"Little Lotte, let her mind wander." The young man spoke, taking the young woman by surprise. She looked to the doorway, her eyes greeting those of the Vicomte. "Little Lotte thought, am I fonder of ghouls, or of goblins, or of shoes. Or of riddles or frocks.."
"Raoul!" _______ chuckled. "You do remember me!" Almost instantly, his face contorted in an uncomfortable disgust. His mind began filing through ways to make the situation turn out in his favor, trying frantically to come up with the best response as quickly as he could.
The young woman's lip began to quiver as she realised what was happening.
"Why are you here?" she asked with a fading voice, her face only just maintaining a smile.
"Or of chocolates." He ignored her as he continued the story. Her smile faded as she looked back at herself in the vanity, cold hands wrapping around her shoulders making her shrivel up with a gasp.
"What are you doing?!" she moved away from him, rubbing her shoulders to warm them up. "Your hands are cold."
"Do you remember those picnics in the attic?" Raoul asked as he examined the necklace that hung around her petite neck. She took in a breath as she watched his eyes trail down, his hands gently caressing the ruby gem.
"My father would play us the violin."
"As we shared with each other dark stories of the North." He looked back up at her as her hands held his, moving them away from their descent down her chest.
"No." she shook her head gently. "What I love best, Lotte said, is when I am asleep in my bed. And the Angel of Music sings songs in my head. The Angel of Music sings songs in my head."
Raoul smiled the condescending smile of a parent listening to their child ramble on about their interests. _________ remained stoic as he nodded his head, moving his hand to play with her hair.
Little to their knowledge, a pair of piercing eyes watched their every movement and listened to their every word. The young man's unwanted advances made those eyes ignite with rage as his honey voice turned into a scratchy growl.
⚜
"Now, now." the voice crept down the spine of those stalking eyes like tiny spiders crawling over their paralysied body. Their breath caught as they felt grimy hands caress their shoulders.
"No, you're not supposed to be here." they whispered back to that voice. A hot, vile breath embraced their neck, making them gag at the sense. "You should be dead." they hissed, watching the Vicomte with a growing rage.
They watched the delicate woman pry her way out of his grasp, her voice raising to an annoyed shout as she continued to deny his invitations to supper. She finally broke free, hurting back to the vanity and ignoring the mumbling insults being thrown her way as the Vicomte slammed the door behind him.
Their blood began to boil as silence returned and all that was left was the soft footsteps of the young woman who began to prepare for bed.
⚜
_________ sighed in relief as she felt her body decompress from removing her corset. She ran her hand through her hair, creating a loose mess easy enough to brush. She began to hum a soft tune as she tried to push the events of five minute ago from her mind. As she covered herself with a loose night-dress she felt a waft of cold air seep through the room.
She shivered, covering the transparency of her night-dress with an elegantly embroidered night-gown. _________ placed the costume in a neat pile by the vanity, smiling softly as she played with her necklace. She looked up at the vanity, and in a single blink she found herself in pitch black darkness, the cold air mixing with that recurring scent of fine cologne.
Her heart rate rose as she grabbed the black cloak that she had found in the chapel and made a dash for the door, a thunderous voice paralyzing her before she could touch the handle.
"INSOLENT BOY THIS SLAVE OF FASHION, BASKING IN YOUR GLORY! IGNORANT FOOL THIS SLAVE OF FASHION, SHARING IN MY TRIUMPH!"
_________'s eyes widened as she listened to that voice, filled with pain and hatred. It made her heart drop as she recognised it's tone. She looked to the sky, and in her innocent voice, called out to the disembodied voice.
"Angel I hear you! Speak, I listen. Stay by my side, guide me! Angel my soul was weak, forgive me. Enter at last, Master." The cold air warmed, and the distinct sound of a lake echoed like she was in a deep, underground tunnel. That strange voice one again enveloped the room, embracing _________.
"Flattering child you shall know me. See why in shadow I hide. Look at your face in the mirror," A large amount of light entered the room, myst entering the room as a masked man entered through an entrance of what used to be the large mirror. "I AM THERE INSIDE!" He stood there smiling as she looked at him starry-eyed, clutching his cape to her chest.
"Angel of Music, guide and guardian. Grant to me your glory! Angel of Music, hide no longer! Come to me strange Angel!" she stared into his eyes as he gently extended a gloved hand for her to take, his hypnotic voice moving her toward him.
The look in his eyes was commanding, yet tender and full of affection as he gazed pointedly into her own. His voice was seductive and soft, yet firmly authoritative as he outstretched a gentle hand and sang to her: "I am your Angel of Music. Come to the Angel of Music~".
YOU ARE READING
His Voice as Soft as Thunder
FanfictionPART 1 OF THE "Anywhere You Go" SERIES based on the 2004 movie, The Phantom of the Opera. When the young orphan heard a soft voice call to her through the night, she believed it to be the Angel of Music onced promised to her by her father. However...
