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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Dec 27, 2012 16:46:59 GMT -5
She'd made it! She was out of that heater with its grimy criminal masters and nepotism-based casting, and into the world of real Opera! The God of music would be most pleased. Since no one had posted any notices about rehearsals, Christine decided to wander onstage, start singing and see what happened.
The lack of electric guitars in the orchestra pit was worrisome, but she could manage under trying circumstances.
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Dec 27, 2012 22:04:36 GMT -5
Elrik had spent day's now simply searching through this house of music.
It had seemed that he was not the first man to reside in the back ways and tunnels of the opera house. In fact, from what he could gather there had been quite a few. Further below the surface was a lake with a small house in the middle of it, he'd watched as two men went back and forth, neither human, neither spending much time there.
But they hadn't been the first, there had been rumors of a phantom, a man in a mask, who haunted the halls here years ago. He'd killed for young ingenues to sing his music, these young men and women he wrote for he could understand, they were beautiful and their voices were solid and strong.
But none like his Christine.
He'd taken to sitting in the rafters of the stage as plays rehearsed and dancers danced, judging their inadequacies. Today had been quiet and he'd all but given up hope that any voices would play against the subtle curves of the auditorium when suddenly-
Christine he closed his eyes as the voice thrilled his ears, before looking down to see her raven hair and pink lips as she sang for the gods.
He slowly made his way to a place where she could hear him, when he decided to speak.
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Dec 28, 2012 3:54:12 GMT -5
Music had been Christine's life for as long as she could remember, but lately it had aquired a new meaning. No longer was it linked to battles and death, but to love stories...which frequently ended in battles and death. Opera wasn't all that different from being a skald, she supposed.
Still, when one has the god of music as a patron, one can't help being a snob. He demanded only her singing, no further sacrifices, but it never felt enough. What could she do to truly prove herself? Further train her voice? Write more ballads?
Christine worked herself into near exhaustion practicing every ballad she knew. If berserkers could attain power through such surges of passion, so could she.
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Dec 29, 2012 3:58:18 GMT -5
He felt his chest swell as she sang, a pride for creating such a perfect sound to be given to such a perfect vessel. If only such a talent could be given to the musicians that would be playing for her, they're imperfection would be a detriment to her voice.
He grew angry at the very thought.
The air in the auditorium grew colder and more volatile as she sang and he could see her body about to give out, so as she ended a high note he allowed his voice to mix with her's alerting her to of his presence.
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Dec 29, 2012 20:04:46 GMT -5
When she heard his voice, Christine fell to her knees in relief.
"My heavenly inspiration!"
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Jan 1, 2013 2:16:13 GMT -5
"Christine" his voice flew through the eaves on the back of a wind.
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Jan 1, 2013 20:18:09 GMT -5
Her face broke into a wide, almost mad grin.
"I have done as you commanded and entered the Opera House. How may I go about claiming it in your name?"
She hoped he wouldn't ask her to fight all the ballet rats one after another in single combat, if only because she rather liked some of them. But building a cult to Elrik wouldn't be out of the question.
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Jan 2, 2013 23:51:24 GMT -5
"You will bring this opera and it's patrons to their knees" he hissed "and you will sing only their grandest pieces and only perform operas that I have first approved" a hand extended from the eaves and seemed to grow with the shadows.
It touched her chin "You weaken too quickly."
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Jan 3, 2013 0:20:06 GMT -5
"Then I shall work on my endurance."
A forty mile run while singing and playing guitar would now be part of her everyday warmup.
"I have been accepted by the managers of the Opera House. I do not know whether what they have written meets your approval."
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Jan 4, 2013 14:24:27 GMT -5
"Their names are known to me" he said the shadowed fingers rolling up her cheek "their music I have heard. Composers thrown together in a time slip to attempt and revive interest in a dwindling opera scene" there was a coarse laugh that echoed through the auditorium "you will be the draw in which brings the crowd and soon they shall throw roses at your feet."
The screech of a guitar seemed to rise up from the orchestra pit.
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Jan 8, 2013 15:28:17 GMT -5
"Me? There are those who know me from the Grand Guignol, but I have done no deed to bring great recognition. I hardly a household name."
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Jan 8, 2013 17:52:05 GMT -5
"You will be" he whispered "with my teachings and their influence you will be."
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Jan 8, 2013 19:08:45 GMT -5
"Yes, my- what shall I call you?"
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Post by Elrik the Faceless on Jan 8, 2013 19:39:53 GMT -5
"I have many names" the skin he called lips curled in to a smile "I am Elrik, god of music, son of no man."
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Post by Christine the Sorrowful on Feb 4, 2013 18:24:47 GMT -5
"Elrik..."
The name rolled off her tongue, and she smiled.
"Why have you not shown yourself to me?"
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