February prompts--Saint Valentine edition!

[izzi]

Hello, lonely lads and lasses! Forlorn frauleins and fraternalists!

Would you do anything for him? Would you burn a puppy and punch a baby in the face for her? We thought you might say yes!

We know how our Phantoms and their companions love a little bit of romance, but... just what does Valentine's Day mean to your character?

You can choose from the three prompt categories below, which I've tried to make pretty broad so you can have lots of freedom. Each prompt you write is 15 euro, but we're only counting one prompt per character. Post them as a reply to this thread.

• Try writing a starting sentence using this nifty little thing. I've found it can be quite useful as well as entertaining, and I'm sure that with the ability to mix it up, our lovely writers will cook up the best stories.
  
• Your character is writing a love letter. A love letter that they know will never reach the person they intend it for. How does your character feel about this? Who is this person? What bond does your character have with them? Is this a real person or just someone they wish was real?
  
• Flowers, chocolates, and exciting underwear... all of these things are okay, but what does your character really want this Valentine's? Love, or to be left alone?
  

Now, be gone, children! I release you onto the world.

[phantomsdarkangel]

February is considered for many the month to love and to feel loved. Saint Valentine’s Day used to be her favorite holiday when she was a kid. Christine remembered that, every February 14th, her father would give her a present and tell her she was her favorite lady. She always looked forward to seeing what her father got her. Usually some chocolates or a new doll to play with; maybe a flower. But what she liked the most was the big hug her father would give her and how he'd tell her he loved her and he'd always protect her...

Ever since her father died, Christine didn't want to celebrate Valentine's Day with anyone but herself.
She'd often dream about spending it with the Angel her father had promised to send her, for she thought of him as a handsome, caring and loving person who'd watch over her and love her unconditionally. That's how Christine thought Little Lotte felt about him. She thought she felt both protected and loved. But she knew it wasn't possible... she wasn't going to spend the holiday with an Angel anytime soon.

Christine'd rather spend the special date alone, praying for her father to rest in peace and watch over her but, deep inside her, her heart wishes to have someone to spend it with. Someone special. She doesn't care about the presents... she only wants to have someone to show her the love she longs for. A love that would be more than the love she got from her dear father.

[Raoul Christophe de Chagny]

Dearest Christine,

You did not know me to be a man who speaks frankly. In fact you don’t know the man I’ve become, just as I still don’t know you. It’s been years since we’ve last spoken to each other, but I haven’t forgotten a single detail of your face. I hope more than anything to get the chance to speak to you again soon, and catch up on all those years that we missed. My reason for writing this letter is simple—to tell you what I should have said the day I left for the Marine Nationale.

Philippe hadn’t even wanted me to see you, but—and even though at the time I still cared what he thought—his opinion doesn’t matter anymore. I used to glorify him, as he was a spitting image of my father, and I looked up to both of them growing up. However I soon came to realize that my brother and I were almost nothing alike. He didn’t see why I was so fond of you, and discouraged me from ever seeing you again. I will not repeat what he said to me, but I will say that I was a fool to give him the satisfaction of listening to his nonsense.

Vicomte is nothing more than a title. Though many people would like to identify me with just those words, ‘Le Vicomte’, it is only part of who I am. It does not define me. I am the little boy who retrieved your scarf, who sat with you in the attic reading those stories from far away lands. I am your friend from so long ago. I am also a sailor, a leader, and lastly yes, a nobleman. But I feel myself longing to be more than that.

I had hoped, perhaps against logic, that I would see you again. You were still there, ingrained in my memory, very much a conscious part of my life, even in my days away from France at sea. You reminded me of those brighter, innocent days of my youth that I had begun to miss so much. When I returned from my tour of duty, Philippe encouraged me to settle down and marry, spending the rest of my days in my country chateau. I had seen more of the world in five years than most men had seen in an entire lifetime, so I was more than ready for a less adventuresome life. But I still thought of you, and I knew that I couldn’t move on with my life until knowing what had happened to Little Lotte.

It was partially because of you that I decided to sponsor the Opera Populaire. I remembered your love of music, and the fact that Monsieur Daaé had played there. Supporting the opera house seemed like the right thing to do. Little did I know that we would cross paths again. I was shocked when Monsieur Andre mentioned your name in a conversation with his business partner, and even more shocked when I saw you sing. But my shock disappeared when I realized that it was indeed you that I was seeing. You were wonderful—you sang like an angel—and though you looked different than from when we last met, I still immediately recognized you by your eyes.

Seeing you again brought a whole host of feelings that I have felt before, just never as intensely. I didn’t know what they were at the time, but I had to see you again, to hear your voice. Fate had other plans in store, and though I don’t know where you are, I’ve made a promise to myself to find you. I make the same promise to you, Christine—I will find you so that I can tell you the words I’ve been wanting to say for so long: I love you.

Sincerely yours,
Raoul

[victorcoleson]

Valentine's day was a day like no other for Victor. He did, during his lifetime, have a lovely lass named Marie. She was surely something and meant the world to him. They had met after he had first move to the village with his family. Being in the same class they were often paired up to work on projects together and quickly became fast friends. After his parents death, he learned to live life without wasting it and bucked up the courage to ask Marie on a date. The two became inseparable after that.

Victor never got to say "I love you" due to his untimely death. If he were to think back on their relationship the only things he'd remember are the way her eyes beamed when she smiled. The way her beautiful laugh echoed in his mind and sent chills down his spine. That smile that continuously melted his heart. Those thoughts would lead him to realize that the only thing he would ever want would be to have one more day with her. To tell her he loved her, to tell her that she would always live on in his spirit and lastly to tell her to go on with her life. To move on and be happy.

[Erik Lenoir]

Erik was walking through the opera house one night after the singers, dancers, and orchestra had gone home. He couldn't sleep and he sometimes liked to just walk about the opera house. The stage was one of his favourite places and he longed to be able to sing on it, although of course it was impossible... Sometimes he just stood there and looked out at the seats in the audience, bereft of people. Of course even if it were possible to sing there, he would probably be terrified of the audience looking at him, not listening to what he said, but staring at the mask. Of course all of this was ridiculous.

Tonight the stage was hung with red and pink paper hearts and signs saying "Happy Valentine's Day". There was a notice that the entire cast and orchestra were invited to a gala private dance there the following day, which happened to be February 14. Erik read the notice and scoffed. All this foolishness about love...

And yet, perhaps there was hope. Lately, he had begun teaching a young dancer, Christine Daaé, to sing. He had discovered her lovely voice and had determined that he would develop it into its full potential. Her voice entranced him and he started to have feelings for her, feelings he had never before in his life experienced. He wanted to be near her and ...he wanted her to feel the same for him. But he could only teach her hidden from her view, behind the mirror in her dressing room. Maybe, some day, he would speak to her face to face, but... it would take time and careful planning.

Suddenly he felt a longing to see Christine. She wasn't at the opera house any more tonight of course. Everyone had gone home long ago. But still....he ascended the steps to the place where he always stood to give her the vocal lessons. He touched the mechanism that made the mirror swing open and he entered the room cautiously, and lit the oil lamp on Christine's dressing table.

Erik just looked about him and was happy to be in the place where Christine had been only hours before, where she sang for him and where she sat and combed her hair.... Erik sat down at her dressing table for a moment, first turning the mirror away so he could not see his own reflection. He glanced down at the dressing table and saw that Christine had been writing letters. His curiosity was piqued, but he looked away. However his eyes kept coming back to the scented piece of paper. He pulled the lamp closer and started to read. Of course it would do no harm...especially since the letter was addressed to.....My Angel of Music....

It read: Dear Angel of Music, you are indeed a dream come true. My father told me many times that you would come to visit me and teach me how to sing beautifully. Your voice is entrancing and I should love to see you, but I expect that you are incorporeal, considering that you are an angel. I can only thank you in a letter, but I shall leave it here, hoping that you will find it. Your student, Christine Daaé

Erik's eyes widened and he picked up the letter and held it to his heart. Then he noticed another letter sitting on the dressing table. It was in an open envelope. He looked at it and pulled out a card, not a letter. It was a card with a fancy heart on the front, drawn in pinks and reds and sported a tiny picture of a man and woman kissing. Again it smelled of Christine's perfume, a delightful light, flowery scent. He opened it and read in her handwriting, "To my dearest love, you make my heart beat faster every time I think of you. I long to hear your voice, my darling and I want to tell you how dear you are to my heart. Love, Christine."

Erik's eyes opened wide as he read it and his heart too, beat faster. So she really did have feelings for him, even though she had not yet seen his face. That of course, was a problem, but not one that couldn't be overcome. He looked again at her beautiful handwriting and the drawing on the front of the elegant card. He carefully put it back in the envelope and was about to put it in the inside pocket of his tail coat when he saw writing on the outside of the envelope. It read: To the Vicomte Raoul de Chagny.

Erik's eyes opened wide again and he stared for a moment, then the card dropped from his hands to the dressing table top. He kept looking at it....of course it had been too good to believe... He got up quickly and left the dressing room the same way he had come.

Erik did not see the bead of salty moisture that had fallen on the envelope addressed to the Vicomte and blurred some of the ink spelling out de Chagny's name. ... A lone tear...

[Christine Daaé]

My dearest betrothed Raoul,


These last few days I have been without you have felt as if a century has passed. I do not know where I am, nor how I came to arrive here, but it is all so strange and terrifying! I fear that Erik is behind this. After all, there was no advertisement for his death as he had said there would be...

I wish that you could somehow be here with me. Everything would be so much less frightening... I do not know how I would have managed to survive that time not so very long ago without you there with me...

...but I am trying to stay strong for you now. Please, when this letter reaches you, use it to find me? I want to go home. I want to go home to your arms. Tell Maman that I love her and not to worry for me. I know that this must be as hard on her as it is on you or me. Please reassure her that I am safe. The poor old woman does not need to worry herself to death.

I have yet to meet my captor, but there is no doubt in my mind that it is the work of Erik. I am frightened, Raoul! I am frightened that he will try to force me into marrying him again, and that we shall be parted forever! I could never marry that monster, especially not for love. For I am already betrothed to my one and only true love, and I shall never love another.

I will do the best I can to help you to discover where I am, dear. I know that I am in a very large old castle, away from from any immediate sign of civilization. There are a few people about the castle, but they tell me strange things which I am not inclined to believe, though one of them mentioned to me that there is a possibility I am no longer in France any more. It is very cold here, if that helps you at all as to the location. I wish I could tell you more, but that is all I know right now. I have heard that there is a garden, but I have yet to find a way outside to get to it. Perhaps once I can, I will be able to write to you telling you a little bit more about where I am: the flora and fauna, whether it is mountainous or plains, the position of the sun... Perhaps even a few leaves if I am unsure of what the plants are.

Know above all that I love you, and I will wait for you, no matter how long it takes. Please promise me that you will wait as well. I would never be able to live knowing that you married another woman. I will never be able to love another man the way that I love and miss you right now, and I should hope that you, the man to whom I am engaged, shares these same sentiments.

Please write back to me soon. To lose contact with you would be a pain worse than death. There is a telephone here in the castle, but it is out of order. Perhaps there is a way to fix it?... It would mean the world to me if I could hear your voice again. If I could somehow grow wings and fly home to you, Raoul, I would. But since I cannot, I will wait and write to you, and ask you to do the same.

Please do this for me, Raoul. For me who will never forget you.

With all of my Love,

~Your Little Christine

[izzi]

I've given everyone their due Euro!

[Erik Lenoir]

Thank you! I enjoyed this exercise very much. Will we have another one for March?

[ciera800]

Feburary 14.......the day for lovers. It was a day she knew well and dreaded well.....dreadfully! When she was a child her father would take her into town and buy her whatever it was that she wanted, one item, no matter the cost, and looking back on it now she was sure he was glad she never had expensive tastes.

These days she usually spent it by going into town and buying herself a box of chocolate and then return home and remember her father and her childhood if she was free of engagemnts.....for work that is.

Though she had many admirers due to her uncommon gift for singing, she never encouraged them on as more than friends, she was not looking for love, she was looking for work. She had desperatly wanted to be a leading lady in some big opera house somewhere but that had been a longterm goal, and here she was working in one, just not where she would most like to.

But that was beside the point, things were different now, very different indeed. This valentines day all her wishes would be complete if only she could be held by Erik without any encouragement, or just spend the entire day with him, an entire day with him, beside him, that's all she wanted this valentines day to be perfectly honost.

[Gustave de Chagny]

Dearest Mother,

I miss you lots and lots. I promise to never run away without telling you where I am and who I am going with ever again. I'm with father now. He found me after I got lost and now we're waiting for you. I was afraid that I was lost and that I would never see you or father eyes again.

Mr. Squelch, Miss Fleck, and Dr. Gangle took me to go see Mr. Y's workshop. I saw lots of beautiful things there, just like out of one of my dreams, but none of them were as beautiful as you are, mother.

Father told me that letter writing is a useful skill, much more useful than playing the piano. I don't know if it's more useful than the piano, but I thought that it would be good practice to write a letter to you. Father says that I'll get to see you very soon and I am very excited. I missed you, Mother, and love you very much.

Love,

GUSTAVE

[Christine Danielle Daaé]

My dearest phantom,

I feel quite awkward writing this, one due to the content and two having never received your name which i hope perhaps to learn one day. I am writing this for it seems that around this time of year one tends to get rather lonely indeed. Women who are still unmarried pine for the marraige state and those who are married spend the days with their husbands.

This year i am neither lonely nor spending time with my husband for i have none. This year all i can seem to think about is you. When we first met i had been attracted to you instantly, and the connection we formed, the playfulness of what seemed to be our flirting, it captivated me, YOU captivated me.

I know that as soon as you see the sender of this letter you will rip it up which is why i hope you do not skip to the bottom too quickly for there is so much to be said dearest, so muich to express.....

All i can truly say though, is that i love you. When last we were together i was horrid and moody, i didn't know myself, i was so passionatly in love with you and i was frightened to death, i was scared of how i felt for you, and it still scares me, but i'm not going to run away anymore.

At this point, as what seems to be the tradition in all romantic stories i should be begging with every word for your forgivness but i will not, i am not a coward and shall come to you in person as soon as i can find you, wait for me my love....

Love
YOUR christine

[King William Leverich II]

[/right]
My dear Marcus,

It has been a very boring day. Miss Rudy insists that I write a love letter to Clara because she says it's about time I fell in love. I don't want to marry Clara, though. She's dull, compared to you. That's what I thought, so I decided to write to you instead.

Since this is supposed to be a love letter I shall bring up the time when I was eight and you were ten and you kissed me. Well, I kissed you, I guess. That was a funny day. That was my first kiss, you know. I'm not sure if it's improper for a man' first kiss to be another man, but I did ask you to. After all, I wanted to know what it felt like to kiss someone that day.

I think that's the only "romantic" thing that's ever happened between us though. Gosh, romance is so dull. Miss Rudy keeps insisting that part of manners is impressing women, and if I don't have a woman people won't look at me like a man. That's ridiculous. Just because I don't want to get married doesn't mean I'm not manly, does it? Of course, I will have to eventually, and have an heir of my own… it seems so tedious though.

Anyway, Miss Rudy expects that I have finished with my letter and has told me to go give it to Edmund to deliver to her, but I'll have it delivered to you. She'll be awfully mad if she finds out I'm pretending to write you a love letter than writing Clara though, so don't tell anyone okay?

-Will[/font][/size][/ul]