| Jul. 9th, 2005 @ 11:52 pm (no subject) |
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Christine could barely keep her eyes open as the carriage rattled over the streets of Paris. Her stomach was full and happy, and the rocking motion of the carriage was lulling her to sleep. It was only Guy's persistant chatter that kept her somewhat awake, as he was firing questions at her left and right. Had she enjoyed dinner? How was she liking Paris so far? Was it very different from England? How nice was it to be amoung family again? She replied shortly and kept her eyes focused on her hands, sitting folded in her lap. This loving presence in her life had somehow changed. No longer did Guy seem the safe port amoung the De Chagny's, but a calculating buyer eyeing stock at an auction. And it made her very uncomfortable. She was glad the night was nearly over and that they were on their way back to his house, a place where she could easily beg her leave and disappear. How desperate she was for some breathing room!
Guy watched her with a careful eye, his lips pursed. This was hardly the Christine he remembered. That Christine use to delight in his conversation and gaze at him with dewy eyes full of admiration and love for his kindness towards her. The woman sitting across from him in the carriage now would barely lift her head to look at him. Something he was not use to. No woman ever gave Guy the brush off. He was a De Chagny, a son of one of the wealthiest families in France. Mothers were shoving their daughters his way everywhere he went, and the daughters were more than happy to provide attentive company. This wouldn't do at all. It most likely wouldn't last. When he took her to the opera, she would most likely light up and be delightful once more. She would be quite willing to be attentive company to reward him for taking her to the opera, something she loved. It was the least she could do.
With Guy finally being silent, Christine allowed her eyes to close, just wanting to catch a few minutes rest. She had a short time before they reached home, plenty of time to gather her strength and bid her goodnight to her host. Much to her surprise, the carriage stopped much earlier than anticipated, and there was quite a bit of noise surrounding them. Christine's brow furrowed slightly and she looked over at Guy sitting across from her in the darkened carriage with a slight smirk on his face. She used to find that smirk endearing, tonight for some reason though, it felt slimey and was hardly endearing at all. She finally looked out the window, confused by what she saw. It couldn't be.But there it was, standing proud and tall in the middle of Paris, drawing it's patrons in from the night. Her pale face turned to look at Guy once more, questioning him with her stricken eyes. Guy merely looked at her expression and arched a brow. "What's the matter dear, the opera not to your liking?" he asked with some humor. Guy was unaware of what had happened to drive her and Raoul from Paris. He had been told Christine had left the opera life to accompany Raoul, no more. There had been no way to make people understand what had taken place, nor had she felt it necessary to cause Erik any more harm than she had to. There was no reason to give him away to move on with her life. A cold spike of pain speared her fragile heart as her thoughts brought him forward. Oh Erik
She closed her eyes for a momemt, gathering her thoughts before looking at Guy with a light smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Don't be silly, it's just been a long time since I've been to the opera. I wasn't aware they had rebuilt the opera house," she murmured quietly, looking back towards the spectacular building before them. The door was open and Guy stepped out, offering his hand to her. She took it and stepped down from the carriage, her eyes never leaving the building. The closer he led her, the faster her heart seemed to race. Her escort continued to chatter to her, but she heard none of it. She heard the sounds of people getting ready for a show. People were talking, laughing, rushing, worrying, practicing, pacing and it filled her with a rush she had long learned to forget. There was no denying it now though. It filled her to her core, warmed the chill from her heart. As soon as they were through the door, that longing comfort became mingled with an old hurt as she saw the vases full of roses that surrounded the room. She could only stare helplessly at their beauty, a beauty that had once brought so much pleasure. That pleasure existed no more at the sight of their vivid red petals. All she could see were tears from a time she wished she could change. But there was no changing the past, no matter how fresh old wounds still remained. She removed her arm from Guy's and walked away from him very quickly, ignoring his protests and questions and losing herself in the crowd to escape him. Despite the new look and lavish decorations, she found herself wandering through halls just like the ones she traipsed through as a little girl. Almost every location seemed to remain the same and so she found her way easily back to the dressing rooms coming only to pause at the sound of girlish giggles and gossip. She glanced at the door and realized she was standing outside the door that led to the dressing room of the young ballerina's. They talked and laughed and whispered so easily, so innocently. She couldn't remember a time where she had ever felt so innocent or so free. She closed her eyes and let their voices wash over her, pleading their innocence would calm the turmoil she felt within only to find herself starting with fright as a hand closed over her shoulder a few minutes later. She whirled with a flurry of skirts and lace and found herself facing a very familiar face. "Madame Giry," she breathed, relief following soon after her words. |
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