"What is your name?" The woman asked.
"Y/n L/n."
"Splendid," she said dully, "you will refer to me as Madame Giry."
The halls were grand and polished. The staircases had sweeping, golden handrails. The ceilings were plated in gold or hand-painted with lovely flowers. Ornate little cherubs adorned the corners. Velvet upholstered chairs were sprinkled about. A single one could've paid my rent. My old leather shoes tread upon the shining marble floors.
I would've worn my only nice gown had I known I was going to the opera, but my pink taffeta evening dress was abandoned in my splintering wardrobe. I ran away in my day clothes, a white blouse and an old brown skirt. A knitted shawl hung over my shoulders.
My eyes returned to the huge golden halls. With all this grandeur, the house of the theater must be magnificent.
She finally brought me to what I assumed was the dance hall. Giant, clean mirrors covered most of the pastel wallpaper, and barres stood around the room.
"The spare shoe closet is to the left. Go sort them by size."
I nodded my head dutifully, mildly concerned about how I got there, and was suddenly being put to work.
I stepped into the closet to find pure chaos. Boxes upon boxes of pink slippers were thrown about. The ribbons were tangled and filthy. I picked up a worn shoe and examined it from sole to toe.
"Madame Giry?" I called.
"What do you want?" She walked over, trailing a staff behind her.
"They've no size that I can see."
"Are you blind?" She snapped.
"No, madame."
"Use your eyes. Compare two slippers. If they match, they're a pair." She flapped her hand vaguely.
"Yes, madame."
I returned to the closet. I attempted to pile similar shoes. At first, I sorted the disaster into similar size piles and then into pairs, but they all meshed together. I decided I would sort by little shoes and big shoes, then shame any dancer based on their foot size if they dare question my matching ability. Most of the shoes were worn through on the bottoms, pink silk fraying off the toe box. I guessed this is where they dumped their old ones.
Madame Giry brought me breakfast. She dropped a plate of two eggs onto my lap and left without a word.
I heard high, bickering voices beyond the door. I decided to release myself from shoe prison and nose around. Perhaps I'd even introduce myself. I was practically done anyway. The only step I had left was to heave the boxes to the back of the closet.
"Who are you?" One dancer asked, drawing her hand back in disgust.
"I'm the new dance assistant." I responded.
"Then, why do you look poor?" Another giggled.
"I, um..."
"Your hair is so messy, and h/c is not the latest style."
She reached out and grabbed a strand of my hair. I recoiled.
"Girls, stop it." A gentle voice emerged from the crowd. "I'm Meg Giry." The short girl said. She offered a hand to shake. "They always try to terrorize the new girls." Her kind blue eyes twinkled.
I shook her boney hand.
"Looks like Meg is ruining our fun again." One of the girls said, crossing her arms.
YOU ARE READING
A Girl's Desire (Phantom Of The Opera x Reader)
Fanfiction[COMPLETE] When Y/n signed a risky contract with the Phantom, then agreed to spend six months living in the basement with him, she was clueless about what the future held. Like the dutiful errand girl Y/n is, she follows his commands precisely-until...
