@passionsspel : send me ✒️ + a word for a starter ──── night. ⫶ christine and erik. ✉
nothing could ever compare to the gentle caress of moonlight's touch as it kissed upon pale cheeks, bathing all who bask in its radiance with tender quiet. finally the dusk had settled and nightfall ushered in the darkness always lingering beneath the surface. surely it was the man buried within the monster, clawing to be unleashed and reclaim freedom. erik could not bare to show his tortured face amidst the grueling, piercing, sickly sun ──── nor the civilization of such prim and proper folk. perhaps that was how the phantom came to take control as it steered erik in the direction of salvation.
there upon the rooftops of the theatre he knelt in wait for his angel of music. earlier that evening the phantom left a letter by christine's vanity calling her to meet high above the scum of the earth down below. it seemed their underground rendezvous were beginning to dull on the poor angel's nerves. weeks had come and went yet not a word from her once came. where could she possibly have gone? who could dare distract his pupil from the much needed practice she required if she ever hoped to progress in her career? surely she hadn't forgotten him. no, it simply could not be . . .
as the midnight breeze danced through the endless sprawling vines filled with persian damask roses, sending fragrant petals flittering like wings of butterflies that settled on the man's long ink black tresses, he heard familiar footsteps clicking louder and louder in their approach from behind. “ listen, ” erik commanded with his backside turned as pitiful eyes gazed up into the deep blue. “ do you hear that, my child? it is the moon mourning for the sun. an impossible lover of which she yearns, yet cannot grasp. she weeps for him. just as i have wept for you. ”
silence chilled over the phantom's shameful confession. barely did he then turn to glance over his shoulder, only revealing the ivory porcelain of his mask while sharp feline eyes like daggers cut into christine's elegant figure. how blinding she was, a young starling so luminescent as she burned through his soul in her beauty. “ must you take such long respite from our lessons? the music of the night waits in hunger. do not disappoint it. ”
