At the Opera House

Chapter 11: The Ball

When Christine had said that balls were hot, she had not realized just how accurate that would be.

Candles lit every inch of the grand hall gave off a fair amount of heat, but most of it came from the pure amount of people. Several hundred people in costumes of all kinds danced and ate and talked generated quite the sweat fest.

It made Christine glad that her costume was light, with minimal layers. She had dressed as an elf, with silver embroidery covering the shimmering grey fabric. The crown she had made sat on her head, held in place with pins.

Her hair flowed free, reaching just below her waist with it's tangled, brown curly locks. She had made a few small braids by her face to keep out the worst of it, while she had braided it, she had twisted in little threads of silver. It gave the braids a shimmering effect that Christine quite liked.

Finally, her mask covered most of her face, leaving only her mouth and lower cheeks exposed, it was plain white, with silver swirls.

Now, she stood to the side lines, watching the twirling whirling costumes as their wearers danced across the floor. There were servants, offering glasses of wine and small treats wandering through. The ball didn't offer a full meal, but tiny delectable were eaten by the dozens by the numerous swirling aristocrats.

Gently she fanned herself, looking over all the costumes, searching for one in particular.

The taller men received special attention from herself, she discarded one that dressed as a women, then another three or four that wore masks so small that they barely covered their faces at all.

In one man she thought she lingered on for a time, until she saw him grasp a women and pull her behind a pillar to kiss her rather passionately.

She was focusing on a man dressed as a roman emperor, wearing a full mask painted to imitate Ceasar, when a cold glove gently touched her arm.

Christine smiled, and spun around to see a wall of red.

The costume followed the owner's thin figure, with golden embroidery imitating bones, and a crimson cape flowing behind him.

The mask covered his entire face and was shaped like a skull, Christine looked up into the sockets of his eyes and knew that it was him.

She grasped his hand, noting that he flinched as she did so, she was afraid that he would run again. "I'm sorry." She whispered. "The dress is beautiful." She smiled up at him. "That's what I should have said in the first place. I'm sorry."

He didn't answer, but pulled her hand up and gently touched them to his skull's lips.

"Mademoiselle." He purred.

Christine smiled, "Aren't you going to ask me to dance?" She asked, raising an eyebrow despite knowing that he couldn't see.

"Before I compliment your appearance?" He raised a hand to his chest dramatically and took a step back. "Dare I commit such a crime?"

"Compliment me then, and get on with it." Christine gave a faint smile of amusement.

Erik bowed low, still grasping her hand and placed it to his mask again. "My queen." He began. "You shine like the stars, and are as beautiful as the moon. You're costume-" he gestured to herself. "Is genius itself. There is not a women in the room that can possibly compare."

"Some say that that would be a matter of opinion." Christine observed ruefully.

"Ah. My fairy, it is not my own humble opinion, but a fact. True and as old as the mountains and valleys that dress this earth only to serve you."