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Post by Le Fantôme De l'Opéra on Sept 27, 2008 13:20:20 GMT -5
Their meeting had to be ended, an intruder had entered their private world and their love was a risk on their lives. His Juliette had told him to go, let him save himself from the wrath from the opposers of their love. He knew that this was true, he knew it well, so he would obey his love and flee the scene...
Erik came out of this dream sequence and came back to the private box. Celeste was standing so close to him, close enough that he could easily hold her in his arms, feel her skin against his own. She was tantalizing him, she was teasing him as all women do to men to make them foolish with love. But could he blame her? After all, he was doing the exact same with her, but not with his body, with his voice, his voice that was both a curse and a blessing. Erik could only make her love him with his voice, but that would make her crave him, his touch, his love of her...
It was the end of Romeo and Juliette's balcony scene, there was nothing else to say. Erik knew that Celeste had to be Juliette, he knew she had to be on that stage singing the words of love and hope. Christine couldn't portray the character correctly if she was on her own, she had completely lost the passion in her voice, she had rejected Erik and a punishment laid upon her was the loss of passion. Celeste had that fire, that spark that one must have to sing with a beautiful and powerful voice to capture a city, to seduce the nation.
"That will be all for now, Mademoiselle Gerras," said the Phantom as he got closer to her. His hand grazed her jawline slowly and teasingly as he spoke, as he had done before they had began their singing. "If you wish to be Juliette on the night of the premiere, if you wish to become the toast of Paris, of Europe, even the world... you must put your faith in me. You must belong to me and only sing for me until that day. If you don't, it'll be the last mistake you'll ever make."
This is was a promise and a threat that Erik had spoken before, only this time he wouldn't been weakened by a kiss. But it was meaningless to make a threat, he knew what she wanted and that she would do what it took to get it. Erik was offering all that and more, only if she'd agree to be his and only his. To say this to him, to say this to a man who has lusted for blood and flesh most of his life, it was like making a promise to God. If you broke your word, you would not live to see tomorrow.
Erik waited for her response, waiting for her to say the words that would bind her to him more than any marriage ever could. Celeste wasn't an idiot, she knew what people had to do to succeed in life and not fall to the bottom and be brushed aside like a household bauble. She knew and Erik knew that to get what she wanted, she had to be his slave and could never betray him. If she said she would commit to him, it was the same as selling her soul, making a deal with Lucifer himself, possibly even more dangerous.
They were both players in the dangerous game, where the teams were not defined because there were no teams. It was every man, or woman, for themselves and you couldn't stop and help others when you were winning. That is, unless you were forming an alliance that would benefit both parties. That was the case between Erik and Celeste, they would help each other and then, in the end they would both be winners.
"So what do you say, Celeste? Do we have an agreement?" he said, still grazing her jawline.
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Celeste Gerras
Understudy
Diamonds are a girl's best friend!
Posts: 76
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Post by Celeste Gerras on Sept 29, 2008 17:20:59 GMT -5
There is a fine line between reality and a dream. Things can cross from one to the other. It is a phenomenon no one can truely explain. Celeste certaintly could not. It was her dream now coming to her. The dream of becoming the diva of the greatest opera in the world. The dream of becoming the light in the heart of paris, the treasure of a nation. She had wanted it for so long now that the figures in her head, the beauty of Juliette reaching toward her lover. She as Juliette and Paris itself as her lover. Her dream was coming to life right here in the box of death. She was Juliette and Paris was coming to claim her. And yet, for once it was not only in her dreams. It would happen the devil had garrenteed it and she would trust him above the God of the ballet girls any day. He was giving her the dues she had so long dreamed of.
It was shameful to think she would do anything but give him her soul. It would be as if the opera she was to star in would rewrite herself so that Juliette should not give her love to Romeo. This was pure. This was natural. And if the means was not so it was not her fault. They had come to her in a natural way. A teacher was attracted to her talent and took her up as any other would. If that teacher was the devil, so be it. She would gladly be his bride to claim the dues so many said she would never win. She would spit in the faces of all those who had commanded her, who challanged her, who stepped on her. She would rule the city with her voice and the devil's blessing.
The only thing to be considered was the contract. She had said she would do anything to gain the stage of the populaire the title of diva and become the toast of Paris. She had previously said she would give her freedom, but the trials of the past few weeks had almost made her loose one of the few things she would not compromise: her mind.
The silence had been unbearable. Days of nothing but dancing during rehersals so the songs she should be singing. Nights of notes flowing through her mind and her throat as she reached beyond her means to succeed. Whole weeks of conversation only in the lightest sense with the ballet girls whom most of which were despised by her. She was starved for contact. For conversation. Not for song which was her food that she feasted upon daily, but interaction. The one thing she craved and he was demanding that she give him that one thing. She would have to give him her true voice, her speaking voice. But could she comply?
He did not say that she could not speak, merely that she must belong to him. When she sang she was his. When she danced she was his. Any time she spent with the music she was his. But who would give her companionship? She was driven, but she was human only....
For a brief moment her mind flashed to the last conversation she had with another human of real content besides those held here in this box. Riffael, the ignorant stage hand who dared cross her path before a greater demon had come to devour them both. She hated his insolence but he was like her. He wanted the conversation. He needed that, they all needed that to survive. Even her teacher, this dark creature needed that and in abundence she would imagine, but why only from her and why so infrequently? Was there nothing she could do? Would she only speak a word to a man or a woman and they would be as Buquet had been a few days ago? It was better to simply comply and stretch the rules later. People were expendable, her dreams were not.
And yet, there was that one contact. There was that one hope that the devil would become her angel. That perhaps her teacher could bring her the salvation and contact she so desired alongside her fame. That contact she felt now along her jaw. That simple light brush of a human hand across her skin. It was the thing she had been missing and as any offer of a devil, it made it so much more tempting. He had starved her and now she was being offered a chance at what she so desired with only her dreams to come to her if she took the chances offered. It was tempting...the very offer seduced her, not the words.
And the voice. His voice...
"Will you come to me again...? Will...you come to me more often. If you leave me I cannot learn. If you leave me I cannot promise that I can be yours and yours alone. They call you a demon Monsieur. Prove to me that you are not and either grant me your presence more often or let me speak to others freely. Only if you grant me that will I allow you what you wish." There were stories of the devil and gambling was always a factor. But the devil offered bargins, they could be haggled with. She knew that. She just hoped her devil was one she could predict. Thus far she had failed.
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Post by Le Fantôme De l'Opéra on Oct 6, 2008 18:52:53 GMT -5
A deal with the devil comes once in everybody's lifetime, for some it came early on, for others, it came in your dying moments. This was the one deal Celeste was given and she was taking it, Erik knew this and that she was willing to go as far as she needed to to get what she wanted. Most likely if he asked her to marry him at that moment, she wouldn't have a second thought, she would put herself under his control without a word of persuasion muttered. If only all women were like this.
But now she was bargaining, if she was allowed to talk and communicate with the outside world, she would be his. if he came to visit her more often, to let her hear his voice and feel his breath on her neck, she would be his. Small prices to pay to get what he wanted, no matter how much she would bargain, he would always win the bigger slice of the pie. Once she was his, she was his, while he could let her go at any time he wished. She was a lucky woman because he wouldn't let her go. Let her have her socializing, let her win her way into the hearts of the people! It would help in the long run when suddenly, Mme. de Chagny had a terrible fate befall her.
"You wish to make a bargain. Very tactful, my dear, very smart of you to try to get something out of this deal. More than the glamour, more than the power you want!" Erik said, cooly, slowly letting his hand rest on her neck, lining it up as if he were to kill her on the spot and let her blood dry on the velvet carpet. He placed his mouth close to her eye and let out a ghostly voice.
"Then you shall have it. You won't become a diva if I'm not there with you. I will call upon you and you won't dare call on me again. Wen the time is right, you will hear my voice. As for your wants for a social life, you may have it. But if you are unwise, then you will definitely regret asking for it. It'd be a shame to watch that pretty white neck around a noose above the stage..."
Images of Celeste's hanging body were fresh in Erik's mind. He would watch her dangle if she dared to betray him, her clothes would hang in rags from a struggle before hand, her hair would be in disarray and matted with sweat and blood. It wouldn't be a beautiful masterpiece, but it would be a masterpiece, nonetheless. Such a lovely girl, shame if death befell her in youth instead of old age. But Celeste wasn't an idiot. She would comply and follow his rules.
The devil himself stood behind the girl, his air turned to a chill as he handed forward an imaginary contract, something that would bind her to him until she was of use to him. Erik imagined the contract with red ink staining the page, falling to the ends and over the sides. He smiled wickedly, so wickedly that if Celeste had been looking at him, she would reconsider her decision.
Erik did not have a legal contract, so out of his pocket, he pulled out a ring, a beautiful diamond with smaller rubies outlining its round shape. He held it forward to her, his arms going around her body and holding it in front of her.
Welcome to the other side of life, Mlle. Gerras. It's darker than you think..."
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Celeste Gerras
Understudy
Diamonds are a girl's best friend!
Posts: 76
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Post by Celeste Gerras on Oct 29, 2008 13:57:40 GMT -5
Darkness was something Mademoiselle Garras had been used to. She knew that darkness was part of art. Darkness was the contrast that was needed to create light in its truest form. No one would know of good, after all, if there was no evil to off set it. Living in the Populaire darkness had been everywhere for her since her youngest days. She had seen the darker powers of light elements such as beauty. She had seen light draw both men and women into lust and murder. She had seen bodies hanging from the rafters, the very fires of hell raised from the ceiling of the most heavenly building in Paris and God help her she would raise those powers again this instance for her chance at the stage.
She would not do so unwisely however. She had read Faust, she had performed it. She knew of the demon's powers whom she dealt with now and she knew that all stipulations had to be dealt with this instance when their contract was about to be formalized. He was offering her the world of darkness. He was offering her fame and all the treasures of Paris if she was simply faithful. But faithful had to be determined. The definition had to be set or her long white neck would be snapped above the stage and she would be doomed to a death of someone no greater than the stage hand rat of a man Buquette. She would not do so and she would not live in fear of speaking as she had these past few days.
Her voice was her power. It had always been her power. It was the mode of her wit, the great lure and intrigue that drew people to her. She had almost gone insane this past month, and her sanity, she swore to herself when she embarked into this hell and married herself the to devil, was the one piece of her, along side her voice, that she would not loose. Now he must grant that to her or she would take death and happily.
He would too. She could tell from his touch along her neck. She could tell from cold brush of his fingers along her creamy satin skin that he needed her to be his as much as she needed his support. They together were a symbiotic creature, that apart they would die. He would die and she would remain in the ballet, a fate just as bad as death. He would allow her to live no matter how ostentatious she was as long as she was faithful. She could be faithful. She truly could be if she tried. With the price of her life, Celeste was sure such an effort would not be that hard to muster. One always seemed to perform with their greatest zeal when their lives were on the line. Christine had and now she was.
The presence of the devil behind her spoke, promising her fame and all she desired within their contract. He even praised her wit for dealing with the devil so wisely and her lips curved into a knowing smile. He was anticipating her failure. She could see the gothic masterpiece he was painting within his mind of her limp, bruised, and battered body, hanging limp over the stage of the Populaire. Her dress was in tatters and her jewels twisted out of shape and form to match her disfigured body. And then her neck snapped, sudden as the breaking of a small twig under the weight of a child and her body plummeted leaving nothing but blood behind to show the existence of life within the carcass. All this in her head and Celeste still smiled.
The girl beaming knowing the world was hers now and that she could control the ever looming death he promised only by being faithful. He had given her breathing room and now she would obey. The thick air held their contract as did the shuffling behind her. It sounded like the rustling of fabric and once again her instincts were true. Before her eyes, her dark patron had produced a ring of the most alluring brilliance. A large diamond surrounded by blood rubies of the highest caliber. It was a ring for a lady, a ring for a queen, and a ring of the devil to bind him to his bride to be. He gently bid her welcome to his world as any husband would to a wife. His voice was warm and inviting as she slipped her right ring finger into the promises he offered and then placed her hand behind her, letting her fingers gently sweep against the cool leather of the mask that held her master.
"Then its a good thing I never had a fear of the dark Monsieur. I assume you have heard of the Patron's ball? I will be attending if I can find a dress. As you are my greatest Patron and teacher I hope you will attend...?" Celeste smiled alluringly, her eyes glinting with the same clarity and prettiness of the ring on her finger. She would make him feel wanted. She would preserve her own life...
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Post by Le Fantôme De l'Opéra on Nov 17, 2008 16:03:46 GMT -5
Darkness was sometimes the thing people feared most, Erik had come to know. Many were afraid to become a little wicked and evil and it never benefited them. Celeste wasn't one of those people obviously, for she was able to see it was a challenge to fight wickedness, that nobody was all good. There are people who try to be completely good, but they'll always finish last no matter what they tell themselves.
Then she brought up the Patron's Ball, an event that had reached Erik's ears a little while ago through the gossiping ballerinas he overheard. Apparently the Marquise Jondrette was throwing a ball in celebration of the reopening of the Opera Populaire as well as the return of her husband who had been in Japan. Erik had been pretty far East, but he had never been that far.
Celeste clearly wanted him to attend, not being vague with the subject towards Erik. It would honor her having her one and only patron attend the event, as she saw it. Le Fantome mused for a moment, thinking it over, deciding whether or not it would be prudent to go out into the world. He had gone to le Bal Masque, but that was inside the Opera. This meant venturing out into the world he had long ago gave up.
The look on Celeste's face when she asked this of her was one of hope and love towards him. It was a look women had mastered since the beginning of time. Damn it to hell, because it had always made men cave into their demands, if they were within reason of course. This request had been within Erik's power, it was not complicated at all and he would be able to attend the ball without having to worry.
As your patron I see as my duty to attend the ball with you, Celeste," he said. What kind of teacher would I be if I did not support my pupil in her endeavors? What kind of man would I be if she did not have a dress to shine in like a star in the heavens?"
Erik was slow with his words, letting each one flow into the other and enter Celeste's mind, letting it wrap around each and every word spoken by his voice. So it decipher each meaning of dark, mysterious passion behind the meanings, how each phrase was spoken with longing and love. They were a few simple words, but they were meaningful and could strike the pit of amy mortal's soul.
"I will meet you at the ball. Do not try to find me, I'll find you, as not arise any suspicion of those who cannot keep their noses out of anyone's business. Before then, expect me when you're alone, expect me when you feel a chill in the air, expect me when you feel an ache of love in your soul. That's when you know I'm with you physically. Mentally, however my dear, I will always be with you."
When Celeste sold her soul, she had also sold her mental thoughts and freedom. Her mind would not be able to escape him, it would cause her to ache for him, even to the brink of madness should anything happen to him. It was a good protection for him, knowing that she would do anything to keep him alive. It wasn't always the best situation to be in from her side, but maybe she could change all that.
She had changed the way she looked at him, at least...
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Celeste Gerras
Understudy
Diamonds are a girl's best friend!
Posts: 76
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Post by Celeste Gerras on Nov 19, 2008 19:11:34 GMT -5
The look in his eyes as he considered her offer proved Celeste's theory to perfection: he was merely a man. The phantom was merely a man. A very dangerous man to be sure, but a man none the less. Celeste knew men well too. Not in the religious sense of course. She had kissed men once or many times, no one but her knew. But she had always kept that out of reach. That was always the thing that was going to be out of reach to every man she met, even this one. But mentally, as a professor of men, as an observer of men, she knew them; she knew him. She was familiar with the look in his eyes that was equal parts hate an admiration. She knew it was only inspired by the shining look of adoration in her own green tinted windows to her black soul. He knew she was manipulating him and he still had feelings for her.
Celeste beamed with the knowledge that she had won this round and that the gamble had paid off. He knew she was not afraid of him, not afraid of the dark, not afraid of death. She knew he wanted to kill her, he wanted to see her body dangle either from the ceiling or limp in his arms drained and lifeless. She knew and he knew and so her goal was complete. He had her where he wanted her but was not willing to admit that she had him where she wanted him. He was giving her more freedom. He was giving her his presence, on a more frequent basis, he was appearing at her events, he was giving her all she desired from dresses to gems, and he was hers.
Inside her mind a dance was forming alongside a song of victory as the words of promise ran from his lips. She would have his presence at the bal, a bal outside the opera house. She would have her dress and her glamorous trappings to make her more alluring than she already was. He promised her all this. Even better he promised it not because he could, but because he saw it as his duty. He saw it as his duty as a teacher. He saw it as his duty as a patron. He saw it as his duty as a man. But was this duty as a man the duty of a man, or a lover, or a suitor, or a killer...? None the less it was still his duty as a man. A man who was in her grasp.
A part of her hoped he meant what he said as a lover, as a suitor. Lovers and suitors were easier to control. You could get more from lovers and suitors than you could teachers and men. The good news was the marks of those particular conditions were on him. All that was left for her now was to encourage those signs with a blithe smile a twinkle in her eye, and ardent sigh to please him and his fanatsys. With those few little actions and some sweet words she could have the stars if she wished it. She would have all that she desired if he was hers to control with the disease of love. She will conquered the devil with his permission.
A pretty little curve graced Celeste's lips as she listened to the graceful flow of his velvet voice across her skin. There was passion and longing in the sound. Of course there would be; she had heard the legends. He had chosen Christine for her innocence and her beauty believing that it could save him and his damned soul. He realized now that, like Satan himself, he was damned from Heaven for all eternity so he had chosen a Lilith for his layer. He had chosen someone with the same powers of beauty and seduction. He had chosen to share his powers with a female entity that would best support him, conquer him; one that would be able to seduce all those he could not through her beauty and looks and be his voice, his influence on earth. He had chosen her and marked her as his and the world would know it.
She knew it, and he knew it and for now that was enough for both of them. She had tried her luck for now. She would wait for him. She had to wait for him if she wanted to remain in the favor of this dark lord. She had to wait for him if she favored her life; and that may be the one thing she cared about now: her life and the stage. And now she would wait as faithful as the bride of the Dutchman for him to return. And she would make sure it was soon. He could seduce but he seemed to underestimate her skills as well. A glowing grin showed on Celeste's plump red lips as she turned toward him and dipped in to a curtsy, keeping her head low and demure. "As you wish my Lord Romeo..."
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Post by Le Fantôme De l'Opéra on Nov 28, 2008 22:54:50 GMT -5
Celeste would do what he asked her to do, it was a fact that was clear as light and it benefited Erik satisfactorily. However, he knew that she was doing this for her own personal gain and she was persistent, she would do anything to get that thing, or things, she wanted. Celeste Gerras was a clever girl, clever enough to know the ways of the world, a gift really considering her young age. Many did find out how the world worked until their back had become residence to a knife, metaphorically or literally. Erik and her would win the game together and they would both glow in the lime light, though that was not what he was after. It was quite possible that the major reason he was doing this...was because he loved her...
He loved the damned girl and she had worked her way into his plots! This road was becoming ever more familiar and Erik for once feared the end of the journey. Celeste may have been different from Christine, but what she was doing was almost identical to him! Erik feared his own creation, he feared of what monster Celeste would become if she succeeded. If she did become a monster, though, Erik knew he had to play the role of a brave knight and slay the beast. A task that had never been accomplished towards himself.
“As you wish my Lord Romeo,” she said, bowing in a curtsy and having the grace of a noble goddess of Rome or Greece. Her head remained low and Erik saw the crown that created the dark locks that tumbled down over the sides of her face. The whole form seemed to glow in the dull light of Box 5, they were drenched in a velvet red darkness and it seemed so eerie and haunted. Erik had been the ghost of this box for years, now that he stood in it he had become an actual ghost, a phantom in the night...
“It's my time of parting, mademoiselle, remember my words and you will receive what you are looking for,” Erik said, letting the girl raise from her low curtsy. He took the white hand in his gloved hand and put his lips to it, releasing his ice cold touch enter her warm and delicate body. It was as if he had taken her to the Arctic without having to cross the seas. “Goodbye, Celeste, we shall meet again soon enough...”
Erik turned from the girl and exited the box. He began walking towards the door that led to the upper levels of the stage. There were a flight of stairs and he quickly took flight up them, trying to get to the catwalks before anyone could spot him and bring him down. Erik had done this for years and had marked it down as a science, a science that he and only he could do. As he approached the top, he look down and made sure Celeste hadn't been foolish and tried to follow.
The boards of the catwalk were silent to his steps and he began to cross them slowly, knowing an intense speed would not help him stay above the stage. With every step he took he thought about the meeting, what had gone on, what had been said. It was confusing for him, but he was slowly grasping what was going on between him and the dancer. When he said they would meet again, he knew it would come true. She had been like a drug, she had entered his mind and was intent on staying there. If she was wise, she would not break away now, it would result in immediate death.
She may be clever, but was she wise?
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Celeste Gerras
Understudy
Diamonds are a girl's best friend!
Posts: 76
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Post by Celeste Gerras on Dec 3, 2008 13:00:41 GMT -5
Men had a bad habit of saying things they didn't mean. Celeste knew this. Most women who were worth their spot on this earth knew this. Of course they meant some things. Celeste had not doubt in her mind, for example, that this man would kill her if she took a wrong step. She did, however, doubt his sincerity when he said that it was his time of parting. Celeste knew that the minute he left her side he would still be there. He would be somewhere in the dark secluded crannies of the opera house he would be lurking, watching over her, looking for some faint sign of a false move to free him from his new found desires. She would not allow him that reprieve. And yet, if she were to follow him she would be letting him see disobedience. It would seem to him as if she could not be trusted to follow his instructions; the instructions he very clearly stated must be followed or death would be her stage, not the lights and high life of Paris. Celeste was going to avoid that at all costs. She would just have to find a way to follow him, a way to reach him that was not through the physical. She would have to reach him in his own elements: darkness and music. But, she could not control the darkness. No, he was the master of that. He was the master of the night and the heights of the opera house. No, she had to be his light, his song, his music, and his salvation....She would reach him without following and therefore please him without endangering herself. But he would not know of her plan until the time for its unavailing has come. That time would not be until he was his world far above her in the rafters of the opera house, watching her to see if she would follow his instructions and yet follow her intuition. He must know after all, after watching her the way he did that she was aware of his desire to see her and he also must know that she knew about his fickle nature and therefore could say, with some assurance that if she left his side not he would not be pleased with her; perhaps to the point where it could be the last decision she ever made. So she would wait until he took his leave of her and for now play the coy little student with her head lowered and her cheeks flushing as the smooth black leather of his gloves took her hand and the ice of his lips caused an involuntary shiver down her spine. And then he was gone, and the game began. Celeste waited a few seconds for good measure, composing herself, taking a deep breaths, and then smiling widely. With the her practiced dancer's grace, Celeste rose from her position and exited the box as if floating out of it; not walking. Her feet barely made a sound as she tread the familiar path to the stage of the opera Populaire. Her breathing was calm and deep as any singer's breathing should be. she floated down the hall toward the stage, through the dark passages of the backstage of the theater knowing she was being watched by her mentor and her patron. The soft tap of wood under her shoes was the only hint Celeste received that she had arrived at her choice of venue for this particular performance. Her eyes closed and she once again was his Juliette. His dark secret bride to share his kingdom. Once again she was a picture of innocence, hope, and love. Once again she was he salvation; and her voice was her body beside him. She had not searched him out, but she had not left him. She was his but not his. It was just as he demanded it, so she would give him what he desired. The clear ringing of her voice reverberated throughout the room and caressed the walls. The smiling in her voice warmed the room and brought it to life. Her voice skipped and danced along the ballroom floor of her palace for she was at a grand ball; her unveiling to the world! She was a young, beautiful free woman now, and she knew her Romeo was listening in the shadows. She was singing for him. She was singing to let him know that she was open to his love. She was singing to awaken his passion. She was singing to make herself his spring just as she hoped he would be hers. But she would do it all without his knowing. Je veux vivre Dans ce rêve qui m'enivre Ce jour encore Douce flamme Je te garde dans mon âme Comme un trésor!
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Post by Le Fantôme De l'Opéra on Dec 19, 2008 7:28:54 GMT -5
"Je veux vivre Dans ce rêve qui m'enivre Ce jour encore Douce flamme Je te garde dans mon âme Comme un trésor!"
Perfection. Near and utter perfection, Erik noted. Celeste had meandered onto the stage, right to the center where she rightfully belonged and let out a seraphic voice, one directly from God's heaven. He had worked a little extra harder on her vocals, knowing that Earth deserved such a voice, one that would show them what awaited them in the afterlife. Erik had a voice of an angel as well, him and Celeste's voices together would make any mortal listening go mad, mad with desire, with love, with passion...
Unfortunately, le Fantome's voice was the closest thing he would get to the angels, Celeste would be the only one he would see and hear and be loved by. With his face, scarred behind belief, he had been denied an entrance into heaven. The bright side to it all, Erik had his genius, his mastery at many skills, he intelligence and ability to see the world for it truly was. The price for it all: his face and a spot waiting for him in heaven. That spot was meant for a person with a soul.
Erik was the devil, without a soul, forever doomed to wander the earth, wander hell after he was done with earth. He wouldn't want the soul, he couldn't want the soul, for with that soul would come a blurry illusion of the world which would blind him from the true world, as well as a certain everlastingness. The thought of everlastingness. It was a horrible thought, a horrible connection to make with life! Everlastingness, however, wasn't so horrible if it meant Celeste singing forever.
Was her soul that Erik had bought a soul that he himself truly wanted? Did Erik secretly crave a soul and figured that if Celeste could give it to him she would gone on with his fate, and he earn a better spot in the afterlife? No, no, it was too foolish a thought, Erik couldn't keep her soul for much longer. She would long for its return and seduce him to get it back inside and Erik would give it to her... that is, after it was too late to turn back.
That's when she would dragged underground, that's when the doors would be sealed, that's when he would literally be imprisoned underneath the Opera Populaire forever, the same fate he had been promised all along, it was just this time he would have a fellow prisoner with him. Rather unfortunate for her, but she made her choice. She belonged to him now... him and only him...
As he stood there, finished hearing the voice, Erik looked to his right and saw the other side of the stage. That was the way back, the end of the road, the final threshold to go through before disappearing from the real world for some amount of time, until he was ready to return. The Phantom had left for some time, but he never died, as to popular belief, but instead he continued to live on, not really living though. It was as if he was undead, not quite alive, but yet he still breathed. It was quite exhilarating, knowing that he was there but he was technically not. Oh well, it was a nice feeling and it couldn't be helped.
Erik had finished his business here on the surface world and he couldn't stand it much longer, not even for Celeste. He sharply turned towards the right and walked, more quietly than he entered, towards the other door which led to a hallway that had yet another secret entrance or exit. That would lead him home, to the home underground. Where would Life place him next? Would Celeste hold her end of the bargain as he did?
Only time could tell.
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