Robert Frost
- In the Duggins -
And miles to go before I sleep
Posts: 64
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Post by Robert Frost on Jan 7, 2008 3:23:53 GMT -5
*Robert shrugged,*
"Nothing important, you wouldn't have heard of me."
*He looked thoughtful.*
"I wonder Miss Jammes, I heard someone speak earlier of a Ghost?, is this true?"
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Cécile Jammes
- Ingenious Pilot -
I do *not* dance like a calf in a field!
Posts: 142
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Post by Cécile Jammes on Jan 9, 2008 12:30:12 GMT -5
((You did not just ask Jammes about the Ghost.))
*She nodded earnestly.*
"Yes, zeee Ghost is vehry hreal!" *She said, blue eyes sparkling with excitement. Jammes's mother always told her that she could have done very well at school: she was very intelligent, but her passion was dancing. She applied all smarts to gossip fodder. Contrary to popular belief, Jammes was not an empty-headed girl who magnified every detail into a tall tale--she would find some new information about the ghost and investigate it herself. She knew all there was to know about the man called Erik... his habits, his children, everything.*
"Except 'ee eezn't a ghost, hreally. Many of ze ozzer gihrls beeleeve so and I guess I play along wiss zem, phretending 'e's a floating deas's head or a fihrey demon or a whole bunch of sings, but 'ee's hreally zhust a vehry mean and lonely man named Ehrik."
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Robert Frost
- In the Duggins -
And miles to go before I sleep
Posts: 64
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Post by Robert Frost on Jan 9, 2008 12:33:45 GMT -5
*Robert frowned.*
"And he was allowed to live in the Operahouse?"
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Cécile Jammes
- Ingenious Pilot -
I do *not* dance like a calf in a field!
Posts: 142
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Post by Cécile Jammes on Jan 9, 2008 12:38:02 GMT -5
"Well 'ee 'as a talent fohr fhrighteneeng ze manazhers eento doeeng whateveir 'ee wants. 'Ee chrashed zee chandelier a few yeahrs ago. Zat, and 'ee 'elped build ze Opehra 'ouse... 'ee knows sings about eet zat we don't. We can't find 'im in zee cellars, where 'ee lives."
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Robert Frost
- In the Duggins -
And miles to go before I sleep
Posts: 64
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Post by Robert Frost on Jan 9, 2008 12:44:26 GMT -5
"You poor girls, how frightening for you."
*Robert's eyes twinkled.*
"Though, I confess you do not seem that scared Miss Jammes."
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Cécile Jammes
- Ingenious Pilot -
I do *not* dance like a calf in a field!
Posts: 142
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Post by Cécile Jammes on Jan 9, 2008 13:06:03 GMT -5
*She smiled brightly.*
"Well what is zere to be afhraid off? 'Ee's only a man."
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Robert Frost
- In the Duggins -
And miles to go before I sleep
Posts: 64
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Post by Robert Frost on Jan 9, 2008 14:04:47 GMT -5
"As you say."
*Robert smiled to himself. The ballerina was really very pretty.*
"I do not suppose Miss, forgive me if I am being bold that you would join me for dinner tonight?"
*He fumbled for words.*
"That is, if you are not busy."
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Post by Sherlock Holmes on May 19, 2008 10:54:39 GMT -5
**NEW DAY, ORCHESTRA REHEARSAL**
*Every man, no matter how much in love, had to earn a living. Everything else--his flight from Moriarty, the situation in England, his former life--receded in a fog of love, but he and Irene still had to eat. Holmes felt a wrenching in his gut every time he left her, as everything in his character insisted upon fixation. Even now, as the familiar strains of Puccini attempted to command him, he found his thoughts drifting back to her...
This would not do!
He loved Irene. Moreover, he had made the decision not to resist his feelings as he had done for so long--such was the fiction he spun for himself. It was a choice. But he could not hole himself up with her day in and day out, because society did not work that way, and he could not access his savings in England, under his real name.
Holmes focused again on the music, wanting above all to evade the eye and ire of the conductor. But he was to be distracted again by the figure who strutted onstage; that of a young man whose bulk portended future corpulence but who for now was both baby-faced and commanding.
Holmes knew that man, and the man knew him. And, judging by the look on his face, he was already spotted.*
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Post by Erik Destler on May 19, 2008 11:30:15 GMT -5
((HEE!))
Destler had his usual place in the flies, moving here and there and avoiding the workmen. His eyes were trained eagerly on his pupil, ears straining near pain to hear how he was coming along. He noticed no one and nothing else. If the boy's performance today were not flawless, he would have to be punished, somehow...he didn't look foreward to that prospect.
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 19, 2008 11:54:05 GMT -5
*Carlos had woken in a sweat, as if all the anxieties he should have felt the day before had collected overnight to plague him the moment he became conscious.
He was dealing with a madman. A madman with the power to hypnotize with music, and without a shred of remorse. He could be capable of anything. Dressing that morning, Carlos had taken more than his usual care, donning cufflinks and cat as the least he could do to stave off Maestro's unpredictable anger.
He had no doubt that the man would have no compunction about leaving him in someone's wardrobe, if the whim overtook him.
Man. Was it a man at all, to demonstrate such power? He had shuddered, thinking about the rumors surrounding Daae, the dreamy-eyed starlet's mute acceptance of such attention. There were no such things as angels, nor demons, but what men could make of themselves. And that, Carlos thought, made them all the more dangerous.
On stage, now, he was consumed with thoughts of reprisal, and while he attempted to find the feeling behind Pinkerton's words, he knew, ultimately, that he had not succeeded. Fear, he had learned. Desperate love and more desperate remorse, he had no model for. What foolishness, to assume one required experience of a thing to play it!
At some point, his eyes strayed to the orchestra and he thought he recognized... But no. That man would not be playing in an opera pit, no matter how prestigious. Still...*
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Post by Erik Destler on May 19, 2008 12:02:24 GMT -5
The Maestro's hand clenched to white on the rail above the stage--the boy had learned nothing! With an enraged nothing-cry which could probably be heard below, he hurried away from the stage, stopping only long enough to leave a card in Carlos' dressing room, the writing even more difficult to read for it's shaking anger.
Fool! Did you think I would not notice your fained attempt? I have been far to lenient with you! Your heart was not in the piece, and your eyes were distracted by the pit--see something down there you liked, did you? Such distractions cannot be tolerated!
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Post by Carlos Castro on May 19, 2008 12:40:11 GMT -5
*Carlos reentered, strode purposefully down to the orchestra pit and confronted Holmes where he was putting away his violin.* "You, senor!" *he cried in his best Castro temper.* "You are nuevo, no? Don't you know who I am? You are only violin player--I am lead tenor. The audience does not come to hear you, so if I hear you again I will make sure they hear you not at all!" *In the course of waving his arms about, he dropped a small folded paper into the violin case, as Holmes made vague appeasing gestures without revealing anything about any previous knowledge of the suddenly "Spanish" man in front of him.* Mr. Holmes,
I will understand if you do not wish to help me, considering the nature of our previous association. Or rather, mine. But there is a dangerous man in this opera, who will soon have it under his sway. Meet me, discretely, under the Pont Neuf tomorrow at midnight, if you can be moved by the future of this entire company to hear my plea.
Yours, C. Huggins
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 7, 2008 23:20:59 GMT -5
**NEW NIGHT**
*That night--the final dress rehearsal--went off as expected. But for one thing; Carlos could not help but, well, expose a little more himself in his songs of longing for Butterfly.
Suddenly, the words made sense. Something in him had altered slightly, stirred from long slumber. Perhaps not fully aware, yet, but... when he sang, now, the strains of Destler's violin were in his ears.*
((I actually don't know how this fits in with the stage POTO business up there. Probably not at all.))
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Post by Erik Destler on Jun 8, 2008 0:09:09 GMT -5
((Yeah, I don't know. You'd have to ask whoever is playing in that...thing.))
Destler had been planning to wait until the performance to see Carlos again, but he'd already been absent from his company for several days, and he could feel the boredom, the mad urge to do something much worse than skinning someone, creeping up on him.
He set himself in his usual place in the flies to watch the dress rehearsal and was very very pleased with what he witnessed. Still, he would not see Carlos again until he was satisfied that he'd have a body worthy of the beautiful tenor, but he did send his voice to the young man, and it smiled in his ear.
"Oh, my dear...you will do so very well. You are finally understanding the role! I am very pleased."
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Post by Carlos Castro on Jun 8, 2008 1:45:25 GMT -5
*Carlos felt an unaccustomed warmth flood him at Destler's praise, and he gazed up--briefly--into the flies.
He would experience a sense of disappointment when he arrived home to no one but Mephisto.*
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