➵ @sopranique said ⫶ “ all i'm asking is that you hear me out. ” for erik !
a simple request. what frailty laces through her each and every syllable, a voice so touched by the grace of god that even the faintest whisper which dare part from the angel's pale peony lips became music. what mere mortal on this wretched earth could deny a voice like that ? certainly not the likes of erik. poor, pitiful, lonesome erik. the phantom who would haunt sorrowful halls, reap the delicate harvest of human life, whisk her away to a cool midnight dream if only to hear such tenderness.
if he didn't know any better, he'd have half the mind to think she wields her natural gift like a weapon against him. one single quiver mightier than any man's sword. enough to have him bending the knee and succumbing to his pupil's command in a wicked hilarious twist of fates. yet to hear the sweet soprano with sacred intimacy, her words for erik and erik alone to bathe in amidst the distant droplets of water that echo beyond underground stone walls. isn't that all he's ever desired ?
“ then speak. ” the phantom demands as he turns from the piano to face her, fingertips barely grazing atop precious ivory keys that beg to be touched. he listens to them cry out his name so often in the dead black darkness, pleading he play the music of the night. yet christine's very essence has always been so much louder. those desperate keys will have no choice but wait a little while longer. “ speak to me, my angel. ” erik repeats, this time tainted by shivering fragility hanging on a thread. as if a second longer without her thoughts would be heinous torture.
“ for you must already know. now and forever, i am at your mercy. ”
