#dechaagny

[dechaagny]

𝐈'𝐦 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞, 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮  ⁠— indie & highly-selective Raoul de Chagny of ALW’s 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐦 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚 . Musical & Headcanon Based . Written by Kenna . 

[somptueusesignora-blog]

true end!

              Ending Meme - Not Accepting

          Piangi’sdeath was hard on Carlotta – much more than most would have guessed. The rumorswhich flew around for years that their relationship was all for the stage wereproven very wrong, as she took to mourning wear for several full years afterhis untimely demise, just as if they had truly been married.

          Still, aPrima Donna’s life cannot come to a full stop. Her contract with the Garnier –like most things with the Garnier – was dissolved with a severance packagewhich doubled as hush money, which was all wisely squirreled away. Not yetthrough with her limelight, she took a tour across Europe for several years,and then to America. Her own reputation preceded her, not to mention themystery which still surrounded the Phantom and all those who may have beeninvolved. She faced modest success, and charmed audiences as she always had,even in her increasing age.

          Five yearsafter Ulbaldo’s death, Carlotta found love again. An American playwright, and aformer actor in his own right, the two shared a quiet understanding. He was awidower and childless as she was, and the two found they took solace in eachother’s silent company. Their relationship could never be described aspassionate, but it was good for each of them, and would last the rest of theirlives.

          Carlottaretired from the stage at 50 to live with her beau until she passed away fromnatural causes ten years later, remembered in opera critiques, by those who hadworked with her, and those who had seen her perform. She burned brightly in herlife, though conservatively enough to wait out her years.

[let-her-mind-wonder]

A World With No More Night

@dechaagny

Everything happened so fast, but the one permeating thing that Christine remembered about that night was how tired she felt after it was done. Her eyes were tired from crying. Her throat was tired from screaming. Her heart was tired from hurting. Everything she could feel, everything she could say, was absolutely spent. She did not even speak to the man by her side as they disembarked from the barge onto what felt like the first solid ground since...

Since Erik had...Since...

She could not even bring the memories into coherent thoughts. There was only darkness, only tears, and only anguish. And she dared not even look into the eyes of the man to whom she so desperately clung to. What could she possibly say? What could she possibly even begin to express? To try and make sense of it all was a fool’s errand. The grief was still too near and the wound still too open. Everything was one long blur of sound, of being rushed into a carriage, and the hazy smoky air that made her feel as turbulent in her lungs as she did in her stomach. Christine could feel tears falling down her cheeks, could taste them on her lips as she gasped for air, and echoing over and over again in her thoughts was a melody of words spoken in anger and agony.

EITHER WAY YOU CHOOSE YOU CANNOT WIN.

I fought so hard to free you.

I gave my mind BLINDLY.

Make. Your. Choice.

Christine had not remembered being put to bed or falling asleep, but the next thing she knew she was waking up to the sound of Erik’s words echoing through her thoughts. And a great horror swept over her! For a moment she was not wrapped up in the sheets on the bed but in that horrid doll’s wedding dress and the laces on its dress were being pulled like that punjab lasso threatening to squeeze the life out of her. And Lord help her she could hardly draw in steady enough breath to call out the name of the one she wanted...

But perhaps that was best. For even as the terror subsided and Christine saw the soft, blue walls of the room she had been set in, all of her thoughts from the previous night rode in like chevaliers on their thunderous steeds. 

Raoul. Oh! Oh where was he? Did it even matter? Would he even wish to see her? Surely...surely not. How could she even face him? How could she look into those beautiful eyes of his after what she had put him through? After what he had witnessed...all because of her? Christine could not blame even blame him for the hatred that was sure to come from him. Even as she drew herself from the bed - the day nearly gone already - and she inquired after a hot bath, she could feel the crippling anxiety crushing down upon her as though the foundation stones of la Palais Garnier had been laid on her chest.

She had to see him...if only one last time. Enough for him to see that she had survived. Enough to see that his Christian duty was done, and he was free to discharge her unto the world. He...could not love her now, surely - for she had become such a wretched thing. Even as she stood at his door, preparing to knock and seek entry, she knew that the moment he saw her again it would be over. Now there was just the slightest chance that he may still love her...but she knew the moment he saw her, he would relive the horrors of the previous night and any lingering love he had from her would die. Surely she could stay - just a moment more - in this precious world where she could hold even the most faint belief that Raoul could love her.

But it was her love for him that compelled her to eventually knock on his chamber door. For even if she wanted to remain in this world, she would not condemn him to a moment more of unnecessary obligation. “Raoul?” she called out as she knocked three times. “M-May I come in?”

[lcpapillcn-blog]

@dechaagny | (εїз starter call)

"They are not common mice! They are my friends, I beg of you don't hurt them." - hastened pace puts her between the man and the animals. Ella leaned to collect the frightened creatures,ensuring their safety. "Honestly, monsieur, you have scared them to death."

[desmasques-blog]

@myspiritandyourvoice @dechaagny

           While you boys are measuring.... wits, I’ll have Christine to myself. Cheers!

[desmasques-blog]

dechaagny replied to your post: @myspiritandyourvoice @dechaagny            While...

what else would we measure???

I have lived in a cave my whole life. It is concerning that you’re the more naïve one here.

[lovehurried]

It had been difficult to shake the lingering sense of dread which hung over the opera house. While ballet girls startled at shadows and stagehands worked in pairs to avoid being alone amongst the ropes and backdrops, Christine could still feel the icy burn of the Phantom’s gaze on her at every turn.

As days without incident became weeks, then months, the tension seemed to begin to seep out of those who lived and worked with in the Opera Garnier. But try as she might, the ingénue couldn’t forget all that occurred. The fear, that face, the sharp sting of a near-skeletal hand around her wrist - the memory of these were much more difficult to be rid of than the debris from a shattered chandelier.

So was the guilt.

A small voice inside Christine’s head blamed her for it all. Her naïveté, her grief - they’d led her down this path, and chaos had followed right behind. All she had wanted was a sign from her father, a fulfilled promise from whatever lay beyond this life, and for a time she had believed he had managed to send the fabled Angel to her. But surely her Angel couldn’t be capable of... All of this? She knew in her mind that she had been deceived, even if her heart was not yet ready to accept it.

And yet. Through it all, through the fear and the guilt and the destruction, there was Raoul. Raoul’s presence cut through everything else like a beam of warm sunlight. He’d returned to her just when she had most needed someone, sharing memories of parlour games and attic picnics - tales from a safer life. In doing so, he had become a safe harbour for her even as her home became unrecognisable. In stolen, sacred moments, he reignited a joy in her that she had almost forgotten she was capable of.

That joy was what touched her features at the sight of him, a smile spreading across her lips as their gazes met. For a moment, she forgot to be frightened.

“Our rehearsal overran, I’m sorry.” She smiled as she slipped her arm through his, pressing herself close to his side. “I haven’t kept you waiting too long, have I?”

@dechaagny​​ gets something sweet(ish) to counter our other thread!

[wndrng]

@dechaagny​​   said  ‘  it’s  an  engagement ;  not  a  crime . ’

❛  RAOUL . . . ❜  his  name  falls  from  her  lips  like  a  half - hearted  plea -  a  request  to  not  ask  it  of  her .  she  cannot  explain  it  again .  not  in  a  way  that  he  will  understand .  how  can  something  as  pure  as  the  love  that   she  feels  for  him  be  so  DANGEROUS ? so  damning ?  ❛   i cannot -  ❜  whatever  remains  of  the  phrase  is  trapped  in  her  throat ,  and  she  merely  shakes  her  head ,  fingers  covering  trembling  lips . 

            the  words  ring  in  her  ears :  not  a  crime .  but  it  feels  like  a  crime .  it  is  a  crime .  a  crime  for which  she  is  culpable .  for  in  recognizing  their  engagement  as  anything  more  than  hopeful  whispers  &  a  ring  on  a  chain ,  she  CONDEMNS  him  to  a  life  tormented .  a  life  constantly  at  the  behest  of  an  angel  she  cannot  see  or  trust.  an  angel  that  kills . an  angel  that  has  ENSURED  that  she  cannot  be  free .  and ,  if  she  does  not  risk  his  life  by  becoming  his  bride , she  SENTENCES  him  to  a  life  with  her .    the  girl  who  teeters  between  music  &  madness .  what  right  does  she  have  to  ask  this  of  him  ?  what  happiness  might  she  truly  bring  him  ?  

        tears  brim  in  her  eyes ,  threatening  to  catch  on  her  lashes . to  step  out  of  the  darkness  &  love  him  fully  in  the  light  of  day  is   a  dream ,  but  perhaps  it  must  remain  merely  that .  a  pretty  dream  that  can  keep  the  nightmares  of  her  reality  at  bay . she  cannot endanger  him .  she  will  not .  and  yet ,  her  heart  calls for  him .  she  takes  a  tentative  step ,  closing  distance  between  them .  she  reaches  for  the  ring , presses  it  to  her  lips ,  and  takes  another  step .  hands  find  respite  against  arms  that  seem  to  have  a  firmer  grip  on  reality  -  sanity -  goodness  than  she  is  capable  of . she  dips  her  head ,  tucking  it  safely  under  his  chin .

                   ❛  one  day  ,  love ,  . . . i  promise  you  will understand . ❜