@anqemort
There is no Angel of Music; there is only Erik.
It had been an undeniable shock to discover that the voice she believed to be the Angel of Music belonged to the same man that called himself the Opera Ghost. The revelation had occurred a little over a month ago, yet it seemed akin to a lifetime to Christine. Since then she'd made about a dozen trips to the peculiar house beyond the lake to visit with its even more peculiar owner. Her presence had been requested and, feeling beholden to the man who'd coaxed forward her voice, Christine acquiesced.
The more she saw Erik, the less she thought of him as either a false angel or ghost. He was simply a man, one who believed as strongly as her father had in her capabilities as a performer. It had been to him that she'd first told the news of her casting as Siebel in the upcoming production of Faust, even before she'd told Mama Valérius.
With Faust opening in just two weeks, Christine knew time was of the essence. Even though Sunday was a day of rest at the Opera, her lessons could not be ignored. She bundled Mama into a carriage after Mass with the promise that she would be home for supper. Once her foster mother was off, Christine headed in the opposite direction toward the Garnier.
She used the Rue Scribe key upon reaching the street entrance. Returning it safely to the basket on her arm, she then lit the lantern hanging in the vestibule with the packet of matches left near the door. The way down to the fifth cellar wasn't as frightening as it had been during her first journey, but it was still a bit alarming to know how deep beneath the Opera she was traveling. To keep her mind off both the dark and how far below the surface she was, Christine hummed the hymns from church that morning.
It was a relief when she reached the bank of the lake, even though Erik had not yet arrived. She contented herself with checking over the bounty held within her basket as she waited for his arrival.