A merry ballerina with a tragic story and a sad genius with a tragic past. It's a match made in heaven. Is that the reason why they are that drawn to each other? What happens when secrets resurface? A small fluffy to brighten every phans day. EOW/EO...
This small one is just a big dream of mine. I fell hard for Erik (the Phantom) after watching the 2004 movie. Somehow, I knew there was more to him. Although I find Butler an okay Phantom, I respect him more for being my first contact 🖖🏼. Erik is not supposed to be 'hawt'.The only thing beautiful about him is his mind.🧠
Title song of the phanfic: You probably know it's by Evanescence, right? 😉 I remember the first time I heard that song and it immediately reminded me of Erik. By then my English was worse than now (I'm from Brazil). But when I read Leroux for the first time, I felt like I had to do something for him. I also used Keira Knightley as a muse 😅 Whoever I would use as my muse, I was aware Christine had had her chance in the Musical and the canon!Christine was just a little girl. So, no way!
I believe Erik deserves a chance in life, the chance he never had. It took me YEARS, but that's what I came up with. I'm no Leroux, but I'd like to think I understand Erik. I know that because he understands me.
And I believe in second chances. So I gave Erik one. ❤️
The first two paragraphs from the first chapter are from the original novel.
Chapter I -
"A man dressed entirely in scarlet, with a huge plumed hat perched over a death's head mask. And a very fine simulation of a human skull it was too! The art students who had gathered round turned him into a great success. They congratulated him, asked which designer, which master-craftsman, who clearly had Pluto, King of the Underworld, as a customer, has conceived, made and painted such a magnifcent death's head! The Grim Reaper himself must have posed for it.
The figure with the death's head, the feathered hat and the scarlet costume wore an immense cloak of red velvet which trailed behind him and spread like a fiery royal train over the floor. And on this cloak, were embroidered in letters of gold these words: 'Make way, for I am the Red Death.'"
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Then, someone did touch him, for Erik's surprise. "They would feel the furious grasp of Red Death!" he thought, with all his indignation and ire.
But Erik heard a feminine whisper "come!" with a grasp far more potent than his, pulling him far from the crowd, and fast.
It was a Nymph, literally. A woman wearing a Nymph's costume. Erik blushed. He was at the party to crash and shock and a Nymph from hell pulled him by the wrist for no reason.
Besides, now he had lost track of Christine.
"I'm sorry about my rudeness. And I can't speak French. Yet! Messieur."
Her accent was precarious at best.
"And I don't suppose you'll ever learn. What do you want from me? Language lessons?" replied Erik, with flawless English.
