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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
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[Disclaimer2: 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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“Raoul... Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Another sigh, another thread of his anger being clipped. If he heard his wife voice speak that line one more time. He feared what he would do. “Oui my dear... It is. Now. Is everything ready?”

Christine only frowned, looking away from her husband whom stood before the full length mirror, staring at himself within his costume. She didn’t understand why he picked to wear such a thing, then tell her to wear this... A pure white gown hugged her, with cotton and satin. Ruffle laces puffed at the sleeves and at the edge of her skirt and blouse. Pearl buttons held the corest like blouse tightly shut over her upper torso, giving her a slender figure. The low cut collar, out line with rabbit fur, along with the trails of satin that lingered under the cotton spread, which cut open to bare the satin underneath. A mask within her white gloved hands, small and sparkled with glitter. A bit nose with a rabbit fur outline along the outside edges. Her long brown hair, pulled up into a french twist, letting a few locks of curls to brush along her bare shoulder and along her back. A pair of rabbit hears pinned neatly with pearls drupped upon her head. She looked lovely, like a frighten rabbit. But what she didn’t understand was Raoul costume. He was handsome.. But it made her uneasy.

Before the mirror he stared. A smug smile on his face. Within his costume, a dark orange out lined with gold, gold buttons keeping it closed over the white cotton shirt underneath. A matching pair of orange trousers hugged his hips, trailing down along his thick muscular legs to his ankles, where black dress shoes lingered. A mask placed upon his face, pure white with an orange outlining, the nose part pointed out with a black nose tip. Upon his blonde locks, that were combed neatly and parted, a pair of furry orange ears with white fur on the tips and inside the ear itself. Before the mirror, he dressed like the animal he compared himself to so many times.

A Fox.

The day was slipping away, the servants rushed from one place to another, getting everything ready. Within one of the grand theaters, one that refused to sign with him. The ball was being held. It took a few hours, to talk the owner into agreeing to let Raoul hold such a treat. But once the old man caved in, Raoul took it to the best of his ability. This ball will help his career once again. This ball will finally put the past behind them where it belongs. They will be able to move on without a care in the world...

A smile crossed his face as he looked over at Christine, whom stared out the window, messing with her mask nervously.

Tonight... He was going to get his Gypsy...

~~~~~~~~~{@

The night was bitterly cold. But it was the New Years. With a grand party awaiting the couples, the weather was nothing compared to the thrilling that stirred in their bodies. Fire works exploded within the air, blaring out the colors one could only think. Crowds of couples, of bodies swirled the opening of the theater.

Just like one night, not to long ago.

Couples walked, dressed in such costumes that could only leave you to guess whom they are suppose to be. Masks to your left and right, blocking the faces of all, making you even wonder, if your friends are truly standing beside you.

Two cloaked covered figures slipped into the crowed slowly. Two figures, one taller then the other. The taller one seemed to wrap its arms around the smaller, holding it close within the chilling air. But soon they stopped at the opening of the doors, the smaller figure holding out the folded invite. The entrance man stared at it for a moment, before looking to the two. And with a bow of his white head, he opened the door, letting them into the blasting music of a waltz.

Looking threw the darkness of the hood. Esme stared in awe at the dancing couples, at the glittering crystal glasses that shined within the lights upon the sliver trays. The music of waltz, of violins playing heavenly to her ears. Looking up, she stared at Erik. Whom held onto her tightly, his face covered within the shadows of the hood he too wore. She frowned, fearing he would suddenly change his mind, that he would spin around, pick her up and rush back home. It took to long to tell Crystal they were going out for the night, to trust them that they would return later. But Crystal complained and whined, begging to go as well, as Eddy held onto her, declaring he was big enough to watch over her. To make up for the mistake he once made.

But when she parted her lips to speak. He took a deep breath, holding her tightly to his side, he stepped deeper within his nightmare. Their cloaks asked to be removed. Esme slowly undid hers, Being the first to show her costume.

As one of the serves grasped her cloak, the black fabric rippled off her slender form. And before the very eyes she stood. Over her eyes a golden mask lingered, pointed edges graced out in a curve, with crystals. Her long golden red hair was kept down, curling, waving out along her slender form, with Ruby clips pinned within every other lock. Giving her a look of pure innocent. But her outfit didn’t speak it. A gypsy she was dressed. A golden vest, small and tight, only enough to hug her swollen breasts, baring her flat stomach and some of her small rib cage. Her arms bare, besides the golden bracelets that chimed upon her wrists. Upon her hips, low riders so to speak, a mini gold skirt held tightly to her waist, only an inch from baring her treasure between her legs so to speak. But her father showed her a trick, to stich another slip of cloth covering the valley, blocking it from any mans eyes. But with a golden belt, with small bells that rang, dark red satin shimmered within the air. Sewed onto the belt, the long see through fabric started at the edge of her hips, trailing down along behind her in till the fabric brushed along his ankles. But the front bared her long slender legs, down to her very slipper covered feet, the ankle bracelet that held a thin gold chain, that trailed up along her leg in a swirl, in till it touched and hocked onto the belt that circled around her hips, covering the beginning her skirt. Giving her almost a capture look. But her golden tan skin, that would have glowed on its own, was smeared and covered with golden paint. With ruby red paint lips, upon her upper arms and along her thighs. Giving her almost a goddess look, the Goddess of Sand. A pure Gypsy.

Men could not help but stop to look upon her. Mouth wide and eyes glowing with lust. Erik saw this, and a growl slipped from his throat. It was his turn. His cloak removed from his body, He stood his spot beside Esme, his arm wrapping around her waist tightly, placing his claim for all eyes. Beside her, he dressed in an outfit he felt ridicules in. A pair of puffy gold pants hugged from his waist down to his ankles, in which they locked, baring the gold slippers she had given him. A blood red sash, wrapped around his hip and some of his flat muscular stomach, where a sword Esme had spoke, that belong to her father rested, tied within safely. Upon his wrist Gold gauntlets lingered, from his wrist to his elbows. His chest bare, with no sign of hair that grew, but his muscles were bared, making some of the women around him almost swoon from the mere sight. Upon his face, a black mask lingered, like the one he wore on the last play he did upon the stage... ‘Don Juan’ Upon his head, a golden glittering fabric wrapped around his head, time and time again, in till he thought a nest was made. A thick length of the same cloth dangled down along his back. His skin, the almost same skin tone as Esme’s was too covered in gold paint. Ruby red colors brushed along his chest, his shoulders and upper arms. Giving him a dominate look.

Looking down slowly, he watched his gypsy watch the dancers in awe. A little smile tugging his face. Esme had spent the day, carefully hiding every inch of his infection, ever nock and corner she found. She took care of him, making sure he would look as normal as he wished to feel. But the feeling, a long forgotten feeling was coming back. Warmth spread through his chest as the thrilling pulse of once again being within a ballroom hit him... He had long forgotten how he enjoyed balls. Even thou he could never go to one... Only the Masquerade’s. It was the only time, he felt normal, that he felt like everyone else. Esme was being out the old feelings that were deep down buried within his anger and pain. Taking her golden hand softly, he lead her to the wide marble floor. He looked down, watching her look up to him in surprise. He didn’t have to ask. He didn’t have to speak. His smile said enough to her. With a tender small smile, she followed him to the dance floor. Letting his right hand touch her hip, his left taking her right. Placing her free hand upon his shoulder, he began to slowly move with the beat of the waltz, twirling her around slowly within the dancing couples. Like a dream Esme danced, her eyes glowing with such joy as her laughter spilled out, making Erik smile back and hold her close. She could tell, that Erik was enjoying the ball.

Just as much as she was enjoying him being with her.
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Replaying Past