LE MORT VIVANT

  HE HAD COME back; the ghost had come back to its haunting place! What was the point of such a thing, one would surely ask him? It was absurd! And truth be told, he had no idea why he'd come -- but there were things still precious to him underneath the cellars of the Opera Populaire, and he found he simply had to get them back. A noise however soon alerted him of a careless intruder! Who dared head into the remains of a recently burned out building, and so late at night, too? The scream should have been a tell-tale sign, but Erik was far too angry to consider the possibility of her return. Instead, he gathered his trusty lasso and headed towards where he knew the trap was, still functioning.   The darkness swallowed him hole, and yet he found it most comforting and warm. He was as silent as a cat as he walked, which allowed him to hear any noise his victim might have possibly made. A woman! She was also alone by the looks of it, and once he opened a secret wooden door to the room that kept her safe from him, his lasso found itself being wound around her neck next -- though not tight enough to hurt her at all. She had a right to speak for herself, after all. “Why are you here? Answer me.” Commanding and thunderous his voice echoed all around them firmly.   Her scent was strangely familiar, as was the color of her hair in the darkness, and soon he felt his heart squeeze with both apparent pain and shock at the realization. Silence; deafening silence hung around them for what seemed like hours, and his slightly trembling and surprised golden voice spoke next, “Christine?”

  FLATTERY WOULD GET her nowhere, he knew, but was deeply appreciated nonetheless. His efforts were hers also, not only his! She was too humble to accept such compliments and in turn he slightly shook his head at her. She was a singer! She should learn to take compliments from people, for it would happen way too often now. That thought made some jealously bubble up to the surface, but he soon pushed it down without too much vehemence.   Her flattering comments were met with silence from his part, and it was only when she spoke of her vocal range that he finally talked once more. “We shall work on that today. But first, let's warm up your voice and do some scales -- I will not hear of you straining it without such.” Christine's voice was a precious instrument, one Erik himself valued deeply, no matter how excited to practice she may be.   They could surely practice for a while today, yes, for he still had time to spare, but soon, he should be gone; there were important things he had to take care of now that her role had been somewhat secured.

  WHATEVER HAD TAKEN over him to react in such a way at first he couldn't tell, but for a split of a second, he was concerned! Had he hurt her? But it's then that he realizes this to be only a mere jest, and soon enough his body visibly relaxes, and he simply frowns at her. “Christine. Please.” She is making a scene! And that is the last thing he really wants, after all. “I couldn't have hit you that hard.” What is she up to now, he wonders? Nevertheless he finds her to be somewhat amusing, and therefore his thin lips seem to twitch on their own accord.   Oh Lord have mercy on him at this! She is irresistible -- the epitome of both innocence and beauty; he cannot help the way his heart skips a beat even then! Her happiness means the whole world to him, and by seeing her being so playful with him, it sure fills him with inexplicable amounts of joy. What would he do without her now that he'd had a taste of heaven? These kind of mundane activities are precisely what make him feel like a normal person for once, and he deeply thanks her for it all.

  WAS SHE IMPLYING what he thought she was implying? Oh, may a deity -- if there was one -- help him! “I'm not going outside, Christine.” He couldn't; he wouldn't. It was far too much to ask of him, he knew, and that was definitely a matter which she shouldn't push. May he have the strength to deal with such preposterous ideas! Taking care of a new pet was one thing, but what this entailed... No. Just no. A dramatic sigh; a roll of his golden eyes. He turns around. “... Fine. Fine. We may keep it, as long as you promise to care for it.” He could never say no however, to a poor animal in need.

  A WHITE PORCELAIN mask effectively shields him from the outside world ( thank Gods! ), and he inwardly thanks her for her intention not to pry, however curious she may be about such an unusual thing. It isn't every day he finds one person to be polite enough not to mention it -- Though it also genuinely irritates him, because he knows the question to lie there nonetheless, right underneath the surface in spite of it all, clawing at her insistively and bothersomely so. He hands her the bouquet of daisies with a little smile though; takes the offered money and puts it away before taking hold of his plastic cup.   “Rehearsals?” he merely asks in a gentle tone of voice, raising the cup to his lips in order to take a much needed sip ( he hasn't been sleeping properly! Again! ). He hopes she'll elaborate at that, for he's found his curiosity to be peeked at this.   A slight bow of his head is given in thanks. “I'm glad to hear it, miss.” His flowers hold a dear place in his heart at this point -- he finds them both inexplicably pure and beautiful, something his soul seems to passionately crave for every day. He only wishes to spread his love for them all through his job, and hope they are well taken care of and appreciated wherever it is they may head to.

  SHE SEEMS CONCERNED; too much so, in fact. All he could do at least was offer some kind of comfort, he reckoned. Erik sighs, for this is admittedly no strong suit of his. “I assure you, it is nothing to worry about. For once, whatever it is, was not my doing, I can tell you that.” He hadn’t done anything wrong -- not lately anyway, and he certainly hoped she’ll understand and see things for what they are.

  “I THINK IT is safe to say that once isn’t nearly enough to properly give a man real nightmares.” Such a thing was not enough to properly scare a man, and he was, after all, someone who particularly knew how bad nightmares could possibly be. Granted he was not intimidated, not in the slightest; not by her, and not by her own mother, though he certainly respected the latter more. A misbehaving cat was he not, but it was close enough of a definition, for he found all of this to be most amusing to say the least. The opera was his playground, and he could ( both literally and metaphorically! ) knock things over if he wished so without much repercussion or any consequences.

  STAY STILL, OH you treacherous and poor heart! Was he hearing things right? What delightful news these were! He was happy for her, and in turn, his gentle smile could be heard in his voice as he spoke next. “Thank you,” he said politely, answering her previous concerns regarding her being late. It was no problem really -- That is -- as long as she gave him a heads up beforehand next time, it would be all fine.   “That is wonderful news, Christine. I knew they'd recognise your talent soon enough.” If they didn't they'd be fools! Fools who had no right to be in charge of such a magnificent building and all it possibly entailed! But alas, his requests had been answered, and he couldn't be any more proud of her than he was right then. She deserved it, after all.   “We need to start practising right away, my dear,” he added, his melodic voice more than steady right then. A pause; he straightened up, even though she could not possibly see this apparent change in his demeanour. “Are you ready for today's lessons?” Did she have the script yet? There were many things they had to work on, if that was the case.

  OH, HOW WELL she knows him -- it is unexpected, though not entirely unwelcome. It both unnerves him and comforts him at the very same time, and he finds he can't help but stare at her with disbelief. The animal had been starving and freezing? The poor thing! Didn't it have an owner after all? How strange; the dog seemed to be well taken cared of. Erik's heart squeezes in pain -- His brows furrow even further underneath his mask.   “Pretend? I am not pretending.” Stubborn! The both of them! “I am simply being logical. Will you care for it, then? I can't possibly take it out on walks, and I'm not letting it do its things in here.” He manages to keep his lair clean enough in spite of it all, and a dog would only bring forth a whole lot of problems. What about the hair it would let out? It would certainly be a bit of a mess in due time. The pup needed a proper home, and he wasn't sure his could possibly count as such.