment of death!
The Dark King let out a low, haunting whistle, and a shape detached itself from the surrounding gloom to settle itself faithfully at its side. Three heads looked at him expectantly, patiently awaiting orders.
"Cerberus, take her to her chambers." Erik made a dismissive gesture, and the three-headed dog loped over to the chair, eyeing Christine watchfully.
I think I’ve reblogged this several times over.
Also, I don’t care.
Minna nodded and gasped in delight and held her new doll close, and Evelyn looked equally impressed by the trick, a little grin spread across her face. "Thank you, Uncle Erik!" She said with a big smile on her face. Erik knew that Evelyn was also thankful, her grin growing a bit wider. But he also knew that she wasn't really good with words either. "How have you been, Uncle Erik?" Evelyn asked him quietly.
"I have been well," came his ready response. Erik could not find it in himself to readily admit his attachment to the two young girls – at the very least, not aloud – although he didn't in fact harbour any sort of ill feelings towards either. In truth, 'well' wasn't quite how he had been, as of ever since his earliest memory. A creature of darkness and of solitude was what he had always been.
"Now, I must remind the two of you before you both go scurrying about like mad; you are not to go down that corridor –" Erik gestured in the direction of the corridor "– last time, you both almost had met the dire misfortune of setting off my traps, which I'm certain you would not wish upon yourselves."
Little Mermaid AU
Christine swam out of the shadows, perhaps fearful of what creature she would see before her.After all, the tales of the Necromancer described him as being hideous, but then she saw upon coming out that the creature before her wore a mask. She couldn’t be certain if this eased her fear, or heightened her curiosity and terror. His very aura held such a menacing stance that Christine tried to make herself seem smaller by shrinking away.
His eyes burned yet were so very cold, locking gaze with them sent a shiver down her spine. He came closer, which made Christine want to shrink even further. But she stayed where she was. He informed she, in fact, did have something to give, making her both eager and uneasy.
"M-my voice?" This had to be an unusual request! What would he ever want with her voice? What power could he hold over her with it? Though it did lead to a few problems….
"But without my voice, how can I tell him it was me who saved his life? That I love him?"
"That is the price which you must pay," Erik replied coolly. "If you truly yearn to walk amongst humankind, it is a negligible price."
"Besides, you will learn that human men prefer their women to be quiet and unobtrusive, only speaking when spoken to." The dark vestige of a smile touched his malformed lips. "So what shall it be, little mermaid? Will you give up your voice for legs, or abandon your infatuation for this human and continue the life you were meant to live?"
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Christine and her two young daughters enter the lair, Raoul not coming with them for... obvious reasons. "Uncle Erik!" Chirped the youngest one as she hugged him tight. Minna was five, her older sister Evelyn was eleven and a half. "Hello, Uncle Erik." Evelyn said quietly, approaching him, she was a very shy girl. "Thank you for doing this Erik, I'll be back on Monday night." She said goodbye to them. Neither of them looked or acted exactly like Christine or exactly like Raoul, there was a mix.
How and when precisely the infamous opera ghost had become a babysitter, the opera ghost himself hadn’t the slightest idea. Erik didn’t recall acceding to such a request – not that he would have necessarily objected – rather, he was unsure of how he felt in regard to the entirety of his current situation as the temporary caretaker of these two children to which he held no blood relation.
Erik gazed down at the small child whose arms were clasped tightly about his legs, before his gaze travelled to the older girl, who had shyly maintained her distance from him. The opera ghost found the honorific that had been bestowed upon him rather endearing.
"I trust that the both of you have been well." He gently extricated himself from Minna’s grasp. Then, as if out of thin air, Erik produced two dolls with a deft flourish of his hands. "Surely, the two of you can’t have grown out of magic already?"
Am I allowed to send an ask as Erik and Christine's chiddlers who consider Erik sort of an uncle figure?
((Yes, absolutely! :D))
"May I be mistaken that you have taken a leave of absence because you do not wish to tutor me any longer?" Christine's tone was a jeering one; she knew that he yearned to teach her, just as she desired to be taught by him. "Or have your feelings grown too immense, just as mine have?"
"Hardly," came the opera ghost's cool response. "My leave of absence was largely attributable to a lack of muse, if you will... however, you were not the cause of it; I can assure you of that." A momentary pause. "I sincerely hope that you can find it within yourself to forgive my erratic absences."
((As I was reading over my previous replies, I came to realize how overly sentimental my muse was and oh dear lord I'm just so embarrassed))
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((I'm thinking it would be great if I could squeeze in some extremely overdue replies tonight.))
Palais Garnier, Paris.
