I have had quite enough of this nonsense. Play in your given places and dance upon the strings of puppet masters, Erik will no longer be party to such games. If I am meant to lay in bones, let me. As long as her ring is on my finger, as long as I can lay beside the well. That will be all. I will not ask for more.

Rue, I must go. I give you and your prince every happiness. Mind Fakir, Ahiru as well. You have always possessed a great heart that no manner of darkness can never subdue. Remember that, won't you?

Woe to any that wander the opera cellars. It's cursed. And not in any friendly way at all. Beware. Especially you, Tamaki.

I have a worthy vessel. All that it requires is a song to echo through the emptiness of Styx. I do have many songs. I hardly think any is appropriate. Nonetheless I will sing. That will be my coin of passage.

Adieu.

[ooc; Say your goodbyes. And don't try and stop him. He's quite determined. Phantom exeunt.]

Scarecrows this week. Hm. Animals are fearful of the human shape. For good reason,. Those terrifying creatures that walk on two legs and take up whatever is around them as a possession or tool. Not to mention everywhere.

People create such images of themselves, diversions, shades...masks yet again.

These sleepless hours are tempting my idle mind with projects. Beneath the opera, in the cellars and a trifle beyond what I have already constructed is untouched. Would it run into the Underground? I wonder.

There's something about this melody... simple, quaint even. Yet it has a charm all of its own.  Where is it from? I can't pin the origin. I suppose I must ask the musician.

...Can he be in these strange holes?

I'm aware that concealing ones face is associated with cowardice. Hn. Well, not all masks are visible. Anyone who claims to not wear a mask is a liar. There are things to be hidden from the world, no matter how pure and loving a world can be. There is ugliness and beauty.

Wearing a mask for the purpose of scaring others, I am not one to judge.

I look forward to the newest production of the corps de ballet.

Bach's Fugue? On a violin as a solo? Really. Inspired, but I don't believe that it does the piece proper justice.

The real magnitude of the musical play of death and resurrection is much more defined when each overlaps the other.

Play on, musician.

I've noticed so many of you are fond of philosophizing and distributing anecdotes. I'll likely regret this open forum...

What does one do when they have lost their faith? What if it is for the second time? If possible share the garish, intricate strings of optimism. Such cheer exists or it does not. I've come to accept that it does not. Not truly. Just another have not to my treasure trove.

Rue, forgive me for my silence. Perhaps you would enjoy a concerto.

I loath this City.

How many ways, in how many tongues, with how many tones can it be said?

I don't like to be touched. Let alone licked.

....Ah, the sweet sound of silence. It has been nearly too long. Perhaps we can seek to extend it? Merely a suggestion. No actions are ever made with the general populace's safety or comfort in mind. 

I can now stop wondering why those of more modern times are convinced that the world will end. Artillery that can be projected from flying vessels....ships, is that what you keep calling them? Built to induce maximum damage with minimal reaction to the enemy. Where is the valor? Where is the contesting wills?

I'm relieved once more that I'm dead when those things come to be. That doesn't resolve having to deal with them in the present however.

Monsieur Suoh. The pianos require retuning. Don't play.

Pray tell, just who exactly is living within the opera now. From the cellars it sounds like a small herd of elephants.

As much as I have wished for a curse to provide an adequate cure to my life, nothing has come of it. For one day, however, I had an ordinary face. I won't be dying or leaving any duration of time soon. And so the phantom emerges.

The show must go on.

Expect any more of me from what I am willing to give... do reconsider.

I feel no desire to fraternize with any of you. We are not alike. A great number of you are idiots. Should fashion take a more nostalgic turn, there would be no difference between my Paris and this City save for the startling unhuman populace.

I want my wife to come back. Or I want to die. Both of them are perfect options.

Nothing, nothing and nothing. I've spend so long building castles in sand. In the end all I have is sand.

I enjoyed the momentary canals. It brings back memories of my travels so long ago. Before Persia, before Paris...everything. The drift in times before was severely spoiled by the day. Saint Valentine's Day, my what a mockery. Can it truly be so popular? Can there be so many lovers? Hold a moment, I have no desire to know.

The ache in my heart has not ceased. A great, hollow cavity resides where there was once so much tenderness and warmth. There is still so much mourning to be done.

I no longer wish to reside in the manager's office of the Opera. Too many memories.

[ooc; He's playing of "Crawling" by Linkin Park on the organ only not. Skip to 1:30 is where it really starts.]

How many times must this happen?  How many? God, do you test me and the few solid convictions I uphold? You are cruel, as cruel as love itself.

She's gone, that sad lost child with her face who called me an angel, that girl is gone. And with her, my daughter Musette.

My love for her remains the same. In Paris, in death, in life, in the City and beyond, that will never change. I don't care. Christine, Christine.... I don't care, not anymore. Whether she is here or gone...what does it matter?

I'm ready to lay down, lay down like a dog and die.

[ooc; Erik is not well. He went out to buy something new. And is awaiting delivery within the opera. Proceed with caution.]

[Voice Post]

[A subdued melodic man's voice begins, speaking quite distantly.]

The suffering has ended. How unfortunate that those that have suffered leap so quickly to rejoice. Was all of that misery for naught? I extend my sympathies to those that will take them, especially you poor few that had but a superficial glimpse of lands far away.

Yet those have returned to us... [a pause and hissing intake of breath] those... are all here now. No more stragglers. [The word is nearly spat out and stinging.] Hospitality and comfort run as free as water from modern pipes. Drink your fill. [Bitterness taints the beauty of the voice.]

I will not. Misery is not finished with me.

[Another pause, perhaps to try and recollect the distant manner.]

Allow me to play for you a requiem mass for my heart, for my love. She--[Pause and a strangled sob] Ch-christine...Christine is gone. She left before the invaders waged a war upon us.

Clearly, she was not satisfied. Who could be? If you were to look at me...and see. And understand. I am not meant to be like everyone else. Marriage. Romantic love. [Brisk and apparently upset end.]

[End]

My wife is missing! She didn't return. She said she would be back straight away. It's been one whole day.

Could she have---? She wouldn't! She wouldn't... Musette is here with me.  She said she was happy.

I should have gone. I should have insisted and been more of a gentleman. I could have gone with her. I-I could have--Oh God,

Christine! Christine!

Has enough misfortune befallen this Opera? Killings and disasters. This is punishment. How dare I attempt to distance myself from suffering. Every spider makes a beautiful web and so soon is it dashed. I mustn't forget I'm still Poor Unhappy Erik no matter.

I must go and find her!

I did it all for her love....Everything. Lying, kidnapping, killing, stealing, suffering so many deeds unspeakable and inexplicable.

And I don't have a shred of regret or worry over the past.

I enjoyed the H.M.S. Pinafore.

...It wasn't imaginative. Simple.

...amusing.

She is a corpse bride. No more smiles. Not even pretty painted smiles.

Monster.

She--....

II am in need of some fresh air. Won't you walk with me, Christine? I will do nothing but hold your arm. Perhaps you can take pride in walking your pet monster.