An Intriguing Masquerade
23 Dec 2007 01:34 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
broadsword_babeNew Year's Eve, Paris, 1880-1881
Alias: Jacqueline Valmont
I had been in Paris for some years after my time as an outlaw. I was tired of the unnecessary violence and rugged living. As always, whenever I felt a keen need for pampering and polite society, I returned to Paris. The investments I had maintained over the years had paid handsomely, and allowed me to live in rather quiet luxury. It was a far cry from the dusty dryness of the American Southwest.
During my stay in Paris, I had become quite an aficionado of the arts. I attended symphonies, ballets, operas, soirees and galas. It was during one of those galas, a Masquerade held on New Year's Eve, that I befriended a young ballerina, Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry, and her mother, Madame Antoinette Giry. Meg had been dancing in the Opera Populaire's Corps de Ballet for many years and had done very well for herself. Madame Giry was the opera's ballet mistress. We had been in the middle of discussing the finer points of dance when Meg's jaw dropped open. I followed her dumbstruck gaze to the top of the grand staircase.
Standing at the very top was a finely cut figure of a man dressed in a splendid red uniform. A masque, vaguely resembling a skull, covered the top portion of his face. I turned to Meg to ask who the man was, but her eyes remained fixed on him. Unless my wits were on holiday, I had to say that Meg was very much taken with this stranger, not that I blamed her. His very presence commanded the attention of everyone in the grand foyer.
"Marguerite,"I whispered. "Who is he?"
"Monsieur le Fantôme de l'Opera," she replied breathlessly.
The Phantom of the Opera? That was definitely a story worth hearing, and I would make it a point to interview her more at a later time. Every eye watched as the mysterious, yet compelling, figure marched down the staircase as if he owned the Populaire.
"I have written you an opera." His voice was full of contempt and challenge as he withdrew a leather folio. "Here's the finished score. Don Juan Triumphant!"
The so-called Phantom tossed the folio to the ground as though it were a gauntlet. He then drew his sword: a rapier with a skull's face as the hand-basket. I knew my weapons and such a sword was a custom piece and worth quite a few Francs. He sneered at the reigning diva, who appeared to be the bane of quite a few existences. Her counterpart received a threatening jab to his rather corpulent waistline. Even the managers were not immune to the Phantom's wrath. There was, however, one person who was: a Mademoiselle Christine Daae.
"If pride would let her return to me, her teacher," said the mysterious Phantom.
Once more, I looked at Meg. Jealousy seemed to radiate from every pore. It appeared that she harbored some resentment for the brunette standing lack-witted at the bottom of the stairs. A few moments later, another man entered the foyer dressed as a Napoleon-Era soldier. With a growl of contempt, the Phantom disappeared through a trap door in the middle of the staircase. The second man did not hesitate before following. Madame Giry politely made an excuse about leaving a shawl in her rooms before she, too, left.
"Marguerite, what in Heaven's name was all that about?"
"Monsieur le Fantôme has been Christine's mentor since Maman brought her to live here at the Opera Populaire," she explained.
"And the other man who went after him?"
"He is Christine's fiancé, Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny."
A rather intricate plot formed in my mind. Raoul and this Phantom both wanted the attentions of Mademoiselle Daae, who appeared to be quite innocent and rather timid. Meg, naturally, was jealous of the attention paid to her friend. My, my. What a quandary.
"Oh, Meg!" young Mademoiselle Daae exclaimed, rushing over to her. "I hope he doesn't get hurt!"
"He who, Christine?" Meg asked, trying to be civil, but failing. Christine, however, didn't seem to notice. I cleared my throat.
"Oh, pardonnez-moi, Madame," Christine said, embarrassed at her outburst.
"It's quite alright, Mademoiselle Daae," I replied.
"Christine, this is Madame Jacqueline de Valmont," Meg said. "She is one of our patronesses."
"Enchanté, Madame," Christine responded with a slight curtsey. I nodded in reply.
"Am I to assume then, that the Opera Populaire will produce this new opera?" I asked, nodding to the folio left abandoned on the steps.
Christine looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I do not know, Madame. He is very… demanding."
I frowned. The man had written an entire opera, not pithy chamber music. His work should be heard, regardless. Damn small-minded people. I walked over to the folio and picked it up, knowing everyone watched me. I flipped through the hand-written score. I had been educated enough in music to at least know the fundamentals.
It was decidedly avant-garde, and would abuse polite ears, not to mention sensibilities. I grinned. It would certainly turn the Parisian arts on it's ear. Which was why it simply had to be produced. I walked over to the two managers.
"Pardonnez-moi, Messieurs," I said in French.
"Ahh, Madame de Valmont, a pleasure," said the shorter Monsieur André.
"Monsieur André," I replied. "Tell me, will this opera be produced?"
He and Monsieur Firmin exchanged uncomfortable glances. "It appears we must, Madame."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"There have been some rather nasty occurrences around the opera house," Firmin explained. "Most of which can be attributed to the Opera Ghost."
"You mean that man dressed in red?"
"Oui, Madame," answered André.
"He didn't appear to be a ghost to me," I answered.
The managers exchanged another glance.
"I realize that I'm not the Opera Populaire's most influential patron," I continued. "However, I am determined that this opera, Don Juan Triumphant, be produced, and I am prepared to pay handsomely to see that it is."
André and Firmin raised eyebrows. I chuckled silently to myself. Men were so easily manipulated through either greed or lust.
"I shall return within a few days so that we might discuss a formal agreement for the opera's production," I concluded. Shaking both men's hands, I bid them goodnight, and with a nod to Meg and Christine, I left for my row-home.
{As a headmate, Meg was more than willing to participate. Erik's quotes were borrowed from the movie (although I'm sure his mun wouldn't mind). Christine is shamelessly borrowed from her mun.}
Alias: Jacqueline Valmont
I had been in Paris for some years after my time as an outlaw. I was tired of the unnecessary violence and rugged living. As always, whenever I felt a keen need for pampering and polite society, I returned to Paris. The investments I had maintained over the years had paid handsomely, and allowed me to live in rather quiet luxury. It was a far cry from the dusty dryness of the American Southwest.
During my stay in Paris, I had become quite an aficionado of the arts. I attended symphonies, ballets, operas, soirees and galas. It was during one of those galas, a Masquerade held on New Year's Eve, that I befriended a young ballerina, Mademoiselle Marguerite Giry, and her mother, Madame Antoinette Giry. Meg had been dancing in the Opera Populaire's Corps de Ballet for many years and had done very well for herself. Madame Giry was the opera's ballet mistress. We had been in the middle of discussing the finer points of dance when Meg's jaw dropped open. I followed her dumbstruck gaze to the top of the grand staircase.
Standing at the very top was a finely cut figure of a man dressed in a splendid red uniform. A masque, vaguely resembling a skull, covered the top portion of his face. I turned to Meg to ask who the man was, but her eyes remained fixed on him. Unless my wits were on holiday, I had to say that Meg was very much taken with this stranger, not that I blamed her. His very presence commanded the attention of everyone in the grand foyer.
"Marguerite,"I whispered. "Who is he?"
"Monsieur le Fantôme de l'Opera," she replied breathlessly.
The Phantom of the Opera? That was definitely a story worth hearing, and I would make it a point to interview her more at a later time. Every eye watched as the mysterious, yet compelling, figure marched down the staircase as if he owned the Populaire.
"I have written you an opera." His voice was full of contempt and challenge as he withdrew a leather folio. "Here's the finished score. Don Juan Triumphant!"
The so-called Phantom tossed the folio to the ground as though it were a gauntlet. He then drew his sword: a rapier with a skull's face as the hand-basket. I knew my weapons and such a sword was a custom piece and worth quite a few Francs. He sneered at the reigning diva, who appeared to be the bane of quite a few existences. Her counterpart received a threatening jab to his rather corpulent waistline. Even the managers were not immune to the Phantom's wrath. There was, however, one person who was: a Mademoiselle Christine Daae.
"If pride would let her return to me, her teacher," said the mysterious Phantom.
Once more, I looked at Meg. Jealousy seemed to radiate from every pore. It appeared that she harbored some resentment for the brunette standing lack-witted at the bottom of the stairs. A few moments later, another man entered the foyer dressed as a Napoleon-Era soldier. With a growl of contempt, the Phantom disappeared through a trap door in the middle of the staircase. The second man did not hesitate before following. Madame Giry politely made an excuse about leaving a shawl in her rooms before she, too, left.
"Marguerite, what in Heaven's name was all that about?"
"Monsieur le Fantôme has been Christine's mentor since Maman brought her to live here at the Opera Populaire," she explained.
"And the other man who went after him?"
"He is Christine's fiancé, Raoul le Vicomte de Chagny."
A rather intricate plot formed in my mind. Raoul and this Phantom both wanted the attentions of Mademoiselle Daae, who appeared to be quite innocent and rather timid. Meg, naturally, was jealous of the attention paid to her friend. My, my. What a quandary.
"Oh, Meg!" young Mademoiselle Daae exclaimed, rushing over to her. "I hope he doesn't get hurt!"
"He who, Christine?" Meg asked, trying to be civil, but failing. Christine, however, didn't seem to notice. I cleared my throat.
"Oh, pardonnez-moi, Madame," Christine said, embarrassed at her outburst.
"It's quite alright, Mademoiselle Daae," I replied.
"Christine, this is Madame Jacqueline de Valmont," Meg said. "She is one of our patronesses."
"Enchanté, Madame," Christine responded with a slight curtsey. I nodded in reply.
"Am I to assume then, that the Opera Populaire will produce this new opera?" I asked, nodding to the folio left abandoned on the steps.
Christine looked decidedly uncomfortable. "I do not know, Madame. He is very… demanding."
I frowned. The man had written an entire opera, not pithy chamber music. His work should be heard, regardless. Damn small-minded people. I walked over to the folio and picked it up, knowing everyone watched me. I flipped through the hand-written score. I had been educated enough in music to at least know the fundamentals.
It was decidedly avant-garde, and would abuse polite ears, not to mention sensibilities. I grinned. It would certainly turn the Parisian arts on it's ear. Which was why it simply had to be produced. I walked over to the two managers.
"Pardonnez-moi, Messieurs," I said in French.
"Ahh, Madame de Valmont, a pleasure," said the shorter Monsieur André.
"Monsieur André," I replied. "Tell me, will this opera be produced?"
He and Monsieur Firmin exchanged uncomfortable glances. "It appears we must, Madame."
"Oh? And why is that?"
"There have been some rather nasty occurrences around the opera house," Firmin explained. "Most of which can be attributed to the Opera Ghost."
"You mean that man dressed in red?"
"Oui, Madame," answered André.
"He didn't appear to be a ghost to me," I answered.
The managers exchanged another glance.
"I realize that I'm not the Opera Populaire's most influential patron," I continued. "However, I am determined that this opera, Don Juan Triumphant, be produced, and I am prepared to pay handsomely to see that it is."
André and Firmin raised eyebrows. I chuckled silently to myself. Men were so easily manipulated through either greed or lust.
"I shall return within a few days so that we might discuss a formal agreement for the opera's production," I concluded. Shaking both men's hands, I bid them goodnight, and with a nod to Meg and Christine, I left for my row-home.
{As a headmate, Meg was more than willing to participate. Erik's quotes were borrowed from the movie (although I'm sure his mun wouldn't mind). Christine is shamelessly borrowed from her mun.}
