Archive of Our Own ^beta

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As Erik stood behind Christine's old dressing rooms mirror gazing at the one original piece of furniture that had been left after Christine took her leave. The ornate wooden table stood out like a sore thumb from amongst the props and costumes that had replaced any other furniture that had once been there. His Angels dressing room had been turned into a storage room. After "the Christine incident" no singer wanted to use the dressing room for the fear of the phantom. Erik wasn't even sure how long it had been without Christine.. a year? Maybe two. Five?? Oh, how he missed her. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was, how he would treat her better. He was a changed man! As he lifted his gaze from the ornate table he noticed something was different. A section of the room had been cleared out and a squeaky-looking metal bed had replaced one of the props from Faust. Next to the bed, there were a couple worn-looking suitcases. Erik furrowed his brows. Was someone moving here? How dared they... Weren't there any other rooms available to move in employees or ballet girls? As fast as the anger started to fuel him once again the dressing rooms door squeaked open and inside stepped a young woman. Erik was glaring holes into her back as she closed the door and walked over to the bed, plopping one more suitcase amongst the others. She huffed a bit as she brushed her hands on her skirt, but suddenly stopped and turned around eyes darting around the room. Erik stopped his glaring quickly and retreated further into the shadows behind the mirror. Who was this... woman and who dared to allow her to occupy the infamous dressing room once more?

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You woke up with a sudden jolt, gazing around taking in your surroundings which calmed you down enough to remember why you weren't in your bedroom. You had chosen one of opera Populaires many windowsills as your reading place for a new book you had found on sale a couple of weeks back. You gazed to your left through the dirty glass out into the wet cobblestone streets below you. The sun had already set long ago and right now you were just sitting in pitch-black darkness, only the faint glow of the street lamps below you giving you some form of light. When you had come here the sun had barely started just setting, but you had still bought a candle with you, since you thought you would probably stay there well into the night if the book was interesting enough.. well you fell asleep, so the book wasn't that interesting, still though. You were thankful that you now had some source of light.. even if you weren't sure where you had abandoned your matches. After some struggling in the dark, you had managed to light the candle and find where your book had stumbled. Now you were standing at the top of the stairs that went next to the window where you had only previously sat. But you weren't even turned to face the stairs, which you would need to take to reach your room which was a couple of levels down... You felt like someone or something was staring at you, watching you from the dark. With your back turned to the flight of stairs leading down you boldly waved your candle around into the surrounding darkness, not exactly sure what you were looking for. After all, it might've all have just been your imagination. You were somewhat infamous for that one trait of yours. You were snapped out of your thoughts, by what sounded like the rustling of some clothing in the darkness. "W-whos there!" Your voice wavered a bit as you shouted into the darkness and started to back slowly away, oblivious to the drop just a few more steps behind you, too focused on identifying the intruder. As you stared into the darkness you swore you could make out a silhouette and two unblinking almost as if glowing in the dark bright eyes staring back at you. You backed away even farther now with widening eyes. You were too late to notice the danger of falling down the stairs as you felt your leg hit just air instead of the floor that you had expected your foot to meet. Before you could even scream your fall was stopped by two dark-clothed hands bulling you back. The smell of candles and ink was suddenly all around you. From the light of the candelabra that you were clutching at for dear life now, you slowly looked up. From staring at those black dress shoes your eyes slowly crept up until you were faced with a white haunting mask and those ghostly eyes staring back into yours. With a broken shriek, you tried to tear yourself from the grip of the infamous opera ghost. You had heard the stories and you didn't want to become one of them. In your panic the candle slipped from your grip and tumbled down the stairs, the metal of the candleholder clinking loudly down the stairs, leaving you in utter and complete darkness. The ghost's arms were like iron bars around you as you trashed around in fear for your poor life. Your struggling started to cease as you started to hear a ghostly melody being hummed and before you even registered in your haze, that humming had slowly turned into singing, and you were surrounded by a ghostly oddly comforting tune. Your struggling stopped as your eyes started to feel heavier than ever. Slowly you sunk into the arms of the ghost and fell into a dreamless slumber. The morning sun woke you up by shining into your face through the small window above your bed. In which you sat up noting that you were still wearing your dress from yesterday. Hadn't you remembered to change before going to bed? Suddenly the memories from last night started to flood your brain and your eyes widened in realization. You didn't change last night for bed.. you don't even remember going to bed. Everything from last night felt like a faint and foggy memory. One thing you could still remember clearly though was those two glowing eyes staring intensively straight into your soul. You dismissed the memories, for now, deciding to get ready for the day. With a glance at your bedside table, you noted that your book had been neatly placed on the edge of it. On top of the book lay a metal object you identified as your candelabra. The candle itself was nowhere to be found though. At least not with a glance around your room. Now that you had woken up a bit more your back had started to ache. Sleeping in a full bustle dress and a loosely laced corset wasn't the most comfortable thing as you could imagine. With a grunt, you pulled yourself to sit at the edge of your bed and slowly walked behind a changing screen to your dresser. You took your dress, and other garments off, leaving you in only your chemise. Now you noticed that at least your shoes had been taken off your feet before bed...now where were they? Somehow your shoes had walked their way to the ornate full-length mirror across the room. They were placed neatly next to each other in front of the mirror. Quickly tying a robe around yourself you walked to the mirror picking your shoes up. Had they been this shiny before? Maybe you had them polished yesterday, but you just couldn't seem to remember.. with a glance at yourself in the mirror you turned back around with your shoes and walked back behind your changing screen. Sitting on the small stool you had behind there you laced your shoes back up. Next came your corset and bustle. And last came the petticoat. Now you were looking at your three quite well-loved worn dresses. One which used to be a light blue but was now a bluish grayish color from all the use. You settled with that one. Soon you were in your full glory again, a fashionable high bun with an ornate hairpin you had gotten from the market with a bit of haggling for the price. You tied your apron around your waist and with a glance into the full-length mirror you brushed some of your hair back into the bun and with that, walked out of the door. The halls of the opera house seemed oddly quiet and lonely as you paddled your way to the lower levels towards the stage. There probably would be people, right? With a long morning stroll through the halls of populaire, you passed maybe one or two stagehands and three ballet girls. Where was everyone? With the fourth stagehand, you passed today you finally stopped them and asked where was everyone. "I um. It's Sunday, ma'am. No work here today" they mumbled a bit awkwardly tipping their hat at you before hurrying off.. probably for a morning stroll to the nearby bakery. Oh, how had you forgotten today was Sunday...Everything seemed just so hazy from yesterday night. With that knowledge, you quickly made your way back into your room. Speed walking to your dresser once again you pulled out one of your less worn dresses which was the reddish-brown dress you had bought last spring. You had now started to use it as your walking dress since you had a matching hat and everything. Quickly changing from your worn working dress and pinning the hat in place you were ready to go. Grabbing your purse and a short cape for the chilly weather, which seemed to get colder and colder as the days passed. You headed out of the opera down the grand staircase. As you pulled one of the ornate glass doors open and stepped into the chilly but welcoming weather outside. You stood still at the top of the stairs leading to the opera house relishing in the cool air. None of the passersby seemed to pay you any mind, instead of admiring the architecture of the grand opera house. You were making your way through the muddy cobblestone streets to the nearest park. Autumn had already started showing itself by turning some of the trees' leaves into a beautiful rainbow of orange, red, and yellow. Looking down at your dress, you found yourself un-intentionally matching the leaves, with your reddish dress and dark undertones. Making your way(downtown walking fast faces pass-) down the small path leading through the park. Some couples were seated at the many beaches you passed, some people were alone and some benches were simply left empty. You were admiring one of the ornate statues littering the park, when you felt someone's cloak brush yours as they settled next to you, to admire the same statute. You awkwardly gave a sideways glance to the stranger and then looked at your feet. Social situations were never in your strongest skills. Slowly you turned to look at the dark-clothed stranger, giving a polite little cough to get their attention. The man almost seemed to jump a little to the sudden noise but didn't turn his head to you. Their face was covered with a scarf and a long brimmed hat "Do you like the statue, monsieur?" You tried your hands at Smalltalk since standing in silence started to feel just too awkward. After a while of silence, you took that the man had no intention to talk and started to turn to leave until the silence was cut by a smooth yet rich voice. "I do quite..enjoy the statues here, madame." He spoke softly, still not looking at you. "Oh, I am not a madame..not married, you see" you smiled a bit and took your place again next to the cloaked stranger with a nice voice.

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Talking with the mysterious monsieur had turned out quite interesting. So far he had told you about the stories which the statues of the park were made after. Though his identity he had kept to himself. You at one point tried to guess his name, but to every one of them, the cloaked stranger just remained silent or chuckled conversations passed you noticed that he seemed a bit more at ease. He wasn't so frigid anymore and didn't flinch when you suddenly started a new conversation or changed your tone.

You and the strange monsieur had made your way from statue to statue and him telling about every one of them to you for a good while now. He seemed oddly eager to keep you near and the conversation flowing. It seemed almost like this was his first real conversation in a long time. Right now he was rambling about one of the statues which seemed to portray a beautiful woman, gazing into the distance with flowers in her hair. "So you see Hades was the brother of Zeus and the god of the underworld. And Persephone" he said gesturing to the said statue" was the daughter of Demeter, the Goddess of nature." The way he seemed to tell a well-known tale, seemed so emotional. He always seemed to catch the emotion of the story so well in his storytelling. That you had noted well. You felt like this strange man could tell you about stepping into a puddle and it still would bring a tear to your eye.

You were nearing the end of the park as he had finished his story. Now you two were walking in just comfortable silence. Some of the passerby's had given you two some odd looks though. A bright young lady accompanied by a tall cloaked figure wasn't maybe the most normal sight. It reminded you of the tale of Persephone and Hades a bit.

"I believe this is where we part," you said smiling up to the monsieur. You both had stopped next to the rusty gate of the park. "It was nice walking with you, and may I tell you... you are an excellent storyteller". To which he just shifted his weight from another leg to another a puff of air leaving him. "No, I mean it" you insisted.

Now you were making your way back towards the opera house. Just to grab your purse. It was just early afternoon and you had a few errands to run. First in line was a new sewing kit, since your very last needle had broken in two just last week. You were trying to fix a ripped seam of one of your wool petticoats for the quickly approaching winter. The fabric turned out to be a bit too thick for the old used needle you had had at the moment.

Half running up the steps and slipping again through the ornate wooden doors you made your way through the opera house to your room. Unlocking your door, grabbing your purse, and straightening your hat, you were out into the chilly streets again.

When you finally settled in for the evening and had gotten out of your daywear and into a nightgown, did you start to think about the cloaked stranger at the park that morning? The smell that lingered around you when you leaned a bit closer to him seemed to oddly bring your mind back to the last evening..or maybe more like a night with the burning eyes. Everything in your mind still felt so foggy thinking about the night.
As those thoughts rummaged through your head, you had started to free your hair from the grip of the many hairpins keeping your bun together. One by one they clinked down onto the porcelain plate on your vanity. Now ready for bed, you climbed under the cowers on your creaky little metal bed. Blowing out the last candle and you were in utter darkness.
Normally you had found the dark calming for sleeping but now.. something just seemed off. Something in the back of your mind that you couldn't quite grasp.
What was it that happened last night?
Lighting the candle back up, you sat up in your bed leaning onto the headboard, which creaked in protestation to your added weight on its already weak frame.

As you sat there pondering, you could hear some of the ballet girls in the hallway giggling as they made their way towards the upper levels. No one other than you slept on this part of the opera house. It was mainly for storage or just dressing rooms. Only the prima donna's room was elsewhere. It had been relocated by the request of La Carlotta. She had been here during the "Christine incident".

Soon you started to feel drowsy again. As you had distracted yourself from your sudden new creeping fear of darkness, you were bold enough to blow the candle back out. Settling under the covers sleep overtook you.

A sharp knock on your door was what woke you up that morning. That was the opera house's wake-up knock'. Signing into your pillow, you turned and sat up.
Eyes still foggy from sleep you stood up and walked to your vanity. Sitting down, yawning, and wiping your eyes, you were ready to start your day. Lighting up a candle, since the early mornings had started to become darker and darker as the autumn progressed, you started brushing your hair.

Now with your hair tied into a delicate bun out of the way, you were buttoning your shoes before the corset came.
Lacing that up, and adding the bustle and petticoat, you were ready for the actual dress.
Your faded blue dress would do just well for today.

Looking at the clock, you had spent about 20 minutes getting ready. The breakfast rush had probably already started. The opera house provided food for its residents, but the dining wing for that was quite small. It was just a biggish storage room next to the kitchens with some benches and tables shown in there.
Judging by the time, it would already be quite packed.
Making your way to the lower levels towards the dining room, you were greeted by the sight of actual people walking along the halls. Now it had started to look like a normal day in opera Populaire.
Greeting some of the stagehands and other staff, you were now at the dining wing. Squishing yourself in, you swiftly grabbed a bowl of some sort of gruel, you were out of the cramped space.
Seating yourself at one of the stairs you dug into your breakfast. It didn't taste like anything, but it was still warm food.

The rehearsals of the day started and soon you were running around again carrying costumes and props to either out of storage to the stage, or storage from the stage.
Right now you were carrying a box of old used pointe shoes to storage. And now the place of the said storing had been set to be your room since you were one of the only ones with a key

Unlocking the door with one hand and setting the box into one of the not so cluttered corners, you turned to leave until something caught the corner of your eye.
A neat envelope and had somehow plopped onto your nightstand. Hadn't you locked the door?

Walking to the nightstand and picking up the letter brows furrowed, you turned it in your hands looking for...something to tell about where this strange letter had come from. Turning it once again to look at the red and golden wax stamp presenting a rose. Cracking the letter open you pulled out a neatly folded letter.

I hope this finds you in good health, my dear mademoiselle.
I was delighted by our conversations in the park the other day, and since I then didn't dare to tell you anything other than my stories, I have now written this letter. You shall know me as Mr. E for now... I remember you mentioned in the park about needing to buy a new needle for that day, so let this be my presentation of my gratitude for the lovely stroll.

Glancing away from the letter confused you noticed a small neatly wrapped package on your bed. Setting the half-readen letter down onto your nightstand and sitting down on your bed, you were ready to unwrap the 'gift'. Soon the wrapping revealed an ornate and expensive-looking sewing kit. Staring at it in awe and shock. You quickly grabbed the letter again.

I hope you find this sewing kit to your standards.

Yours truly
~Mr. E

You stared at the letter for a moment and then looked at the delicate box in your hands. It was painted a stormy blue and had some golden details around the edges. Quickly remembering people were waiting for your help around backstage, you quickly folded the letter back into the envelope and put the now opened letter and the ornate sewing kit into the drawer of your nightstand.
-
After speed walking down the steps, almost tripping on the hem of your dress and almost walking into the Persian man, you were finally back backstage.
You muttered your apologies for taking so long and soon you already had something new to take somewhere. As you were carrying the prop away from the stage, your thoughts wandered to the Persian man. People said he was somehow accounted with the opera ghost. All you've seen of him was him asking always different girls strange things. but not in a like creepy way. More like just...getting knowledge. The questions usually were about hearing strange noises, or letters somehow in unexplainable places like their room or-... oh

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Yea so, I've not felt up to writing much so idk when I'll update this. Like I have some ideas, but I'll have to find time and motivation to write them. So uh....see ye in a month or two..hopefully