InsaneJournal

Who: Bran
What: A narrative.
Where: 1106 + a bookstore.
When: After this and a few days after the anonymous list.
Warnings: None.

It wasn't a stretch to say that Bran knew next to nothing about the Phantom of the Opera aside from the fact that it was a Broadway musical and a pretty successful one at that. He toyed with the idea of going to see it, but the thought of being surrounded by so many people with no escape for hours made his hackles rise. No, the tapes Lotte had given him were enough - besides, the soundtrack wasn't hard to find, and he even found illegally recorded footage on Youtube. It wasn't hard to discern that the musical was a highly romanticized version, and he gave up after listening to half of 'All I Ask Of You.' Apparently the Phantom was in love with this Christine girl, who was in turn in love with Raoul - what kind of name was that, really - but beyond that he had no clue what happened. If the musical was as inaccurate as the anonymous poster claimed, then it would be pointless to look at it for any kind of information.

Bran wasn't sure where he stood on the fable obsession that had taken over the building, but the all-too-vivid dream he'd had with the woman he called Christine was still fresh in his mind. If there was a Christine in the building, and all of this was somehow real - well, it couldn't hurt to do some research. It would kill some time, at the very least.

He only wore the prosthetic skin mask the Italian surgeon developed for him when he was out in public, since it would only wear it down faster if he wore it all the time. The scars on his arm and chest didn't bother him, since they could easily be hidden by clothes - it was the face which was seen and judged by the world, and his had only drawn scorn, fear, and hatred wherever he went. As much as he hated bowing to the superficial nature of mankind, he was a creature of adaptation. He did what he needed to, whether it be disguising himself as a normal-looking man or murdering someone to create an identity for himself. He was getting better at applying it now, so it didn't take as long as it once had to prepare himself for his excursion.

The woman at the bookstore was far too curious for her own good, ignoring the hat pulled down tightly over his eyes in an attempt to ward off such attention. She followed him until he told her what he was looking for, and then had to listen to her prattle on about how much she loved Phantom, and the musical was fantastic but very different and it was much easier to sympathize with the Phantom in Lloyd Webber's version. Bran barely paid attention to her until the slightly battered copy was in his hands, and he paid as quickly as he could and got out. The book wasn't too thick, he reasoned, and even though it wasn't the sort of novel he usually read - he had a stack of dusty books in his apartment covering everything from the history of music to various composers and techniques - but this was different. Somehow he felt like he needed to read it.

He ignored the clutter of his apartment - he still had boxes to unpack, including the case which held his violin, and the small piano he'd smuggled up in the middle of the night a week ago still needed to be tuned and cleaned - and took the book to his bedroom, removing the prosthetic skin before opening a window for a light source and settling back on the mattress to read.

Bran got through five chapters before he stopped a couple of hours later, the beginnings of a headache pounding behind his eyes.

It had to be insanity. The Angel of Music, the Opera Ghost - Christine receiving voice lessons from a voice, the way Lotte had seemed to know that he wanted to help her sing when he'd spoken to her through the wall. But it was just a coincidence - he was a musician, and how could he have simply ignored potential when he heard it?

He tossed the book aside and went to unpack his violin, intending on taking it down to the catacombs and playing where no one could hear him, where no one would bother him and only the silence would be his audience.