#wanderingdaae

"My darling, darling girl... Have I ever told you... How much.. I love you... My precious Angel? I don't think.. You truly... Understand... How much you mean to me. My dear, sweet Christine. You are everything that is good and beautiful in this world. Your purity and innocence is the most genuine thing... You are Perfection Incarnate, Ange. The living embodiment of Music Itself. I swear, you are the only thing that makes life worth living. The only reason I am still here on Earth. As long as you are here, Angel, and are happy, then I will be, too. You mean more to me than you can ever know, and I cannot express my graditude enough, just for having the honor of knowing you, of being in your presence, of getting to teach you how to soar on the wings of melody. I love you, my Angel, with all of my heart, and I always will."

Taking a breath, Erik let the envelope slip from between his fingers. The folded parchment fluttered down, gracing the floor before drifting to a stop to rest at the feet of the person to which the envelope was intended. The breath remained imprisoned in his chest as the envelope's recipient caught sight of the parchment at her feet. 

He stopped in his tracks, for he had heard the cry of a little girl.

No actual strategy or set location was present, yet he scampered and sprinted on. No moon glistened above to light his path, though even that did not bring a moment's hesitation as he fled into what seemed to be an endless void of nothing but dusk. But, he knew no fear. No, the dark was his friend. His only friend. It wrapped around his shoulder's like a comforting embrace, concealing him from the world's tyrants and cruelties. Though... It did cripple his sense of sight. Erik stumbled and tripped through the impenetrable vegetation spread beneath the lush, verdant limbs of the pine trees that quite densely populated the terrain, earning quite a few splinters and things to prick and puncture his palms. Yet, he kept running. To where, he was uncertain, but all he knew was that his impulses insisted that it was essential that he was to get away. And then without warning, the youth collided with an object that had seemed invisible against the portrait of a black night, causing him to topple backwards onto the soil. Another tree, he assumed. The boy sat up as he readjusted the cloth mask which obscured his face, asymmetric eyes gradually rising up to shoot an irritated glare at the tree's shadow, only for terror to replace annoyance as he saw not the silhouette of a tree, but of a person. Instinctively, he sucked in a sharp breath and held it, curling against himself as he covered his face with thin arms and held absolutely still. Maybe, they would just pass on.

Erik was glad when she said that she will be able to handle the lessons being everyday, but he knew that he would still have to keep an eye on her. To make sure he doesn’t work her too hard, for he didn’t want her to not do as well with her duties in the Opera house. He didn’t want anyone to suspect anything. He’ll continue as he has been doing for a while longer, and if he finds it necessary, he’ll make sure their lessons aren’t as long, or maybe even change it to every other day if absolutely necessary. She’ll be disappointed (she seemed to really enjoy his lessons!), but he hopes she’ll understand. He watched as Christine looked around the room as she spoke, almost as if she were expecting to see his image hiding somewhere in the shadows. He frowned slightly at that. He wished she would stop looking. He wished she would realize that this is what’s best for her, and for him, even though neither enjoyed not being in the same room, always separated by a wall of glass, with Erik wishing he could hold her in his arms and Christine just wanting to see the face of her angel. What she didn’t know was that she really didn’t want to see her ‘angel’s’ face. Nevertheless, he smiled at her words. No, thank you. It means so much to me just to get to talk with you… More than you can ever know. He thought. “You’re welcome, Christine." He replied. Teaching her was the single best part of his day. The thought of her precious voice was the only thing keeping him going, the only reason he even wants to wake up in the morning. The sound of her voice was always running through his head. She gave his life meaning, gave him a purpose; teaching his beloved angel how to soar on the wings of melody. Listen to him! He’s fallen blindly, madly in love with this girl, and he’s old enough to be her father! If only she knew… She would be disgusted by him, in so many ways. She could never think of him that way, he knew, but indulging himself in this little fantasy of his was too tempting to resist. He’s always been one to live in a fantasy world to hide from the cruelties of reality. But, one day, reality will destroy his dream. It is inevitable, but he’ll enjoy this while it lasts.

Christine was right. As much as he wanted to stay with her and Gustave (or to just go home with them, for that matter), he did have work he needed to do. The supplies weren’t going to order themselves, and he didn’t really trust anyone else to keep track of it well. He’s heard his employees say he takes a much more active approach to running an amusement park than most. Usually owners of amusement parks leave most of the things for their managers to do. That was probably true, but Erik liked to stay active, and he doesn’t really trust most of these fools to do it right. He is a perfectionist, after all. Everything had to be done the right way; the most efficient way. He looked at his angel, still concerned about her side and worried that she was lying to him about being alright. He was sure she thought she would be okay, but she can be so stubborn at times and not realize exactly how bad her injuries are. But, nevertheless, he didn’t want to push the subject too much. If she says she’s okay, he has to learn to trust her to take care of herself. As much as he hated to think about it, she was no longer the young, naïve, slightly irresponsible girl that he had taught to sing at the Opera house. She has changed over the years, she was different. She’ll always be his Christine, but now she was wiser; more knowledgeable and experienced. With the Vicomte being as neglectful as he was, she had to have learned to take care of herself and Gustave. Erik nodded at Christine. “Alright, angel. Be careful, and remember that you can always go home if you need to.” He told her. He wanted her to feel safe and comfortable in his home, and to consider it her home as well. He knew that she would call it her own, but he still didn’t know if she actually thought of it as hers.

... Anyone want a starter or something?))