Work Text:
It was not strange
To see the man with the mask
Rather
It was strange
To see him here
In the soft light of day
Shelving books
Within the library
Then again
It had been so long
Much had changed
In times like these
Of war, fighting, and disease
As shattered men returned home
And picked up pieces of their past
It was not so strange these days
To see a man with a mask
Still
She lingered
Deep breath
Determined steps
She would check
Just to be sure
And if it were
Maybe they could...
What would she say?
A quick glance
No one there
Unfortunate
She must have been mistaken
Another time then
Can I help you madame?
Spinning
Swaying
Falling
Perhaps now
Masks were all too common
But
That voice
Narrator of dreams
And nightmares
Of fears
And desires
Fall broken
She landed
Cradled in arms
Caught
In a moment years ago
Too much
Too fast
She pulled away
He held tight
Madame—
Hair knocked aside
Her face revealed
Sharp intake of breath
Support disappeared
Falling
Again
This time
Pain radiated
Where she landed
Barely a second
Before
Sharp tug caught her wrist
Flung her to feet and
Down the hall
Stumbling after him
Like before
Wait—
Too many memories
Stirred from their rest
Inside her mind
A disturbed wasp’s nest
Down
Once
More
No—
Not down
Up
No underground lair
Instead, a brightly lit room
Darkened by his glare
Silence extended
Drawn too thin
Desperate for a cue
Certain matters, she knew
Best left unseen
Yet
Curiosity prevailed
And just as before
She could do nothing but see
Uncover a new kind of horror
Gone, the coat and cape and hat
Gone, the rich velvets and deep blacks
In their place something…
Ordinary
Simple and bland
She met eyes and
Maybe the marble floor
Had been a few degrees warmer
Than the face behind the mask
Staring back
A whispered name
A hollow laugh
Am I to have no peace from you?
Will I lose the library too?
Teeth clenched
Fists tight
You dragged me here!
I’ll have you know
I saw you approach, my dear
A smile wry
It seems it is not only you
Who is cursed with fatal curiosity
Shoulders back
Chin up
I took nothing before
Save memories, dreams—
And nightmares
Shoving
Stumbling
Unmoving wall
Breath stuck
Spine grating
Icy fingers locked
Steel bands around her biceps
So close
Taste of his breath
Jut of his mask
Jaw so tight her own ached
His eyes
Dark flame
Burning wild
Too close
She began to ignite
Fire surged
Blazed higher
A string taut
She leaned closer
And
Tuning peg released
Tension gone slack
Heat dissipated
In place, something desolate
And cold
Empty
And weary
Hands dropped
A step back
Fingers twitched
Head turned away
A mask
Breath unsteady
I
Am phantom no longer
Christine
That role
Is yours alone now
The lingering unease
Shivering through her mind
Persistent creeping dread
Since he first brought her here
Signalling something so horribly wrong
All those years ago
Before she had gone
No thought
None could even
Comprehend
Nor begin
To imagine
For a being so entirely
So completely suffused with song
But now
With searing clarity
Burned into her mind
What she had failed to see
Was the most horrendous of all
Earlier in the hall
The fingers of his left hand
Wrapped tightly around her wrist
Sickeningly uncanny
Fingertips that were pliant
Soft with tenderness
Quiet tears began to fall
There is no lag
Nor rush
With no tempo beating
No dissonant clash
Between their songs
Without harmony
Nor key to hold
Any song at all
She had not taken before
No
Quite the opposite
Instead
She had given
Left something behind
Through no fault of her own
Tears falling faster now
The haunted man before her
How it must have clung
Her lingering motif
Excruciating
Each time he had sung
Until mad with desperation
He had reached inside
Extracted the pieces painfully by hand
Brutally tore out each and every song
Scraped frantically until all music was gone
Her angel
Once hallowed
Now hollowed
Without name
Without purpose
Emptied entirely
Of soul