Fearless

V

To say the masked-man was nervous would not have been entirely correct. No, the man was petrified to be standing before a group of people who were not the gypsies, nor were they the common class who liked to torture him during his performances. This was to be the upper class, and he knew that men of those types were proper and never willing to give into change.

Having seen it the past few days, Erik hadn't imagined the grandeur of the opera would be more than he imagined. He had quite the imagination, if he was to be honest, and anything one needed of him was to be the best they had ever seen, yet the opera... the opera was beyond him. Its golden walls, and marble steps, the red-velvet seats... there was nothing there that he couldn't have created, but not together in the fashion it was in.

While the ticketing office had been helpful to get him to the meeting room, where the board met on it's daily hour of the hiring-season, that didn't mean Erik wanted to keep the path. He strayed, memorizing every facet of the place he hoped to one day call his career. The day could be upon him soon, and for Arielette the most, he hoped to please the men.

When he finally meandered into the meeting hall, Erik saw only a few members, though every seat had a glass of cool water before it and a plaque, so he assumed they would have a full twelve men.

One looked at him with a polite smile and nod, but he was the only one to afford him such, the other two looked upon him with a flash of fear and then immediate disdain.

Like he hadn't wanted to be in the throng of them, the one who'd flashed him a nod and a smile walked over. With a purpose Erik had adopted over the years to instill a fear in his gypsy masters, the man stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

"Marc Terfat," he bid. "You must be vying for pianist."

Erik nodded, taking the man's hand in his gloved one.

"Erik Destler, and yes."

"You look familiar," he started, which scared Erik beyond wit because the only place he was recognizable from was the gypsy camp.

"That's nearly impossible-" Erik brushed off unsuccessfully.

"No," Terfat determined. "I saw you in the carnival! You played marvelously, of course that was a few years ago, both of us were younger and in quite worse a shape obviously. I was left with a lot of money a few years ago."

The man looked proud, and Erik glanced pass him to see that the other two suited board members hadn't heard such information. They were engrossed, so he turned back numbly and nodded.

"Were you set free or..." Terfat wondered curiously, trying to match their gazes.

As much as he was skeletal, Erik was also a tall man, so he needn't look in anyone's eyes if he didn't want to. The only problem was that he was getting used to kindness, so looking upon Terfat and his encouraging demeanor wasn't entirely hard or a nuisance.

"No, I ran... with a little backwards help of a partner."

Looking pleased, Terfat sipped at his drink, which from what Erik could smell must have been a fine wine. The drink was an expensive choice for the flailing grape productions, but of course someone like him, and a place like this could afford it.

"Partner in crime or are you courting, Monsieur?" He joked, however serious his curiosity was.

"Courtship," the masked-man informed.

"I'm impressed, hopefully you impress everyone else. The president here is very easy-going, but the board sometimes is picky. Watch out," the man finished, shaking Erik's hand again in finality.