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Portrait of the Soul	By : sirenofsaturn Category: M through R > The Phantom of the Opera > Het Views: 2723 -:- 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
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Hello again. Well all though there have been very little reviews I am trying to not let that keep me from writing. So here we go with chapter 3.

Opening night was tomorrow and everything was in place ready to go. At this point most of the cast and crew were taking it easy and trying to rest up for the next day, all except for Mia. Theo’s story of the opera ghost having a mask was keeping her up. Lying in her bedroom in the opera house she rolled over on her side once again thinking about the masked man that saved her.

“Those eyes.” Mia whispered. It was all she seemed to think about. Never in her life had she seen eyes so intense, so mesmerizing. She was beginning to wonder if this masked ghost was even real. ‘But he had to be.’ Mia thought, ‘I felt his hand, certainly a ghost can not grab a person, or write a letter.’ Another question that still kept the artist awake was why he had demanded the new funding for the sets. Theo had mentioned before that the ghost considered this his opera house. Maybe he just wanted to make the performance perfect?

“Yes.” Mia said sitting up in bed. “Perfection. There is nothing wrong with wanting perfection.” Mia told herself. “Then I shall have to give him perfection in turn for saving me.” Grabbing the black smock that lay by her easel Mia put on the garment and picked up her charcoal. It was going to be a long night, but perfection was something that would not be put off until tomorrow.

Even though the lake was not too large, the row to Erik’s always seemed like a long one to Nadir. Then again all journeys with Erik had seemed long. When the Persian had first brought the magician with him from Russia Nadir had planned a short route by boat. Oh no! Erik who would not travel like a piece of luggage insisted on journeying by land. Fearing of losing the man he was sent to get Nadir had followed, also by horse, causing the once short journey to turn into months of endurance.

Yes, Nadir had known Erik a long time, which seemed even longer than it actually was. Erik had that ability. One day with him could make you feel like you had been in his company for hours. The impression Erik gave people was so astounding, so unusual; it lasted in a stranger’s memory for eternity.

Rowing the boat on to the shore, and pulling it up slightly so it wouldn’t float away, Nadir knocked on European’s door. After waiting a minute the Persian had not received an answer. Hesitantly the daroga walked into the house to find Erik in the drawing room standing in front of his easel staring at the creation on it. Erik’s gaze seemed almost melancholy.

“I was surprised you did not greet me outside like usual.” Nadir stated hanging his coat next to Erik’s cloak on the hanger.

“I knew it was you.” Erik mumbled still transfixed on the drawing. “The bell went off for the lake, and I knew you were coming tonight around this time anyway. Forgive me for not greeting you in proper fashion, but you seem to have found yourself in just fine.”

“Yes well, considering that the first words out of your mouth were from your usual tone, and not anger for morphine…am I wrong to assume that things are getting a little better?”

“Perhaps.” Erik sighed. “I’m just trying to find other ways to preoccupy myself.”

“That’s never been a problem for you.” Nadir reminded.

Erik did not respond, and continued to gaze at the canvas. “Is something wrong Erik?” Nadir asked walking up behind him to see what was on the canvas.

“Did you ever see it?” Erik asked, gesturing to the canvas. “After all my palace was built with in a close distance from your former home.”

Nadir sighed. “I regret not. The last time I was there was that night you asked me to take you there, when you were poisoned.” He reminded.

Erik nodded. “I suppose after my escape and your imprisonment, you wouldn’t have had time to fancy a look. With all the wars that have been going on in that area recently…I can’t help but wonder what has become of my creation. If it has been destroyed.”

“It’s possible.” Nadir suggested handing Erik his narcotic. “I believe you are down to 5/10 this week?”

“Yes.” Erik sighed going to his desk to scrounge up the needle and syringe. Filling it up to his shorter dosage, Erik stuck himself, slowly exhaling as he injected the liquid into his system. Closing his eyes Erik leaned back into his chair waiting for the serenity to set in. Waiting for the release that would take him from the hell full of burning boats, and into a heaven full of music and beauty.

“You were looking at your old sketches?” Nadir asked picking up some that were on the floor and studying them. “I thought after you built the opera house you would never design again.”

“So did I.” Erik sighed leaning his head back into the chair as the drug began to relax him. “My new set designer has a real talent though. I dare say it brought back some of the old memories. Now I keep remembering how much I loved it.”

“He must really be something.” Nadir commented.

“She is.”

“A woman?” The Persian asked. “Isn’t that a little unusual?”

“Yes, I thought so to, but if you could see what she’s been doing for the sets you would forget that. She really does have talent daroga. Mademoiselle Sclar has strong character too; she just needs to learn to let some of the work be done by her crew. If I had not been there she would have fallen to her death. Most tragic indeed. Then I would not have my lovely sets. Would I?” Erik smiled now higher than a cloud.

“Fallen?” Nadir seemed horrified. “Erik what did you do?”

“Oh Daroga, you are a retired daroga…stop being so suspicious.” Erik smiled as Ayesha jumped in his lap, head-butting him for attention. “You’ll kill yourself if you worry so much about things that don’t concern you.” Erik remarked petting the feline.

“Erik.”

“This is my time now Daroga, and I wish to spend it alone. You may leave now.” Erik said giving a wave of his hand.

Sighing the Persian grabbed his coat and the morphine and went for the door. “Perhaps when you are not at leave with your senses you will let me know what happened with the set designer?”

“My dear Daroga, I am in perfect reach of my senses.” Erik said petting to the right of the cat instead of directly on her. “You silly feline, why do you keep moving?”

Sighing Nadir closed the door and made his way back to the boat.

It was nearly time for the curtain to rise when Mia cautiously walked past the box entrances. It was hard enough for a non-ticket holder to get to the floor even if she did work at the opera house. However, nothing would stand in her way tonight to show her gratitude. Passing by box three and four, Mia knew box five was the next one. His box. The ghost’s box, the box that belonged to that man in the mask. Stopping just in front of the curtains Mia sighed looking down at her feet. If her mother was here she knew just exactly what she would say. “What are mashugana? Going into the box of a man you don’t even know? He could be a murderer or a crack nut!” Mia shook her head. That was her mother’s voice not hers. Surely the man could not have been that bad. He had saved her after all. He also had the opportunity to do whatever he wanted. Mia had felt defenseless when she was in his grip, and knew that if he wanted to he could easily over power her.

Sighing Mia also remember the other thing her mother told her. “One thank you can sometimes satisfy a thousand acts of kindness.” He had been kind. After that he had demanded the design department’s funding. ‘Well if a thank you is worth a thousand acts, then maybe a picture will be worth a thousand thank yous.’ Mia thought. She opened the curtain to box five. Finding it empty she stuck the scroll case she was caring between the armrests of the chair then preceded to walk away to back stage so she could watch the opera.

It was almost a half hour before the curtain went up when Erik awoke from his happy daze. It was not uncommon for him to sleep a long time after indulging himself in the drug. Standing up stiffly, from falling asleep in the chair, Erik stretched then proceeded to dress for tonight’s opera.

Once his topcoat was on and his mask was in place Erik grabbed his cloak off the hanger and preceded to the surface of his opera house. Taking extra care to stay hidden in the shadows Erik managed to dodge other people’s gazes. Opening night meant plenty of people lounging about and the last thing Erik wanted was to be seen. Approaching the floor where his box was located Erik was about to dash in when he saw someone standing in front of it. It was Mia holding what appeared to be a scroll case. ‘What the devil is she doing?’ Erik thought, watching her stare at the floor. She seemed to be thinking very heavily about something.

After watching her stand there a few minutes she finally shook her head and went into his box. Erik watched from the shadows wondering if she was planning to stay in there and watch the performance. His question was answered when he watched her quickly walk out of the box empty handed, and went downstairs.

Curiously Erik walked into his box, seeing nothing. Wondering briefly if maybe she hid the case on her as she walked out Erik was about to sit in his chair when he noticed the case. Picking up the container, and sitting down Erik uncapped the object and reached inside. Out of the case he pulled out a rolled up sheet of sketching paper. Unrolling the paper a sealed letter fell out. Erik was about to reach for the letter when his eyes caught what was on the sketch paper: a fully done charcoal portrait of himself.

What do you think? Like it? Hate it? Honestly I don’t know myself. It really helps to know other peoples opinions so I know if there is anything I should add in the writing. So please if anyone does read this please leave a review! I am paranoid enough just from having a friend read this. Please let me know! Points at Erik You’re an intimidating character to write!

Erik: “Oh for God sake review before she has a panic attack.”

Author curls up into the fetal position “You’re mean.”

“You’re pathetic.”

“…And?”

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Portrait of the Soul