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Replaying Past	By : RubyNatulieLee Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 7371 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
[Disclaimer: I do not own or make any sort of money off of this based story. I only own the charaters of Esme Lonsdale, Eddy and his sister Crystal, The wig maker, Nicolas and the three boys from Sandor's gang. Everything else I do not own nor belong to me. ]

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What the hell was she doing…?

Erik pressed his back firmly upon one of the brick walls, feeling the cold surface seep into his cloak. He was wrapped up nicely, blocking any sight of his body and face. The hood was pulled over his head, while a black scarf, wrapped around his neck, was placed open, to cover a good half of his mask. But not enough to let his second eye see, his Esme leave the jewelry store. Why was she there in the first place? Was she buying something? Thoughts raced threw his mind, before he watched her make her way down the sidewalk. He needed to follow. But he couldn’t go within the crowed. He frowned to himself and thought. He would just have to do his best. Tugging the cloak around his frame a little more. He sank into the shadows of the ally, in which he stepped out from.

~~~~~~~~{@

Before the chilling Esme, the wig shop stood. The windows covered with silk drapges, with models of heads, with hair, that made her eyes widen. Pure white like snow, brown and black. So many colors greeted her wondering eyes. She had gotten lost four times before running into a bread maker. She helped by pointing to the street in which the store rested. The days air was becoming chilly, since the sun was slowly sinking, the clean air was becoming brittle. She could see her own breath, little white mist swirling before her lips. Hugging the flaps of her cloak around her body a little more, she walked inside, pushing the door open, causing a little bell to sound off.

“Welcome! How might I add you?”

Esme stared in mere shock as a young man walked towards her. His dark green eyes shining with such joy within the light, his lightly tan skin brought his dark brown hair into focus. It curly at the tips, causing his bangs to brush before his laughing eyes and curl at the nip of his neck. Dressed within, what looked to be, a normal cotton shirt, dark brown leather vest, button showing off the normal muscles a average man would have. His shirt, tucked neatly into a pair of dark brown trousers that hugged his firm thighs, down to his ankles, where a pair of worn old black shoes laid. The sleeves were rolled up, showing that he was working when she came in and the bags under his eyes told her that he was hard at task.

“Umm…. I’m looking for a Mr. Nicolas.”

The man chuckled softly, before giving her a playful bow. “Then look no more my dear. For I am right before you.” He saw the way her head tilted before he laughed out again. “Yes, I know, I know. How did a young-dashing prince like myself own his own store, of wigs of all things! Well its very easy.” He waved his hand a little, beckoning her closer. Caught in the moment, she bent forward, letting him cup his mouth, whispering into her ear. “Have you seen the lords around here? Of course not!” He bent away laughing, “The sun is glaring off those round hairless skulls of theirs, blinding our very eyes! So I’m doing the world a favor.” Taking Esme's arm, when the cloak she held loosen, he led her about the store. “I’m sparing the young children the illness of going blind. I say that if you stare into a bald man’s head, you will go blind from the stabbing pain of light. I should get an award for sparring such a fate.”

Esme was shocked at the free spirited man beside her. He seems to enjoy teasing those about him. Slowly she began to become at ease with him. His hand was larger then her own yet felt rough and warm. She smiled slowly, remaining her lot of her Phantoms touch. But his hands were so much warmer, almost threatening to melt her very bones. But that hand, that held her right at the moment, patted her palm softly. “So my dear. What shall I do for you? Are you here to help me change the world and buy a wig for your dear father? Or perhaps you wish to buy one for yourself for a costume party.” Letting her go he walked over to a corner, filled with longhair wigs, basically made for women. Lifting up one, it held a shining glare of blonde, making Esme stare in awe. Such beauty it held. “With this little one, you can dress up like Helen of Troy. Become the face that larch a thousand ships! Or perhaps this.” Placing the blonde hair down, he slipped upon his head, one that held the strains of silky black hair. Coral black, straight and fine. What he did next made her let out an snort of laughter. He began to move in a silly manner, walking like a Egyptian. “Or perhaps you would like to lure the men to you, and wrap them around your fingers and wrist like the snakes in which you hold. Become the queen of Egypt, and rule the man before you, Cleopatra.”

Nicolas watched the lass laugh and he grinned to himself. He was not everyday you find someone who would snort, sure he got little giggles and flurrying fans, but her was natural. “You look so silly with that on.” He heard the accent she held within her words, that just made her more charming. But removing the wig from his head, placing it back upon its stand, he walked over, “You think so? I thought I looked rather dazzling. If I was a woman, I knock all the men off their feet. But I’m not, so I’ll just stick to knocking them off their high horse.” But waving his hand, he went to the point. “Now, why did you wish to see me?” He watched the young woman frigate under her cloak, her face almost slipping back into the shadows of the hood. He caught the site of her tan skin, almost bronze, baked within the hot sun to a golden streak. Her eyes, of glowing green, remaining him of the summer grass, slipping out of their winter’s sleep. But what took his breath away, was when she removed her hood, casting a stunning light of golden flames dancing before his eyes.

Removing her hood, she let her gold red hair fall free, her teeth biting of her lower lip a little before her right hand took a good chunk of her hair, holding it up to him a little. “ I heard, that you were looking for this kind of hair. Perhaps, if you’re willing, I’ll give you some of my hair for some payment.” She watched his stunned look, before she frowned. Had she come off too strong? “Nicolas… What I ment was-`

“Of thank the heavens that live above us.” Esme let out a yelp of alarm when he rushed froward, touching her hair with such tenderness, as if a rough movement would make it shatter from its shine. “Your hair, It holds such wicked beauty.” Lifting up one after another curl, he brought some to his face, letting him take a good sniff of its scent. “It smells of the sun shine of summer!” She let out a squeal from his outrageous act. Yanking her hair back from his fingers, she made a quick side step, but he raced behind her, getting upon his knees, causing his head to settle into the middle of her back. Taking her hair again, gathering the strains up, he placed it upon his own head, laughing out childishly. “Ah! And the touch is like satin! The ladies will run for this kind of hair!” Esme let out an outrage cry from his action, jerking froward, making him fall forward upon his hands. But before she could leave the mad mans store. He shoved himself to his feet and raced after her. His legs, being far longer then her own, reached the door first. Blocking her path, making her stop suddenly before running into his huge frame.

“Thirty franks.”

She looked up at him with wide eyes, her freckled cheeks flush with rage from his behavior. But she whispered. “…What?” Nicolas was panting lightly, his eyes never leaving the flaming heap of her head, the flames of her hair tempting him. “I’ll give you Thirty franks for twelve inches of it.” Her lips parted a little. That would leave her hair straight up to her shoulders. But she looked at him, seeing how he wanted for an answer, by the way he blocked the door. He wasn’t going to let her leave without agreeing. Well, if she had to agree…

“Fifty-five franks.”

Nicolas eyes glared a little. She was bragging.

“Thirty-five”

“Fifty franks.”

“ Forty franks! Take it or leave it.”

She stared up at him, her eyes a narrow with his own, before she muttered. “Done.” As quick as that smile spread across, he took her wrist of her right arm and yanked her to the back. “Then lets get to the cutting shall we? No worries dove, I’ll make sure to take only the measurements I want. But be warned, I never did do well under pressure.” She let out a whimper when she was dragged into the back room of the store, his laughter ringing out. “My! That’s what my last person who came in here sounded like! Perhaps you know of him, his quiet tall, had black hair and now he’s missing his left ear.” She stared at him in mere shock, a gasp passing threw her lips. He only laughed, sitting her down upon a wooden chair that settled in the middle of the floor. “Hey, I cleaned up my knife after words. Messy businesses, hair cuts.”

~~~~~~~~{@

Erik stood outside the store he watched Esme stepped into. Watching threw the stores display window, he glanced at the man inside. He was insane. But why would she going into a wig shop of all things. And why was that man touching her hair in such a manner! Such hair like hers should be tenderly stroked and used in teasing manners of the flesh. Not in rough play like that man was doing. Then an image shot into his mind. Slowly he stepped back into the gaping hole within the ally’s brick side. Pressing into the cold stone. Was he jealous? Not of the hair, but of the man who was so touching those locks, or was he jealous of the fact, that Esme seemed to let him. No, he must have been worried about her, that all. It had to be. But when he turned back to watch what else would behold, he found no one within the shops windows. A frown upon his lips.

“Now where the devil did she go?”
- 9
- 10
- 11
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Replaying Past