POV: Erik
When the little one came to at last from her trance like sleep, the mircaculous of things happened. When I went in to check on her, I forgotten to put on my mask! I didn't realize it until she put a hand to my left cheek; I wanted to pull back, find my mask and veil my ugliness. Yet, what I got in return was a small whisper that I shan't forget in all my days
"Please, do whatever you wish, just please don't take me back to Papa..."
Imagine! The girl didn't even know me and yet trusted me with her! I was rendered speachless for a good minute before remembering myself. I took the little girl's hand and told her to come with me out into my common chamber. There I sat on my chair near the fireplace, she standing next to my right armrest.
"Tell me child," I said as warmly as I could "do you have a name?"
The girl paused. Then her eyes lit up and said sweetly
"Rossigna de Mont'e monsieur,"
'Nightingale '
"Do you sing?" I asked. In response I was greeted with a sweet and soft song of merry days, filling my soul with warmth as I 've never felt before. When it ceased, I looked closer at her. Her eyes glittered with angelic love in the glossiest emerald green, her delicate waves of strange sterling glinted in the light of the fire's haze.
"Tell me this now dear, how would you like to stay with me for a while?"
And so it began, this unlikliest of relationship. On that night I vowed silently that everything I did for her, that nymph of pure youth, would be for her alone
She was my little songbird now.
My little muse
YOU ARE READING
The Angel's Muse
General FictionBefore Christine, there was a only one who could make Erik live; his daughter. When Erik Destler finds a baby girl on the steps of the Opera, he makes it his mission to give the love and childhood he lost long ago.
