#the piano one is beautiful and just how rewrite erik would play it for christine! ;)

[britishchick09]

my favorite versions of 'plaisir d'amour'! :)

[britishchick09]

this day in rewrite history - may 28th

eristine has their picnic! :D

 Christine arrived at Erik’s house half an hour later, a box and book in her hands and curiosity in her heart. She knocked on the door as beautiful piano music floated past the door. Her fingers tapped along with the song, stopping just as the door opened.

“Hello, Christine,” Erik greeted her with a smile. “I trust you brought some chocolate?”

Christine stepped inside the house with a nod. “That and a bit more! What song were you playing?”

Erik sat down at the piano as he said, “Für Elise. Beethoven wrote for his close friend,” He closed his eyes as he softly played the opening of the song. “Girl friend, I might add,” His eyes flashed open. “N- Not like a girlfriend, but a friend who was a girl. Like you.”

Christine’s face turned warm and she watched Erik’s bony fingers move gracefully across the piano keys. “Did you cook a meal to go along with the dessert?”

“Even better,” Erik finished the opening and smiled. “Are you up for a picnic?”

“A picnic?” Christine asked through a chuckle.

“Yes! I know a perfect little spot in the woods. I’ve been meaning to take you there for a while.”

“I thought you never left the opera house.”

“I don’t,” Erik chuckled at Christine’s puzzled look. “You’ll see.”

...

Christine and Erik sang Laissez-Moi Planter Le Mai as they walked down the wooden path at the back of the house.

"I've always wondered where this road leads to." Christine said as they neared the end of the path.

"To Rome, of course," Erik replied before chuckling. "I'm kidding. It's much better than that."

They soon reached the end of the path. Christine expected to see stone in front of her, bur she was surprised to see grass! The world of the water cellar had transformed into a beautiful forest full of towering trees and bushes. Christine was absolutely in awe.

"Do you like it?" Erik asked.

"It's... It's like a dream!" Christine exclaimed.

"That's why I call this place my dreamery."

Christine touched a small pine tree. "How in the world did you make all this?" "With lots of time, materials and money. I had the managers raise my salary to twenty thousand francs for a few months."

"My goodness... That's so much!"

Erik nodded. "But it was worth it."

"It sure was. This is incredible!"

"Thank you. Ayesha would definitely agree! She loves playing around in here."

"Oh, so that's where she-" Christine stopped, seeing something in one of the trees.

Is that a… bird? she wondered. It can’t be. Birds don’t live down here.

Before she could ask Erik, he looped his arm in hers and they resumed walking. As they continued on, Christine began to notice more than just trees and bushes. Little birds, squirrels and butterflies were hiding in the trees!

Am I dreaming? Christine wondered. I must be. Those animals can't possibly be real!

“Before I came along, this was just another gloomy part of the water cellar,” Erik spoke up. “There was no life here, no light at all. No love…” He looked down at Christine. “No love and kindness.”

Christine smiled at him and closed her eyes with a happy sigh as she leaned her head on his arm. A couple moments later, she glanced up at a tree, her breath suddenly hitching in her throat.

An owl was staring right at her.

She tore her nervous gaze from the beady eyes to ask, “These animals… do they really exist or am I just seeing things?”

“They’re real,” Erik paused. “Well, sort of. They’re taxidermies.”

Christine gasped. She suddenly moved back, her hands close to her heart.

“It’s okay!” Erik exclaimed, rushing over to her. “Y- Yes, they’re- they’re dead and that’s a bit creepy…” He looked up at the owl. “Okay, maybe it’s a lot creepy, but they’re not going to hurt you or anything. I like to think I’ve given them a new life. Besides, living things are such a hassle. E- Except for you, of course,” He went to a deer hiding behind a tree and gently stroked its chin, gazing into its beady eyes as he said, “Their absence of life gave me life. I felt like I was creating something magical,” He lowered his arm and chuckled softly, glancing down as he said, “My parents once told me that magic is my friend,” He looked at Christine. “They were right.”

Christine smiled and went over to the deer, hesitantly giving its head a pet. “It’s so soft. Creepiness aside, it’s sort of… nice,” She looked at Erik. “It adds to the world.”

“It does,” Erik agreed before looping his arm in Christine’s and pulling her along once again. “We’re almost at my favorite spot. Our favorite. I- I mean, I hope it’ll be your favorite as well. I think you’ll love it just as much as I do.”

Erik and Christine soon came across a pathway of flowers. Erik walked in front of Christine, grabbing his cape with his left arm and raising it like a curtain. Christine silently followed him, wonder stirring in her heart.

A few moments later, Erik stopped and looked over his shoulder to ask, “Ready?”

Christine nodded. He lowered his cape to reveal the prettiest sight. In front of her was a clearing surrounded by pastel flowered bushes and a willow tree. Little lights twinkled on the bushes and against a wall of leaves.

“Oh!” Christine breathed in wonder. “It’s beautiful!”

“Almost like a dream, wouldn’t you say?” a voice asked.

Christine looked at Erik in surprise. All he did was smile as a picnic blanket floated past the willow tree and gracefully landed on the ground.

Nadir stepped out from behind the tree. “Salām, Christine,” he said before translating. “Hello!”

“Bonjour, Nadir,” Christine replied as she and Erik sat across from each other on the blanket. “Hello! Did you help Erik with all this?”

“Of course. I’d never miss out on a chance to help my azizam, especially when it concerns his girlfriend.”

Erik rolled his eyes sheepishly. “Nadir…”

“I’m kidding,” Nadir said as he ruffled Erik’s hair before giving Christine a wink. “Or am I?”

Christine giggled.

“Before I leave you two lovebirds alone, would you like some vin de table?” Nadir asked before bring a bottle of wine out from behind the willow tree.

“Sure, it’ll drown my embarrassment,” Erik said, grabbing the wine and taking a swig from the bottle. “Mmm, Lambrusco! Deliziosa!”

“It would be delizioso, for you, azizam,” Nadir told Erik, who rolled his eyes again. “And wouldn’t it be better to use… this?” he asked, taking out a wine glass.

He rubbed his finger around the rim. It created a melodic sound that rang through the air.

That sounds so familiar… Christine thought.

“She’s not having any,” Erik said before asking Christine, “Are you?”

Christine shook her head. “No, I don’t drink. I-”

Erik smirked at Nadir. “See?”

He was about to take another swig when Nadir snatched the bottle, pouring wine into half of the glass. Erik sighed and swirled the drink around before downing it.

“I’ve heard that sound before,” Christine said. “Nadir… Were you the one who interrupted Carlotta at the bistro?”

“Indeed I was,” Nadir replied. “I couldn’t let that fox steal your moment!” He frowned as Erik set his glass out. “And I won’t let this pesky bird drink so much!”

“It’ll take two or three glasses after this before I start feeling tipsy.” Erik said.

“You’re only getting another two or three drops,” Nadir said as he poured the tiniest bit of wine in the glass and sealed the bottle with the cork. “Enjoy this time with Christine. You both deserve it.”

Erik and Christine smiled at each other. After bidding farewell to Nadir, the picnic commenced.

“What did you bring?” Christine asked.

“What did you bring?” Erik asked back.

“You’re not getting chocolate for dessert if that’s what you want. But we could start off with a little treat…” Christine took the box out of the basket and revealed what was inside. “Chouquettes! Raoul and I loved these when were little,” She took a pastry and smiled as she took a bite. “Mmm, we still do! I know you will, too.”

After getting a silent nod of encouragement, Erik grabbed a chouquette and looked at it closely. Then he took a little bite.

A smile spread across Christine’s face as he said, “This is good! What’s in it?”

“It’s choux dough and pearl sugar.”

“Hmm,” Erik took another bite. “I never knew something so simple could be so delicious.”

“Thank you. These bakery ones are nice, but they’re better homemade,” Christine said before adding proudly, “I’m carrying on a Leroux family tradition!”

Erik raised his eyebrows. “Leroux?”

Christine nodded. “That’s my mother’s maiden name. Her family always made the best chouquettes.”

“That name sounds so familiar…” Erik ate the rest of the pastry and his eyes widened. “Yes, Leroux! I read a short story in La République Française last year called Le petit marchand de pommes de terre frites. It was by Gaston Leroux.”

Christine raised her eyebrows. “I wonder if I’m related to him! But there are so many people named Leroux out there…” She took a bite of a chouquette before adding, “I doubt he’s a relative.”

“Who knows? You might be,” Erik said with a wink. “The story he wrote was quite entertaining. It was about a little potato merchant. If his future works are just as great, he’ll surely be one of my favorite authors!”

“You’ll definitely have to show me that story later. Are there any potatoes in that basket?”

Erik chuckled. “No, but I think you’ll like what I brought.”

He opened the basket and took out bananas, carrots, bread with butter and a bag of popcorn. Christine was surprised. She had expected to see things like ham and fish!

“D- Do you like it?” Erik asked. “I wasn’t sure what to bring since I’ve never done this before-”

“It’s perfect!” Christine ate a piece of popcorn. “And delicious!”

Erik and Christine spent the next few minutes silently eating.

This is certainly different from picnics I’ve been to before, Christine thought. But it’s nicer! Very relaxing.

“I still can’t believe you made all this.” Christine remarked as they ate dark chocolate for dessert.

"At the circus, I was never allowed to own any possessions besides a certain music theory book I stole from the library. But now I have that and so much more! We're in my dreamery, I’m wearing my mask, I live with my cat and have my own bed and my very own house.” Erik grinned. "It's all mine."

I didn't have much when I arrived at the opera house, Christine thought, gazing up at the willow tree. I can't possibly imagine not having anything at all.

“…And I have my Christine.” she heard Erik add softly.

Christine looked at him in surprise, causing a light blush to blossom underneath his mask.

...

Christine was quiet for a few moments. She took her hand off of Erik’s as she said slowly, “Maybe the Angel of Music isn’t an angel.”

“What else could it be? A devil? That’s me.”

Christine looked at Erik. “The angel is anyone who has kindness in their heart and is willing to help others when they need it most.”

“And it comes to life in the ones it blesses.”

“Oui! After one of the first times he told the story to me, I asked Papa if the Angel of Music was my mother since she died shortly after I was born,” Christine paused with a smile. “He said it was. Whenever I think of the angel, I not only think of you, but her as well.”

“Does that mean my mother is the angel, too? And my father?”

“Yes, they are too.”

Erik looked down at his cape, fiddling with one of the corners and chuckling sheepishly as he admitted, “Sometimes I pretend that two of the portraits in Foyer de la Danse are them. ...More than sometimes, actually. All the portraits up there are of women, but they make me feel less alone. Especially before you came along. Late at night or early in the morning, I go up there and talk to them. I know, it’s silly-”

“You don’t need to be ashamed of that! I talk to the photo of me and Papa sometimes. It’s comforting. Our parents could be anything- pictures, spirits, sketches, angels of music… but they’ll always be in our hearts.”

Erik looked up at Christine with a fond smile. “Tell me all about The Angel of Music.”

He poured himself half a glass of wine and sipped the sweet drink as Christine told the story.

“Little Lotte thought of everything and nothing. Her hair was as golden as the sun and her soul was as clear and blue as her eyes. She wheedled her mother, was kind to her doll, took great care of her frock and her little red shoes and her fiddle… but most of all, Little Lotte loved hearing the Angel of Music when she went to sleep,” Christine said, her voice soft and relaxing. “The angel only visits people who are meant to hear them, like great musicians and artists. When Little Lotte was a baby, the angel leaned over her cradle, sending the gift of song into her soul. Sometimes, the angel visits much later because children don’t learn their lessons or practice their scales. And there are other children who are never visited because they have a bad conscience. But Little Lotte was diligent in learning her violin. When she was six years old, she played better than someone at fifty! Yet she was humble about her gift. As the years went by, she gave music lessons to many people in her village. And in turn, Little Lotte became what had blessed her long ago…”

“The Angel of Music.” Christine and Erik whispered together.

“I’ve always wondered if there was more to The Angel of Music. I’m glad there was,” Erik gave a happy sigh. “That was lovely.”

“The lovely little story of lovely Little Lotte!” Christine remarked before giggling alongside Erik.

“U- Um, would you like some wine?” he asked. “I- I know you don’t drink, but you must be thirsty after all that talking. And it’s not bad at all! I’ll gladly finish your glass if you decide you don’t like it.”

“Well, if you insist…” Christine smiled. “I’ll try it.”

Erik grinned and went behind the willow tree in search of the other wine glass.

...

Erik chucked and leaned over to look at the picnic basket as he asked, “Let’s read, shall we? It’ll help us relax.”

“I’d like that.” Christine said before taking a book out of the basket.

“Phantastes! A true literary classic.”

Ayesha left halfway through the chapter. She thought the dreamery was much better than the forest, where Christine and Erik were with Anodos. They usually read one chapter a week, but decided to go on to the next one.

"Should we read chapter nine, then?" Erik said after he had finished reading his two pages.

Christine shrugged and turned to the beginning of chapter seven. "Oh my! We've read twenty pages!"

Erik chuckled. "We might as well make it..." He flipped through chapter nine. "Thirty-one."

"Are you up for it?"

"Only if you are."

Christine slowly turned the pages until she returned to the beginning of the chapter. "I am."

"Good. I am, too. In fact, I'm up for the next chapter. And the next... And the one after that... And the one-"

"No, no, no! We can't finish the whole book! That's over a hundred pages to read!"

"It's..." Erik took the book and turned to the back cover, easily finding the end. "Two hundred and forty-five. Oh, and the last word of the book is-"

"Don't say it!"

"Fare..." Erik stretched out the word before singing it.

"Don't you dare..." Christine extended her word into a note as well.

They stretched on for a few seconds, their voices blending harmoniously before Erik startled Christine by snapping the book shut.

"We'll find out when we get there, I suppose." he sang.

"Yes, we will," Christine agreed melodiously. "Now go take your pill!" Erik laughed as she fell into the grass. "What?" he asked (speaking this time).

"I don't know what else rhymes with 'will'." Christine replied (also speaking).

"I once knew a girl named Jill..." Erik sang. "She worked at the flour mill... Where it was quite easy to kill... That's why she never talked about Bill..."

Christine shivered and sat up as she softly sang, "Please, dear Jill, if you will... After you swallow that pill could you tell me... Whatever happened to Bill at the flour mill... On that fateful day... When things went all astray?"

She held her note as Erik leaned in to sing in a low voice, "The only time I'll tell... is when I end up... in… Hell!"

Christine screamed playfully. "Now you're sounding like Raoul!" Erik rolled his eyes. "Oh great, I’m sounding like a fool."

"No, but he makes up silly things like that! He wouldn’t be able to sing it, though."

"Is he good at reading?"

"Oui, but he prefers telling his own stories."

"Let's get back to our story, shall we?" Erik asked, opening up Phantastes. "The one we're reading, I mean."

Christine smiled as she sang, "Let's continue our reading routine..."

"Yes, I think that's a fine idea, Christine..." Erik sang. "Your father should have named you Irene or Pauline or... This is going to sound crazy, but... what about Christine..."

"I think that's fine! It's positively sublime!"

"That doesn't rhyme."

"Oh, is that a crime?"

"It will be if we keep wasting time..."

"But I'm having fun..."

"Yes, I agree..." Erik cut his long note short and spoke, "But I think I'm done!"

Christine laughed. "That would be a great act for a variety show!"

"It would. The show would probably go on for hours, though. We'd never stop!"

"You're right," Christine said, taking the book. "Just like how you never want to stop reading!"

“It’s nice,” Erik sighed. “Takes us away from our problems and shows us someone else’s.”

Christine had a sigh of her own as she looked down at the book in her lap. “It does,” She rested her head on Erik’s arm, feeling him tense up slightly. “Troubles aside, this has been a magical afternoon.”

“Yes, it definitely has,” Erik agreed, relaxing as he rested his head on Christine’s with a smile. “It’s been a dream.”

[britishchick09]

this day in rewrite history - may 21st

the roses on christine’s dress are completed... and an eristine date begins! ;D

 Half an hour later, Meg and Erik’s eyes were glued to Christine’s sewing needle (Erik’s eyes drifted to Christine herself every once in a while).

“There it is,” Erik whispered. “The final flower.”

Meg gasped. “This is it, this is it!”

She leaned close to Christine as Erik said, “Move the mirror forward.”

A few moments later, Christine felt something hit her back and another brush her cheek.

“I’d like a little space, please.” she said.

Meg moved back and used her hand to move the mirror, but it fell against the wall! She quickly adjusted it before sitting by Christine, who was concentrated on sewing.

“There,” Christine said a few moments later. “The roses project is finished! Finally!”

Meg and Erik cheered as Christine set the needle down.

“This calls for a celebration.” Erik said, giving a wink to Christine.

She rested her head against the mirror with a tired sigh.

“And a nap!” she added wearily.

...

Christine knocked on Erik’s door at exactly seven o’clock that night. Just as she moved her fist away, she heard the first slow notes of a familiar song. She pressed her ear to the door, being met with silence. She made her second knock louder than the first.

Then she heard a clatter! The sound startled her and she jumped back.

“Erik!” Christine exclaimed once the door opened. “What happened?”

“Hello, Christine. U- Um…” Erik looked down at his hands, which were being wiped with a dish towel. “N- No- Nothing’s happening. E- Except for you coming inside.” He stepped aside to let Christine walk into the house. “Take a seat by the table. I thought things would be ready, but I’m sure you don’t mind waiting a bit.”

“I don’t.” Christine replied.

The velvet chair had been moved to face the table, which was now beside the window. A lavender candle decorated the table’s center.

“Oh, how nice!” Christine exclaimed, making herself comfortable in the chair before breathing in the candle’s calming scent. “Ah, this is just what I need after these past few days.”

“You definitely deserve it,” Erik agreed. “Do you like the piano candles? I- I usually don’t light them because there’s sheet music around.”

There were two candlestick holders on both sides of the piano’s front panel, which was usually covered by music. The panel’s flower decorations had a golden glow because of the candles.

“It’s beautiful,” Christine said with a smile. “That reminds me… what song were you playing earlier? I heard it just before that loud noise.”

Erik looked slightly surprised as he went to the kitchen doorway. “O- Oh, I was just… practicing.”

“Practicing what?”

“A- A- A song. One that you can’t hear yet,” Erik said, looking at the clock on the wall before disappearing into the kitchen for a few moments. “I- It’s nearly done.” “Is it something that I can’t know of yet?”

Erik nodded and watched a bit of wax drip from into a piano candle holder.  He looked at Christine as he said, “U- Um, would you like some water? The thing you can’t know about yet will be hot, but there won’t be any ice to cool it down.” “That’s fine.”

Erik returned to the kitchen, emerging with a smile on his face. “It’s done!”

He set the water on the table and it nearly knocked into the lavender candle. Christine moved the candle aside as Erik brought out a wide bowl.

“I, uh, I made some soup,” Erik said. “It’s supposed to be chicken with noodle, but I don’t have chicken or those special noodles, so it’s more like, um… carrot spaghetti soup.”

Christine smiled as the bowl was set on the table. “To tell the truth, I don’t care for pieces of chicken in soup. When I was sick as a girl, I’d always hide them in my napkin! But I love carrots. And spaghetti is so unique!”

Erik smiled back. “I hope you like it.”

Christine looked down at the bowl. “I think I’d like it more if I could eat it.” Erik suddenly realized that Christine didn’t have a spoon and chuckled sheepishly. He grabbed one from the kitchen and dragged the piano seat over to the table, giving the spoon and a napkin to Christine once he sat down.

Christine admired the floral pattern on the spoon’s handle before taking a bite of soup. “Mmm, this is delicious! Definitely worth the wait.”

“It is, isn’t it? Is the spaghetti alright?”

Christine nodded. “I can barely tell the difference between this and regular noodles.”

“Good! I was worried that you wouldn’t like it because of how… how unusual it is.”

“I don’t dislike something because it’s different.” Christine said, giving Erik a small smile.

She continued to eat her special soup for a couple minutes. All Erik did was watch her.

“Are you going to have any?” Christine asked.

“No.” Erik said, smiling as he set his elbow on the table and rested his hand on his cheek. Christine frowned as she sipped at her water. Despite Erik’s placid expression, the air felt awkward for her.

“You know a thing or two about masks, don’t you?” she asked, making the tension fade away.

Erik shrugged. “Maybe. Why do you ask?” “I was wondering if I could borrow one of yours for the masquerade.”

Erik gasped as if Christine had said the most offensive thing in the world. “You want one of my masks? But this is a masquerade!”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Masquerade masks are for very special occasions! You can’t just take one of mine and call it a day. Sure, they’re nice, but they’re terribly plain. And a masquerade mask only covers around your eyes, not your nose or forehead. It’s called a domino mask. You’d look boring and silly with one of mine on.”

Christine took a bite of soup before saying, “What do you think it should look like?”

Erik put a finger along his mouth and looked down at the table in thought. “Obviously, it needs to be pink to match your dress. Maybe have a little rose on the side and green trim. A lot of people put their masks on sticks instead of wearing one. They think it’s ‘more comfortable’ or whatever,” He scoffed with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, right. There are plenty of comfortable masks out there. Case in point…” He pointed to his mask. “Holding up some pathetic little stick every once in a while isn’t cutting it. The point of a mask is to conceal your identity- to mask it, I should say. It’s not some silly decoration!”

Christine giggled, hiding her laugh with her napkin

“What?”

“I didn’t expect you to get so worked up!” “When you know a thing or two about masks and wear one nearly every second of your life, you tend to develop strong opinions on them. Since you’re not a stupid slave of fashion, you’ll use a ribbon to keep the mask securely on your face. I use black so it blends in with my hair-”

“So that’s how your mask stays on!”

Erik chuckled. “Exactly. I don’t think pale yellow ribbons exist, so you’ll have to go with light pink or white. It’s always good to match your hair even if it’s not exact. I- I can sketch out some designs if you want.”

“I’d like that,” Christine took another bite of soup. “What were you sketching the day we went to the music museum for the first time?”

“Oh, just… things around the house. I like drawing from time to time. I’m not the best artist visually, but it keeps me busy. Would you, um… like to see some?” Christine nodded. “I’d love to!”

Erik went to the drawers and pulled out a stack of paper. One of them slipped to the floor. Christine caught a flash of red and black before Erik hurriedly picked it up. He returned to the table with a piece of paper.

“These are some recent ones.” he said, showing Christine a drawing of a red rose and a sketch of a man and a woman.

“That rose is lovely!” Christine said. “Who is the couple?”

Erik looked at the sketch with a sad smile. “My parents. You talking about your father brought back a lot of memories of them. I figured I should get a visual representation down since I don’t have a photograph like you and… well, they’re bound to fade from my memory eventually. I’ve never drawn people before and it was hard to picture them after so long-”

“I think you captured them perfectly. I can see you in both of them, especially your mother.”

“She was my favorite parent. She was sweet and gentle just like you. Of course, my father was kind as well. He taught me the card trick that Meg loves so much. And he was always telling stories of the past.” “Sounds like someone I know!”

Erik laughed, making Christine’s heart warm. “I always loved hearing his stories. My mother’s, too. For my fifth birthday, I asked them for two kisses- one for now and one to save. I…” He suddenly turned morose and looked down at the sketch. “I never received them.”

“How terrible.” Christine said softly.

“It was. I did receive a new mask, though. One made of silk instead of rags. And even though I was greatly disappointed about the kisses, that didn’t diminish my love for them. I’ve never stopped loving them. I don’t think I ever will,” He looked at Christine. “What did you get from your parents?”

“Well…” Christine took another bite of soup. “I got my love of music and most of my looks from Papa. My mother died not long after I was born, but Papa said her hair was just like mine, only it was a darker shade of blonde,” She paused and sipped at her water. “And we have the same smile.”

“She must have been very beautiful. I know you are.”

Christine looked at Erik in surprise and his face turned pink underneath his mask.

“U- Um… Why don’t I play some songs while you finish your soup?” he offered. “I wouldn’t want it to get cold because of all our talking.”

He put the drawing away before moving the piano seat back to its proper place and played a slower version of Rage Over a Lost Penny. Christine ate her soup, tapping her feet to the beat of the song. She finished eating just as the song ended.

“That was perfect timing!” she noted with a laugh.

Erik turned around. “Oh, you’re done. Perfect timing indeed!”