{Sixty-Two ~ Music Of The Night} {Closed Commentlog}
[Christine, once again, found that she could not sleep. This was becoming a common occurence of late, ever since Erik had accosted her while she was out getting food, lectured her, bound her to him again as his student and - as she later discovered when she got back to her room - stolen her keycard.
Thankfully, Mimmi had let her stay in her room ( Read more... )
Thankfully, Mimmi had let her stay in her room ( Read more... )
Christine looked down upon Erik's face, and smiled. The music was still preventing her from thinking properly, but she still knew that there was something under that mask. Something... his face... oh, she couldn't remember properly.
But... there had been such an awful lot of things on the Elegante - 'awful' being the operative word. Surely whatever was under Erik's mask couldn't possibly be as bad as anything else she had seen. She could prove it to Erik, and then he could stop wearing that mask, and then he'd be happier, surely? She would certainly be happier if she didn't have to wear a mask all the time.
Slowly, carefully, she curled the tips of her fingers into the small gap betwen the mask and Erik's face, and before he could realise what she was doing and protest, she pulled it off.]
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But then there was a rush of air; it was too late to react, too late to stop her. The mask had been removed and he felt a terrible surge of rage at her. He shoved her back, leaping from his seat. In his haste, the comm had been knocked from the piano. It hit the floor and with a click, a transmission began.
But it was not even a thought in Erik's mind. He was too focused on his rage, his hurt. Christine should've known. She should've known how repulsive his face was. That's why it was hidden from the rest of the world. He turned on her, his hand covering his face.]
Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see? Curse you! You little lying Delilah, you little viper! Now you cannot ever be free!
Damn you...
Curse you...
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Oh God, what has she done?
The magic of the moment broken, the memories of before rush back, and Christine curses herself for her idiocy. How could she have thought that Erik would react any differently now than he had done before? But she'd had such good intentions... she had not meant to hurt him!]
Erik, please! I--I didn't mean...
[There's no strength to her voice - on the contrary, the words come out as little more than a desperate whisper as Christine's eyes fill with tears.]
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What's he done? He hadn't meant to frighten her. He tried to steady his breathing as he eased back onto the piano seat.]
Oh. Christine...
[His voice was soft. Any trace of anger gone now. But he kept the ugly half of his face hidden from her. She was too good, too pure to see something so disgusting.]
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Perhaps she could salvage something of this whole sorry situation.
Picking up Erik's mask, which she had dropped when Erik turned on her, Christine went over to her Angel - no, the man, Erik, the flesh-and-blood man - and, after a brief struggle between her conscience and her sense of self-preservation, sat down beside him on the piano seat.
She didn't hand his mask back yet, though. Christine had something she wanted to say first, but she wasn't at all sure how to go about wording it.]
Erik...
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I... I'm sorry.
[Why is this so hard to say? Christine falls silent and drops her gaze to the mask in her hands, waiting to see if Erik would react at all. Really, she's just trying to put off what she really wants to say, because she's afraid that it will spark an even worse rage. But she has to try to make things a little better, for the sake of everyone that might cross Erik, and for Erik himself.]
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