Stitch… Lost! (Uncle Phil)

[Gustave de Chagny]

It was a lovely Spring day when Gustave decided to venture outside with his violin in hand. He had taken a few lessons now, from his mother’s friend Mister Y, and was really starting to get a feel for the instrument. He remembered stories about gypsies and their beautiful music, traveling around from place to place playing their music, one of the popular instruments being the fiddle.

He thought that it would be very fun to travel around from place to play, playing music for everyone to hear, and so with this goal in mind, he had set off toward the forest. He hadn’t planned on going very far – after all, he didn’t know his way around very well outside of the Manor – but it lost a bit of the mysticism if he stayed too close to the familiar sights of the Manor house.

He tripped lightly through the woods, playing a little tune he’d practiced on his instrument, and listened as the occasional bird would seem to echo a reply to his song. The boy thought his whole game to be great fun… that is, until he’d been outside for about an hour and thought that it might be time to start heading back inside.

He looked around in all directions, but could not see the Manor anywhere. That was when he started to get scared. He tucked his bow and violin back into their case to keep them safe from anything that might try to hurt them in the woods and then walked around in a little circle. “Hello?” he called in a frightened voice. “Hello? Is there anybody there?”

[Philippe Maurice de Chagny]

After spending the winter in relative solitude thanks to his self-imposed estrangement from his brother, as well as his continued confusion about his situation, Philippe finally decided it was time to get out of the house.

As he always had, he talked with people, socialized, but he was constantly worried he would run into Svenna or his brother around every corner he turned in the mansion, or someone he knew would dredge up old memories. Ever since the Christmas party he'd been consumed by memories of his parents, thanks to the startling likeness his "grown-up" brother Eduoard and his wife Emilie had to them. As much as he liked to chronicle current events in his journals, he had nothing to write about when his days were filled with nothing but eating, reading a book from the library, and roaming the halls of his strange cage. So, his diaries now began to be filled with narrative tales of his past. He never knew what his parents had been like before he was born, so he often liked to speculate that they'd once been a happy couple... Stories of how they met, how they fell in love, how they dreamed about building a life together...

Of course he would never have that. His life had turned out nothing like he or his parents planned for him. It was one of the reasons he wanted Raoul to find a suitable wife, someone who would be loyal to him and take care of him when he couldn't... Not an opera singer, whose entire life had been spent in relative nomadic roaming. He could tell how much of a free spirit she was. He did truly like that about her, but he knew that she would end up being just like his beautiful, wing-hearted Aleta, who couldn't be tied to one spot-- or one man-- for very long.

But what was he to say to his brother in this day and age, when clearly free-spirited women held an advantage? From what he'd seen on the "television" he'd taken to watching, the painted dolls he tried to force himself to like were a thing of the past, in fact they were considered "anti-feminist" and "pathetic," compared at least to the warrior women who dominated popular culture.

Philippe sighed as he penned thoughts like these into his journal. He sat in his horse Aleta's stall on an early spring day, munching on an apple he'd procured from the kitchen (though Aleta was eyeing it jealously). He blew on the page to dry the wet ink, though staring at what he'd written, he couldn't believe that he was wasting his time hashing out the same complaints! When the page was dry, he closed the journal with a frustrated glare, setting it and his pen to the side. Crossing his good leg over his bad leg on the hay, he continued to eat the apple as he stared into Aleta's eyes. He could tell she was begging to be ridden.

After a moment of faux contemplation and the doe-eyed horse staring at him with her neighing whine, he smiled. "Oh, alright... Perhaps we might try to find the village again?" He bit into the apple again and crossed his arms. He thought he was ready to visit again, after his fiasco of an arrival where he was mistaken for an actor. He did want to see what life was like for modern people...

Aleta stepped forward some, leaning her long neck and brushing his forearm with her nose. "Alright, alright, just let me finish my apple!" he laughed. She continued to stare at him, until finally he gave up. He offered the rest of the fruit to her, and she took it greedily, chomping down and chewing slowly in her horsely way. He grabbed his cane from where he set it beside the haystack he rested on and heaved himself up. He put his pen and journal into his new riding bag he'd gotten for Christmas from Emilie and saddled the horse.

By the time they started for the village it was almost noon. He figured he would stay for a few hours, survey the local shops and pubs, perhaps have a drink and then return around early evening. That was, until he neared the forest. He was traveling on the path that lead to the main road, and it ran alongside the forest edge, but in those woods he heard music coming from a violin. It seemed a simple tune, but the player played so well that he had to know where it was coming from. Music had always been a part of his life, ever since his mother taught him how to play the piano. It was why he suggested patronizing the opera to Raoul, the same opera house that he'd helped fund the building of... Though now that he thought about it, perhaps it had been a mistake.

As it was, Aleta tried to get him to continue on his path, but he directed her to where the sound was coming from. It was a ways deep in the woods, but he could feel he was coming closer and closer to its source.

Then, suddenly the music stopped. He couldn't imagine why, unless the player had heard his horse's light trot. He hoped he hadn't disturbed them...

A few moments later, just before he was about to turn back in defeat, he heard a child's voice call out in the stillness. "Hello? Hello? Is anybody there?" The boy sounded worried... And reminded him far too much of Raoul as a young lad. The child must have been lost... Philippe couldn't possibly leave him there, so he turned Aleta back and galloped a little faster to where the boy seemed to be.

He slowed her down when he saw him. He recognized his face from the party... He was with someone, his parents maybe, but he couldn't remember who they were. He did remember that he'd received the violin he was carrying from one of the strange masked men, however.

"Are you lost?" he said as he came closer, looking down at the boy with a kind smile. "You shouldn't be out in the woods alone. It's dangerous..." Realizing he sounded a bit like his father, however, he softened his voice. "Don't you live in the manor as well?"

[Gustave de Chagny]

Gustave didn’t like being lost, yet it seemed that he’d been becoming so more and more frequently as of late. Perhaps it had been a bad idea for him to go out playing in the woods. Now he and Christina (he’d named his violin after his mother) had both become lost. He hadn’t told anyone that he was going to be outside, though he really should have, and now he wondered how they’d ever be able to find him. At least most of the times he had become lost there were people around to help him to find his way back, but now… Now he didn’t know what to do. He was in the middle of the forest, so there were no people here, and he began to grow more and more frightened by each passing minute.

He sat down in the dirt, hugging his violin case, almost as if it were a teddy bear. He didn’t know what to do… Maybe he should turn around and try to find his way back? But then what if he got even more lost? He felt his little stomach growl. It must have been close to lunch time, for he was starting to get hungry too… Great! Lost and hungry? How much worse could it get?

His little lips began to tremble, and he wiped a few tears before they could fall. He was a big boy now! Big boys weren’t supposed to get scared and to cry for their mothers. But that was exactly what he felt like doing at the moment. He wanted to cry, and he wanted his mother there to hold him and to tell him that it was all going to be all right…

Just then, he heard a sort of strange set of galloping footsteps, and so he looked up to see who was coming. Maybe they could help him find the way back to his mother and father? He saw a man on a white horse approaching and sniffled, wiping his little nose on his sleeve. He asked him if he were lost and if he lived at the manor, questions to which the little boy simply nodded in silence, still cradling his violin as if to protect it. He seemed like a very nice man… “Are you lost too?” he asked in a trembling little voice.

[Philippe Maurice de Chagny]

Philippe looked upon the boy's face sympathetically. He chuckled at his question, but slung his good leg over the side of Aleta and hopped off her, holding her close by the reigns. "I don't think so, no. I have a pretty good sense of direction." He looked all around, looking for the trail to prove his point... but suddenly he realized there was no trail, and that he'd been weaving in between trees since he'd heard the violin music.

He panicked in his mind, but he kept his face stoic so that the child wouldn't be alarmed. He looked back down and smiled. "How about you and I try to find our way back to the manor. I was going to go to the village today, but then I heard your music." He knelt down, still keeping his hand clasped around the horse's reigns. Philippe knew how to handle children, he'd taught many at his horse ranch back home in France. He only wished he'd spent more time with the child that mattered.

"I have to questions to pose to you, monsieur." he said, knowing from when he was a child that they liked to be spoken to like they were adults. "What is your name... and do you like horses?" He looked up and patted Aleta on her flank affectionately. "Her name is Aleta. She doesn't usually like strangers near her unless I tell her it's alright, but she already seems calm with you. That's a good sign."

Suddenly looking back at the boy, he realized he did recognize him from the party... His eyes... They were so similar to one of the pairs in the room that day, but he couldn't figure out which. His mother and father must have been there and he hadn't realized it.

[Gustave de Chagny]

((short post is short ._.))

The man with the horse insisted that they were not lost, which made Gustave feel a little bit better, but he still wished that his mother was there to comfort him. He knew that his father would probably chide him for being so very frightened, and say that it wasn’t fit for a boy his age to still be so clinging to his mother and to be babied all of the time, but he couldn’t help it if he really did feel scared…

The boy nodded, rubbing his eye a little when the man said that they should try to find their way back to the Manor. “My name is Gustave. Gustave de Chagny,” he added, remembering how he’d been told he should always properly name himself when meeting new grown-ups. He nodded a little when the man asked him if he liked horses. He’d never seen one so close before, but they seemed to be so beautiful of creatures. “Is she friendly?” he added shyly, peering over at the creature with caution.

[Philippe Maurice de Chagny]

Ah. So that was it. He was that... elder Raoul de Chagny's child. How could he forget the three of them, the perfect picture of a family... But the child didn't look much like his brother at all, neither the older or younger versions. He tried not to let his surprise--or somewhat disappointment-- show on his face.

Though he realized after a moment that technically... Gustave was his nephew. Should he reveal this fact to the boy, or...? He figured it was best not to overwhelm the child just yet, so he merely said, "It's very nice to meet you, Gustave. My name is Philippe." He looked to Aleta in admiration. "It means 'lover of horses' if you can believe it. My parents knew what they were doing when they named me..."

He clicked his tongue and gestured to his horse. She complied, leaning her head down far enough for Gustave to pet her. He scratched the back of her ear for good measure. "She's friendly enough if she likes you. And... I think she likes you." Though it was no wonder. The boy probably smelled and seemed similar to him if they were related. Aleta really didn't like anyone but Philippe all that much, or people Philippe seemed safe around. She was very protective in that sense.

"Would you like to ride her a bit?" he offered. The lad looked frightened, so he thought it might cheer her up a bit by letting him ride Aleta.

[Gustave de Chagny]

The man told him that his name was Philippe. Gustave thought this a bit odd, for a grownup to be telling him his first name, but said nothing about it. He was quite used to calling adults by Mister, or Misus, or Miss, and so when the man merely said Philippe… he was a bit at odds with what he should do. After a moment of hesitation though, trying to figure out how he should address the man, he finally spoke. “It is nice to meet you too, Mister Philippe.” He simply nodded politely and quietly when the man continued speaking about how aptly his parents had named him.

Little Gustave couldn’t help but to shrink back a bit when Aleta put her head down near him. He’d never been this close to one of the creatures before, and he could not help but to feel just the slightest bit frightened by the prospect of it. He regarded the creature for some time, his brown eyes looking into hers, and cautiously put his hand out to touch her. His little hand met the white of the beasts’ muzzle, and pet her gently. It was the first time he had ever pet a horse…

“But… but I don’t know how,” the boy said, ever so slightly discouraged when Philippe asked him if he would like to ride Aleta. This was the first time he’s ever even touched a horse. He’d never come even remotely close to riding one.