tampered | Log; Complete

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Log; Complete

When; Saturday, evening.
Rating; PG?
Characters; Christine (

princess_crow) & Erik (if the mun wants).
Summary; Christine arrives; Rue tells her to join her at the stage.
Log;
The torrential rain had ruined whatever plan Rue had to go to the Cafe for crème puffs and tea. She had waited vainly for it to stop during hours before she gave up and returned to the stage in order to practice the basics.

Rue had changed into a maroon bodice and a pair of matching, satin en pointe shoes. She had tied her long, black hair up with a clip and grabbed a towel to wash the sweat of her face after she was done with the practice. Fortunately, the Opera House contained a huge clothing supply that suited her just fine. No one else wore them.

The Opera House was far too big for two lonely souls who yearned for the embrace of their lost soulmates.

On the silent stage of the Carnival City, illuminated with dim light, Rue had performed the fifth positions with her feet and hands, finishing with a demi-plié and a plié.

Professor Cat would have been proud of me, Rue thought, sitting on the edge of the stage, placing the white towel over her shoulders. Her former teacher always remarked the importance of the basic positions, even among the advanced students such as her or her Prince.

Her Prince.

Rue could already sense the darkness stir within her body to notice his absence. The rain and grey sky outside did not help. Shadows played with her mind, drawing fake crow wings for her tormented eyes.

To distract herself from the despair the memory of Mytho provoked her, the Prima Donna checked the strange device that she had acquired in the City to read briefly the whereabouts of those trapped within as her.

It was during her break that afternoon, Rue realized Mr. Erik and her were no longer alone in the Opera House. A newcomer had arrived recently, one that the Ghost of the Opera knew very well.

Settling the towel to a side, she waited for the arrival of Miss Christine. Rue wondered what type of woman Mr. Erik had fallen in love with. What intentions that missy might have had now with him? She would not stand to see her only close acquaintance in the City with a bleeding heart.

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Rue heard the door opening and leaped out the edge of the stage down, landing gracefully en pointe, her arms spread lightly to balance the fall. She stepped forward, turning on the lights as Mr. Erik had taught her during her first day in the Opera House, offering Miss Christine more lightening to ease her path to her.

Oh, she knew the woman had come for the ticking had stopped and that only happened in company of another. Rue did not mind the noise any longer; it distracted her thoughts so fixated on her lost Prince.

“Princess Rue,” Rue corrected Christine with a haughty sniff, looking at her crossly. There, in her judgmental surveillance of the other woman, the Prima Donna noticed she was soaked wet and disgruntled. Her features softened, cursing her lack of manners and her own temper. She was not like Ahiru, she had problems to connect with others.

Rue would mend her discourtesy immediately. Thus, she strode towards the stage and picked up the unused white towel to offer the cloth to Christine. “But you are allowed to address me as Rue, Miss Christine. Take this. I’ll escort you to the dressers before you catch a cold or something worse,” she added, smiling.

'Oh...thank you,' Christine said, taking the towel gratefully. She truly was grateful, and relieved. It would be good to get out of her wet clothes and into something more comfortable.

She's a princess? What is a princess doing in a place like this, all alone? She looks young...I wonder where her parents are, Christine wondered, drying herself off. She would ask these personal questions later; now wasn't the time. She returned Rue's smile, glad to find that underneath the girl's cold exterior was a person of genuine kindness.

'Does it always rain like this?' Christine asked. She did not know this place or its weather temperaments, and if it rained like it was all the time, she didn't think she would like this city very much. 'It hasn't let up at all; I'm surprised the streets aren't flooded by now.' Christine got a better look at the girl. She was a ballerina, Christine could see, and she kept herself from engaging the princess in whatever babblings were trying to break free.

Control yourself, she mentally told herself. You can talk to her about these things later. You need to learn more about where you are first.

Rue glanced at Christine’s hair curiously. Hadn’t Mr. Erik told her his beloved had blonde hair? She could ask her if she changed her colour later. Several ladies preferred to apply tints to their hair, unpleased by the result of nature. Rue often contemplated to get the rid of her own shade - black as a crow’s feather.

“I don’t know, Miss Christine,” replied Rue as she beckoned the singer to follow her at the back of the stage. There were satyrs and gargoyles that used to adorned the stage, sprawled and hidden in the shadows. They were too creepy for Rue’s taste in decoration. “I arrived recently. This is the first time it rains since I’m here.”

'I see. You know no more about this place than I do,' Christine murmured, following the girl closely, the towel wrapped tightly around her shoulders. 'I'm curious....you haven't been hearing an odd ticking sound lately, have you? It's been driving me mad and I have no idea where it's coming from. It's gone now,' Christine added hastily, hoping that the young monarch wouldn't think that she was indeed mad.

Christine looked around the back of the stage, taking in all of the unused props. Satyrs and gargoyles leered from the shadows, sets from Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro to Georges Bizet's infamous Carmen. 'This is a very impressive l'Opera House,' Christine commented. 'It reminds me of home.'

Could anything be greater than Place de l'Opera? She wasn't sure, but this certainly came very, very, very close. She could tell that there was still work to be done on making it acceptable for the public, but what she did see was very promising. In time, it could very well be a beautiful palace for the arts. She had no doubt that the Phantom would be the king of this realm, even more so than he had been at the Palais Garnier.

“Hmph. Don’t exaggerated, Miss Christine. Of course I know more than you of the City,” Rue informed her, opening the door and ushering the woman through it. There was a narrow corridor, illuminated by bright lights; the walls were decorated by rich tapestries and frescos. The dressers were located at the end of the corridor. “The ticking disappears when you stay with someone. I don’t know why is that. I only heard rumors that comes from the carousel.”

Rue stopped when she reached the end, gesturing to the close door. “Choose your wardrobe, Miss Christine. There are different designs and sizes,” she commented, crossing her arms. “I will wait outside until you finish changing.” She made a pause, deciding it would be a good practice for her responsibilities as Mytho’s Princess to play hostess. “I suppose you are hungry. There is a kitchen in this level.”

Christine nodded. 'I am a little bit hungry,' she admitted. 'Thank you again, Miss Rue.' She gave the girl a smile in spite of herself before turning to open one of the dresser drawers.

She was surprised at what she found. Women's and men's clothing from every era of humankind and beyond were in these shelves. She was stunned. Some of these dresses cost thousands of francs back in Paris, dresses that she could only dream of wearing. 'Remarkable,' she murmured in awe, finally choosing a light red gown. It was nothing fancy, but not too plain either.Rue was indeed a princess, and based on what she had told her before, the Opera Ghost lurked nearby. She wanted to look nice for him, even if it was to slightly please her teacher somewhat.

She entered the dressing room and disposed of her wet clothing. It was a relief to have the freezing dress off of her, and the temperature inside the Opera House was not displeasing. She waited a moment, letting the warmth wash over her and relieve the numbness in her toes and fingers.

Remembering who was waiting for her, Christine dressed, fixing her hair as best she could before draping the wet blue gown over the changing screen. It would dry there well enough. She left the room feeling ten-times better than she had before.

'Thank you for waiting for me,' Christine curtsied as was customary. It wasn't necessary, perhaps, but manners had taught her otherwise.

“It’s my pleasure, Miss Christine,” Rue replied and set to wait. The Opera House curious heat system kept the rooms warm enough for her to be able to walk with bodices and tutus if she wanted. There was no need for her to change unless it was absolutely necessary.

As Christine dressed herself, Rue stood still, musing about the woman’s appearance. Mr. Erik would be glad to see her, she was sure of it, but she did not wish to be forgotten because of the woman’s arrival. It put her at unease her position at the Opera House was threatened, it made her tainted blood boiled in selfishness. But she was strong, she was Rue.

Taking a deep breath allowed Rue to focus on the world. On the sumptuous corridor she was on. There was no darkness there, or inside her heart. She would not allow it again. The sound of the door opening snapped Rue of her struggle. Blinking, she beheld surprised Christine’s curtsy.

“I…” Rue trailed off, her pale cheeks blushed bright, losing her ability to speak up. “I wouldn’t leave you alone, Miss Christine. It’s horrible to be alone in this City. I know that in flesh.”

Christine was touched by the girl's words. For all of her efforts to act strong and immovable, Rue had a heart of gold. Christine wondered if others had treated her badly because they were unable to see the kind girl within. Misconceptions of others seemed to be all too frequent lately.

'Talking of depressing things only dampens the mood, don't you think?' Christine asked kindly. 'What is it that you do at the Opera House? Other than ballet, of course,' she added hurriedly. She was still itching to talk to her about ballet, but kept her composure. She hadn't talked to fellow ballerinas or singers in years. She had kept a correspondence with Meg, but they barely talked of the Opera House and their lives there. Raoul took her to several performances throughout the years; never to the Palais Garnier, however. There were too many memories, and Raoul was reluctant to even chance the possibility that certain ghosts still lingered.

In her own way, Christine had mourned her loss of being a part of the theatre. Her life with her family was good, yes, but things still weren't the same. Her life at the Opera House was most of what she knew. The formalities of court and the responsibilities that came with being the Vicomte de Chagny's wife were foreign to her, and even after all these years, she was unable to get used to them.

Raoul is not here, and neither is Anthony, she told herself. You are in a strange new place, Christine. Let your concerns for your family rest awhile. You don't seem to be the only one who's lost.

Rue nodded in agreement. Thinking in depressing subjects damped her mood as the rain had dampened her schedule for the day. She whirled to her left, motioned Christine to follow her as they conversed. She was going to take her to the kitchen, so they could serve themselves something to eat and drink.

“I cook and arrange my own room. The stage too,” Rue commented, pondering to see if there was a missing detail. “I also spend time with Mr. Erik, he’s a lonely soul and I am also trapped by myself in this City. He will compose a ballet for me.” She hoped she had the chance to dance it with her beloved Prince one day. “Oh, and one day we had to fence the Opera House from an intruder who wanted to held a boisterous convention within!”

She made a pause, glancing at her dainty ring: a marriage alliance. That would break Mr. Erik’s heart. “Are you married, Miss Christine?”

Christine followed the girl as before, holding her skirt up so as not to tread on them. Her eyes widened when she spoke of an intruder who wished to hold a convention in an Opera House. 'Why would someone do that?' She asked. 'Don't they know that an Opera House is for music, and the arts? It is not a place for boisterous merry-making. Such things are for the backstage, where the workers live. The only parties in the Palais Garnier were Masque Balls, from what I can remember.'

She smiled at the thought of the Phantom writing a ballet for the young princess. He was a genius, she had to admit that. That he would do such a great deed for this girl touched Christine. He must be her only friend, she realized. They are here, all alone, with no one else to talk to.

Rue's question brought Christine back to the present. Was she married? Yes, by all standards she was. Just because she had suddenly found herself somewhere new did not mean that she wasn't. She tried to recall again what exactly happened before she had arrived here. The sounds of a horse rearing and the screech of an autocar was her only answer. What happened to me? she wondered. Why is the Phantom here, and everyone else someplace else?

She shook her head, ridding herself of her confusion as best she could. 'Yes,' she answered. 'It...is all right, I suppose. Things are very different. Don't get me wrong, I love my husband and my son, but it came with a price.

'Things like that always do,' she murmured.

“Because they are ignorant idiots without basic education or common sense,” Rue assured Christine quite miffed to remember the ordeal. The Opera House entrance had been swarmed in those hideous pamphlets. She was certain there were still some outside walls covered with them. “We didn’t think it funny.” Nor did the building, according to Mr. Erik but Rue did not believe the construction spoke to him.

Rue hesitated to press further after Christine’s troubled answer of the marriage question. She held her gaze with her intense, red eyes before opening the kitchen’s door, gesturing for her to go first.

“Happiness comes with a price and a long battle against the obstacles,” she murmured while she entered to the kitchen. She looked wary to employ those strange boxes and devices that did not belong to her era. There was barely coal and wood to heat things. So she usually ate her meal cold. “As long there is love, everything is all right.” Rue paused, opening the odd white box that kept the supplies under a low temperature to extract juice. “I was happily engaged before I was taken to this place.” She cast her gaze down, the absence of her Prince made her heart bleed in agony.

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