#lerouxposting

[opera-ghost]

[backlitmademoiselle]

Apollo's Lyre . . . a chapter of all time

[state-of-disorder]

Based after the masquerade because we all know he cried or something on the roof like a drama queen

[opera-ghost]

the inherent intimacy of following the man with whom your fate is forever entwined because you saved his life to his underground domain and getting caught in his trap, knowing he's tricking you but falling for it anyways, being enchanted by his voice and comparing the sound to that of a siren leading you to temptation.

the inherent intimacy of his familiar hands rising from the water and seizing you by the throat, the hands which usually grip a lasso to commit their violent deeds but instead are gripping you by the nape of your neck, the hands of the wretched man you should hate and yet do not.

the inherent intimacy of wrapping your fingers around the arm of the monster trying to drown you, the monster you've forgiven for far worse, as he drags you below the surface, as you realize you are cursed to follow him even in death.

the inherent intimacy of giving one last cry before he finally takes your life, the life you already gave him years ago without question. the inherent intimacy of him instantly recognizing you by the sound of your pain, as murderous rage turns to dull frustration, as his lethal hold relents and becomes gentle even in his annoyance, as he lays you on the shore almost tenderly.

the inherent intimacy of quarreling like old lovers at the edge of the lake in which he just nearly killed you, and when you beg him to explain the terrible acts occurring around him, this awful man– who to some is an angel, to others a devil, but to you is "my erik–" he only laughs and answers "my dear daroga!"

[opera-ghost]

[opera-ghost]

really wanted to visualize that scene in the novel where after erik has kidnapped christine and he’s just deposited her in his living room five stories underground– she’s super disoriented after having passed out on account of being, you know, kidnapped– and this beanpole of a man is in the center of the room posted up like the grim reaper in a scream mask, and he deadass looks at her and says, in the same voice as the “angel” that’s been giving her singing lessons in her dressing room for the past 3 months, “don’t be afraid, christine. you are in no danger.”

[opera-ghost]

[opera-ghost]

– christine, chapter 13

– the daroga, chapter 22