#♫ Angel of Music Queue Deceived Me — (queue)

[twistedcveryway]

@conscixnceclean - continued from [X]

"Well enough I suppose, yes."

Meg's smile is as infectious as Christine remembers it, and soon her own lips are curling into the kind of grin that felt more at home on the face of someone younger---a girl who had not yet known a world of mirrors and phantoms and heartbreak.

Christine's hands give Meg's a squeeze, determined not to let herself be overcome by such thoughts. Not now, when she has been reunited with her most cherished friend! No, she will allow nothing to ruin this moment.

"After---" her words catch, not wanting to speak aloud the events that surely they both remembered all too well. "---after we lost touch, I thought I would never see you again. And I certainly did not expect to see you here. It's been a wonderful surprise."

"Have you been performing here long?"

[twistedcveryway]

"Erik..."

His name leaves her lips in a half-choked whisper, all of her frustration and fear and sorrow coming together, tightening her throat. It seems she has not yet gotten through to him, and she wonders if doing so is even possible, or if she has found herself fighting a battle she never stood a chance of winning.

"Surely you understand that that is not freedom, not really," Christine meets his eyes, mirroring her own with how they glisten from tears he does not allow to fall, and all at once her heart is breaking for him just as much as for her own plight. Whatever pleas were going to follow die on her tongue, and instead an uncomfortable silence falls over the room.

"It doesn't have to be this way," Christine says softly, once the quiet is too much to bear. "You can say such frightening things, but I know you are not wicked at heart. You could choose to be kind, Erik, I know you could."

Regret constricts his heart the moment he sees the tears begin to shine in her lovely eyes, but he is too far gone to retract his words. Anger and pain continue to pound with every beat of his heart and his hands hover uselessly, strangling themselves in midair as he desperately seeks restraint. She cannot possibly know the abyss she is edging him toward -- the depth of his feelings are driving him mad.

Erik is utterly undone, however, by her next words. All the fierce and terrible anger leaves him in one stuttered breath as he staggers back one step, then another, his hands falling listless at his side. Stolen. That word rings in his head like the harsh tolling of a funeral bell. Yes . . . he has stolen her freedom from her, like a common criminal, a jealous and petty thief.

She truly does fear him, perhaps even hates him. That realization is like a knife buried deep in his chest. He feels it twist with the knowledge that she has every right to. Yet the pain quickly hardens to bitterness ; an art he has spent his life perfecting.

“ You are FREE to leave whenever you like, ” he whispers, his venomous tone belied by the unshed tears shining in his eyes. “ But do not be surprised by the consequences that follow. ”

[twistedcveryway]

@viictorvandort - continued from [X]

Victor spoke to her with such kindness, Christine could nearly weep. How little of that she had known as of late! She was not mistreated at the opera, but her sudden rise to prominence came with bitter whispers and rumours swirling about some of the company, not that she had had many friends there to begin with. And, of course, there was the subject of the promise she had mentioned...

Her hands, previously folded, had begun to wring anxiously as she pondered how to go on. She twisted that damned ring on her finger, wishing for nothing more than to pull it off and throw it as far from herself as she could. This was, of course, a fantasy she could never indulge, for as much as her vow had trapped her, removing the ring would be catastrophic.

"Have you ever made a promise," she spoke slowly, choosing each word carefully, terrified of revealing too much information and putting this kind soul in harm's way. "that you did not wish to keep, but that you felt you must keep, for the sake of another?"

[twistedcveryway]

@xfriend-or-phantomx sent: “…didn’t know where else to go…” - post PotO somehow??

It had been enough of a surprise to hear a knock at the door of the humble little flat that Christine and Raoul have called home since fleeing the opera, particularly when that knock had come in the middle of the night. More surprising still had been its source; the very man that had set into motion the events that had led them to their current state; Erik.

A hand flies to her lips, stifling a gasp of shock that quickly warps into horror as she sees his injured state. Christine does not waste time with questions, she merely ushers him inside, locking the door behind her, and eases him into the nearest chair. Raoul will object to her bringing Erik into their home, and she can hardly blame him, but nor can she turn her former mentor away, not like this.

For all that has transpired between them, still she cannot hate him. And Christine Daaé does not have it within her heart to leave a wounded man on the streets alone. Once he is seated, she takes a step back, not wanting to stray too far in case he needs more help, but too anxious to stand too close.

"What...what happened?"

[twistedcveryway]

{ tag dump 1 }

[twistedcveryway]

Christine waited until he was alright to stand, and gingerly helped him to his feet. She didn't consider herself particularly strong, but she could at the very least lend him some support as they made their way the short distance across the street to his apartment building. She thought over what he'd said---how normal this sort of attack was---and it turned her stomach. Had he been a victim more than once? Those thoughts were shaken away; it was none of her business, and she needed to get him inside and make sure he was going to be okay.

Luckily, there weren't many cars around at this time at night, and they were able to cross with relative ease (all things considered, anyway). Once they'd gotten to the door, Christine stopped, her eyes scanning the building.

"So what floor is your apartment on?"

mark made a motion with his hands to deny the water. in a hoarse but gentle tone, he said, "bad idea to give anything to eat or drink to an injured person." he started to say more, but quietly groaned instead as a wave of dizziness washed over him. he definitely had a concussion this time. lovely. he closed his eyes until the dizziness had passed and slowly opened them again. an attempt at a deep breath produced pain in his sides. possibly broken ribs. that was going to be extra fun to deal with.

"got jumped. that sorta thing kinda happens around here quite a bit." he didn't mention his theory of who had done it. if the wrong person was nearby, he was fairly certain that he'd have another visit. he very slowly managed to sit up, grimacing at the pain in his ribs. he wanted to deny her help, assure her that it was okay, but knew that it'd be nearly impossible to get up the stairs to the loft by himself. "i'd appreciate the help. my building is literally across the street, but there's stairs."

[twistedcveryway]

Absentmindedly does she fiddle with the small, plain band she wears at his behest; a tiny thing, yet it weighs her down, a constant reminder that she is not her own. Yes, she knows what he expects of her. The parameters around her excursions have been made more than clear and, secretly, she is grateful that he has not taken this oppourtunity to place even more upon her. It would be wise, then, not to test her luck. To simply agree and turn around and enjoy one sweet week of pretending to live a normal life.

But she cannot. There is one thing, one small thing, she cannot resist asking of him.

"May I..." her voice catches; though he has spoken so gently to her, she is still hesitant to ask anything more of him just as he is about to release her. "may I have just two more days? I swear, I will not keep you waiting any longer than that. But you see, the opera is hosting a ball, and I am sure there will be questions if I am not in attendance..."

It is not quite a lie, but nor is it the entire truth. Her intention to ask Raoul to meet her there, under the protective cover of costumes and masks, is kept to herself, as she waits for his reply with equal parts hope and anxiety.

there is a flicker in her eyes at his incomplete statement, but Erik cannot bring himself to voice that what he wonders is whether she will truly return as she has said. he knows that she will rush to reassure him, so that he will not restrain her any longer than he already has. surely she would say whatever she thinks he wants to hear just so that he will let her go. & he doesn't want her false platitudes . . . he wants her honesty. her commitment. he wants so many things that he will never have.

there are plenty of stipulations he would like to give. he would like to keep her within the confines of the opera house so that she cannot be tempted to run. he wants to tell her to go nowhere near the young vicomte or he will rip the poor boy's heart out. he wants to simply keep her down here, with him, for all time. but none of that will win her trust or affection, those things he desires beyond all reason. and so he merely sighs wearily.

“ no, my dear. you already know all that I demand. I will be waiting for you here. do take care not to make me wait too long. ”

[twistedcveryway]

When he rounds on her, Christine's instinct is to run, to do what she can to keep distance between them---but her legs won't listen. Whether from fear or foolish defiance, she cannot tell, but she stays rooted to the spot, looking up to meet his enraged gaze. Her own eyes burn, not from fury as his do, but from the sting of tears that are brimming, ready to spill over at any moment. He is right, he has given her so much. But much has also been taken, and Christine cannot simply ignore how, for all intents and purposes, he has made a prisoner of her. Even when he allows her to walk free above the surface, she is shackled to him.

"You have done more than simply ask for commitment, Erik, you have seized control of my very life! My every word and action must be sanctioned by you, or I run the risk of putting myself or someone else in danger! What do you truly expect when you have stolen my freedom from me?"

“ When? You spoiled, ungrateful child. ” Erik's voice is a snarl, harsh and grating. Ordinarily, he would never speak to Christine thus, but the terrible temper he tries so hard to control around her has bitten through its leash and is tearing towards her with demented fury. Erik advances upon her until they are bare inches apart, towering over her.

“ Was it not generous when I shared my talents with you? Became your mentor and taught you everything you know? Was it not generous that I gave your voice the strength to soar? When I placed you on that stage and gave you the hearts of every audience member in Paris? I gave you everything, Christine, everything you wanted! You wanted your Angel of Music, so I became him. You wanted the stage, so I gave it to you. You wanted to know me, so I revealed myself. But if I dare ask for something in return, if I ask for commitment or loyalty, that is cruelty in your eyes? I trust any action may be warped into cruelty when it is a MONSTER who performs them. ”