(Untitled)

[for_a_scarf]

The last thing the Vicomte remembered was dropping through the trap door behind the set piece. Perhaps he'd hit his head on the way down, for this was certainly not where he meant to be. He kept his pistol high, taking careful steps in order to further explore his whereabouts.

Typist: Raoul, from Gaston Leroux's Phantom of the Opera. Reset and

Comments

[gavehersoul]

Who better to greet him? Her eyes widen and she moves to him, slowly, looking about with fear in her eyes before quickening her pace. "Raoul?" Her voice is quiet, and her eyes dart anxiously about before settling to meet his gaze.

[for_a_scarf]

"Christine?" Raoul took a few quick steps forward, then dropped his pistol arm and embraced her. "Christine -- I was so worried. I was coming to find you -- to rescue you." He pulled back to look at her, "How did you ever escape?"

[gavehersoul]

"Raoul!" And she holds him tight, hiding her face in his neck. "Oh, Raoul!" Because what else can she say to the man who has come to save her? It covers everything, her thanks,. her fear, her frustration.

"Escape? I am still in his grasp, Raoul!"

[for_a_scarf]

Raoul held her close, stroking her hair, trying to comfort. "Not escaped? But -- this is not the Opera House. If you are here, you must be free."

[away_from_all]

Something in Erik's mind fired, then.

Any and all remaining sanity slips away as he catches sight of the fop of a Vicomte, pistol in hand. Punjab lasso in hand, Erik sinks as deep as possible into the shadows of the mansion, more than willing to extort this huge advantage.

Raoul was disoriented, alone, and by the look the gun in his hand and his careful steps nervous, if not outright frightened.

Sudden his voice booms out across the room, with no way to tell where it had come from. The voice is amused, like a cat toying with its prey. "Well well well! What have we here? Vicomte de Changy, what an unpleasant surprise."

[for_a_scarf]

Raoul whirled around, trying to find the source of the voice, "Erik! Show yourself, monster! Or are you too cowardly to fight me like a man?"

[away_from_all]

The spectre of a man roared at the use of his name. "I a coward? No, Monsieur, it is YOU who are the coward!" He accused. "Yes, you, standing there with your silly gun as if it would save you. If I am HALF the monster you think I am, your efforts are useless."

Every magician was an expert at distracting with words. And Erik was an expert magician.

[for_a_scarf]

"Damn you, Erik! Let Christine go! If you let her go, I swear I will not harm you!" He looked all around him, above and below, to see where the voice was coming from, but in vain.

[nohoof_nohorse]

Galwyn is not put off by the sight of the gun (he's never seen one before) but he recognizes the man's fear and disorientation and approaches slowly, trying to look friendly. It's much like he would approach a skittish horse. "Sir? Are you alright?"

[for_a_scarf]

Raoul shook his head, "No -- I am searching for my fiancee and the monster that keeps her."

[nohoof_nohorse]

"I have not heard of a monster here, I'm sorry." He looks curiously at the gun, he's never seen anything like it before.

[for_a_scarf]

"A monster who calls himself Erik." Raoul ignored the man's stares and continued to walk about the room. "Where -- is this place?"

[lawyer_boy]

...*and the gun's getting a quizzical look* ...Monsieur?