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@delanuit
an independent, private, & selective Leroux / Kay / ALW - based portrayal of ERIK aka the Phantom of the Opera written by ROMEO
• 21+ • icon and para threads • low-activity • mutuals only • oc & crossover friendly •
ft. verses from Kopit, the Phantom of the Paradise, REPO! & the hellaverse !!
EST. Mar 2023 ; revamped Jun 2026 remake of @scorpionisms
|| ABOUT || NAVIGATION || LAWS || MUN ||
@noblehcart
it was so damned hot in this country. Erik's distaste for traveling in tight quarters meant that the convenient water routes most preferred were untenable to him, leaving him little choice but to rely on dangerous roads through mountains and densely forested landscape. moisture trapped by the high inclines rendered the landscape muggy and humid, and as much as he preferred his solitary method of travel, he would be well glad to reach his destination.
at the very least, he had moderate assurance of remaining safe on his journey. there were precious few men in this world who could sneak up on him, and even bandits who managed to gang up on him would not live long enough to tell about it.
the same could not be said for whatever poor souls had traveled this route ahead of him. Erik approached the ruins of the caravan tentatively on his horse before dismounting, giving the mare a soothing pat on the neck before venturing closer himself. the air was thick with flies and the smell of death, though it could not have been any longer than a number of hours to a day since that the attack occurred.
what on earth a caravan of this size was doing transversing this dangerous road, he could not say ; if they had been relying on their numbers to protect them, they'd been sorely mistaken. Erik picked through what remained, though the attackers had done their work and taken most anything of value. searching, long-fingered hands paused over a broach depicting a tropical bird. likely it had been tossed to the ground because what looked at first like gems were merely cut glass, but the artistry of craftsmanship alone made it worth something in his eyes. he pocketed the trinket and stood, ready to return to his horse and continue on.
a small sound stalled him. instantly, he stilled, ears pricked like a hound's, taking in the barest noise or movement. something — someone? — beneath a pile of discarded trunks and the ruins of a carriage. with a strength that belied his thin physique, Erik used one shoulder as leverage to hoist the largest piece of wood and shove it off to the side, moving aside a tattered canvas to reveal . . . a woman.
❛ mademoiselle? ❜ surprise shocked him back into his native French. surely, she could not still be alive, but he swore he'd heard her, or something with her. perhaps an animal had burrowed in to begin helping nature along its course to decomposition. but nothing else moved. he switched to Farsi to ask, ❛ can you hear me? ❜
" Forgive me. I've become a bit turned around in your home. I hadn't meant to intrude, but the door was open."
It was unsettling to see the lounging figure that was not there one moment and then appeared as though he had been set there for centuries. Frame bristled slightly at the name 'little dagger' and wondered how that spelled his view of her. She carried no weapon on her- something that her husband would've bemoaned her upon realizing she had undertaken this quest to find him without knowledge of the dangers. She was usually a clever woman and well thought out in almost every measure but this one- this time she was just focused on finding her love and it left her reckless.
Such as being reckless to intrude on a dwelling where she knew not whom lived in it.
The heady scent of poppy wafting in the air tickled her nose drawing her to soften her breaths in the case of it altering her senses as she took in the figure. Imposing in his silks and enchanting in his tone and tongue that she felt every inch the danger that curled about his throne and his voice. It took very few guesses to decide that she dealt with a fae like being and to realize that she might have stumbled into a far more dangerous situation than thought possible.
" I was searching for someone, but it would seem as though your home has brought me in. I don't know why that is, but I hadn't meant to intrude. Forgive me." It was the soft words of her elder brother Masoud that echoed stories to her of djinn, fae and other creatures and how much more complacent they could be with a gift- how they might even be helpful if they were in such a mood. Especially if one knew how to swallow their own pride and do just a bit of groveling- to which she would crawl across broken glass and thorn for the chance to find her husband again.
What was pride against the measure of love after all?
So she took a ginger step forward, tilting forward in a slight bow as dark head lifted slight with matching dark eyes looking to him. " I have little with me to offer as a gift in recompense for my rudeness, but if I could offer you something of value on my person would you help me leave this place? I never meant to disgrace your home, please forgive me good sir."
eyes flashed at her words. the door was open. it was no easy thing to wander into his Home unintentionally, impossible to find it on purpose. that was part of its allure and its hostility. impenetrable to invasion ( and impossible to escape — even for him ). yet this creature had merely wandered in.
no, not wandered, like all who entered his domain, she sought something. however, most sought something that was not there : his favor. they had a wish that he could grant, if he so chose, if they proved themselves worthy. but this Little Dagger did not seem to seek something so esoteric . . . she sought the other wanderer. unheard of!
Erik's smile widened unsettlingly behind the veil. this would prove MOST entertaining.
her manners seemed to adjust, and she addressed him with far more respect than she first had. it did not pass his notice how she failed to name herself, however. good, perhaps she was as clever as she seemed.
❛ I may forgive you, ❜ he spoke coyly, voice curling towards her like the crimson smoke that left his lips. ❛ it all depends on what you can offer me. what may I call you? ❜ he did not think she would be so easily tricked into revealing her true name, but still he needed to refer to her somehow. ❛ or will Little Dagger suffice? ❜ there was power in his own naming of her as well, which could prove to his advantage.
❛ as for leaving this place, I'm afraid that won't be quite so simple. ❜
@songandflame cont.
Erik could feel every bit of the body pressed against him, flushed heat against his natural cold, her heartbeat pounding where her chest touched his. panic and nausea rose in his throat, try as he might to master it.
her point was instantly proven : this was entirely out of his control.
part of Erik wanted to push Fantine away as she began to fiddle with his shirt, but her leg around him and the insistent grip of her hands prevented his escape. instead, he forced himself to listen to her words, leaning in the better to hear her.
despite her insistence, indignant rage nearly boiled over within him. he could just kill the man. one less monster in the world, preying on the miserable. but logic quickly cooled his senses. what would happen to the women in the man's employ, then? likely they'd be worse off than they were even now . . .
as much as he loathed to admit, she was right and he was in the wrong. he would have to play along, at least in this moment, if he ever wanted her help her or any of them in the long run.
❛ I assure you, I am capable of far more than he, ❜ was a murmured response. Erik swallowed down his protests and dug in his pocket for his purse. ❛ but for tonight, so be it. at the very least, let's get off the streets. ❜
@songandflame cont.
Erik's brow furrowed in irritation as the smoke from Meg's cigarette curled near his face, wafting it away with an agitated flick of the wrist. the inner singing instructor that still resided in his mind wanted to reprimand her, tell her that she was ruining her instrument, but what was the point ? with the kind of drivel he had her singing these days, it wasn't like she needed the full flexibility of range she might once have possessed.
❛ none of the mainstays, of course. ❜ Erik barely looked up from the score he was editing. ❛ it's spreading among the stagehands, the transient chorus girls, the new carnies. ❜ his lip quirked in irony. ❛ they seem to think you're sleeping with me for solos. ❜
mouth curled down again as he moved the crystal paperweight out of her range to protect it from being used as an ashtray again.
❛ they seem to have noticed you're one of the only people who gets to actually see me. ❜ Erik didn't sound particularly bothered by this, if anything, there seemed to be a touch of amusement in his tone. ❛ it's not worth killing over, and I suppose it helps with the air of mystique, but it's not doing wonders for your reputation. ❜
eyes cast to study her in his periphery, guaging her reaction. ❛ I'll leave it to you to handle as you see fit. I certainly don't want any of those chorus girls hunting me down thinking they can get ahead. ❜
inbox call.
like to have this weird old man send you things <3
the phantom of the opera is there or whatever they say
some main trio portraits with inspo from a few different casts!
frat boy phantom moodboard
Anton Zetterholm and Lisanne Veeneman
Worry about it kitten
ok ♥️
fuck ♥️
revamped this blog once again :) i'm gonna nuke my drafts and unfollow all inactives and refollow anyone still active.
"stop trapping people in your basement labyrinth" "stop making mortals fall into pocket dimensions because you think it's funny" "stop weaving people's souls into enchanted tapestries" next i suppose you want me to stop BREATHING. you have NO consideration for MY needs
*flirting with an older man* when i was born you had already attempted suicide once
rage and tenderness existing simultaneously in the same body
the fact that R.amin is currently my default age for Erik. is good for me. i like that.
