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In the Opera House, season flies by like a flock of swifts-days and nights folding over one another, passing and rising, tinted in gold and draped in crimson. Piece by piece, the world turns in opalescent tulle and the crooning of the singers, though, there is only one dancer that Erik finds himself enraptured by, both on stage and off; a pearl, hidden away in the creaking, breathing halls.
So, when the stagehands grumble, and the goslings of the corps de ballet gossip, he finds himself awaiting-ever so patiently-the announcement of roles for a new performance, something he's adamant you execute.
As he stares into the gentle waters of the lake, wings ragged, he sees more of himself in you
than he'd like to admit-yet, he wonders, is not Lucifer permitted his dreams of angels?
: ΜΜβ Oneshot
: ΜΜβ Request from Tumblr
