@falsitiess ⎛ desert record s.c. ⎠
the heat of the desert was never enjoyable. while erik had his fair amount of experience traveling under harsh sunlight, mazandaran was more beautiful than it was anything else- oppressive summers aside ... and it was humid, rather than the awful drought of a desert. needless to say, erik had not worn the garb of the khanum's angel of death in quite a while- but it was better suited than the fine cloths associated with the opera ghost. still, the attire allowed him to lurk in the shadows if he so needed. as he was so very used to.
he had come to the desert castle on a whim- finding himself partnered with another man in a mask.
ah, the mystery was always better, wasn't it? similar to something he had once told his christine- but she was not here now. she would not come back. why was it that he had never learned to let go of the pain of the past?
it was better, he thought, to simply distract himself for a time. quiet the sound in his mind; the voices, without silencing the music. ❝ you, ❞ he begins, voice echoing in the chamber like it belonged to a god, or an angel- from everywhere but his own mouth ⎛ left uncovered by the black mask, lips unmoving ⎠ ❝ require a traveling companion to pass beyond those doors. ❞
golden eyes narrow slightly as he takes note of this man's attire. thoroughly unsuited for something like this- but neither of them could afford to be too picky with that. when he'd entered, the doors to the outside world had shut, leaving only one path forward. ❝ i think, monsieur, we likely share a common goal in this. ❞
