#amouxandre

[pettiirosso]

Down in the underground | Alessia & Amoux || Closed

Alessia took a deep breath, before she took the last step. She knew she was about to do something stupid. She simply felt it. In fact, she had already done enough stupid and most of all reckless things to be aware of this little tickling in her stomach and to know its meaning. Which didn't prevent her from doing it anyway. She just ..... she just had to. There were too many things going on in this opera house. Too many strange things, that were only hard to explain. And no, she didn't believe in this 'opera ghost' story. But something had to be down there. And she needed to find out what. Or .... who. With another sigh she hold the candle up to her face, protected the little flame with her hand while she was slowly walking down the cellar's corridor. Her heart was racing in her chest, slight panic began to take over her. But as long as she had the candle, she had light and everything was alright. Wasn't it? She tried to persuade herself into that. But she nearly dropped her candle as a noise broke the silence around her. "Who's there?" she demanded to know.

[theotherdechagnybrother]

"What do I owe the pleasure of meeting such fine new people?"

[face-your-fate]

Stories Untold //Closed//

Erik's fingers danced across the piano, his melody feeling the room and floating airily through the catacombs, each note whispering his soul's deepest desires. The tune turned with each of his emotions, going in a moment from a soft wisp of love to the dark hatred that lurked constantly in his heart. He could make a child laugh or a grown man weep just by applying pressure to the keys of his instrument. He thought of Christine; love, longing, lust, sorrow, joy. He thought of his past; hatred, agony, hopelessness, anguish. 

Erik never stopped playing; not to eat, drink, or sleep. He was so enraptured, he didn't even notice someone entering his home....

[princeofconjurers]

amoux-andre

Erik had been going about his usual business, composing his masterpiece Don Juan Triumphant, when he heard strange noises in the corridors leading to his home. Grumbling to himself, he grabbed his Punjab Lasso and went to investigate. The noise was clear now, someone had fallen for one of his traps. It had been a while since anyone was foolish enough to venture so low, it was good to know that they were still working. He released the trap and stared at the intruder, still hidden in the shadows but eyes glowing in the darkness. He recognized him as the new stagehand. Great, the stagehands are always making a nuisance of themselves. "Foolish man, you shouldn't be down here. No one comes down here." He said, turning the lasso in his hands. He may let the man go, if he meant no harm. Chances are he stumbled down here by accident anyway.