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Post by faith on Mar 14, 2008 15:50:11 GMT -5
Christine drew up outside the new Paris opera house in her horse drawn carriage. She gazed up at the magnificent building it was grander than the original building, she was however no longer a performer but patroness and singing instructor. She sighed inwardly knowing her time on the stage was over and it was now her job to teach the new talents.
“Mama” came the voice next to her tugging gently at her puffed sleeve, She gazed down at Charles her only child with a smile. “We’re here Charles” she said as the door to her carriage was opened and she stepped out her eyes fixed on the large opera house. It towered above her and for a moment Christine wasn’t sure whether she could enter the building her fears clasped around her heart making it hard for her to breath, but that pain disappeared as she felt her sons hand slip into hers.
She gave him a smile before making her way up the steps of the opera house into the Foyer. She thought for a moment she had stepped back into the past, the foyer was exactly the same as the old, every rail and statue sparkled and the scent of polish brought back many memories of her greeting gentlemen and ladies of high status for the managers. She told herself this wasn’t the same opera house and the ghost was long since gone. Her son gazed around the foyer he had never seen anything like it in his young life and was awed by it all.
Raoul had not been able to come with her and had asked her not to come until he was able to, Christine thought he was afraid it would be too much for her but she needed to come and put to rest the ghost that haunted her mind. |
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Post by Rosalind Dashwood on Mar 15, 2008 13:19:45 GMT -5
Rosalind ran into the hall as fast as she could, she skidded to a halt when she saw a woman there with a little boy, her heart gave a twist as she remembered her little sisters. She bit her lip to stop tears from pouring down her cheeks as she realised how much she missed them. She guessed that it could be the legendary Christine de Chagney, or Daae as she used to be called.
Suddenly she felt very low as she glanced at her skirtd which were dirty from the long walk she took that day, and she clutched a her bag which contained a play her dad had written before he left, but after her Mum died, it was one of his best pieces, but there was no music, her Mums death had taken it from him.
She wonderd if Christine was still in contact with the Phantom, and if he could write the music. She refused to believe that he was dead. No body was found, that was also one of the reasons why she refused to believe her Dad was dead.
Taking a few breaths to help her overcome her shyness she stepped forward to talk to the Countess
How do I adress her? she thought desperatly
Her foot got caught on her dress and she toppled over and ended up flat on her face on the floor and she felt her face burn
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Post by faith on Mar 16, 2008 15:00:21 GMT -5
Christine had been wondering where the manager’s office was when a young girl entered the Foyer; at first Christine didn’t pay much attention to the girl until she heard a small whimper and noticed the girl had fallen over.
Stepping over to help the girl up Charles followed looking at the girl on the floor with interest, Christine held her hand out to help the girl up giving her a reassuring smile “These polished floors can be slippy” she said with a laugh, “Are you alright?” Many women of Christines status might have looked down on the girl but not Christine, she often forgot she was a woman of status and often still thought of herself as the simple chorus girl she had once been.
At least the new opera house was just as grand as the last one; she had been worried they might have tried to give it the more modern touch like the one in Brussels she guessed the Parisians much preferred their grandeur. |
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Post by Rosalind Dashwood on Mar 16, 2008 18:37:59 GMT -5
Rosalind smiled shyly "Thank you, I am alright" she bit her lip "Sorry for being forthright but......Are you...Christine? Christine de Chagney?" she asked shyly, she glanced at Christines son and was once again painfully reminded of her younger sisters.
She wondered whether she should introduce herself
No only when asked Rosalind she thought to herself
She sifted uncomfortably as she glanced down at the mud on her skirts after her walk, she had not expected to walk into the countess de Chagney
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Post by faith on Mar 17, 2008 11:19:50 GMT -5
Christine looked at the girl with a smile, “yes I am” she was surprised the girl, knew her, alright she’d been the lead in the opera house for a few months but she guessed the main reason the girl knew her name was the rumours about her and the opera ghost, some of them didn’t even bare thinking about.
“This is Charles” she added as he looked at Christine impatiently, Charles nodded at the girl and Christine continued “And you are?” she inquired politely. Christine noticed how the girl seemed rather uncomfortable in her presence, and realised that it was probably due to how she was dressed, but to tell you the truth Christine had barely noticed. Being brought up as a dancer she often didn’t notice how women where dressed, and to Christine the girl looked like she’d had fun out today, she couldn’t help but feel jealous. She would love to go prancing about in the countryside, but being a countess she had to represent her husband by being the proper lady. |
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Post by Rosalind Dashwood on Mar 17, 2008 17:01:43 GMT -5
Rosalind curtseyed slightly "I am Rosalind Dashwood. My mum, Juliette worked at the opera populair as a singer. She was Julieete Monteagle back then. She told me about you. And how much better you were than Carlotta" she said politley, she then smiled at Charles kindly "Hello," she said kindly, not wanting to scare him.
She smiled at Christine "My sister is about his age, shes called Helana" she added feeling lonely suddenly
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Post by faith on Mar 18, 2008 14:20:53 GMT -5
Christine smiled, she had known Julieete Monteagle not well but she knew of her, she had resided in a different dorm to Christine though who shared with the dancers. “Well Carlotta had her own style” she said giving Rosalind a knowing smile, “I remember your mother, I didn’t know her too well but I did speak to her a few times during rehearsals” she said.
Charles muttered hello to Rosalind, he was quite bored with this talk, he knew about his mother being a well known performer but he didn’t really know what it meant, and knew her better as his friend and mother, the person who took him riding and out for walks.
“Is she?” Christine asked interestedly “Does she work here also?” she asked curiously. |
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Post by Rosalind Dashwood on Mar 18, 2008 15:16:00 GMT -5
"Rosalind thought for a while "Actually Orpheila is about his age," she said "Helena is 13. i have not seen them in so long and i often think of them as younger then they are." she paused then answered the question "No, none of them are, they're living....somewhere else" she said the pangs of lonliness getting stronger. "My parents loved Shakespeare, thats why we are all named after characters from his plays"
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