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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
- 6
- 7
- 8
Yea! I got reviews! I know this may be tiring to all of you, but I really do enjoy them! They help me a lot! Erik, do you know how many people were trying to guess Mia’s first question?
Erik: Yes, every time you got a review you ran screaming. ‘Erik, Erik! I got a review!’ And made me read it.
Sorry. If I knew that many people were going to guess, I would have put out a cookie for a reward or something, or at least a kiss from you.
Erik: Don’t even think about it.
Sigh, well anyway I own nothing but a few OC’s so without further delay I give you chapter…
Erik: seven
Seven! By Friday as promised!
Erik: It’s Friday night, almost Saturday
Well…I always write at night…
Erik/sigh/ Just get on with it.
Darkness filled the rims of Erik’s vision as he rushed to the chamber pot located in his bathing chamber. Limbs shaking violently he barely managed to take hold of the edges as he emptied the remains of his stomach into the pot. Spots clouded his vision as the rest of his limbs continued to tremble violently as he convulsed several times into the pot. Feeling that the vomiting was over Erik rolled onto his side, allowing his head to lie on the cool floor.
Morphine. His body, his very soul seemed to be crying for it. His symptoms of withdraw seemed to become worse towards the days directly before Nadir would come. Yes, Nadir would be there tomorrow with his shorter dosage. He had been at five milligrams for two weeks. One more week and he would be down to only four. Soon he would be denied it completely.
Turning over on to his back Erik tried to release his mind from his current dilemma. One just had to think of something else. Think of a memory. Before recent Erik would have thought about Christine and the time she spent in his home. However, Christine did not enter his memory, his first thought escaped to his last encounter with Mia.
“So then Monsieur Erik, are you ready for my first question?”
“Fire away.”
He did his best not to show his anxiety towards her first question, but in truth the suspense was killing him. If not for his atheism, Erik was sure he would have been praying. Do not ask about my face. Do not ask about my mask. Anything else, please Erik silently begged to whom he was not sure. He was almost lost in his mental babble when the question was upon him.
“Why do you wear a mask?”
“What?” Erik jerked forward.
“I said.” Mia repeated. “Would you like to sit down? That’s not the question, question. However, I thought it would be nice to sit as we do this.” Erik felt like slapping himself. Now was he hearing voices, rather then creating them? “Sure.” He answered.
Mia had offered him the foot of her bed as she found a desk chair. “Ready?”
“You do not have to ask me that. Now please continue.”
“Why do you wear a mask?” Erik shook his head at first, sending out the voice of doubt that was his self-esteem.
“What is your favorite season?”
“Pardon?” Erik starred. In all his dread of being asked the most basic question of anyone’s curiosity about him she had asked. “What is my favorite season?”
Mia laughed. “Weren’t expecting that, were you? I just thought it would be a good icebreaker. So I was right that you were not expecting it.”
“Indeed I wasn’t.” Erik admitted. “Winter.” He answered. Seeing her nod and smile he realized he was at a disadvantage having her ask first. Now he felt obliged to ask her, her favorite season. He voiced his concern to her, and she merely gave him that laugh he was becoming almost accustomed to. “If you really wish to know, I shall give you a free answer. It is autumn, however Monsieur Erik do not feel obligated to ask me anything based on my questions for you.”
“I appreciate that Mademoiselle, and will keep that tad in mind. Please though do not call me ‘Monsieur’. Just Erik is fine enough.” He requested taking a sip of the Russian tea.
“Erik.” Mia tested, feeling how the naked name felt on her tough. “Then you may call me Mia. It is after all what I am called in Russia.”
“I suppose so. Now for my question, how long have you been an artist?”
“I’m not sure.” Mia shrugged. “I was drawing before most of my regular motor skills developed. My mother went crazy when I use to draw on the her walls.”
Erik snorted briefly remembering his own mother’s anguish. When she had failed to supply him with paper he drew on any surface he could find. This act included carving his design into their dinning room table with a pair of scissors. “Yes mothers do not fancy these early artistic releases, do they?” Erik mused out loud remembering the beatings he had received for that simple act.
“Not really.” Mia agreed. “So, out of your numerous accomplishments, which one was the earliest you perfected?”
Hours passed, questions and both answers were exchanged. Questions of nonsense such as favorite colors were traded for more serious inquires such as past travels and religion.
“Persia, Russia, The orient. I have been almost everywhere east that is connected to Europe. Is Yiddish an actual language? I have tried to learn it, however it does not seem fully spoken.”
“You first heard it in Russia, correct? There are many dialects, and words missing. Yiddish is a combination of Hebrew and Russian. However, if you were to go to Poland there Yiddish is a combination of Hebrew and Polish. I only know it how it was spoke in my house and around the town I grew up.”
“Which I assume was primarily Jewish?” Erik stated.
“If you are assuming.” Mia spoke. “Then yes, however if this is an attempt at a free question then I am not telling you.”
“In that case.” Erik challenged. “I was assuming.”
“Oh, Who was it that taught you architecture?”
By their fourth cup of tea the clock read three in the morning, but neither seemed to notice. Erik had never in his life remembered feeling as commutable as he had at that moment. Had he been in his own home, and not a gentleman, he would have been reclining on the bed as he conversed with Mia. At times now he was beginning to think of her as many other things then just Mia. For the moments when questions became more challenging she was an opponent. When questions came of art or design she was an equal in the knowledge they both seemed to share on these subjects.
As time flew, and questions proceeded the opera ghost had found his cloak and hat lying on the bed by the sleeping Brian. Erik studied the feline watching as it lied on its back with his feet up in the air. “Ayesha sleeps just like this sometimes.” Erik commented petting the feline’s lighter belly.
“Your cat, I assume?” Mia replied watching the magician pet her darling with his non-gloved hands.
“Yes. If that last statement was just you assuming, it is your turn to ask, my dear.”
“It was. What sort of cat is this Ayesha?”
“One of a kind.”
“They all are.” Mia sighed, as she continued to watch the two.
“She is a Siamese.”
“Really? I’ve never seen one before.” Mia admitted. “I heard though they are going to start breading them here soon.”
“Even if they do.” Erik breathed. “None, I guarantee you, will be like her. What time is it?”
Mia turned her stiff neck to gaze at her solitary clock. “Oi! Nearly six!”
“Well, my dear.” Erik sighed standing. “I believe once the clock has nearly gone round it is time for me to take my leave.”
“If you must.” Mia said looking at the floor. “However, please know that it is no inconvenience at all having you stay here.”
“I realize that.” Erik acknowledged putting on his hat to hide the slightest smile. “I feel more welcome here then I do in my own home. I hope what I am feeling is correct and fine on your part.”
“Of course it is.” Mia reassured. “Will-will you come back soon?”
“I.” Erik thought. True he did not have as busy a schedule as she might have come to believe, but he did have plans. Nadir was coming two days from now, with the morphine. Erik also knew his symptoms from withdraw to become more severe as the anticipation grew. He also did not want to come to Mia when he was still on his high, during that time he could not control anything he said or did. “I have some engagements to attend to. However, I shall try to be return by the end of the week.”
“Alright, may I make a request?”
“As long as it isn’t for me to answer more questions tonight.”
“I promise it isn’t.” Mia smiled, the lift of her small mouth giving Erik a strange feeling in his gut. “I was merely going to request that on your next visit you might bring some of your designs. You were gracious enough to look at mine. I was wondering if I might see yours. Or any other sketches you are willing to show.”
“I will bring them then, on my next visit.” Erik promised, checking out the door to see if everything was clear. Bidding her a good day he began his steps. About to close the door he found his lips moving without his permission as he mumbled another sentence to her.
“Mia, I was not being gracious by looking at your works. It was my honor to share in your perfection. Good morning.”
Yes. Erik thought now, as he lay in his coffin in his own home. It was true honor.
All right! There you have it! Chapter seven! I hope you all enjoyed it and I hope you all continue to review! It really, really, really helps me! It also helps the chapters come out faster so review! Do it, and I’ll let Erik give you a kiss!
Erik: Hey! She did not promise anything! What right do you have to do this?
Um…none.
Erik: Your pleading insanity, aren’t you?
Like you're one to talk.
- 6
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- 8
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Portrait of the Soul