{Susan Kay-verse} Erik, The Phantom (of the Opera) (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
not_mephistopheles) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
hellnet2017-03-19 09:53 pm
not_mephistopheles) wrote in hellnet2017-03-19 09:53 pm
[accidental video\\ UN: AngelOfDeath ]
[This isn't much of a post at all.
Actually, this is really just someone's phone having a major spaz attack.
Really it's nothing, you should probably just move on. See this plain black screen? So boring, right?
Only all of the sudden, there are eyes. Yup. Glowing, eerie blue eyes. They're kind of creepy, until--]
Mrow?
[Okay false alarm everyone, this is just a cat on the internet. All is well. She looks completely unamused-- perhaps she's about to end this pointless video herself...
-- but suddenly, terrible throat-ripping coughing erupted in the ill defined darkness. There is a sudden flare of motion as something (or more accurately, multiple somethings) falls and crashes, and blurs of cat feet and rich red-wine colored sheets flash on the screen. The phone seems to have fallen to the floor, along with what appears to be the broken glass of an ornate huuka, and a pair of fine black gloves. These details are lit a little more prominently by some kind of fire-light streaming weakly from the side.
There is also a lump of blankets breathing shallowly and unsteadily upon the floor.
Wait.
Briefly, one deathly pale spidery hand reaches from beneath the mound of lavish covers, groping for something... maybe even the phone, but Ayesha is suddenly in the frame again, giving alarmed nasally meows and variating between licking and biting that faintly trembling clammy hand. There is another very slow blur of movement, and there's--
Well, it's a sound. You could almost say a human (demon/angel/whatever) made it, if they were trying to express agonizing pain and blistering frustration, without any real voice to speak of. The zombie-cat headbutts the latent hand, before trotting towards the phone and pawing it away, so the blanket-lump can no longer be seen.
Blanket Lump need privacy, after all.]
{ooc: Responses may come from Ayesha in the form of cat videos. LACIE, CHRISTINE, action spam maybe? *puppy eyes*}
Actually, this is really just someone's phone having a major spaz attack.
Really it's nothing, you should probably just move on. See this plain black screen? So boring, right?
Only all of the sudden, there are eyes. Yup. Glowing, eerie blue eyes. They're kind of creepy, until--]
Mrow?
[Okay false alarm everyone, this is just a cat on the internet. All is well. She looks completely unamused-- perhaps she's about to end this pointless video herself...
-- but suddenly, terrible throat-ripping coughing erupted in the ill defined darkness. There is a sudden flare of motion as something (or more accurately, multiple somethings) falls and crashes, and blurs of cat feet and rich red-wine colored sheets flash on the screen. The phone seems to have fallen to the floor, along with what appears to be the broken glass of an ornate huuka, and a pair of fine black gloves. These details are lit a little more prominently by some kind of fire-light streaming weakly from the side.
There is also a lump of blankets breathing shallowly and unsteadily upon the floor.
Wait.
Briefly, one deathly pale spidery hand reaches from beneath the mound of lavish covers, groping for something... maybe even the phone, but Ayesha is suddenly in the frame again, giving alarmed nasally meows and variating between licking and biting that faintly trembling clammy hand. There is another very slow blur of movement, and there's--
Well, it's a sound. You could almost say a human (demon/angel/whatever) made it, if they were trying to express agonizing pain and blistering frustration, without any real voice to speak of. The zombie-cat headbutts the latent hand, before trotting towards the phone and pawing it away, so the blanket-lump can no longer be seen.
Blanket Lump need privacy, after all.]
{ooc: Responses may come from Ayesha in the form of cat videos. LACIE, CHRISTINE, action spam maybe? *puppy eyes*}
[Video] un: miss_fortunate1
Erik...?
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There's rattling sounds as the phone is pawed across the floor once more. It is then lifted very slowly, as if by a rather unsteady hand. For half a second there is a flash of one bloodshot blue eye before the video feed clicks off, and changes to text.]
something is wrong
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[Her heart skips a beat when the feed is suddenly cut, then she heaves a sigh of relief when the reply comes through in text form, instead. She switches her own reply to voice. Her tone is as hurried as her steps, a little breathless, an undercurrent of irritation that she's this worried about him.]
I guessed that. I'm on my way down! Are you hurt?
[Her mind turns to the party she'd lately gotten back from. She'll bet good money that it all ties in with the weirdness there. Either way, if she needs to make a side-trip to get the first aid kit she keeps in her quarters, it's best to know now. Erik probably wouldn't take to kindly to her ruining those good linens to make bandages.]
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He can't manage speech, nor can he handle the minute finger movements required for the typing of adding any kind of tone indication in his message; no capital. No bold. No italics. Though if Lacie knows him well enough, she may be able to decipher the utterly unamused and bitterly dry tone in which he'd spit out the word:]
Apparently
[The floor is not comfortable.]
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[It likely also helps that Lacie's been leaving little gifts for the place, stowed away in among its secret nooks and crannies. Erik may have even stumbled upon them, now and then: mysterious little caches of trinkets and baubles left like offerings. When Lacie had been little, she'd discovered the consciousness at the heart of the Abyss in her explorations of the dimension. Being a lonely child, she'd instantly recognized something similar in the entity--that it needed a friend. It had been her act of childish generosity, the leaving of a toy to keep it company when she couldn't visit, that had inadvertently cemented the entity's loyalty to her--and is very likely why she had ended up in Hell, rather than being devoured as she'd been meant to be. So... perhaps it's with a sense of nostalgia that she'd set about befriending the Theater as well, once she'd realized there was a consciousness to it, too. Even if it's full of people, she expects nobody really talks to it. It's just as possible to be lonely amidst a crowd...]
[Taking Erik's answer to mean he's actually injured, Lacie changes course, grabbing the first aid kit, then returning to the hallway where she knows the door is. She pauses before the patch of wall, trying to remember which stone she's supposed to push... when the door swings open entirely on its own. She grins, directing her attention to the ceiling, as she tends to do, when she's conversing with the Requiem.]
Thanks!
[From there it's easy. On the rare occasions when she pauses in uncertainty, the Theater shows her the way, with the flare of a torch that had been extinguished, or by opening the door to another passage that will get her there even more quickly. She even finds the boat waiting on her side of the lake, when she arrives at its shore, which brings a sigh of relief. She'd been worried she's just have to walk around it.]
[Perhaps sooner than Erik would expect, there's a knock on his front door. Then, without any further by-your-leave, it opens.]
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Yes, by all means, come right in! Erik would have opened the door if not for the whole... being stuck on the floor thing. In the time it has taken Lacie to reach his house, Erik has only managed to sit himself up and rest his back firmly against the side of his coffin-esque bed. Somehow he's found the will and means to pull on his mask, though it is clinging uncomfortably to his sweat-dampened face and seems to somewhat hinder his unsteady breathing.
Lacie will hear only watery silence inside the dim abode, until her phone buzzes with a message from Erik that reads:]
come in
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[video] un: rosedurossignol
Hello, old friend....
[Despite how she and Ayesha at first did not get along, she deserves some greeting while Christine tries to figure out what the Hell else just happened and--
That's not good. Instantly, her features go from slightly calm to in a panicked frenzy.]
Erik...? Erik, where the Hell are you?
[And then she looks determined, maybe slightly angry, who knows. Those golden eyes are always filled with a mixture of warring emotions.]
Doesn't matter. I'll find you, I'll find you both.
1/2
She looks like she's contemplating mischief-- and there is a super-close up of her teeth as it descends upon the screen. Is she going to eat the phone...?
No, but she's carrying it somewhere, and where ever she drops it, it's concealed by a film of darkness.]
2/2
So if Christine goes looking through the vast labyrinth of Angel's Requiem, there is a tiny chance the troublesome theater may slightly nudge her in the right position.
Just kidding the floor is going to open up beneath her. Eventually (and I do mean eventually) the passages will lead her to--- yup, the cusp of an underground lake. The water glows faintly with the shimmering forms of drifting tattered souls beneath the waters...
And inside Erik had somehow mysteriously made it onto a couch. Sweat dampens the thin shirt and pressed trousers he wears, and his mask seems to stick uncomfortably. His shallow breath rasps, his bare hands flushed and clammy.
And Ayesha is curled up on his stomach, rumbling protectively.]
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Or really, it was more like reliving one of her most persistent nightmares. But right now, that doesn't matter. Nothing else matters but finding Erik and her mind is singularly focused on that goal. Navigating a dark labyrinth beneath an opera house is nothing to her now. This darkness once terrified her...
Now she runs through the passages, jumps and climbs as if she's done this all her life.
But seeing the lake is a particularly hard blow. She stands on the shore for a moment, looking down into the pool of lost souls.
She pushes on, flying over the water until she reaches his home on the other side. Which is another shock, honestly, once she's inside.
It feels like she's stepping back in time...
And not in a good way. Especially not after quite calmly slipping into the role of becoming young Elizabeth's dark protector while whatever sickness she caught plagued her.
She feels naked. Like suddenly, she should be wearing heavy petticoats and a tight corset.]
Erik...?
[Her steps through this mausoleum are tentative and slow. How many times has she had this nightmare? This exact nightmare. Too many times to count, honestly.
When she finds Erik, the sight of him laying there like that is more than enough to cause Christine to lose her composure completely. Her heart shatters, over and over in her chest and she forgets to breathe.
But she's strong enough to keep the tears at bay. For the moment, at least. Her amber eyes fix on Ayesha. Time for one of their telepathic conversations. The eyes that stare down that cat are both glowing and dark. This is not the insipid young girl that Ayesha would remember.
"I'm here for him, to help him, to be with him, whether you like it or not and I'm not going away. I have just as much a right to be here beside him as you do."
And then Christine sits on the floor beside her love, fully ignoring whatever the cat might do. She takes one of Erik's hands in both of hers and holds it as tightly as she can.]
Oh, my love, what have you done to yourself this time?
[She places a few kisses along his knuckles.]
I'm here now, Erik. You can't hide from me, you can't ever hide from me. I scoured the depths of Hell to find you, did you ever think that a few dark passageways would deter me from finding you down here forever?
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And there are subtle differences here and there, like a memory recalled with a little blur. Small changes that may even go unnoticed-- such as a different arrangement upon a table, or the swath of sketches upon the wall all drawn with the plans for his theater. Shelves contained different, more bizarre objects, and there was the addition of a wrap around porch, which flowed out upon the lake and housed what appeared to be a piano of bones. Other such changes exist, but the bones of this place are so very much the same.
And no, Ayesha does not see the exact same girl she remembers, despite meeting Christine's eyes with a hard unyielding stare. There is something... different. She almost feels like she's looking at another cat. So when Christine settles at Erik's side his loyal feline reacts rather mildly: she growls at a moderate volume, without bothering to hiss or spit. Her tail whips about in ill contained irritation, and her paw darts out and swats Christine right on the head --whap! whap! whap!-- but there are no claws extended. Her growl dissolves more into a discontented rumble, before she turns her butt towards Christine, decides the least she can do is ignore her, and settles once more on Erik's stomach.
When his eyes slide open they are glassy above bloodshot. They hover at half-mast and stare at Christine for a very long moment. Is this really her? Or is he mistaking Lacie again...?
No, he knows the moment she takes his hand.
He tries to swallow the dryness in his mouth and speak through the rawness of his throat.]
I. did. not--
[His voice is barely even that; shredded raw and rasping, he despises the sound of it. But he's broken into coughing again, his body curling inwards and his slim warm fingers weaving tightly around her hand. He's just... not going to mention the taste of blood that's happening. When he is finally finished coughing, his fever-flushed forehead rests unsteady upon her shoulder as he struggles through a few even breaths.]
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Ayesha receives a look that can only be described as a dangerous glare when she whaps at Christine's head. She has little patience for such behavior and if that cat is going to keep this up--
The moment has passed and Christine is distracted by trying to hold back tears anyway.]
Shh, you don't have to speak.
[It pains her so much to see him like this.
Again.
She holds his head there against her shoulder, her fingers gently moving through his hair.]
Anything you need, I'm here.
[And then whatever remnants of strength she had come crashing down. One by one, tears start escaping her eyes. The rational part of her mind knows that he can't die again. They're already dead.
But that traumatized little girl that's still inside her is having a hard time accepting that. It still feels like there's a chance that he might slip through her fingers again and--
She can't lose him again.
A soft kiss gets pressed to his temple.]
Shall I light the samovar?
[Christine is trying to deflect a bit, trying to keep herself smiling so that she doesn't lose grip on reality completely.]
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He's warm-- too warm as he rests against her, his stunted breath tugging uncomfortably on the clinging silk of his mask. He probably just hasn't managed to take it off yet-- there's no reason at all he needs to be wearing it.
None.
He takes a particularly stubborn breath as her fingers weave through his thin dark hair. He isn't sure if it's his mind or his muscles telling him that he cannot move, but he is sourly displeased beneath the sudden mortal suffering he's, uh... suffering. When his voice fails him, Erik manages only to shake his head. His hand clings to hers, quietly imploring her to stay, so he may remain as he is, at least for the moment.
And Ayesha is purring again. Has nothing to do with Christine OF COURSE-- it's just that purrs are healing. Yes, that's it.]
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TEXT; UN: Trickster
Video [un: AngelOfDeath]
Mroooow?
[Yes, hooman? Do not waste my time.]
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Are you still working on the opposable thumbs? It might be easier in your present state.
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Now she's looking at you like she thinks you're stupid; obviously cats don't have opposable thumbs. Still, she preens and grooms her paw, clearly sending the message:
Cats are still superior. There are more important things than thumbs.]
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You know, I always thought cats were interesting, training humans. Not that humans even really understand that.
Do you have a name?
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Oh, it's very easy to train humans. She looks mildly impressed that you've figured out it's what they do.
In no immediate rush, Ayesha saunters a little closer to the phone, allowing the frame to fall across her collar. It's studded with diamonds that look like they came off a Persian throne-- because they did. The name etched into the small gleaming tag reads 'Ayesha'.]
video; un: IT'S NOT USERNAME, IT'S KATSURA
[ Katsura doesn't seem at all concerned about the Blanket Lump or any of the clearly distressed sounds it was making. There's a cat, well surely a zombie cat but it's beautiful in its own ways, and it's like he can see the universe itself in those big glowing eyes -- ]
Kitty-dono! Come back!
Video [un: AngelOfDeath]
... And now she's making clicky-hunter-kitty noises.]
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[ she's still super cute, though. ]
What's the matter? Is your person too sick to feed you?
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Obviously, such a fine huntress does not require a hooman to feed her. She only enjoys it at her whim.]
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Of course, of course, my bad!
[ He's probably got no idea what he's agreeing to, but that does not matter. ]
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But Ayesha doesn't waste time with petty grudges-- clearly, there is some potential worship here.
So she bats those lovely cosmic-blue eyes, and rolls into a languid stretch and proceeds to flop onto her side, kneading the air.
That's right, behold the unfathomable cuteness!]
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