A Solitary Song (Open)

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Within his short time already spent at Tintagel Academy, Erik had been forced to deal with much displeasure. The whole affair that had come from his love for Christine had left him exhausted and with absolutely no desire to interact with any other human being. He supposed his life truly was one cruel joke after another, for here he was, thrust into this new world and put into this new, less than desirable position. Yes, he had accepted the job, if only to fulfill his miserable existence and have access to music, the only thing that made it now worthwhile, but there was still that troubling aspect of being forced back into the society that had broken him. So far, he had been able to get away with only brief and impersonal interactions. He surely had established a mysterious air, being a new teacher who seemed to slink across campus like a shadow, avoiding interaction at all costs. However, he could only do this for so long without compromising his position. The time was coming where he would have to be invested in this new job of his, and deal with his fellow man once more.

Clearly, the aspect of beginning to teach his classes was a stressful factor in Erik's life. There was a deep desire within him to soothe that burning sensation, and that is why he was here now; closed away in one of the music classrooms, seated comfortably in front of a piano. Being in the classroom might seem counterproductive to relieving his stress, but it was his personal hub for music in this new place. He had no underground lair to retreat to here, and barely any possessions stored away where he was currently living, let alone any sort of musical instrument. There was only this room, a singular spot of calm amid this sea of discomfort. In the brief time he had spent here, he had made it his own, not with personal belongs or decoration, but with his music. So long as music was present, Erik always had a place to retreat to.

And there he was; removing his black gloves to reveal his skeletal hands with their talented fingers. He rested them tenderly on the ivory keys, as if they were something so very precious. The organ was Erik's preferred instrument, but for the time being, this piano that the classroom had come along with would have to do. Besides, he had a fondness for this instrument nonetheless, and would enjoy his time spent with it. After a moment of anticipation, Erik put himself to playing. His mind immediately cleared as the notes drifted through the air, letting the music overwhelm him. For a moment, he could forget that he was here, rather than in his safe prison beneath the Opera House. His fingers played across the keys, producing music so beautiful and sad that it could move even the most stubborn of men. He did not play his "Don Juan Triumphant". As of right now, he felt that he would never play it again, unless he grew particularly weak of mind and spirit. The composition was a powerful, yet painful piece to begin with, but its new associations with Christine now made it unbearable. Instead, he played a piece by another artist, but the emotion and power of the music was purely his own. In his solitude, Erik let loose his musical gift, with only himself as audience.

Or so he thought. He did make sure to close the door behind him, but had neglected to lock it. He had assumed that no one would hear his personal song, and that no wandering ears or eyes would bother to search for him. As far as he was concerned, it was just him, his music, and his rare moment of release. That was all that mattered to him right now.

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The impending war was weighing heavily on Snow’s mind. She had agreed to stay and cook for the soldiers and the others who did not leave for the island, and she was happy to do so, but there was a part of her that wished to do so much more. She was not the weak child she had once been who only had her skills of cooking and cleaning to offer for exchange for room and board any more than she was still the princess safe behind her castle walls while outlying villages were pillaged. She was a grown woman now of four and twenty and she was not as useless as many might think; she was even the caretaker of a baby dragon now!

No, she was not content to stay in the shadows, for in this war she wanted to fight, but first she needed practice, and that was why she was currently wandering around the Urquhart Building, looking for the drama room where there would surely be space and props she could practice with.

Unsure where to go, as she hadn’t exactly explored this part of Tintagel, she walked the halls until a sound caught her attention and she felt an irresistible urge to follow it, to seek it out.

As she got closer to the source the music got louder, and the more she heard of it the heavier her heart felt. The sadness of the notes, the power of the melody, was overwhelming, and she could not help but open the door and slip inside when she reached the music room.

There was a sole occupant inside, the source of the beautiful song, and in the dim lighting she could not get a good look at him and dared not turn on the light nor inch closer for fear of disturbing him, so she hung back by the door, trying to close it silently behind her.

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At this point, Erik was completely absorbed by his music. For a rare moment, he was completely unaware of the turbulent world around him, be any form of disturbance close or far. Music filled his senses and claimed his focus. This is probably why the typically paranoid creature didn't take immediate notice when his place of solitude was invaded by another.

The piece of music he had chosen was driving at full force towards its finish. Knowing that his time within this mental getaway was ending, Erik poured his energy and soul into those final moments. With the unstoppable force of a tidal wave, he crashed into those final notes. The end result was an atmosphere that lingered with the utter sadness of his playing, but was punctuated with the promise of power laying underneath, that such extreme emotion came from an equally extreme source. Under the assurance that he was without an audience, he had allowed himself to expose a piece of himself through his music. The end result was a moment of peace that Erik rarely ever experienced in his life. As the final note hung in the air, a reflective feeling came over him. Then, there was a brief moment of silence. His fingers hung over the keys, as if he would regret leaving them in the moments to come. It was quite possible that the man would've stayed like this for some time longer, had he not finally realized that he was no longer alone.

It was unclear what had cued him onto the fact that someone was standing by the door. Perhaps there was a change in the atmosphere of the room, or it might be she took one step a little too heavy, or maybe he had just finally listened to the rest of the world long enough to hear her breathing. Whatever the reason might've been, he surely only noticed it now because his music was no longer there to drown everything else out. Shocked and infuriated that he hadn't noticed her before, Erik whirled around suddenly in his seat to send a harsh glare in the direction of the intruder. He felt trespassed upon, as if she had invaded his solitude. In the past, he would've flown into a dangerous, potentially violent mood if someone dared the enter the Phantom's space. Startling him would've been a huge error. Luckily for her though, he remembered suddenly that he wasn't at his precious Opera House anymore. This was not his domain. Closing off this room did not make it any less of a small piece of this large campus. She had done no wrong, giving him no right to overreact. He therefore forced himself to contain his rage.

As he made an effort to restrain himself, his posture became more controlled, and less like an animal ready to pounce. Still, his discomfort and agitation at this intrusion was plain on his features, even if most of his features were concealed by his mask.

"You should be more careful with who you startle," he warned firmly, keeping his piercing eyes locked upon her. "More importantly; I advise that you take time to think twice before making an intrusion." Yes, he had determined that this wasn't his domain, but he was still offended. After all, his moment he had just spent wrapped up within his music was intended to be private.

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By the time the song ended there were tears shining in Snow’s eyes at the pure emotional gravity of the performance, her hand held over her heart as if to keep it from bursting. For years her life had been without music and song and she had forgotten how much it had once meant to her. She had grown cold and hard, but this song had made her feel... this song had made her feel.

Then the musician turned on her and she gasped. A mask covered half of his face but id did nothing to hide the fury in his eyes. It faded slightly after a moment into deep displeasure, but that glimpse had been frightening enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to intrude,” Snow spoke, her voice sounding small and timid even to her own ears. “Please forgive me, but the music was just so beautiful. I was drawn to it. I only wished to hear it better.”

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The invader seemed immediately submissive and apologetic in the face of his anger. Although displeasure still coursed through him, the intensity of his wrath couldn't help but fade ever so slightly upon hearing her reaction. Her intrusion seemed to be from innocent curiousity than a knowing invasion of his space. Had she come off as the least bit bold in her words, Erik might have cast her out of the room immediately. However, the smallness of her voice made him feel less threatened by her presence, so he decided to tolerate it for just a little while longer.

Her mention of his music caught his attention, and he found himself examining this woman with critical eyes. He had thought that this class room had been more soundproof than it apparently was. Otherwise, he wouldn't have played with such reckless abandon. He knew the effect his music could have on people and the weight his notes could have when he only played for himself. Typically, he would avoid playing such a personal, powerful piece if he had suspected that he might have a listener. After all, most people prefered not to have spectators while one was pouring out their soul. It was no wonder that the music had drawn her in. As much as her curiousity had disrupted him, he could not blame her for it.

"Beautiful? Perhaps to your own ears, but not mine. To me, it was simply the type of music one only plays when they believe themselves to be alone," he pointed out with a dismissive wave of his hand. There was slight annoyance in his tone, yet a sad choice in words. He partially said such a thing to yet again make her feel guilty for her being there. On the other hand though, he was also simply pointing out what he believed to be the truth. His music just then had only been intended to ease his stress, not please the ears. He was only examining his own soul, and to him, his soul was not something that one could refer to as "beautiful". Yes, there was too much of himself in that piece for him to ever think of it as beautiful. However, she was not aware of his personal burdens, so he could imagine how she would come to think otherwise.

As he continued to examine the woman, a few questions about her came to mind. She had already so considerately answered the question of just what she was doing here, sparing him the effort of asking it himself. Therefore, he began with the next simpliest question;

"Now who, may I ask, is my unintended audience?"

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She felt his eyes boring into her and it took everything in her to not shrink under his gaze. She was a princess, she had once been in line to be queen; while she could be apologetic it would not do for her to appear completely timid and submissive.

He was annoyed with good reason and she did feel the guilt he intended. She knew what it was to need solitude, and to be interrupted in such a private moment must have really upset him. Clearly his song was intended for no ears but his own, and she had completely intruded, stealing a glimpse of his very heart and soul that was shown through his music.

“I’m sorry, had I known I would have kept walking, or at least made my presence known,” she apologised again, nervously tucking her long, raven hair back behind her ear. Part of her wanted to turn and run, but she felt trapped under his studying gaze, like he was examining all her inner workings, discovering everything about her with just his eyes.

“I am Snow White,” she introduced herself as his request. “I teach culinary arts.”

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Well, at least it seemed that the intruder was wise enough to know when to be apologetic. From his perspective, she seemed to be caught in his gaze like a creature of prey upon seeing the eyes of a predator. Erik was used to all of his interactions with the outside world being filled with unapologetic offences, and was therefore poised and ready to deal with conflict just moments ago. However, nothing about this woman struck him as a threat. There was a certain respect she had now when she spoke of her transgression. She seemed to understand his annoyance. As such, he saw no further reason to unleash his frustration upon her. Although he still desired his solitude, his once fierce glare relaxed ever so slightly.

Erik hadn't decided what to do yet about the woman now that his anger was subsiding, but any thoughts he might've had were completely sidetracked when she introduced herself. Even though the Phantom did his best to remain composed, some of his surprise surely made its way onto his visible features. Snow White, did she say? Yes, he had known that Tintagel Academy was a place for fairy tales and old stories, but, mon Dieu, Snow White? All of the previous knowledge about what he might encounter in this new world couldn't have prepared him for the shock of meeting the first being that supposedly only existed in age-old stories. And how ironic that he, the loathsome beast that he is, meets the so-called "fairest of them all"! Naturally, Erik did see the irony and outrageousness in all of this and he did the only thing he could think to do in response; laugh like a madman.

He wasn't laughing at her per say. He was merely laughing at the ridiculousness of his position. Surely, this Snow White was going to think that he was utterly mad. Who's to say that he wasn't still a little touched in the head after what Christine put him through? People don't typically recover from going mad, now do they? Regardless, once the moment had passed, Erik regained control of himself. His mad laughter died down to dark chuckling as he spoke.

"Excusez moi, Mademoiselle-" His attention to detail then caused him to notice the ring on her finger. A bit of spite within him rose at the thought of the clean-cut "happy endings" of fairy tales, but he continued regardless. "Madame Snow White," he corrected himself, a bit of an edge in his tone. "I don't mean to laugh at you, but I was not expecting to meet a princess of children's story books here... Well, not so soon at least." Honestly though, as he continued to examine her, she wasn't what he was expecting. She seemed older than he imagined she would be, and something within her eyes told of something much deeper than some silly story. But what could there be? If the ring on her finger was any implication, then he was to assume that her "prince charming" had already come for her.

"Ah, and imagine my shock to realize that she teaches the culinary arts! How sad to think that 'happily ever after' would still require a source of salary!" Another dark chuckle escaped him. Again, that edge was there. He always hated the concept of those fairy tale endings. He wasn't sure about this world, but back in his own, happy endings only came to the blessed and not disgusting creatures like himself. He had learned that one first hand.

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Snow had gotten used to strange reactions to her name over the months since coming to Tintagel, but this man was so severe and stoic that his sudden bout of laughter caught her completely off guard and she involuntarily took a step backwards, her rump bumping into the handle of the door behind her. She had a moment of wondering whether his laughter was more frightening than his anger had been.

Quite quickly, though, that moment faded and she began to grow annoyed. Was it really that amusing, her name? Or perhaps his laughter had not, truly, been that of a sane man. Either way, she managed to hold her tongue until after he spoke again. When he corrected himself she followed his eyes down to her hand which she quickly hid behind her back. Perhaps she had left her husband and felt their marriage over, but she hadn’t quite been able to bring herself to remove the ring that had become a part of her over the past ten years.

“You should not be so surprised. If you have made it even a week without meeting one of us then that would be exceptional,” she spoke, raising her chin slightly as she regained some sense of confidence and self respect. She had been in the wrong in interrupting him and had made her apologies; if nothing else his laughter had broken the ice and perhaps made them even. Oh, but he wasn’t finished, and now his sardonic chuckle induced not fear but anger. “And what of you, sir? Have you found your happily ever after?” The sadness of his song seemed to say otherwise.

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At first, it seemed that his laughter had startled the woman. It was a reaction that he was used to, so he didn't give it too much thought. In fact, it reminded him of the days when he would send his cruel laughter ringing throughout the auditorium of the opera house while he was following through with one of his threats to the management. He remembered their fear and his sense of power in those moments. Lately, his memories of that time have been riddled with pain and agony, but that small memory had given him some slight sense of amusement.

However, that moment faded quickly as he noticed a sudden shift in this Snow White's mood. The ring he had spotted was quickly hidden behind her back (Interesting. A protective gesture over such a thing...), and he found that he was forced to examine her face once again. She began to speak with a new tone, earning Erik's curiosity. All that previous timid behavior seemed to be gone. He had been beginning to wonder if she would prove to be that dainty little creature depicted in the story books, intimidated so easily by the masked man's anger. However, it seemed that she was reclaiming her spine as she spoke to him.

When she mentioned how it was exceptional that he hadn't met someone like her earlier, Erik had to suppress another low chuckle from emerging. Perhaps for the average person it was, but it was not so exceptional for him. Snow White was clearly unaware that the art of avoiding human society like it was the plague was just one of the multiple talents that Erik had refined to near perfection. Had he been in a different situation than his current one, he might’ve managed to go for years without meeting face-to-face with another human soul. However, he was forced to make adaptations in this new world, and being exposed to the rest of mankind unfortunately happened to be one of them. After this comment, a bit of anger entered Snow White's features. It seemed that he had touched a nerve. He was about to analyze that new development, but the woman's sudden question stopped any thoughts that might have been coming forth.

"Have you found your happily ever after?"

The question immediately subdued the opera ghost. His intimidating aura that he had established no longer could serve to protect him, especially against this sudden reminder of his lot in life. Part of him wanted to immediately summon all of his anger and cast her out of this room, so that he may be left with the memories of grief that the simple question had bombarded him with. However, his onslaught of those unpleasant feelings sucked all of the energy out of him, and he now lacked the strength to do so. All he could think of now was her. All he could do to defend himself against the onlooker was turn his back to her. He hunched over the piano, clenched his fists in his lap, and stared down pathetically at the ivory keys.

"My happily ever after?..." he echoed, emptiness replacing the threat that once lived within his voice. "...No. Things are not as simple in my world. And even if they were, a creature like myself is not the one who would be blessed with such an ending..." Happy endings tended to belong to the fair princesses and prince charmings, graced with beauty and love from birth. His story was no fairy tale. The face he was born with had doomed him from the start. All he had was his hideousness, the rejection of society, and his music. Certainly he was not fit to be the hero of any story. Then again, if only for a little while, he did have that one glimpse of goodness, that one moment of happiness; Christine.

"Though, I suppose that it should be enough that she got her happily ever after... Yes, that should count for something..." he muttered seemingly to himself, as if he had forgotten that his visitor was still there. He knew now that there was no way he could've been happy in the end. Even if he had killed that boy or if Christine hadn't made that one desperate move that changed everything, he was now thinking clearly enough to know that his angel of music would never truly be his, regardless of the outcome. He had done what he could for her. He had loved her enough to set her free. But could it be enough? Regardless of everything that he had felt and learned with her, he was still the one who ended up alone in the end. But he had always been alone, long before she appeared. Who was he to expect that the remainder of his life should be any different?

All this thinking wasn't doing him any good. His misery weighed heavily down upon him as he continued to keep his back turned to the woman. Had he the capacity to do so at the moment, he would hate her for even bringing the thought upon him, but his mind was otherwise occupied.

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Snow realised much too late her error in speaking so. She had wanted to chide him, to strike back for something he couldn’t have even known was a sore spot, but it became very obvious that she had struck much deeper than intended. She watched him turn away, his body sagging, and felt a stab of guilt.

Listening to him speak, Snow’s brow creased and her blood red lips curved downward. A classic tale of unrequited love, it seemed; his sadness, loss, and heartbreak only making the music she had heard all the more poignant.

“Even happily ever after doesn’t always last,” she offered quietly, all her anger gone. Boldly she took a few steps closer to him. “Real life is not as they say in the stories they write, it doesn’t end when the heroes ride off into the sunset. Life continues afterwards and problems will often arise.”

She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, why she was offering her own tale of loss, no matter how vaguely she told it, as a source of comfort for a man who had yet to show her any kindness, but the words came pouring out nonetheless.

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The sound of Snow White's voice offered a welcome distraction from Erik's depressing thoughts. Though he had no care for this woman and highly doubted that what she had to say would serve as a comfort for him, he found himself trying to listen closely to her words. It was the only way that he could even attempt to leave the dark memories that were arising within his mind, and he'd rather not risk becoming any more vulnerable in front of her. Despite his desperate focusing, the occasional image of Christine still flashed within his mind, and he therefore kept his back turned on Snow White.

He had at first assumed that he words would sound empty and mean nothing to him. However, he soon found himself listening for more than just the distraction of her voice. Ah, it seemed that she was trying to comfort him. Well, that certainly wasn't going to work; he was far too obsessed with his loss for a few words of empathy to do him any good. However, her words did appeal to his curiosity about her behavior before. It seemed that fairy tales were not only real, but were bound to the cruelties of the real world as well. He couldn't help but wonder if Snow White's words were coming from experience. It would make sense, given how she had hidden her ring when he had noticed it and how she had taken that stab at him upon mentioning "happily ever after". If his suspicions were correct, this story book princess was turning out to have more depth that he thought.

"Is that so, Madame Snow White?" he asked, his voice containing a certain edge to it. "Tell me, is it experience that you speak from, or were those all hollow words?" He could already assume which one was the truth, but the sharpened words spilled out anyway. Now that he had found a distraction from his sadness, the anger towards her for bringing up such a thing was starting to leak out. He thought of his misfortune enough on his own. He didn't need someone to come around and remind him. However, anger wasn't entirely replacing his current state of mind quite yet, which allowed for his next comment.

"Although, I must say that if 'happily ever after' eventually failed for the so-called ‘fairest of them all', then I fear that almost none of us stand a chance," he remarked with a dramatic wave of his hand. He had known that his entire tragedy had been predetermined the moment that he had been born with a face like his. To imagine that even Snow White didn't get a truly happy ending gave him even more reason to suspect that Fate was a cruel thing indeed.