#themaskinthemirror

idia + layouts

It had not been Emma's first choice to come to Paris. She had not been at all eager to go, especially after just beginning to make a standing for herself in Blackpool. But she was at the whim of the teacher's board and wherever they decided to send her. She supposed she should be grateful. After all, it meant that she was doing a good job.

But, truth be told, she had been enjoying herself in Blackpool. She had been enjoying the company of her new friend Charles, had enjoyed teaching a large class of students. Here in Paris, she was governess to only two children, very sweet and well behaved but, as of yet, fairly dull. She longed for a challenge, for students she could give Tolstoy, Whitman, Irving. Not that these students were stupid, of course, but they were having trouble making their way through even the simpliest of Dicken's works.

Luckily, not all of her time was taken by teaching. At the current moment, it was nearing 5 0'clock, and she was off for the day. Rather than going straight back to her apartment, as was her usual, she decided the take a small walk around the city, looking for a new bookshop. Her supplies were dwindling, and she also needed new teaching materials for the children. She passed by a large building on the side of the street, ornate and elaborately decorated. A theatre, perhaps?

Her eye was drawn, however, not to the building, but to the narrow side street that ran alongside it. Beyond it was the street on the other side, and she could see a shop with the word Books proclaimed proudly across the front. With purpose in her movement, she turned and started walking straight down the side street. She didn't pay any mind to the mud that was beginning to fill her shoes- she was much more focused on her goal.

As she walked, she became aware of a strange presence, almost a crawling on the back of her neck. Like she was being watched. She stopped walking, turned, looking at the side of the building. "...Is there anyone there?"

I see you.

I see you person I love a whole fuckin lot

I see you on Tumblr

and I love you

*points at your face*

face

I like dat shit

As night fell, and as respectability turned to bed, vice took over the streets, and drunken bravado took over manners.

The bohemian had worked a little later than usual, and the skies had darkened a little earlier than expected. Hurrying through the city to return to her community, she chided herself for not watching the time. She had no wish to linger in these alleys that turned dangerous for people like her. In the day, more policemen patrolled the city, but the worst they did was to drive her away from the bustling areas with the threat of arrest if they happened to catch her performing. There were things to be afraid of at night.

"Ooh, a little one."

She suppressed her alarm and faced the three men squarely. Her looks and dress combined marked her as Romani, and not everyone took kindly to them. The hostility emanating from the men grew palpable, as they immediately set about to mock her race and make lewd suggestions. Her eyes darted about to see if she could escape. If trapped, a scream could be all the world would know of her end. Instinct prompted her to draw her knife that she kept strapped to her lower calf. Whilst deft at handling it, her potential assailants were still three men much larger than she.

    "You" she breathed. She knew she shouldn't have been wandering, she knew she shouldn't have left her bed. All the other girls were asleep and she couldn't seem to keep her eyes shut. She had gotten lost in the halls of the opera house she lived in and suddenly she wasn't alone. 

     She wasn't sure how to react, she hadn't really been thinking when she went off on her own and now here she was face to face with The Opera Ghost, someone she had known her whole life yet she doubted he ever once knew her.