Remembering the Angel

A lesson in the Aerie

Christine's POV

Christine sat in the main room, lost in thought. Raoul, her once dear Raoul was here. She should be elated, but she wasn't. It was wrong, his being here, she knew it, however as usual, she didn't know why.

But, she could feel it as they walked, a forced happiness on her behalf.

She shook her head, when he told her about Hannibal, she remembered, she knew. Little Lotte sounded so clear now.

The mirror, her disappearance. So close.

Sighing, she walked into Gustave's room and kissed his tiny forehead.

Then walked into her own room and let the pillows surround her until sleep came.

********

"Christine...Christine..."

Christine sat up, song from her dream continued, continued to call her.

She followed it out onto the balcony, where she saw him.

Her Angel of music. His cape, black as the night, waved softly behind him in the night breeze. He was sitting on the balcony railing, white mask glowing with the moon, with one leg placed on the ground, and arm resting on his bent knee was twirling a rose, tied with black silk.

"Hello, my dear." the Angel smiled at her.

Christine couldn't find words, yes he had appeared here before, but she didn't not know if he would return, and there he was.

"As much as I adore simply sitting here, staring at your beauty, I would also love to hear your speak, Christine."

"You came back." she said.

"I never left." He said bluntly then stood up, and handed the rose to Christine, "however, we have some catching up to do."

Her Angel waved his hand, and the bricks in the wall moved back one by one, until a shape like a door frame appeared next to the doors of the balcony.

"Come with me Christine, please." he spoke softly and held out his hand.

Christine slipped her's into the warmth of the Angel's hand, and it felt secure there.

He led her to the newly created doorway, and a spiraling stairwell appeared at it's foot, as they up and up, a hallway appeared with candles.

Not once did Christine turn from him, to glance at the path she left behind.

They reached a dead end, Christine looked at her Angel in confusion.

He just laughed and smiled, "Things are not as they always seem."

At his words, the end wall flipped, a bookcase at its other side.

Christine gasped at the beauty of the room she now stood in.

This aerie, windows for its ceiling, and a section of it that took up most of a whole wall, showing all of the grounds below. They could see all the lights, hear all of the sounds Phantasma created.

The room, lightly decorated, held various bookshelves - or perhaps doorways - a large, maroon chaise by the vast window, and at its center, a divine, black grand piano, that matched the one on the stage. Music sheets were everywhere, the piano, the floor... it looked like a cluttered mind.

"You'll have to forgive the mess, however, there is a method to it." He said jokingly.

"It's fine," she replied, "It's beautiful."

The Angel smiled, then his eyes started heatedly at Christine.

"It's all for you." he said, holding her gaze.