Past the Point of No Return (A Phantom of the Opera RP)
 

Meg Giry greatly missed her friend, Christine Daaé. Yes, she knew that the now-Countess and her husband, the Viscount de Chagny, were very happy and living in great luxury, and she was indeed quite happy for them, but that did not stop her from missing her best friend. Especially after everything they'd been through together.

Especially after the whole disaster with the Phantom of the Opera.

Of course, it hadn't been Christine's fault. If the men who'd bought the Opera house had simply obeyed his wishes, nothing would have gone wrong, and nobody would have died! But they hadn't, and disaster had struck multiple times. It had ended, when people attempted to get down into the very lair of the Opera house, but all of them had been stopped. Christine had gone away to marry and live with the Viscount, Carlotta left after the death of her lover, and the original Opera owner (who was a rather kind man) had been bribed to take the Opera House back.

But that had been months ago. Nobody had heard of anything else of the Phantom of the Opera, her mother didn't speak about it at all, and several new ballerina had been hired, as many of the former performers had quit. If Meg was correct, the only people who remained and knew about the Phantom were her mother, the Opera House owner, and herself.

And the Phantom himself. And she intended to find him, even if it saw to her death.

Madame Giry made her way across the stage floor, over to her daughter whom was stretching for her daily Ballet training. "Ze're is something on your mind Meg." She said pointedly, taking her blonde daughter's delicate hand and lifting her arm in to the proper angle, "Remember your form, my daughter, and keep your chin in ze right position." she lightly scolded, lifting her pointed chin with the crook of her finger.

She knew her daughter was not coping exceptionally well with the loss of her friend Christine, but she had taken a life with Raoul now. However, she still expected her daughter to keep her focus on her stage life. "Is ze're something you want to talk about?" she asked softly, her compassionate eyes setting on the young woman.

"Sorry, Maman," Meg murmured, correcting her posture and form to the correct position after her mother's reminder. She usually did quite well! The best, in fact! She shook her head. "No, I have nothing to talk about, Maman... I am just trying to remember zhe steps..."

Which was a complete lie. She was trying to remember what had happened when the Phantom was around. She'd heard singing... and there had been a door, somewhere...

"But you usually 'ave zem memorized Meg." Madame Giry answered, her tone slightly suspicious, but finally deciding that her Daughter was probably going to continue to circumvent, she turned on her heel, "Remember to keep your form, Meg." she reminded her before heading off across the wooden floor and over to a small group of younger dancers, who were just abismal to say the least.

"Night time, sharpens, heightens each sensation....darkness.....stirs....and wakes imagination...." The harmonious sounding voice echoed across the water, rebounding from the stone walls - reminding the dweller that he was alone, always alone. His gloved fingers danced across each piano key delicately, one visible blue eye following the movement and closing now and again to let him sink himself in to the music. "Christine...." he swallowed hard, her angelic voice swimming in his head, she was gone, he had let her slip through his finger tips.

Meg nodded and, keeping the correct posture, continued the dance, going over the moves twice, three, four times accurately as her mother helped the dancers who were poor.

The rest of the afternoon was full of rigorous training for the upcoming Opera, which was in two weeks, and costume fittings, which Meg hated more than anything else. Still, when night time fell, she was quite glad that the day was over...

Then she remembered. Christine's room was where the door was held.

Fingers left the keys and the man stood, fixating his identity to his face, hiding behind his famous shield from the cruelty of the world. Though he was alone, and there was no need for defenses, but that was no matter to him, he would never be free from God's mocking eyes. This man, The Phantom Of The Opera, or better known as The Opera Ghost, had returned to his underground chambers, having had no where else to run to where he could live at least in peace.

The Phantom, birth name Erik, filled the day by writing music and playing the piano, which was one way to keep his mind off of Christine Daae'. Though, sometimes at night, he would travel through his hallowed halls and stand behind the gateway that lead to her old dressing room, hand on the mirror frame and tears pouring down his cheeks.

However, that night, Meg had managed to sneak down from the ballerina's quarters, checking behind her every few seconds for her mother (who, when she was little, had an uncanny ability of popping up behind her when she snuck out of bed). When she reached what was formerly Christine's room, after she'd been promoted the being the star of the Operas, Meg carefully opened the door and stepped inside.

Most of the recent Opera had been ensemble shows, so nobody vacated the room. There was a thin veil of dust over everything. The roses that remained were wilted. The entire mood of the room was quite eerie for the ballerina.

The Phantom took his cloak and wrapped it around his frame, bringing the hood up over his head to conceal his identity should anyone happen to walk in to Christine's old room, (Though no one ever did). But every so often, he would take a rose, complete with a silk black ribbon tied around the stem and place it on the bed, which he planned on doing so that night. The Phantom walked down the hall and, having not noticed Meg Giry, he stepped out of the mirror/doorway.

"Softly....deathly, music shall carress you.......hear it, feel it....secretly possess you....." The masked Phantom sang softly, laying the rose down beside the many others.

Meg Giry, seeing someone step out of the mirror, flitted over to the other side of the room, behind a curtain, and waited patiently. It was the Phantom! She could tell by the mask on the side of his face; she remembered it. And he left a rose on the bed! There were several others, with black ribbons, there as well.

His voice... his voice was so beautiful! Thick and rich and more beautiful than anything she'd heard in a long time. She, herself, could not sing like Christine did: she had a much lower voice, which - for an Opera - was not particularly ideal. But as long as she remained quiet, he might continue to sing, and she would continue to listen.

The phantom ran his leather thumb down the stem of one rose, softly and slowly until he reached the tip. He continued to sing in his harmonious yet mysterious voice that caused women to fall in to his power of seduction, for he liked to have power over any woman that crossed him. Lately, or rather after Christine married, he stopped giving in to his hearts desires, the desire to be loved and have someone to love in return.

"Open up your mind, let your fantasies unwind
In this darkness which you know you cannot fight
The darkness of the music of the night"

His singing was louder now, but still not loud enough to cause a disturbance through the night.