The Phantom Ascending |✔| [Phantom of the Opera Fanfiction]

Masquerade

Masks and music and vivacious chaos; waltz and sonatas and merriment and laughter; brocade and satin and silver and gold - everything swirled around us in a steady rhythm, fast and merciless. The magnificence of it was incomparable to any Paris masquerade I've ever been to.

I kept glancing at Erik to see how he's reacting to it all, but he appeared to be calm. In fact, his bearing was as proud and arrogant as in his finest moments in the Paris opera. His face gave nothing away, hidden as it was under an elaborate Venetian mask, the type of which was commonly known as the Harlequin.

"I wish this mask was a tighter fit, like with those I made," he murmured. As it was, we were wearing the masks I bought, to make sure we'll blend in easily.

"You should've come dressed as Dumas' Man in the Iron Mask," I teased him.

"And wear torn prisoners rags? I think not."

I smiled at his dry response and the hidden humor in it.

Erik was the one who recommended Dumas' work to me, and I was thankful for the new world of adventures I uncovered there. My mind briefly drifted away to imaginary lands, but then the liveliness of my surroundings drew my attention back to the present moment.

"Isn't this wonderful? Such a spectacle!" I said to Erik.

"As long as we don't become a spectacle ourselves."

The ball we attended was being held in one of the most impressive mansions in Venice, its owner a vastly rich and influential Venetian merchant. He was a patron of many arts, which was how I received an invitation, along with Manelli, Enrico and Odessa - an older soprano who had reigned over La Fenice until last summer, when she'd retired.

They must have been here already, lost somewhere in this frenzy of masks, which was probably for the best. As Enrico had instructed me, it was an unwritten code in these gatherings to try to maintain anonymity. It enhanced the excitement among the guests, though naturally, the butler, who checked the guest list at the entrance, knew our identities, and thus, our host too.

Still, it was a perfect place for Erik to take a small step into the society, and to feel how it is to be just an ordinary man in the crowd. Though, on second thought, he'd gotten that chance already, on solstice. Perhaps someday I'll ask him how that went...

We exchanged non-committal nods and murmured greetings with people we passed by, but we kept moving, not stopping to get acquainted with anyone until we had a better grasp of our surroundings - Erik insisted on this.

"Do you recognize anyone?" he asked me as we were making a turn on the second floor gallery.

"No, I don't think so... And I have a question for you, too."

"Yes?"

The sounds of the orchestra echoed from the main ballroom below.

"Can you dance?"

"Yes."

"Truly? Forgive my surprise, but how did you learn?"

"Observing others. Practicing with..." he cut himself off.

"With whom?"

He turned his head toward me. It was an eerie sight, seeing a completely immobile mask and hearing his voice ring hollow out of it.

"You are too curious, Christine."

"I know... Oh, I see. Was it madame Giry?"

He sighed audibly, and we rounded a corner, keeping ourselves on the fringes of the crowd.