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Death Awakens
folder
M through R › Phantom of the Opera
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
4,210
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
M through R › Phantom of the Opera
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
18
Views:
4,210
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own The Phantom of the Opera movie(s), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Kiss
Chapter 12
Lila found herself spending more and more time above ground, watching as Mr. Wellsley auditioned dancers, singers, artists for props, tutors, and on and on to fill the needed staff in maintaining the great opera house.
She was scared to go back down, shaken by the power of his music, how it completely overtook her own senses. In her heart of hearts she knew she would have to return eventually, there was much that was left to be rehearsed, much that was needed to be perfected.
She had taken to sitting quietly at the edge of the stage, alone in the hustle and bustle of all the preparations. At time she noticed the string of beautiful girls that would walk through and audition for various parts. Oftentimes she went so unnoticed that the occasional unobservant worker would stumble over her, and then they would both apologize in embarrassment, one hurrying off to complete a task, the other continuing the sit in quiet contemplation.
“What do you think of the new chorus?” a voice said softly behind her. Lila turned swiftly, shaken from her thoughts to see Mr. Wellsley staring quizzically at her, one eyebrow slightly raised at her obvious disconcertment.
“Oh… um… everything’s marvelous. They all seem to be very competent singers,” she stammered.
Mr. Wellsley nodded, stroking the trim moustache he sported. “Competent is acceptable for a chorus line. But for the diva! Who will that be?” he said, beginning to circle her.
Lila gulped, surprised at her nervousness, at the close attention that this man was paying to her. She felt like prey to a lion, quivering at the strange unease creeping into her bones.
“I will play the lead in this opening opera,” she said quietly.
“You?” he was so close to her. Lila’s eyes darted to the left to catch the edge of shirt tails as he rounded around to her right side. His mouth appeared so close to her eyes that her vision blurred in its attempt to focus.
“Sing for me, then. And I shall decide whether you are suitable to be in the opera,” he said at last, stepping back seemingly satisfied with the discomfort he had caused in her.
“I-I beg your p-pardon?” Lila stuttered.
“Sing. I must hear your voice before I approve. Your monsieur O.G. may be providing the opera, but it is my money that ensures its production. I would very much like to know what it is I am investing in.”
“What should I sing?” she asked nervously, clammy hands gripping the hem of yet another borrowed dress.
Mr. Wellsley brought a hand back to his moustache in feigned thought and quickly snapped his fingers, making Lila jump.
“Sing something from the opera! Your aria…. You do have an aria, correct?”
Lila nodded, “But, I don’t think that--”
“Nonsense, no need to think. Just sing. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just sing a few bars. Show me your talent. Go, c’mon!” he urged, half pulling, half dragging Lila to the center of the newly finished stage.
Lila stood awkwardly, looking around at the people still bustling around the edges of the theater. They didn’t seem to notice the quiet girl standing all alone, but continued on with their work, which was a bit of comfort to the poor girl. Looking around at the beautiful structure, Lila could imagine herself years in the future standing in the same place preparing herself to sing again.
Movement in one of the booths caught her attention. The dull flash of white confirmed it was the Phantom, away from his lair, watching her.
“Sing, Lila! What are you waiting for?” Mr. Wellsley called.
The mask in box five seemed to nod in her direction, which seemed to give Lila strength.
“You alone can touch my fire
You alone can free my soul
Imprisoned within this darkness
I am awaiting your return
Do you see me waiting for you?
What tears do burn within me
I am waiting here for you my darling
Waiting to be reborn.”
The room had gone silent as everyone turned to hear the young woman sing. As the last notes reverberated within the room, one pair of hands from the astonished Mr. Wellsley slowly began to clap, and then another pair, and another till the room was filled with the enthusiastic cheers and whistles of all who had heard the singer’s voice.
Lila did not appear to be affected by their applause. The green eyes behind the porcelain mask squinted in unease as the Phantom observed her from the shadows. It was as if she was detached from herself, standing in another world—it was as if her soul had been captured and taken from her body.
Erik recalled the similar glazed stare Lila had worn when they had first rehearsed the opening scenes of the opera. She had been consumed with the music, far more than Erik had ever been, ever seen anyone else be. She had only risen out of her stupor when Erik had mirrored the music with her in his mind. Was there a connection?
Eric leaned forward out of the shadows in box five. “Lila” he whispered, allowing his voice to travel, kissing the edge of ear so that only she could hear.
There was a glimmer of life that shone so even Erik could notice the difference from his position. His voice did have some effect on her, how interesting.
Humming a tune low in his throat he whispered again, “Silently the sense, abandon their defenses. You alone can make my soul take flight…”
Lila seemed to walk, her body going rigid and then relaxing as she stared dazedly around the room.
“You’re brilliant!” the Englishman said. He bounded across the stage toward her, grabbing her in his arms and twirling her around the stage.
Erik felt a familiar tightening in his stomach as he watched the man touch his singer. His singer?
“You are most definitely a diva worthy of the Opera Populaire. No, it is the opera house we will make worthy of you!” he continued to babble. Lila only nodded dumbly, her legs trembling with the realization that again she had lost herself in the music, and only miraculously been saved by a voice. His voice.
Lila’s eyes darted towards box five, where the white mask still peered down upon her. Green eyes seared into brown, and Lila smiled at him, nodding slightly.
The ever cheerful smile of the Englishman broke their gaze. “You are my diva!” he proclaimed, and to Lila’s horror, his whiskered lips came crashing upon hers, his strong arms crushing her body against his own. Lila felt the slippery smooth feel of his tongue probing her lips, and she clamped them shut, fighting against it as it licked against her teeth.
Lila felt her body recoil, arms pushing against his chest and shoulders, futiley hitting them, his face, but he held on all the more tightly. She felt bile rise in her throat, and anger built against this man who was exhibiting such audacity.
Her eyes darted out past Mr. Wellsley’s head, a flash of white catching her eye as box five returned into black empty shadow. He had left.
Finally pulling away, Mr. Wellsley grinned at the hoots and whistles of some of the workers who had observed the kiss. Swiping one hand against his mouth to wipe the shine of saliva away, he bowed quickly.
“Delicious,” he said before turning and walking swiftly out of the building.
Lila spluttered in rage and humiliation. Fists angrily clenching the edge of her dress, she stormed out of the stage, feeling dirty and ashamed, and desperately in need to speak to Erik. Where had he gone?
Lila found herself spending more and more time above ground, watching as Mr. Wellsley auditioned dancers, singers, artists for props, tutors, and on and on to fill the needed staff in maintaining the great opera house.
She was scared to go back down, shaken by the power of his music, how it completely overtook her own senses. In her heart of hearts she knew she would have to return eventually, there was much that was left to be rehearsed, much that was needed to be perfected.
She had taken to sitting quietly at the edge of the stage, alone in the hustle and bustle of all the preparations. At time she noticed the string of beautiful girls that would walk through and audition for various parts. Oftentimes she went so unnoticed that the occasional unobservant worker would stumble over her, and then they would both apologize in embarrassment, one hurrying off to complete a task, the other continuing the sit in quiet contemplation.
“What do you think of the new chorus?” a voice said softly behind her. Lila turned swiftly, shaken from her thoughts to see Mr. Wellsley staring quizzically at her, one eyebrow slightly raised at her obvious disconcertment.
“Oh… um… everything’s marvelous. They all seem to be very competent singers,” she stammered.
Mr. Wellsley nodded, stroking the trim moustache he sported. “Competent is acceptable for a chorus line. But for the diva! Who will that be?” he said, beginning to circle her.
Lila gulped, surprised at her nervousness, at the close attention that this man was paying to her. She felt like prey to a lion, quivering at the strange unease creeping into her bones.
“I will play the lead in this opening opera,” she said quietly.
“You?” he was so close to her. Lila’s eyes darted to the left to catch the edge of shirt tails as he rounded around to her right side. His mouth appeared so close to her eyes that her vision blurred in its attempt to focus.
“Sing for me, then. And I shall decide whether you are suitable to be in the opera,” he said at last, stepping back seemingly satisfied with the discomfort he had caused in her.
“I-I beg your p-pardon?” Lila stuttered.
“Sing. I must hear your voice before I approve. Your monsieur O.G. may be providing the opera, but it is my money that ensures its production. I would very much like to know what it is I am investing in.”
“What should I sing?” she asked nervously, clammy hands gripping the hem of yet another borrowed dress.
Mr. Wellsley brought a hand back to his moustache in feigned thought and quickly snapped his fingers, making Lila jump.
“Sing something from the opera! Your aria…. You do have an aria, correct?”
Lila nodded, “But, I don’t think that--”
“Nonsense, no need to think. Just sing. It doesn’t have to be perfect. Just sing a few bars. Show me your talent. Go, c’mon!” he urged, half pulling, half dragging Lila to the center of the newly finished stage.
Lila stood awkwardly, looking around at the people still bustling around the edges of the theater. They didn’t seem to notice the quiet girl standing all alone, but continued on with their work, which was a bit of comfort to the poor girl. Looking around at the beautiful structure, Lila could imagine herself years in the future standing in the same place preparing herself to sing again.
Movement in one of the booths caught her attention. The dull flash of white confirmed it was the Phantom, away from his lair, watching her.
“Sing, Lila! What are you waiting for?” Mr. Wellsley called.
The mask in box five seemed to nod in her direction, which seemed to give Lila strength.
“You alone can touch my fire
You alone can free my soul
Imprisoned within this darkness
I am awaiting your return
Do you see me waiting for you?
What tears do burn within me
I am waiting here for you my darling
Waiting to be reborn.”
The room had gone silent as everyone turned to hear the young woman sing. As the last notes reverberated within the room, one pair of hands from the astonished Mr. Wellsley slowly began to clap, and then another pair, and another till the room was filled with the enthusiastic cheers and whistles of all who had heard the singer’s voice.
Lila did not appear to be affected by their applause. The green eyes behind the porcelain mask squinted in unease as the Phantom observed her from the shadows. It was as if she was detached from herself, standing in another world—it was as if her soul had been captured and taken from her body.
Erik recalled the similar glazed stare Lila had worn when they had first rehearsed the opening scenes of the opera. She had been consumed with the music, far more than Erik had ever been, ever seen anyone else be. She had only risen out of her stupor when Erik had mirrored the music with her in his mind. Was there a connection?
Eric leaned forward out of the shadows in box five. “Lila” he whispered, allowing his voice to travel, kissing the edge of ear so that only she could hear.
There was a glimmer of life that shone so even Erik could notice the difference from his position. His voice did have some effect on her, how interesting.
Humming a tune low in his throat he whispered again, “Silently the sense, abandon their defenses. You alone can make my soul take flight…”
Lila seemed to walk, her body going rigid and then relaxing as she stared dazedly around the room.
“You’re brilliant!” the Englishman said. He bounded across the stage toward her, grabbing her in his arms and twirling her around the stage.
Erik felt a familiar tightening in his stomach as he watched the man touch his singer. His singer?
“You are most definitely a diva worthy of the Opera Populaire. No, it is the opera house we will make worthy of you!” he continued to babble. Lila only nodded dumbly, her legs trembling with the realization that again she had lost herself in the music, and only miraculously been saved by a voice. His voice.
Lila’s eyes darted towards box five, where the white mask still peered down upon her. Green eyes seared into brown, and Lila smiled at him, nodding slightly.
The ever cheerful smile of the Englishman broke their gaze. “You are my diva!” he proclaimed, and to Lila’s horror, his whiskered lips came crashing upon hers, his strong arms crushing her body against his own. Lila felt the slippery smooth feel of his tongue probing her lips, and she clamped them shut, fighting against it as it licked against her teeth.
Lila felt her body recoil, arms pushing against his chest and shoulders, futiley hitting them, his face, but he held on all the more tightly. She felt bile rise in her throat, and anger built against this man who was exhibiting such audacity.
Her eyes darted out past Mr. Wellsley’s head, a flash of white catching her eye as box five returned into black empty shadow. He had left.
Finally pulling away, Mr. Wellsley grinned at the hoots and whistles of some of the workers who had observed the kiss. Swiping one hand against his mouth to wipe the shine of saliva away, he bowed quickly.
“Delicious,” he said before turning and walking swiftly out of the building.
Lila spluttered in rage and humiliation. Fists angrily clenching the edge of her dress, she stormed out of the stage, feeling dirty and ashamed, and desperately in need to speak to Erik. Where had he gone?