Halloween Extravaganza//Closed
The air was crisp and cool, a chill wind blew the various colored leaves off the surrounding trees (of what little grew about the opera house) and into a carpet which blanketed the ground in a thin blanket of burnt crimsons, shining vermilion, and yellows which could put the sun to shameâall stitched together with leaves of brown and brown tipped grassâall of which crunched underfoot. The sun dipped away quickly, though the streets were still brightly illuminated with lampposts dotting the sidewalks down the main drag. Christine took a few steps up the marble staircase leading to the large oaken doors to the opera house; she was arriving along with most of her co-stars for the annual Halloween Extravaganza the managers put on. Though such a lavish affair was most definitely not just for the actors and stagehandsâoh noâsuch was a time for them to show off their prestige to their loyal patrons and charitable philanthropists which would be in attendance.
Inside, it was as if the little soprano stepped into a different world completely. Every light was on, candles where hung and placed, their wax dripping for added effectâmirrors lined every wall to toss light back into the room, and there was no spot missing a decoration. Spiderwebs were slinking around the chandelier as a python about its prey and slipping down, nearly dusting the heads of the party-goers. Dried ice was dropped continuously into the spiked punch by a stagehand who wore a mad-scientist costume, the bartender who was hurriedly polishing the bar-top was dressed as Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde, bats swung about the ceiling from wires pushed by an unseen fan, an open casket held a dummy Draculaâthe managers truly spared no expense.Â
Christine shed her jacket at the door, which was taken by a woman she knew was the Stage Manager, dressed as Queen Cleopatra. She, herself, was dressed as the only thing she could find left in the costume shopâan angel. With a gold headband halo covered to the hilt in glitter and golden nails she was wrapped in a white dress with two long wings poking from the back, draping downwards, the feathers touched her calves as she walked; and praying to every deity she knew that she wouldnât step on her dress and fall on her faceâthe gold sparkles on her eyelids were a bit distracting.Â
Meg, her wonderful best friend, was dressed as a Spider Queen, or..at least, thatâs what Christine assumed, with a giant fake spider riding cooly on the shoulder of her gown. âChristine!â Meg cried, waving the soprano over and into a tight hug. âHow long have you been here? Have you seen them? The patrons are just arriving now!â Meg cried, positively bubbling over with excitement as she seized Christineâs arms, her eyes wild. Before Christine could get a word in, Meg nearly squealed and turned her best friend toward the door. âLetâs watch to see who comes! Oh, they have a grand list of who may, but who will really show?â Meg questioned, more to herself than to the woman before her.Â
âI donât know,â Christine answered anyway, her eyes slipping from the door and to the steaming punch.Â
@featheringtips  Â
October, one of the few months out of the year that the supernatural population of Paris enjoyed, save for December and perhaps, February. What can one say? Many of the beings were suckers for a good rom-com now and again. However, with the most arcanely charged day of the year coming ever closer, one particular grouping of supernaturals found it, even more, trying to keep one another contained to their usual haunts until that evening. But of course, there was always an exception to this rule, those who allowed their wants to run wild or at least legally speaking, wild.
The invitation had been expected, ignored numerous times until that afternoon when it was shoved firmly into his hands by his secretary along with a recently pressed Victorian-Era suit that was a deep shade of purple along with a top hat with a band in similar purple to the suit itself. And to finish the look, a cane with the head being in the shape of a snarling wolf head. A look of confusion crossed his features as his eyes flicked from the invitation to the outfit itself before a heavy sigh escaped his lips, watching as his secretary had retreated from his office. Truly, he had had no want to attend a party, especially not alone. So what was he to do but bring an entourage. Evening came and so did the time to depart from his offices, entourage in tow, which consisted simply of himself, his right-hand man, his simpering secretary and a rather burly looking one-eyed male. Invitation in hand and entourage at his heels, the man made the journey promptly to the Opera Populaire. The doors swung open allowing the groupings entrance and with a slight nod of his head, the trio that followed him spread out and began mingling about with the rest of the patrons.
Doffing his hat, Alexander leaned gently against his cane, allowing his eyes to scour over the other guests present. Was he looking for someone? Perhaps, and yet he continued to allow his eyes to roam, studying, prodding and internally guessing who or what each person was dressed as. The murmurings of voices finally caught his attention as he turned eyes slowly over to a nearby group of observers who were, well, observing him. Flashing a smile, he swept down into a bow and placed his hat back upon his head, before rising and moving further on into the opera house.
âChristine..â Meg said quietly, trying to gain her attention, drawing her eyes from the foaming punch bowl. She nodded her head towards the entrance, pointing to someone with the quick back-and-forth motion with her eyes. It took a moment for the soprano to understand that Meg was motioning toward a man dressed in purple.Â
Christine definitely understood why Meg wanted her to see this man.Â
He was, quite possibly, the most handsome man sheâd ever laid eyes onâfrom his jawline which was stronger than she, to his shoulders, even down to his hands grasping onto a beautifully polished cane. He was utterly hypnotizing.Â
The purple truly complimented himâhe struck Christine as someone of great importance, she could tell simply by his stride. He seemed to almost glowâit couldâve been the many, many candles, but she sensed something special about him; it was almost as if he was a bit familiar, but she knew she couldnât have known him beforehandâshe would certainly remember him.
Nearly feeling drool touch her chin, Christine snapped herself out of her trance-like state. He wouldnât ever speak to her, right? A chorus girl whoâd just moved off of the ballet. He was in a complete other league than herâanother world, even! Giving a little cough and tearing her eyes away, she smiled at Meg and nodded. âI think heâs a patron,â Meg began to say, her eyes following his movements; Christine took a shy glance back to the man before freeing herself from her friendâs grasp.Â
âIâm going to get punch,â she said, Meg nodded, and the soprano escaped, walking straight up to the table and sighing. If the night continued like this she would certainly be leaving earlyâshe adored Meg dearly, but having her friend hang upon her as a cloak was not something she eagerly accepted. And to be surrounded by such handsome and well-to-do people was something she felt honored, and humbled, byâthough it made her feel quite small. Oh, how she wished this party couldâve been a masquerade!Â
Downing the glass she was given, she held it out once more, and with it full she turned back to the party, her eyes swimming over the occupants. One could clearly tell who was a beneficiary of the Opera, and who was employed by the Opera. Most of her co-workers wore costumes, many bought from a local party storeâwhilst the beneficiaries and patrons wore suits and dresses worth more than Christineâs apartment paid completely off thrice over. How was she mingling with such again?
Though her eyes swept about the ballroom, she was searching once more for the handsome man dressed in all purpleâthough she knew she had but a sliver of a chance with him, she couldnât resist staring. Even though he wouldnât let her order, she could stare at the menu, right? What harm was there, then?
His movements were fluid and similar to that of a practiced dancer, the cane he used tapped gently as he moved along. Verbally and physically greeting people as he slipped through the crush of people, making his way toward the bar where he quickly acquired a tumbler filled with simply ice and whiskey.Â
Tipping his head back, the male took a hearty sip before moving on away from the bar, murmuring over his shoulder to, âPut it on my tab.â His footsteps were muffled as he moved on through, heading into the ballroom only to be snagged by his right-hand and tugged off to the side. âEnjoying the evening, so far, Boss?â Lou asked, tilting his head, watching the party-goers. âSuppose so. Lots of pretty catches. Anyone catch your eye yet?â Alexander asked in turn. However, Lou merely grunted and offered up a shrug at that. Truly this was an answer that Alexander was used to and even caused the man to chuckle gently, moving to look about slowly before settling upon a particular woman, dressed as an angel? Interesting.Â
When Christine caught sight of him again she was half way through her second drink, and seriously considering leaving earlyâa Netflix marathon with chocolates and leftover wine seemed delightful. Though, the man in the purple caused her to stay firmly rooted where she was. This would probably be her only time to see him, most likelyâat least until the next big party.
There was a large man beside him, he put a bit of a fright in her, and kept her away from the man in the purple suit.
She wondered who this man wasâsheâd definitely seen his face somewhere. Perhaps on a magazine? Television? It had to be somewhere! He had a face too beautiful to not be famous!
Steeling herself up, she placed her drink beside her and turned away from the party, sighingâshe would at least tell him helloâŠ.maybe.
âSeems someone has caught your eye however.â Lou nudged his elbow into Alexanderâs stomach. He smirked as he followed his friendâs gaze, nodding his head gently in appreciation.
The man rolled his eyes and swatted Louâs arm, before setting his gaze back onto the woman dressed like a heavenly being.
âIâm going to go say hello. Go mingle some more.â Alexander murmured towards Lou before nudging his way through the crowd, strolling towards Christine. Retrieving his hat from his head, he offered her bow and smiled towards her.
âGood evening.â
She could barely believe her eyesâhe was there! Just there! âGood evening..â she breathed, her heart thundered in her chest and she offered her hand to him, her eyes locked on his own. My god they were beautifulâthey sparkled against the flickering light and caused her breath to halt in her throat.
âI do believe Iâve seen you from somewhere, Monsieur..â she added, in near complete disbelief. âChristine Daaeâ she added, finally snapping back into reality and offering a smile to him.
âChristine Daae.â Her name rolled off his tongue smoothly as he straightened from his bow and placed his hat back on. Leaning gently on his cane, the man gazed at the beautiful woman before him. Truly, the costume she wore was, at least to Alexander, fitting. An angel on earth, at least to Alexander of course.
âA beautiful name for an even more beautiful woman. I donât mean to be forward, Miss Daae, but I couldnât help but notice your gaze. And perhaps you have seen me somewhere, perhaps you havenât, my face is known by many.â He murmured.
A blush took over her cheeks, and not simply from the spiked drink. He was indeed charming! And quite the gentleman, she thought. âA face like yours is one someone would not soon forget, monsieur.â She replied, her smile wideâshe felt just a tad goofy, it was hard to form words, almost!Â
âAnd I truly appreciate the forwardnessâI couldnât catch a hint if I were given a twenty foot net.â She laughed, her eyes never leaving him. âYou did indeed hold my gaze, monsieurâŠare works of art not meant to be gazed upon?â She added, her smile turning sly, though she kidded notâhe truly did belong in some sort of art exhibition, possibly one right beside the Mona Lisa in the Louvreâthough, if that were so, no one would visit to see the Mona Lisa anymore.Â
âYou seem to glow brighter than all the candles..â she said softly, quietly hoping he heard her soft speech, however, over the chatter and constant clacking of heels on marble floor, she doubted.Â
âI could ask you the same question my dear Miss Daae. Should not a beautiful angel belong on the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel? Or in the Louvre?â He jested gently, drawing closer to her and offering his own arm to her.
âAnd I apologize if I do glow, blame my secretary, she handled my outfit for this evening. Come, letâs move elsewhere so we can talk easier, please.â Alexander murmured to her, smiling down at Christine. His eyes shifted slightly, eying her fake wings gently before chuckling.
Beaming, she took his arm, attempting to control her excitementâhe heard her! âI enjoy your outfit, monsieur, the purple is very fitting for you.â Said she, leading him toward the amphitheater, hopefully where there was less noise. Inside, there was, indeed, less noise, and fewer peopleâsome sat amongst themselves in the seats, enjoying a cigarette and a quiet chat, or standing upon the stage and speaking to the managers.Â
Christine pulled him over, towards the boxes. âThis way, no one will disturb us in a box seat, monsieur! Come on!â She cried, hurrying up the stairs and laughing, almost as if it were a game of tag. Finally, out of breath and giggling, she stopped before a box doorâbox five.Â
âWhat did you say your name was again, monsieur?â Â
A few chuckles would escape him as he willingly allowed her to guide him along into the amphitheater. His eyes flicking to the other occupants before he was tugged further in and as they stopped before the door leading into the box, he let out another chuckle and spoke.
âI didnât give it my dear. Apologies on that, my manners seemed to have run away from me.â His voice was smooth and calm, and perhaps even a tad chilled, but strangely enough there was warmth in his brown eyes. Alexander smiled as he moved to simply push open the door and enter the box, pulling her inside with him, if allowed of course.
âAlexander Harken, at your service, Miss Daae.â Were the next words he spoke, tipping his top hat gently to her.
She allowed him to pull her into the box, and nodded when he tipped his hatâhe truly was quite the gentleman! âAlexander HarkenâŠitâs a very strong name.â Observed she, his name almost tasted like candy the way she held it in her mouthâstarting on the very back of her tongue, rolling forwards and shifting backâalmost as a wave. She moved to a seat which looked directly out to the rest of the amphitheater, motioning for him to sit in the one beside her.
âWhat do you do for employment, my dear Monsieur Harken?â Asked she; she wanted to ask him all kinds of questions, her curiosity of him was piqued! Where did he come from? Did he live here in Paris? What was he doing at the Opera party? Did he attend regularly? And most importantlyâwas he currently single?Â
Biting her cheek, she held her questions squarely between her teethâthey would have their own time and place, and neither was now. âI work here, at the opera,â she blurted, wondering what he would think when she truly told him. âI work on stage; I-I sing..â explained sheâshe wanted to know just how successful he was before she told him she was simply a chorus girlâthe door was only just behind her, an escape would be easy, if necessary.Â
âWhat do I do?â He asked, tilting his head slowly to the side. His hat shifting with his movement as he seemed to consider such a question. Alexander had of course, followed Christine in sitting, gently stroking his chin as he considered the question.
âIâm a business man of sorts. An investor. Suppose a merchant might be a good word to use as well.â He shrugged and smiled at her, eyes twinkling gently. âA jack of all trades sort of man.â
The man leaned back into his chair and let out a sigh, resting his cane upon his leg as he gazed out over amphitheater. He seemed to look at as if he himself owned the building- like a king studying his lands.
âA singer dressed like an angel, sounds fitting.â
âA merchant? A merchant of what?â Asked she, twisting around to face him, leaning herself on the armrest in attempts to move just a bit closer. âWhat do you like toâŠinvest in, monsieur business man?â She continued, smiling wideâthis man was most definitely a patron, he had to be! It frightened her just a bit, but there was something so warm and comforting about him, he washed her fears away with a single glance. She felt she could simply just hug him forever and he wouldnât mind!Â
Though, she kept her hands to herselfâfor now, anywaysâshe would get a hug later, she knew, she was determined. A blush kissed her cheeks at his compliment, and she let out a laugh at the coincidence. âActually, monsieur, I never planned thisâthe angel costume was the last one left in the store!â Explained she, touching a fake white feather, which was shoved against the seat behind herâthey werenât the most convenient things in the world, but it was a large part of her costume.
âDo you come to the opera often, monsieur merchant?âÂ
âSecrets mostly. And whatever needs moving. Iâm the middle manâs boss you could say.â It wasnât a totally lie, he did do quite a lot of moving. Of people, dead and alive. Of cargo, illegal and not. But he wasnât one to just reveal all of that, especially not to the beautiful woman before him. Not yet at least. His smile widened a bit at his eyes flicked over to the fake wings, leaning forward to steal a loose feather and shift it slowly in between his thumb and forefinger.
âUsed to. Business grows busier with each passing month and I find myself only handling that. Personal matters, and personal wants go to the side. October is no different. Rather itâs much busier.â He sighed and lowered his hand, rubbing his thumb over the fake feather. âBusiness is business.â
She couldnât quite place why, but when he twirled the feather, and plucked it, her heart skipped two beats and then thumped rapidlyâshe thought that he could surely hear it! The managers had to hear it from the stage, at least!
âWell, it sounds like you havenât had much fun.â She said, snapping back to reality, her eyes had been transfixed on that feather. âWhy not give yourself a breakâdo something interesting! Like, visit an art museum! OrâŠpaint! OrâŠvisit a garden!â She suggested, her eyes bright and focused on hisâthey were so caring. They seemed intent and she knew he was listening.
âI understand business is business..â she trailed off, sliding her hand onto his arm. âBut life canât be all business, because then is it truly living, Monsieur Harken?â
He lifted his eyes from the feather and gazed at her curiously; truly her words had found home in his mind as he had been attempting to step away from business many times, only to be pulled right back in. A soft chuckle escaped him, moving to lean over the side and drop the feather.
âYou sound like my friend, Louis. Heâs often trying to get me out of my office and out for the evening. A good man that one. And I do have my hobbies. I paint occasionally, I play piano as well. Though not as often as I would like to.â He murmured, turning his eyes back over to her.
âHowever, as I said, business is business. When something leaves my desk, more is soon to appear.â
âI like this Louis man, then, he seems like a true friend!â She commented, watching the feather flutter in the air for a moment before beginning itâs slow, graceful decent to the red, velvet seats below.Â
âYou play the piano? Oh, thatâs lovely! Iâve always wanted to learn how to play, but Iâve never really had the means..â she stopped, smiling as ideas began to bubble up in her brain. â..And Iâve always been dreadful at paintingâperhapsâŠperhaps you could aid me sometime? Or, even better yet! I have a bargain to propose to youâmonsieur business man!â She sat up straighter in the chair and brought herself up, incredibly animatedly, her eyes alight as she began to speak with her hands.Â
âYou, at the incredibly low, low price of a night out could be taught by myself, Christine Daae, how to have funâactual fun. And forget work for a whileâwork can wait, Monsieur Harken, life cannot! Now, this deal is goingâso act nowâŠor this little angel might just fly away,â she proposed, giggling afterwards. âThe night out could be anything you desire, Monsieur HarkenâŠthough, I do have an affinity for Shirley Temples.âÂ
He let out a chuckle and looked towards her, smiling slowly. âI never said I didnât know how to have fun, I simply donât have enough time to do so, really now, Miss Daae.â He leaned over and gently nudged her shoulder with his own before leaning back in his spot.
âBut I suppose a night out on the town could be fun. Least with someone new. What do you get out of this bargain?â
She blushed ever harder, my, her face would be a tomato soon! Especially as embarrassment touched her cheeks. She giggled and shrugged at his inquiry, thinking for a moment.Â
âI simply get a nice night out with a nice manâis that too much to ask?â She laughedâif nothing else, she would have a bit of fun, which seemed to be a little lacking around technical rehearsal days, as it was!Â
âAre you a Parisian, Monsieur Harken?âÂ
âOriginally? Yes, but I call America home, technically. But Iâve been residing here in Paris for about... Three years now. Was called back at my grandfathers behest as he had grown ill. After his passing a few months following my appearance, I took over business and decided to stay. I like Paris very much, but there are days where I miss my true home.â He sighed and offered up a shrug, smiling faintly at her blush.
