Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]
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		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Bondage, D/s, S&amp;M =&gt; Bondage: Exotic Solos =&gt; Topic started by: Marguerite on 10-01-2009, 05:27:42</h2>
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				Title: <strong>Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>10-01-2009, 05:27:42</strong>
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				Sasha 'Sassy' Gomez huffed for the hundreth time tonight. She huffed over the lack of sleep. Huffed and puffed over how her finals were pushing her to the breaking point. Even huffed over the thought of how much food she consumed to keep herself awake through her studying. She swore the convenience store clerk had a look of fright when she dumped a slew of junk food onto the counter which totaled a good fifty dollars. Fifty dollars spent on food to make sure she did not crash and burn for the studying and the finals which were coming up in one more day. While some of the students were trying to drink their sorrows at the thought of finals tonight, she here in the library pushing herself to study for another hour.<br><br><em>Come to me, my angel of music...come...</em><br><br>Her ears perked at the sound of the voice, her attention moving from the psychology textbook laid out in front of her to who was speaking those words. If she did not know it any better someone was watching or listening to Phantom of the Opera in the library. Checking her watch, it was close to midnight and far too late for music or video to be played unless it was the librarian trying to entertain herself. Glancing around, Sasha noticed she was the only one save for the janitor in this area. Since the janitor was an elderly man with no attached music buds to his ears then it had to be the librarian. "Hopefully she enjoys past the point of no return," she muttered beneath her breath as she removed her glasses to rub at her eyes. Working for her bachelor's degree in couple's therapist was wearing her out. She could not remember the last time she sat back and chatted with her friends nor talked on the phone with her family. Both her parents were living the gypsy life after sending off their only child to college and wanted to get in as much traveling in Europe as possible in a minivan packed with most of their belongings. Even if she tried to call her father it would be next to impossible with his adverse to taking calls while enjoying the sights in Europe. She usually awaited their calls on her cell phone and most of the time it was short voicemails to combat the rate of international phone calls.<br><br><em>Come to me...Elle...come...</em><br><br>Alright, now that she knew was not in the soundtrack of Phantom of the Opera. She was pretty sure no actor in the movie soundtrack would slip up and call out her name. A name which was even close to Christine weirded her out. Another glance around showed the janitor was several stacks away from her and the librarian was nowhere in sight. Sighing, she stood up from her seat, satisfied to hear a few bones pop and muscles stretch out and headed off to check out who was calling her. Maybe it was one of her friends trying to scare the hell out of her to keep her awake longer. If it was one of her friends she was going to hug after punching them in the arm for trying to give her a heart attack. <br><br>"Leena, stop trying to scare me. I am sorry for not going to the party today," she whispered, her eyes trying to find where her friend was hiding. For her friend to get her attention, Leena had to be close by. Hearing the whisper again, she frowned at the location of where her good friend might be. If her assumptions were correct then the voice was coming not two bookshelves away, the farthest distance a person could whisper in the dead of night at a library but five bookshelves further. Seven bookshelves away for her friend Leena to whisper and have those words reach Sasha's ears was impossible. Maybe her friend was getting better at whispering though from the last time Leena whispered during social psychology and gotten the two of them into trouble, Sasha was not betting on it.<br><br>She called out to Leena to unveil herself but when no snorting of laughter or Leena voice came, she frowned in confusion. If Leena was not calling to her then who was? The thought of some sort of pervert or rapist came to mind and it made Sasha aware of the nearest escape routes. If the pervert or rapist tried to grab her she had a few seconds to scream for help before the attacker tried to to knock her out. Inching away from the bookshelf, she stopped when the voice called out to her again, this time more forcefully. "Aww, hell," she muttered beneath her breath as she ran back to the table to grab her book bag and textbooks. Slinging the strap of her book bag over herself, she held onto her textbooks until her knuckles tightened but she was not about to drop a book and give an attacker the chance to assault her. In fact, she could use one of the books to fling at his head or bash him in the neck or groin, the points she was told might stop an assailant in his tracks.<br><br>Sasha kept herself to going around each table to give her space from the bookshelves and the mysterious male in the library with her. If the mystery psycho killer might run out of the lanes he would have go jump over the tables and a few of the chairs to get to her. When that happen, she could beat feet and throw her books at him. Good plan, she told herself as she made her way through the rows of tables and chairs, her eyes glancing everywhere for signs of the intruder. Making it to the fifth lane of where she assumed the assailant might be, she went a bit brave and threw a paperball down the lane where she guessed the guy's head must be. "I know you are there," she called out, palming her cell phone. She threatened to call the police and held her nokia phone in front of her. No sound came from the lane and she punched in the number nine.<br><br>Really, Sasha had no clue what made her do it. Could be the adrenaline rush she received from being able to take control of this unnerving situation. Might have been the surge of caffeine and sugar in her system. That she would later blame for her foolishness as she entered into the section where a few shelves contained romantic fiction novels. The library wanted to spruce itself up and bring more students to stick around in the place by adding several more genres to its shelves. Romance, sci-fi, fantasy, non-fiction, comics, the list went on the non-college textbooks housed in the building. Other than the books there was no one else in the area. Strange but then the pervert moved areas when she figured out his game plan.<br><br>Satisfied she might have averted the danger of being raped or murdered, Sasha let her guard down a bit. "Maybe I should head home now," she said aloud as she turned to head out of the place. The nudge of something at her foot stopped her progress, bringing her attention to see the item in question. A book. Not unusual given where she was. Thinking the would be murderer bumped against the shelf and knocked the book out, she bent to return it to its rightful place. Upon turning the book to see the title of the book to see if it might interest her, it opened with a crack of thunder. "What the?," she started but never finished what she wanted to say as she was soon sucked into the pages of the book. With another crack, the book fell once more to the ground showing its cover. Phantom of the Opera. <br><br>"Ahhh fuck!," she cried out as she broke her fall on a bunch of thick ropes. Face smashed into one of the scratchy ropes, she coughed and groaned before she pushed herself into a upright position. She had no idea what just happened but all she remembered was being thrust through some sort of door and into a black hole. The only question was where the hell she was and if she could get a ride back home. Oh how unaware she was of where and when exactly she was. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>25-01-2009, 23:01:52</strong>
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				The world above was nothing to him.&nbsp; Disembodied voices wafting upon the night air, swirling about him, like decayed leaves buoyed by a chilled breeze as sharp as the point of a finely honed knife.&nbsp; The moved like ungainly cattle, herding themselves to the abattoirs of their pathetic existence.<br><br>He reached out; gloved hand resting upon the algae stained brick and mortar, as if to steady him.&nbsp; Leather encased fingers trailing over the mottled, flaking masonry. His other hand gently caressed his scarred features.&nbsp; They were much like the stone. Rough, ruined and unsightly.&nbsp; He glanced at the amber pool he waded in, his visage reflected back to him. A writhing, distorted countenance greeted his keen gray eyes.<br><br>Rage welled up into his breast with volcanic intensity. Hands clenching into fists as a booted foot swept to and fro, clouding his reflection with the muck and grime of the catacomb floor. His breathing labored ,his heart a blacksmith’s hammer. <br><br>They will pay for his misfortune.&nbsp; Pay so very dearly. They will fear him, for fear endures in the marrow of men; men who fear the loss of dividends than of their souls.<br><br>He was the Ghost and tonight, he will walk among the city, cloaked in shadow. The dark beckons him with a hint of sweet promise upon the wind.<br><br>Sweet, angelic music of the night yet to grace men’s ears.<br><br>He covers his features with a plaster mask of indifference and steps into the dark magick of Twilight.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>26-01-2009, 00:48:07</strong>
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				Sasha glanced left and right with the thought that she must have been knocked unconsciouss. The only reason to explain how she ended up in a strange building and yet her hands and feet were not tied. That was strange considering that if a person was kidnapped, the modus operandi was to gag and tie up a victim from escaping or screaming. For Sasha, she had a pair of lungs on her and would not hesitate to kick, punch or scratch if the end goal was to save herself from certain death. Now, if she could figure out where she managed to end up in then maybe she could ask someone to call the police. By the looks of things, she was in some sort of warehouse, maybe even a place where plays and musicals were put on.<br><br>She somehow came to the conclusion of that as she noticed various ropes attached to pulleys and set designs. Each one she guessed helped to change scenery or remove it during the show. Now why in the hell would someone bring her to this place where people could come in and out. This could not be an abandoned place because she heard people singing and even a few playing musical instruments. Maybe she got a really stupid kidnapper and thought she would be too dimwitted or scared to ask the other individuals for help. "I am going to rip this guy's balls off, I swear," she muttered beneath her breath as she stood up on shaky feet. Well, the kidnapper was dead wrong and she promised to break one of his knees for ruining her time to prepare for her final examinations. <br><br>Another thing, Sasha noticed was the fact she had her stuff with her. Her bookbag still strapped between her breasts and her clothes were intact. No one had tried to grope or even steal her precious laptop. Just to make a quick check, she searched through her bag and there her laptop was unharm. More and more, she was starting to doubt she was kidnapped and more that she was having a dream. This had to be some sort of stress dream. Obviously, all of her time spent loaded on caffeine and sugar to keep her awake to study must have caught up to her. Yes, that sounded a bit better now.<br><br>"Hello!," she called out as she made her way towards the source of the singing and playing. Hopefully, someone could point out where she was and if it was close by her university. Yes, it might be a stress dream but maybe if she found her way home the dream would end. God, she sounded like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz who needed to find the Oz. If a dog stepped out along with a lion, tinman and scarecrow than she would figure it was a dream and then wake up screaming. Didn't dreams allow a person to change form? Closing her eyes, she tried to change the surroundings around her to the university and force herself to wake up. Sasha had not time to do the whole get through the dream to find a meaning. What she needed was to get back to studying and not waste it on sleep. She could sleep when she finished her finals.<br><br>As she opened her eyes, she frowned in disappointment. "Damn, I thought that would work," she muttered beneath her breath as she continued to make her way towards the group of people. Inching her way, she stopped at the edge where she could see everyone in action while keeping herself hidden. Who knows, the men and women might be in on kidnapping and merely baiting her into a false sense of security. Sasha would hide herself and watch to see if someone could give an indication of whether or not she was their prisoner. 
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>29-01-2009, 19:27:07</strong>
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				&nbsp;Something in the very molecules that swirled invisibly around him charged the air, giving it a presence that he could not articulate. He grimaced and his face became taut, the scarred flesh asserting its vulgar presence beneath the mask. His cloaked sojourn above had the night air upon his clothes and he inhaled its scent and found something equally vexing to give words to, it was a sweet, softly sensuous smell that lingered, like the gentle caress of a lover.&nbsp; A name appeared in his mind's eye,framed by a femine hand and he could almost taste the name upon his tongue. Fingers balled into fists. He was romanticizing. What would he, disfigured and twisted know the velvet touch of an admirer?<br><br>The cacophony of stage workers resounded in the Opera Garnier. It masked his foot falls as he made his way to the rafters. He was one with the building, intimately aware of every crevice, board, rope and stone. The pulse of the Opera house throbbed in his blood. Each movement, each voice, each strand of music was his to be coveted. He passed the darkened balcony and cast a baleful glance at Box Number 5.&nbsp; <br><br>He mouthed their names; spat them out of his mouth like a curse; Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard.&nbsp; Rage blossomed in his breast, spreading heat throughout his body, as if a thousand hellish serpents uncoiled from his core, ravenous for vengeance. He was now soaring above the insects that scurried about below. The blade reflected the malevolent gleam of his eyes, as murderously lacerating as the knife he held in his gloved hand. <br><br>Joseph Buquet’s voice boomed imperiously. The King Behind the Curtain held court as the scene shifters moved about, like deck hands under a bucko tyrant Captain. He sliced the rope, and his mouth was a tight line, the ruined flesh burning behind the mask.<br><br>The Ghost was not myth. <br><br>The Ghost once had a name, but that did not matter. All will know and bear witness to his wrath and as the rope was severed; they would come to know him as…..<br><br><br>The Phantom of the Opera.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>29-01-2009, 20:37:04</strong>
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				Finally, Sasha managed to secure a hiding spot to watch the performers go on with their play. Everyone seemed to be in some gawdy costume or another. Maybe she ended up in the area for the local bohemian drag queens and kings. Where she studied, there was a large portion of various sexualities pruning and preening themselves to find a love or two. She can even admit she had flirted with someone of the same sex who at first she thought was a pretty boy turned out to be a handsome female. Did not bother her in the end because she enjoyed both males and females. Oh her mother might not enjoy her daughter on both fields but everyone was deserved a chance at love no matter the sex. <br><br>"Ow," she muttered as she covered her right side of her ear to prevent from further hearing-loss. The female or shemale until she figured out the gender dressed in some sort of red and orange outfit started to squawk about some sort of costume mending. When the conductor asked her to speak slower, Sasha managed to catch a few words. The squawking female was complaining about the train being too long and in danger of someone stepping on it. Even from the few words she picked up, the shemale was a major diva/divo and a bitch if she thought about it. Not someone, Sasha would go to in asking for directions to the nearest highway.<br><br>She continued to listen to all of the arguing but noticed something moving around. While the drag queen or king, whatever the female was kept complaining and making it harder for people to understand her, Sasha noticed there was an older female, almost a teacher of some sort glancing around quietly. Even from her vantage point, she swore she saw the female glancing up towards the ceiling. What reason was there to notice the people above? She took a glance above to see men walking back and forth on rafters. Nothing strange about it but it seemed as if she was expecting one of the men to do something. Maybe even hope one of the workers would drop a blunt object to take out the complaining shemale. <br><br>Her eyes went from the elder female towards a group of young females behind the elder. While the elder was dressed in a green dress and held a stick, she guessed a cane, the females were dressed ready for a ballet. Hmm, her assumptions of this place being a playhouse turned into an Opera House as the elder female spoke to the ballet females in French. Yep, she was in an Opera House and these people were as dramatic as their performance. Time for her to get going if there was an Opera than there was a few exit doors to lead her out of this place. While all of these people might enjoy their craft, she doubt any of them would enjoy having a spectator watching their performance and tell everyone about it. Sasha heard it was some sort of superstition for an audience, even if one person to view their show and have bad luck befall them afterwards.<br><br>Someone screamed as Sasha pondered the validity of superstitions as people ran away in fright. Her eyes looked up to see a set piece smash into the floor with enough force to kill someone beneath it. Sasha screamed as well at the thought of a dead person lying beneath the set. Individuals went towards the set to move it away and make sure no one was harmed. However, people were turning in her general direction to find out where the scream from the back came from. "There! We have an intruder amongst us, maybe she cut the rope!," Joseph Buquet yelled down, pointing to her. Aww damn, she thought and the only thing to come to her mind was to run away. Pushing herself away from the hiding spot she ran on to the stage to get herself from being caught. Not good if someone thought she was the person who had wanted people to die by cut set pieces.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>30-01-2009, 04:04:29</strong>
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				His breath was labored from the exertion of climbing the rafters and cutting the rope, but also in anticipation of what destruction his deed would cause far below. His conscience was weighted down in the profound recesses of his sub-conscious. It would take a Herculean effort to unmoor it from its dark, fathomless depth.&nbsp; <br><br>He was the Ghost, tattered remnant of a flesh and blood existence; morality was a tenuous link to such and he unshackled himself from the yoke of its oppressive weight with a few strokes of the blade. <br><br>He gave a triumphant, guttural shout as the set piece fell; painted wood exploded, splintered shards his vengeance manifest.<br><br>Ah, Master Buquet, shall the stage be adorned with a crimson hue, organic and lush, not that garish tint that stains the brush of your assistants?<br><br>His smile was lupine as he imagined posing that query to Mr. Buquet. <br><br>The scream shook him from his malevolent reverie. The tenor and pitch of it struck him soundly as if it were a blow from an enraged pugilist. He removed the small opera glass and scanned the area below. He found her. Easily spied amidst the gaily colored denizens of the stage. Her garb strange, alien in design, but her visage captivated.&nbsp; His mind reeled and whatever had vexed earlier, was clear.&nbsp; Her name he mouthed. He would make her his angel. The Magick of the Twilight had found him and delivered her.<br><br>He furiously cut another rope, extending his reach. It would be a distraction as he raced to her, gliding over the stones of the secret passages with an unearthly dexterity. <br><br>“Sasha…..Sasha…” He repeated as he made his way to the stage, each foot-fall echoing in the secret chambers, his heart beating wildly like a caged bird. It blood wings giving purpose to his existence.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>30-01-2009, 05:49:18</strong>
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				Damn it! She should have not gone anywhere near that damn book. If she had stayed in her seat or alerted the librarian, she would not be in this situation. Now she was running her legs off in order to get away from these people. The diva/divo was shrieking for someone to catch Sasha and a few of the ballet dancers were pointing and laughing at her. Laughing at her? She had nothing wrong with her it was those stick little females who needed to put on weight for Christ's sake. Those females needed to have a few pieces of bread or even a glass of water. She stumbled over a few costumes and cried out as she banged her knee on an instrument. At least she found the stairs to lead down towards the red carpets.<br><br>"Mon Dieu! It is the Phantom!," a ballet dancer cried out as everyone moved out of the second set piece coming down. Sasha had to thank this ghost or even Fate for being able to give her a chance to get away. The ones who chased her, including Joseph rushed back to see if anyone had died because of his foolishness to chase after the female. No matter what, Sasha continued to run, caught between where to go. There were three ways to go, one leading down, one to the left and the second to the right. Instincts told her to downstairs but in the back of her head, the members might have called the police and could be heading up these very steps she sought to go down.<br><br>Fuck, she thought, glancing to the left. Maybe she could hide in one of these boxes. The nearest ones would surely be looked through. Nope, better to go to the farther ones. She counted off each box in numerical order starting from one. One, two, three, four, maybe she could go into that one but she needed to be close enough to slip out further into the hallway. Box number five seemed fit enough because she could see what was going on down in the main area of the Opera House and still get away from the authorities. That or she could jump over and land in the box below this one. Could potentially break a bone or kill herself but to get away from being caught was not an option. Going to jail and having it on her record would surely snatch her scholarship from her hands and that money was needed to continue her studies.<br><br>"Please do not find me," she whispered as she hunched herself against the furthest side of the box. She kept herself close to the floor to watch the feet run by beneath the sliver of light shown beneath the black curtain of the box. Sasha tried to lower her breathing, taking a few breaths every other second. The way her heart was pounding in her ears, she feared the members could find her by her hearbeat alone. Damn her adrenaline rush because it made her more wary of anything and everything around her. From the whoosh of the curtain from the people walking by to the orchestra preparing itself to play again. All she wanted was to go home and be in her bed. Was that too much to ask?
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>31-01-2009, 21:32:33</strong>
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				His mind reeled. A confluence of emotions and rational thought warred within, each vying for dominance. He slowed his pace in the darkened passage way. The candle light flickered under his breath, which was like a flurry of wind.&nbsp; Was he a schoolboy? Acting upon a capricious whim? Had his heightened feelings clouded his mind, shrouding the clarity of intellect?&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;Was he now the Ghost thus reborn into the part of the Hero, springing into action, whisking away the damsel in distress and secreting her to his liar?&nbsp; No castle for the fair lady, only the dank catacombs. No silk or linen. No flowers to adorn her chamber, the sole comfort he could offer her was his adoration. Would she, after all the trauma of the events, by his hand caused, look kindly upon him? Tall, dark handsome prince he was not. His face burned not with discomfort from the ruined skin, but from a moment of abject clarity that was as pointed as the tip of lance.<br><br>To suddenly lunge from the shadows and take her was a fantasy. He could not deny the Force which she was brought her, Providential or otherwise, however, to expose himself to potential capture when he has so much to plan and those to wreak his vengeance upon..<br><br>His thoughts drifted to Christine and his gray eyes clouded. Was she completely lost to him? <br><br>He grimaced and turned around and headed up the stairs. He would have to think. Plan. He would cloak himself in darkness of Box 5 and brood, ruminating on his next course of action.<br><br>As he entered the Box, he blew out the candle and as the smoke curled, wreathing his face, he inhaled not&nbsp; the scent of the wick, but her.<br><br>“Clever girl. Welcome. I see you have found your way to the Ghost’s box, my dear.” He spoke as he melded with the shadows.<br>
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>31-01-2009, 22:12:18</strong>
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				Slowly, her heart was able to settle itself into a normal rhythm between her lungs. That was all she needed at the moment was the risk of having a cardiac arrest because she feared to be caught by the police. Sasha rarely had trouble with the law unless she counted that one time in Mexico but she had no clue she had been dancing with a married man. How was she to know the married man's wife was a Fedarali police officer who was searching the bars for her husband? That had been an awkward thing to not get involved in the domestic problem but when the male tried to throw her under the bus her friends and even the guy's friends had been there to defend her honor. She had been surprised and even bought a round for the men after the officer dragged her idiot husband away.<br><br>Now she doubt anyone would be able to vouch for her. She was in a place where she had no clue if it was near her university or dorm room. By the way a few of the people were talking in rapid French, Spanish, Scottish, Irish and every once in a while switching to English, it narrowed down the field of places she was. It could not be California because Spanish and English was the common language spoken in the communities. She wished she had someone to let her know where she was and if there was a map to aid her. "My phone," she whispered as she reached into her jacket pocket to snag her phone. A few minutes of tinkering found her cursing silently when no service bars showed up on her nokia. This Opera House might not get service because of the insulation or her service was becoming sucky again. <em>Clever girl. Welcome. I see you have found your way to the Ghost's box, my dear.</em><br><br>The smell of smoke and someone in the box with her stunned Sasha. Oh, shit, she thought. Slowly, she tried to find where the stranger was in the box. Was he hear to bring her out into the light and where the police would be waiting for her? There was no other reason for him to be here in this box with her unless there were more darker reasons in mind. Did he think he could have his way with her or even for her to entertain him in order to escape the hands of the justice system? "Look, I am sorry for what happened on stage but I did not mean to cause trouble," she whispered, her eyes narrowing to try and find the dark figure in the box. The voice came from one direction but as she neared the area he was not there. Was he one of those men who could throw his voice in different directions and confuse an individual?]<br><br>What did he exactly mean by Ghost's box? Was this box supposed to be haunted or something of the sort? Slowly, she reached into her book bag to find a small penlight she used when her roommates begged her to turn off the lights when the girls grew tired of Sasha's reading list. She could not help it if she found a book that fascinated her enough to keep the female up till the crack of dawn to finish it. While Sasha appreciated reading mounds upon mounds of books, her roommates dubbed her the 'Reading Rainbow' because of how much she enjoyed reading no matter the hour. Finding the pen light, she clicked it once to try and find where this male was. "Please, I just want to find a way out of here," Sasha commented, her hand shaking a bit.
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				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>03-02-2009, 22:32:24</strong>
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				The shadows comforted him. He welcomed the inky black embrace. His heart began a normal rhythm, his breathing less labored. His gaze was keen, sharp in the gloom. He was used to the darkened recesses of the Opera House. <br><br>He suppressed a chuckle. He was in his element now. His domain.<br><br>“What transpired upon the stage is not of import, it was not of your hand, which I know. This place has a curse laid upon it. Those who work within these walls have become anathema to its true existence. Full seats and coffers filled with revenue are paramount, not the music…that sweet mu…<br><br>His voice trailed off as she produced a light in her hand. His eyes grew wide behind the mask. No strike of match. No flame sparking to life.&nbsp; No sulfuric tinge to the air.<br><br>What contrivance did she possess?&nbsp; Of what material was it?&nbsp; What other strange devices did she have secreted upon her?<br><br>Questions. Questions. His queries would have to wait, bobbing in the tumultuous sea that was mind.<br><br>“They would surely offer you up to the authorities, eager to do so, with such a tantalizing&nbsp; &nbsp;Dues Ex Machina before them. I shall offer you sanctuary. I am well acquainted with this Opera house. Its secrets. It’s construct. For all intents and purposes, I am its heart.”<br><br>He moved slowly, toward, careful to avoid that beam of light.<br><br>“Come with me, my dear. No harm shall come to you if you are with me, my only condition is that you lower your ….your torch... for my eyes, they are more accustomed to the dark that to the light.”<br><br>He extended a gloved hand.<br><br>“Come to me” He spoke, his voice an imperious baritone.<br>
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			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>03-02-2009, 22:58:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Wow, he spoke in a language that she only heard in the English movies revolving around Victorian times. There were even a few phrases she could not decipher or she might not have looked up correctly in her pocket dictionary. "Anathema? Coffer? dues ex machina? I can say machine is machine but not the first two phrases," she replied, narrowing her eyes up at him. She continued to move the pen light over the darkness in the opera box. Where he was he had to be hiding in a tight space for her light not to pick up on him. While he might ask her to lower her pen light, Sasha would do anything but that. He was trying to get her to trust him to head with him into some unknown space. <br><br>What if he was a murderer who haunted the place to pick up young women and murder them. While Jack the Ripper had been long ago there were still murderers of that nature out there. Ted Bundy, Yates, Charles Manson, hell, this man might even admire and try to aspire to those types of men. Not the best thing for her to be around him then. "Why should I trust you if you will not let me see your face? Do you not want to be recognized if you indeed harmed me?," she questioned, backing away from him and inching towards the curtains barring the opera box from the rest of the others. <br><br>If she ran than she might ruin the only chance she had with escaping safely from this place. On the other end, the possibility of being butchered or raped was another thing to worry about. Well, she had her mace on her and could bite and fight like a hellion cat if he tried to subdue her. Just because she spent time in the library, Sasha was no lightweight in defending herself. Her male cousins and her were known to get into fights as children but after her cousins grew up, married and moved away she had not had a sparring partner in a while. "You show me the way out of here and I might not scream and call for help if you try anything," she warned as she clicked her penlight off but reached into her book bag to remove her mace and hold it securely in the palm of her right hand. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>04-02-2009, 21:06:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He could not discern if she was mocking his speech. It appeared so, the words rolled sharply off her tongue, quick, like the slash of a rapier. He contemplated offering her to Boquet. He would enjoy such an impertinent tongue before he had his brutish way with her. He supposed he should judge her so crossly. She was indeed a stranger in a strange land. Plucked form her time by something Unnameable and brought here. To him...<br><br>"You wish to look upon me? A horrible accident has wrought havoc with my features. I am not a man consumed by vanity, but I do not wish to grieve you further."<br><br>He moved to the stairwell, cloaked in the still gloom.<br><br>He paused,turning to her,careful to keep his visage shrouded in darkness.<br><br>"My sweet girl, If I wanted to 'try anything' as you so clumsily put it, I would have done so. I would not have engaged you in conversation nor given my word as a gentleman that no harm would come to you. If you wish to tempt Fate ,then I suggest the stairs to the stage. See if&nbsp; you fare well with Mr. Boquet."<br><br>His clothes rustled as he strode out of the box. Much like the ssuratons of a Ghost.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>04-02-2009, 22:06:07</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Accident with his features? Of course she wanted to look upon him because she had seen enough in her own time to overcome the usual shock and horror most people had. She read in the past on how people with abnormalities were treated even picked on. The only job open to them was the freak show which only exploited their features or bodies even more. "I have seen a lot of mugs and I bet yours is not that bad," she started but stopped as tried to make out the outline of who he was. Who was he anyhow? Was he some sort of male in underwear and a cape who went out saving females from distress? Well, he was no Captain Underwear because he acted as if he came out of a Victorian-era novel.<br><br>"Are you kidding me? What a crock," she muttered, leaving him to go on his way. She was up to having him lead her towards the nearest exit and off he goes telling her to go tempt fate with the stairs. First he wants her to come along and now to shove off? God, this is why she rarely dated because of how confusing men were and yet men thought it was females who were the crazy ones. One of the many reasons why she kept herself out of the lovely dating pool when it came to finding a man or woman to settle down with. Both were crazy and both were types she wanted to stay away from. <br><br>Sighing, she went back to her corner of the box to figure out what to do now. Her options were to stay here or try the creepy male again which she doubted was anything but loads of unfun. "What to do," she muttered, turning her back to the curtains as she contemplated the next course of action. Best thing to do was let the others forget that she had somehow been around when the set came off. When it became darker, she would slip out and away to find the nearest airport and buy her ticket with her emergency credit card. That was her plan and she was sticking to it.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>05-02-2009, 00:07:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				If she followed, so be it.&nbsp; If not....<br><br>He found her demeanor somewhat contemptible. She spoke without restriction, using phrases that were acutely&nbsp; different from a woman of this city, of this...<em>time</em>. Where all women so free with their tongue where she came from?<br><br>As he was vexed by her frank countenance, he was also intrigued by it. No artifice to her conversation. It was as blunt as a policeman's truncheon. Is was oddly..<em>refreshing</em>.<br><br>He went to strike a match, when he heard voices. He pushed the wall and a recessed door slid open. The voices grew louder, the tenor&nbsp; and timbre of them suggested malice. He struck the match head upon the stone,and it flared to life. He produced a candle from his vest pocket. He hesitated. She did not follow. Was he to be a coward and flee, leaving Sasha, alien to this era and vulnerable, without a protector? He was romanticizing once&nbsp; again. She was no Christine. That much was certain. <br><br>He appeared by the entrance to Box number 5. The candle light dim, wreathing his&nbsp; masked face in contorted,flickering light.<br><br>"Look upon me. This is who I am. They come for you. You are truly alone here,with me, you have a chance."<br><br>Footfalls and mouths uttering oaths grew close.<br><br>"Choose," He spoke, his shadow writhing on the wall as if were some tortured demon.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>05-02-2009, 00:33:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>What the fuck am I going to do?</em><br><br>That was the question that continued to work itself over and over in her head. With the mysterious stranger gone to save himself, she had to deal with things on her own. Sasha managed to calm herself down by slapping the sides of her face. There, it helped to focus her back on what she needed to do. When she managed to hear the swish of the air being moved, quickly, she turned to see who had entered into the box. It was the stranger again but where had he come from because she had not felt the disturbance of air the curtain swishing to right itself when he left. <br><br>Sasha glanced up at his face, noticing he wore a white mask over one part of his face. Aye, he did not want anyone to see the disfigurement but wearing a bright and white mask would surely stand out in any crowd. Her eyes always took notice that there were secrets walls to be used in this place. Was that how the man managed to sneak into the box without even feeling the presence of someone there already? That or he was the Criss Angel of his own town and if he was Criss Angel then the two of them might get along with no problem. As long as he did not ask her to pull his finger or pick a card out of deck of playing cards then it was fine with her. <br><br><em>I am mindfreak!</em><br><br>Sure and she was Shaharazad and Mae West all rolled up into one. Chris Angel was such a doof, she thought, shaking her head. She heard the sound of the people coming around the bend before he mentioned it. "Fuck, double and triple fuck," she muttered as she heard the voices coming closer and closer towards the box. Someone must be smart enough to think that she was hiding out in the boxes. The voices were not happy and she doubted she would be given a chance to talk her way out of this. "Alright, show me the way out of this box and help me," she whispered, standing up to head down whichever path he could take her on.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Cutter</strong> on <strong>11-02-2009, 03:36:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				He arched an eyebrow at her causal utterance of&nbsp; one of the most profane expletives. Twice mouthed in a single sentence!<br><br>She was indeed no lady. Her vulgar speech was stupefyingly unreserved. Best suited to the beer halls and taverns of the wharf, frequented by the dregs of society. <br><br>And, was he, pillar of the theater community? A gentleman who cavorted about the cobbled street, with top-hat and jaunty walking stick in hand?<br><br>He suppressed an urge to laugh. No. Not in the least. He was the dregs of society. Sulking about in subterranean catacombs and musty secret passage ways. Intimate with the gloom and dank than of Gentlemen and genteel women. Vengeful, twisted and....<em>alone</em>.<br><br>He could see in her eyes, bright, keen, liquid gemstones that sparkled with a fierce intelligence;an almost contemptible, yet thoughtful gaze, that she regarded him with some disrepute. <br><br><em>Just as Christine</em>...<br><br><br>Enough!<br><br>He moved with the grace of one at home upon the stage. <br><br>"This way. Mind your step and follow close. The stairs are treacherous to the unwary."<br><br>He led her into the passage, into the artery of the theater. They would wind their way down into the catacombs. Sanctuary. Such as it was.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: Phantom of the Opera, Really, He Is There Inside My Mind [Mar/Cutter]</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Marguerite</strong> on <strong>12-02-2009, 04:46:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				"I will as long as you do not run or walk too fast," she whispered, trying to catch up to him. She had to take three extra steps for every one step he took. The man was like a damn cat sliding and moving stealthly down the passage with the candle showing him the way. Her eyes glanced over his attire, frowning a bit to see he was wearing some sort of black cloak almost like the character Darkman with Liam Nesson. Mmm, Liam Neeson, she had a thing for rugged older men and she blamed it on her first crush. Mr. Metler had been Sasha's eleventh grade psychology teacher and a handsome one at that. Nothing ever happened but she always fantasized what could have been.<br><br>She wondered if he wore a mask because he too feared what the people would think of his face. For her, she accepted people and had seen students with cleft lips, scars, burnt faces, etc. She doubted his face would scare her to bits but it might make her wonder if he felt the need to hide away from the world. The color of his clothes suggested he hid himself from the world because it was black as night, better to blend into the darkness she assumed. <br><br>Sasha let herself be led into the passage but she kept her eyes open for anyone who might reveal the stranger and her own whereabouts. "Where are we going?," she asked a few minutes later as she thought of where exactly he might take her. Hopefully it was away from the Opera House and to a house where she could use his house phone to book a plane. She even had her laptop to book it online and save herself the trouble of being put on hold by those happily annoying phone operators.
			</dd>
		</dl>
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