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Post by Riffael Dureau on Jul 2, 2008 5:19:43 GMT -5
Riffael sat slumped in a rather uncomfortable chair situated in what could only be called a small foyer for the private world--the offices--of the opera's hassled managers. As people passed by him he received distasteful glances for the manner of his person and the general air of criminality about him. The white shirt that he wore was dirtied, of course, though much cleaner than everything else about him. He had rough stubble on his chin and the state of his vest, trousers, and even skin was sad and neglected. He had taken great care to keep the shirts gifted to him by Formorian in good shape, but the nature of his job and the frequency that he had to wear them opposed his goal. He took no notice of the stares, instead just staring at a tile on the floor in vacant curiosity, lost in his own thoughts. How was he to present this to the managers? Would they believe him? Probably not. It was his duty, however, to report what he knew. Even if it might endanger his livelihood.
He would leave out the bit about Celeste, he decided, because connecting her with the murderer would be cruel and unjust. She was foolish, not dangerous. If anything, she was in danger. He, himself, was in great danger. Was Formorian in danger? The thought plagued him day and night, repeating the words over and over in his mind. Was she? Please, nay! He wandered the dank corners of the opera in a constant rise and fall from elation of love and desire to a plague of guilt and worry. He dared not touch a drop of spirits, for sharp reflexes might be all that could save him at the drop of a hat. He had not lost himself in the pleasure of a prostitute, either. The skin of other women disgusted him to no end now that he had held her soft, breathy form in his arms and heard her gentle laugh. She was all innocence and light, and he was addicted to her.
The poor woman was in bad sorts. Not only did she have a secret admirer and his suggestive promise on her mind, but the rehearsals were going rather badly. He imagined that the latter would put the managers in a bad mood, which would make the task at hand even more difficult.
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Post by Jacob Leroux on Jul 2, 2008 21:10:08 GMT -5
Why did it seem that all the work fell on him? Wasn’t he supposed to be the second in command or something? He had only co-signed to do this because of Celes and he hadn’t expected to do much, especially since it was Andrew’s idea and they didn’t really work well together. Well he wasn’t going to back out of it. It could be worse. Instead of doing all the paper work he might be stuck with talking and socializing with the staff and patrons. That would be absolute torture for him.
Heaving a very heavy sigh Jacob opened the door to the Populaire and ran a hand through his already upheaval of hair. Most people that were moving about the foyer already knew not to even say hello or acknowledge him, some stubborn though forcing him to at least look at him. He quickened his pace to the office, in a hurry to get in there and be buried in paper work. Andrew would be out for today and he hoped that everything would run smoothly today. He prayed it would with all his might.
However luck never seemed to be on his side. As he approached the office he saw a man leaning in a chair like he was waiting. Giving another sigh he continued on hoping that the man who looked like a stagehand was just loitering around. “Could I help you Monsieur?” he asked without even trying to sound pleasant. Celes and Maggie were probably the ones he’d spoken to in a pleasant voice. Jacob placed the keys in the lock to the office door and swung it open before glancing back at the man waiting for him impatiently to answer.
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Post by Riffael Dureau on Jul 2, 2008 22:34:55 GMT -5
Riffael watched the polished shoes approach at a hectic and harried pace, his head still bowed. Ah, there, they stopped. “Could I help you Monsieur?” The statement was kind enough, but the tone in which it was said almost threatened something terrible if he said yes. Well, Riffael hadn't wished himself into this position, either. He stood, a tall, lean, and muscular stage hand with just the right amount of dirt to take the step from unappealing to unnerving. His face was just as cold as the man's, which he now stared into unwaveringly.
He remembered just in time to take a quick formal bow and then say, "Monsieur, I have very bad news for the Opera House. It is serious." His eyes burned holes into the manager's. He wanted to emphasise the fact that he could not get rid of him, for he was set on reporting what he had to know. After all, this was not supposed to be his burden. He had no money for the Phantom to extort, and he certainly was no lovely young female ingénue.
He glanced around for a moment in the sweeping way that he did these days, searching for the familiar face of one blonde angel. He did not know what he would do if she were to see him in full daylight. Surely she would not know him, unless perhaps he spoke. He shook the guilty thoughts from his mind and turned back to problem at hand.
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Post by Jacob Leroux on Jul 3, 2008 2:39:58 GMT -5
The stagehand would certainly be unnerving looking to some. Jacob was only 5’11, scrawny, and pale with evidence of having little sleep, yet he could care less about how intimidating the other looked. He matched the other stare but instead glared at him. It was almost like he was looking at an arch enemy which at the moment the whole world was. Usually he wasn’t this put out so early in the morning, but he had had to stay up into the wee hours teaching Margret how to ride a horse so her nightmares wouldn’t come back.
If Jacob was one for apologizes he probably would have by the time he had closed the door to his office but of coarse he didn’t. Instead he merely jerked his head toward the office before going in leaving for the other to come in. He flopped down in his chair exasperated and leaned back in it before looking at him. “So what is it? I haven’t heard of anything serious or bad happening.” He said recounting all of Andrew’s reports. There wasn’t money issues, staff had stopped leaving, he was sure the staff had everything they need.
Jacob wasn’t sure if he should take some paper and pen out in case he should write down whatever this bad news is. Because with the state he was in he was sure to forget sometime today. He’d wait until he knew what it was, Probably it was just some small matter made to seem like something big. Giving a small sigh he really hoped this would be over soon.
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Post by Riffael Dureau on Jul 3, 2008 18:36:34 GMT -5
Riffael almost wanted to laugh when he saw the glare, but refrained. The poor man was obviously in a bad state of mind, and he wouldn't blame him, what with how rehearsals were going and such. He almost felt guilty for the news he was about to give, excepting that it wasn't his fault at all. He wished that his news weren't true; it was, and presented a danger to everyone in the building. He followed the unceremonious man into his office and watched as he plopped himself down into the chair without a shred of social grace.
Riffael stared at him for a few moments, collecting his thoughts. How would be the best way to present this? Would it matter? Leroux would think that he was a madman regardless of how he put it. He might as well just come out with it and make the initial shock as quick and painless as possible. "The Phantom of the Opera is back." He said it with utmost seriousness.
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Post by Jacob Leroux on Jul 6, 2008 1:47:37 GMT -5
The Phantom of the Opera back? Now it was Jacob’s turn to almost laugh! A smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. The Phantom back? Was this man serious? Or was this his auditions to become an actor? Did this man really believe the stories? Well this certainly wasn’t what he was expecting the subject to be, and it was obvious on his face that Jacob wasn’t taking this at all seriously. Rather he found it amusing; another thing he didn’t expect.
He tried to look serious though…try to…as he decided to play along. This might actually put him in a better mood. “He’s back? I thought he died in he fire, seems to be what everyone else believes. Why do you say he is back?” What would Andrew think once he reported his information to him! He wondered how he would take this, he doubted that he would take it seriously either. And Celes! Celestine would absolutely love to hear this. The story of the Phantom of the Opera was one that she liked.
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Post by Riffael Dureau on Jul 6, 2008 23:23:26 GMT -5
Riffael watched the mirth spread into the eyes of the manager--not the reaction of a man believing that a conman and a murderer resides in his territory. He felt a bit of annoyance and frustration rise up in him but quelled it, reminding himself that this was to be expected and perfectly understandable. Still, to be a source of mockery was quite humiliating and he was loath to continue with it, despite his feeling of obligation. Many lives were at risk.
His expression remained of the utmost seriousness. "There was no body found, you will recall, Monsieur, that could be directly pinned to the Phantom," He said, though he knew it was a weak bit of evidence. Many bodies had been found in the aftermath, charred beyond recognition. Most had been accounted for, but there were a few that were not supposed to be there. One of those could have, in theory, been in the Phantom. He knew that none of them were. "I know, however, because I have seen and heard him. He is a tall man who wears a half-mask, the dress clothes of a gentleman, and sings in a way that is... indescribably... pleasant. There is dark hair upon his head, he appears to have mismatched eyes, and he has a terrible, mad temper." He paused, recalling those last words... "When he parted from me he told me to 'keep your hand at the level of your eyes'. Then he disappeared in a great billow of fire."
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Post by Jacob Leroux on Sept 7, 2008 17:31:23 GMT -5
This man was serious! Obviously the man saw something, for what would compel a stagehand in their right mind to believe that the ‘Opera Ghost’ would return. But what did he really see? Because really! the Phantom of the Opera? Jacob never believed that there had ever been one to begin with. What they thought was a ghost was just a prankster and a wild imagination. If he ever had to deal with it he was excepting a ballet rat, chorus girl, or even Celestine, but not this guy. Definitely a laughable situation but it seemed the man wasn’t to pleased with Jacob’s mockery, which he really didn’t care about. But just incase the man was prone to fling a punch when anger Jacob gave a more business look.
For Jacob the man’s whole speech was a weak supporter to the theory. For one thing all that he said was already in the stories so it didn’t serve as any proof that he saw him. This made Jacob feel like this was even more of a waste of time. Letting out an apprehensive sigh he raised one eyebrow at the man wondering what could provoke the man to inform him of a supposed return of the Phantom. “You must understand Monsieur that I can’t possible believe you without real evidence. Did he leave anything behind, did you find a trap door that he vanished from since with what you described he most likely did?”
Maybe he wanted some type of distinction for the discovery of the masked man. Maybe he was some aspiring singer or whatever the Phantom trained. Crossing his arms he leaned back in his chair. “Was there someone with you that saw him?” It was at least worth looking into so he might please Celestine with the story. Plus the frivolous investigation might be able to keep him away from actual work might give himself sometime to regain an actual healthy look. At those thoughts he showed a tiny bit more of intrest in the matter.
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Post by Riffael Dureau on Sept 9, 2008 19:20:07 GMT -5
Riffael ran his hand through his hair in frustration, his eyes trained darkly on the manager's schooled expression. True, he had no proof. And though there was a witness, she would never confess, and how could he reveal her? True, it might save her, but it would also ruin her. She would be named as an accomplice to murder. Moreover, even if he did name her, why would the man believe him? It might even damage his own credibility. He would look like an embittered admirer, especially given the identity and reputation of the woman in question.
"There is surely a trapdoor in the chapel floor through which he escaped, though I doubt that if we searched we would find it. There was a woman present who was targeted by the madman, but I will not reveal her name for fear of compromising her." He said, feeling the ridiculousness of his plight. He didn't have any proof. Straightening, he raised his chin and said, "Monsieur, I understand that this situation sounds very unlikely and that I do not have any way of verifying my claim, but I hope that you will take precautions and send a party to search the catacombs."
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Post by Jacob Leroux on Sept 20, 2008 22:02:02 GMT -5
This man really was a bit contrite about this, so something must have happened. He may be a bit callous but he wasn’t completely unreasonable when it came to someone who was genuinely concerned about something that Jacob really didn’t see a reason to fret over. As much as he found this amusing he knew that he had to at least do some thing about this report of the Opera Ghost, which probably meant more paper work. Where was Andrew to deal with this nonsense?
As the man admitted to explain Jacob merely sat and nodded a few times like he was listening. Not that he was listening, but he was also criticizing at the same time. Why wouldn’t they be able to find the trap door if there was one? If you knew that you were looking for one and had a person that worked with trap doors wouldn’t it be easy to find, especially if this man could remember the spot where the supposed Phantom went through? And what about compromising the woman who was ‘targeted’? If this played out how it did the last time than all of Paris will know who it is, why keep it secret now? Also, if the girl was in trouble because of the Opera Ghost wouldn’t it be better to know who it is so she could be protected.
Jacob tapped the arm of his chair and slumped a little more before thinking about what he was going to say he was going to do about. Quite ridiculous that he even had to waste time thinking about it though. He flinted a glance at Riffael before speaking. “Thank you for knowing this is a bit hard for me to…take to seriously.” Jacob figured the man knew he thought this was rubbish. “But since there is a possibility of endangerment to a woman and other staff, I’ll have someone come and take a look at things.
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Post by Riffael Dureau on Sept 20, 2008 22:14:58 GMT -5
Riffael was tense and wary as the manager prepared to speak. There was a moment of awkward silence before, finally, he did. Bon. He relaxed, closing his eyes and bringing a hand up to press his temple. There would be a search party, and he had not been forced to reveal Celeste's name nor identify himself as the one that had revealed the Phantom's presence. Then again, the Phantom would probably know. After all, Celeste would never dare do reveal him, and Riffael had every reason to do so... he needed to protect himself and now Formorian. He felt a pang as he thought of her, of the Phantom finding out about her. The Phantom had threatened Riffael's life; would it not appeal to him more to threaten his livelihood?
He shivered and nodded, murmuring a "Merci, Monsieur." Before bowing slightly and leaving. As he clicked the door shut behind him he felt a surge of terror, something that he did not feel often. The Phantom could see everything, couldn't he? He might have seen him just now, in the manager's office, inciting a search. He might have been in the auditorium with he and Mori when they had kissed, confessed their love, spoken of marrying. He shook the thoughts and continued on, vowing to be one of the men that searched those labyrinths. Utter thoroughness was required.
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