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Tweak says, "***farts***"

Bellum Anon (bellum_anon) wrote in bellumlogs,
@ 2010-04-27 23:02:00

Entry tags:

plot: fables

Who: Everyone!
What: Transformation Plot Post
Where: All over.
When: Moonrise on the 28th.
Warnings: All kinds, I expect.

The moon slipped up past the horizon full, round, and white. Its effects had been predicted, though perhaps not fully believed by the residents of the building.

Moonlight streamed through the windows of the building, washing the city in pale light. For the tenants of Bellum Letale, where ever they were, scattered in the night, it had a tangible effect.

Change rippled through the building, much as it had over a month before. But this was not simply a twitch in the fabric of things, gone in the blink of an eye. It was a rolling change, gradual as the moonrise, tangible, and, in some cases, likely terrifying in its inexorability. People became what they were, what they ought to have been, and what they weren't.

The moon was up, and trouble was about to run high in Bellum.

[Notes: Remember that the events of last month still apply-I.E, those who became vampires will be vampires when they take on their fable form, the Frog Prince will still be human after being turned back last plot, etc. Whether the fables are aware a month has passed since they were last around is up to the players. This log posted with the anon account so that the mods do not wake up tomorrow with 100 notifications in their gmail. Go forth and plot!]

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

lemortvivant
2010-05-01 05:08 am UTC (link)

Erik had known others throughout his life who were skilled in the art of illusion, but none that would be here, not where Christine was. Not in the Opera house, much less - but then again, this was somewhere unfamiliar and foreign. This was not the same underground that he knew so well, but even so he felt no fear. He could, however, hear the fear in Christine's voice. He doubted that she would have been able to lie so convincingly if this was a trap, considering that it was so dark and it would have been easy for him to slip away with her before Raoul or anyone else could make a proper move.

He met her eyes for a moment before relaxing his grip, frustrated with the situation and his own inability to keep from frightening her constantly. Still, she wasn't making any sense. Raoul was here, he had to be here; where else would he be? And how could he, Erik, not have been here? Was Christine alone, wandering the halls of this strange place inhabited by... who?

"I believe you." He scowled, turning away in an attempt to re-orient himself. "Someone has done this, and I will find out who. A fool, only a fool would dare to even attempt this." He didn't quite know what 'this' was, not yet, but whoever was responsible would pay dearly for it. Erik turned back to her, most of the anger gone from his eyes - at least, it was no longer directed at her now. "Raoul may not be here, but I am. This may not be my underground, but it still feels... somewhat familiar. We can stay here - I will not allow you to wander here if it is not the Opera house."

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

still_lotte
2010-05-01 05:37 am UTC (link)

A sigh of relief escaped her once his grip loosened. Her whole body seemed to relax, though her hand still remained in his. It was still too dark to see and even if he thought the area was familiar, she still didn’t think so. She’d have preferred his house on the lake to this with the Louis-Philippe room that she could escape to safely.

Raoul, for how much she loved him and trusted, wouldn’t be able to fix something like this. Especially if he wasn’t here – Christine’s stomach clenched. He didn’t know where she was either. Relying on Erik like this made her slightly uneasy, even if she knew he was the only one that could fix this.

“Upstairs it’s familiar,” she protested. “The rooms up there were mine. It wasn’t a dressing room, Erik. I could be safe there.” The only danger she’d felt was him coming before – if she could reason, then maybe she could be in the light again. “Is there even anything here to make it so that we could stay? Food, water, a place to rest…?” She trailed off, eyes looking to his again.

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

lemortvivant
2010-05-01 07:03 pm UTC (link)

Erik would have been perfectly content with finding himself a corner and taking the time to sort out whatever was happening, but he'd forgotten that Christine was accustomed to a different sort of living, and he couldn't expect her to simply stand there in the darkness. She was young and still fragile, even though there were times when he forgot it.

"How could they be yours?" He shook his head, resolute in his decision. Until, that is, she managed to reach his reasonable side. If his house was not here, then that meant that everything that could have allowed her to remain here comfortably was gone.

But he didn't want to let her leave for fear that she would not return, so instead he focused on that distant sense of familiarity. There had to have been a reason it was there, and if he could remember anything about this place, perhaps from a time when he had been here before...

"Wait." His eyes snapped open and he pulled her forward, spurred by a sudden memory that didn't quite feel as though it belonged to him. Despite the darkness he wove himself in and out of tunnels, not bothering to explain to Christine where he was going until he got there. He stopped abruptly, a small triumphant smile behind his mask. He knew this room, because he'd been here before - he'd used it, although he didn't remember when or why. There was a chair, matches, and a few covered candles apparently used for illumination. No food, but there was water, although he doubted that it would be very refreshing. Still, he decided, it was enough to keep her content until he came up with come sort of plan.

"You can rest here, Christine." His eyes fell on a violin case in the corner, which brought forth another odd sense of familiarity. Perhaps he might even play for her.

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

still_lotte
2010-05-01 07:20 pm UTC (link)

There was a small shrug at his question, barely seen in the darkness. Christine had no good answer for that, other than familiarity and feeling safe within those walls. It had been her mirror she’d covered and her closet she’d hid in. Even if it wasn’t in the Opera precisely or in Mamma Valerius’ house, it had seemed as natural as being elsewhere. “It just was.”

Though she didn’t particularly want to go deeper into the catacombs, she followed without fighting. Her eyes were becoming more used to the darkness and if she squinted, she could make out his shoulder in the darkness. She kept her eyes on him, hand still clutching his until he stopped in the little room. At the sight she had to force a neutral expression on her face. She hadn’t wanted to be down here and had thought she’d made sense…and instead it only made her trapped again.

She looked over everything once more, before turning to him. “Thank you,” Christine managed – her gratitude was more out of habit, than truth. She bit her lip, before tentatively pulling her hand from his.

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

lemortvivant
2010-05-01 10:19 pm UTC (link)

Erik seemed satisfied with himself, as though he'd found a temporary solution to their problem. The fact that she had wanted to leave didn't occur to him, because if he let himself think about that then he'd just get frustrated all over again. She wasn't fighting or pleading, which he decided meant she wanted to be here.

He hesitated before releasing her hand, expecting her to sit on the chair or do whatever it was that she wanted to. After pacing around the room a bit, he found that he didn't like the silence. Perhaps music might even soothe her, allow her to relax slightly.

He didn't need to sit, snapping the case open and easing the violin out with obvious care. Watching Christine carefully, he began to play, slowly at first, his movements becoming smoother and more fluid the more time passed.

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

still_lotte
2010-05-01 10:35 pm UTC (link)

There was another sigh of relief when she had her hand back. Yes, she'd moved to take his hand afterwards, but there was something reassuring about having some freedom. After all this time, Christine had learned to take advantage of the bit given.

She didn't head to the chair, lighting one of the candles at first. There was a glance towards him, almost asking if it was alright, before she moved to the chair. Her hand rested on her hand, her elbow in her lap as she tried to calm down and think. She tried not to follow his movement back and forth, instead letting her eyes fall to the ground. It caused his pulling the violin out to be a bit of a surprise, though a ghost of a smile crossed her face.

No one could play like he did, something she could never forget. Watching him play could have been enough to entrance her - especially as he was wearing his mask. As she felt her body relax, she couldn't help but feel gratitude over the piece chosen though and the opportunity. Before he'd reached the end however, her exhaustion caught up to her and she fell asleep, head still propped on her hand.

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Re: 3rd floor (just before the moon rises)

lemortvivant
2010-05-01 11:54 pm UTC (link)

Erik tended to lose track of what went on around him whenever he was composing, and the same applied when he began to play a piece, whether it be on the violin or the piano. Christine may have recoiled at his touch, she may have been unable to look upon his face when he didn't have his mask; but despite all that he knew his music was different. It was what had drawn her to him as the Angel of Music, what had kept her with him... until she learned that he was just Erik, not an angel at all.

He didn't notice that she'd fallen asleep until he reached the end, and any bit of harshness remaining in his gaze disappeared entirely when he looked upon her sleeping form. "Christine," he sighed softly, moving quietly to stand over her.

She couldn't be afraid of him when she was asleep - he could even pretend that they were like any other couple when she was like this, instead of knowing what he was beneath the mask. Le mort vivant, the living dead. He sighed again, letting a gloved hand ghost over her hair before turning away, beginning to play again in an attempt to occupy himself until she awoke.

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