Erik (i_haunt) wrote in we_coexist, @ 2012-12-27 19:15:00 |
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Entry tags: | christine daae, erik, zz:status complete |
Violets (Christine)
Moonlight through the shades zebraed silver across the bed that held the opera manager hostage. It was late, and his thoughts broke on thready bouts of sleep. Never in his life had he slept so much. The drugs. The weakness. His doctor's strict orders. All of these things overturned years of conditioning for two to three hours of sleep a night. These days, he slept most of the day. And loathed it. There was so much to do, so much he had left behind in order to honor his promise to his dear doctor.
Already, he felt stronger than he had in months. The thready strangeness of his heart had steadied since the surgery. But the drugs scattered his mind to places he wouldn't have gone. During the darkest parts of the night, he found himself wandering the halls of his memory, hanging between sleep and wakefulness. Tonight, he walked the cramped and dusty passageways he'd built into the Shah's palace, viewing empty rooms with floors coated in blood. The hatred he felt for humanity bubbled closer to the surface, on nights like these. And with it, he felt more keenly the weight of his own murderous acts. Those long years in Persia... those rosy hours...
Through the coppery scent of travesty and horror, a sweet fragrance slid gently - a mist that would not be denied, would not go away, but instead quietly insisted on existence. He turned from those confined marble passageways and again found himself in his bedroom in the City... the moonlight throwing its stripes across the velvet coverlet... a presence close by, pressing close... and that fragrance, still drifting over him: violets in the springtime night.
"Mm," he murmured. A hand restlessly lifted toward the shape close by his bedside. "There you are."