A pale gleam over her features (Meg Oh La La Giry)

[Christine Daaé]

It was her fourth day in that madhouse that Christine began to become quite tired of the lack of toiletries within her little room in the dormitories, so she decided to go search some of the other empty rooms to see if there was anything there. After all, she and that other Christine (she hated the thought of calling any of those other people by her name) had found some clothing in one of the rooms. Perhaps there would be simple toiletries as well. She wasn't looking for much. Perhaps a few soaps or a bottle of shampoo. Maybe I'll go search the kitchen for some sugar later, she thought to herself. She was growing quite tired of not being able to groom herself the way she was used to, and intended to put this inability to an end. After all, she wanted to be sure she was pretty for when Raoul finally did come to rescue her from that dreadful place.

She had decided that it would be in best interest of her own personal sanity if she went on as if Raoul was perfectly safe. After all, Raoul was a brave, smart man, albeit a little impulsive, and surely he would be able to take care of himself for a few days and come to find where she was. He had found her before, in the house on the lake (though granted it was with the daroga's aid), and he would find her again now. It was as simple as that. And then the two of them, along with Mamma Valérius, would be off to the Scandinavian mountains, and they would be married and everything would be happy. That was what she had to keep telling herself. Erik had no power over them – not any more!

Christine arrived in one of the empty dorm rooms and began to search around. Parchment, no... Pen, no... Mirror, there's one in the other room... And then she came across a bunch of small bottles. Penicillin, absinthe, whiskey, aftershave, cough tonic... arsenic? Christine picked up the little bottle and examined it more closely. Perhaps Érik hadn't left her in such outrageous conditions after all; she had only to dig a little on her own to find the things he had left for her... After digging a bit further, she found a bottle of shampoo (oddly enough with a bottle of plastic), a couple of small bars of soap (which smelled very nice, like flowers), and an odd plastic bottle with a nozzle that sprayed the pale pink liquid nice-smelling inside (she assumed it was some sort of a perfume) in a soft mist when you pressed on the top of it.

She gathered up the items she had found (all of them, as they could eventually prove of some use depending upon how long she was stuck there), and brought them back to her room, arranging the on the top of the bed. She left the door open, as it was very difficult to close it while carrying so many things. She did not wish to accidentally drop any of them, as a few of the bottles were glass (though under normal circumstances, she would have expected them all to be) and might break. Silently, she went over them again until she came to the bottle of arsenic, upon which she stopped, picked it up, and carefully examined it once again. It had been a while since she had had her proper dosage of arsenic...

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

After Meg had finished with the Vicomte in the dining hall, she made her way back to her dorm room, deciding to freshen up. She wandered through the halls, trying to familiarize herself with everything and anything she could find, from the pictures on the walls to the different turns she'd have to make getting from the food to her room, because sleep and nutrition were the most important parts of survival in this place, right now.

When she saw her room in sight, she noticed the one next to it was open. She hadn't recalled it being open before, and decided to peak inside. She found another blonde woman, but didn't recognize her in the slightest, unlike other people she'd encountered here. Since they were next to each other, room wise, she decided to introduce herself.

"Hello? Excuse me, Miss, but are you new here? My name's Marguerite Giry, but everyone calls me Meg," she said, walking in a bit further to extend her hand. She realized she might seem a bit improper, but hey, she was American by now, really, and Americans were the most improper breed of people since the stone ages.

"If you're ever lost, don't worry, everyone is. We're all kind of trying to figure out why we're here, though we aren't getting very far. I've been here for a week, maybe more, and I still haven't been able to make my way through every room in this place! Haha!" She giggled.

[Christine Daaé]

((I forgot to ask you what Meg was wearing [not sure if that's what you were referring to by 'improper']. I can change it if needed.))

Christine was a bit startled she heard a voice and looked up from the bottle of arsenic to see a blonde woman standing in the doorway, wearing a most highly inappropriate outfit. Though she knew it was quite rude of her, the girl could not help but to wonder if this woman was a prostitute of some sort... But then again, what business would Erik have with prostitutes unless... She stopped the thought, trying to clear her mind of the sickening image. That was not something she needed to picture...

Marguerite 'Meg' Giry... The name sounded very familiar, but Christine couldn't quite place a finger on where she had heard it before. Not that she went around learning the names of prostitutes. No, of course not! That thought was simply absurd! But regardless, the name did ring a bell... It's probably just a coincidence, Christine thought to herself. She took the woman's hand and shook it. “Christine Daaé,” she said. “A pleasure to meet you, Meg.”

Christine smiled a little at the woman's laughter. It was refreshing to see someone able to laugh at the confusion caused by this place. “Oh, I am well aware, mademoiselle. I was completely lost my first two days here. At least now I have some sense of where I'm going. I can always find my way back to here, which is far better than not knowing how to get anywhere, I suppose...”

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

"Christine Daaé," the girl had said. Meg was utterly confused. Another Christine? But she looked nothing like her longtime friend and practical sister! 'She's not nearly as pretty, and I bet she can't even dance!' she thought in defense of her Christine. When did she start protecting the woman's reputation, anyway?

"Nice to meet you too, Christine. I don't know why we were brought here, but it seems like everyone has been taken against their will. I figured we should all stick together, so I wanted to introduce myself. Um... Well... You know that there are other women named Christine here too, right? In fact I know one of them personally... It can't be a coincidence, not like this..."

Meg smiled warily as Christine spoke of her time in the manor. "It's good to know that someone has a sense of direction. I can't make heads or tails of this place, usually, but I know where the Opera House is, and the kitchen, and then there's my room right next to yours!" She giggled. "So it's like we're neighbors or something!" She hardly wanted neighbors, just some time to herself, but company was always wanted sometimes.

"It's strange, because in some rooms everything looks like something out of an H.G. Wells novel, like it's from the future or something, and then other rooms look like they're a hundred years old by their state of repair, but the furniture is from my own time! I don't understand it... Even the Vicomte, that is the Vicomte that I know from Coney Island, he said his own room at his hotel had aged a hundred years and that it just appeared in this manor as if transported here! And then the clothes in each of the rooms are different. I found one room with beautiful clothes from my time, 1905, and then there's this!" She gestured down at her new modern clothes. "I've never seen any clothes like this except on prostitutes, but it is comfy at least!"

She didn't mention the fact that she was a prostitute, but one hardly mentions those things anyway.

"What do you think of all this, anyway? You haven't happened to find a way out, have you?"

[Christine Daaé]

“It would appear that way, wouldn't it, Mademoiselle? One moment I remember being asleep in my bed at him, and then when I awoke I was here! Needless to say, it is all rather unpleasant...” Not to mention an extreme inconvenience. The timing could not have been worse, really.

“Oh, I am quite well aware that there are others by the name of 'Christine Daaé here. In face, thus far I have met a total of three other women who apparently share the same name... You say that you know one of them personally?” she asked, almost rhetorically. It didn't surprise her, as the others she had met here seemed to know someone by the name of Christine Daaé as well, but it was not her that they knew.

“No, I don't think that this is a coincidence. It all seems far too well planned out to be a mere coincidence or accident...” The different room, already prepared, the people... It was very strange. She actually almost had to congratulate Érik for pulling off such as scheme, as the whole thing was far more elaborate than anything she could have ever dreamed up.

“I suppose that does make us like neighbors, doesn't it?” Oh, this could be quite interesting if the woman really did dress for her line of work... “I'm used to these sorts of winding halls to some extent. In a way, it's very similar to those of the Opéra Garnier.... Although I must say, this place is far larger and more difficult to figure out than there. The Garnier is quite big – but not this big...”

“H. G. Wells novels?” she questioned. She had never heard of such an author. Christine frowned a bit when the woman continued to speak. H.G. Wells?.... Coney Island? This was making less and less sense as she continued. Like something out of the future... That man she had met in the library previously had said something about the future as well... Christine rubbed her temples. She wished that she had found some aspirin in her searching, because she most certainly needed it. This place was making her head hurt. The woman said something about it being 1905. 1905... That couldn't be. None of this could be! And yet... and yet here it all was before her, clear as mud.

She was almost relieved when the the woman said that she had only seen such clothing before on prostitutes. At least she wasn't the only one who thought that they seemed a bit revealing at best. Coming from the other woman, she did not have to worry about her being offended if she accidentally mentioned it.

“Unfortunately, no, I have not found a way out as of yet, unless you count last night when I was out on the balcony. It was almost refreshing to have a taste of the outside air. Although I am still searching. It is imperative that I find a way back to Paris soon. I've heard from another resident here that there is a village nearby, although I would not know how to get there, as I have yet to even find the door to this place...”

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

“It would appear that way, wouldn't it, Mademoiselle? One moment I remember being asleep in my bed at him, and then when I awoke I was here! Needless to say, it is all rather unpleasant...”

Meg nodded in understanding. "It's so strange! I had accidentally broken a mirror when it happened," she began (accidentally, ha!), "and I had thought all I would have to worry about was seven years bad luck and a few scratches, but then I found myself in a bathroom near the grand foyer, the mirror of the room smashed to pieces, just like my dressing room mirror!" She shook her head, only just now remembering that fateful act of breaking the glass and the fact that it had brought her here.

"Yes, I do know one of them. She used to be my best friend a long time ago, but I hadn't seen her in years until she came to New York to sing at Oscar Hammerstein's new Opera house. Now she's here at the manor too..." Meg sighed, running her fingers through her locks and looking up at the ceiling. "She is the Vicomtesse de Chagny, a beautiful title, don't you think?"

She decided to sit on the bed, though she hadn't asked. She took them being neighbors as a sign that they'd become close, because lord knows that in apartment buildings in the slums of New York you eventually got to know everyone around you, by running or bumping into each other down the stairs or having to tell noisy couples having a quick roll in the hay to keep it down, you were getting your beauty sleep. People got to know each other real well then, hehe...

"Opéra Garnier? I've never heard of a place like that. Sounds French, and I'm a native Parrrrrisian!" she exclaimed, enunciating the "r" in Parisian as she often did for folks in New York who were interested in her French beauty. "The most famous Opera House in France is of course the Opera Populaire, but it's the only one I've ever been to, so I wouldn't know where the Opéra Garnier is, I'm afraid..." She shrugged. "Mother didn't like me visiting other Opera Houses, 'case I get a thick notion in my head of leaving the Populaire. Not that I blame her, because I sure did love that place!" She laughed at the fond memories, of the ballet girls giggling at Joseph Buquet in the rafters, the managers flirting with them when their wives were away, the glorious music! "It was like magic, then..." she whispered, leaning back on her hands on the bed and sighing.

"H.G. Wells novels?" Christine said, but Meg just waved her hand, dismissing the name as if it was nothing. "Oh, just some pulp novelist, I think. I haven't read him, just... a friend of mine always had his work laying around..." She remembered how Mister Y always loved to read things of a fantastic nature, and she'd always take a peak inside when he wasn't looking. "Come on, now, sit! It's your room after all!" she said with a friendly pat next to her. She turned towards Christine and smiled.

"I'd like to find away out of here to explore! If there is a village, I bet they have a theatre! Hopefully it's in better condition than the one we have here... Monsieur Lenoir, he has plans to refurbish that fixer-upper, but in the mean time, wouldn't it be grand if I could sing and dance in the village?! Oh, it'd be wonderful!" she said, clasping her hands together. "The last I've been out of this mansion was in the garden, which wasn't in much better repair than the Opera House. Maybe we could fix that up too... Hmm..." she said thoughtfully.

[Christine Daaé]

“I believe I have met the 'Christine' to whom you are referring, madame. I met her only a couple of days ago actually, just outside of here in the hallway.” She simply nodded when the woman mentioned what a lovely title it was. It brought bitter thoughts to her mind. Thoughts of her dear Raoul and his former title of 'Vicomte de Chagny' along wit that 'Comte de Chagny' which had come at such an unwelcome time and under the most unpleasant of circumstances. Oh Raoul... She wondered where he could be at this very moment. Likely in prison for treason, awaiting his execution, but he did not deserve so much! Especially not when all he had done was for her sake and for the sake of their love...

Christine was a bit shocked at the woman's manners (or lack thereof) when she then invited herself to sit upon Christine's bed where she had, only a few minutes before, arranged her finds from her scavenging to sort through and to put away.

She blinked a bit, giving a somewhat amused look with the way that the woman spoke of where she was from. “Are you quite certain of that, Madame?” Christine said simply. “That is actually quite funny because I am une Parisienne” – she said, making quite certain to pronounce it correctly as an example – “myself. I'm actually quite surprised that you have not heard of the Opéra Garnier, as it is the most famous opera house in all of France and it is the largest opera house in the world. Though perhaps you have heard of it and have merely heard it only referred to by one of its other names. Have you ever heard of the Palais Garnier, or the Salle des Cappucines? It is the current house to hold the company of l'Opéra Nationale de Paris.”

The woman spoke of how her mother did not let her visit any of the other opera houses. “Oh? That is quite a shame. The others are quite lovely as well, though not nearly as large.” she didn't feel much like arguing the existence or non-existence of this imaginary opera house called the 'Opéra Populaire' which so many of the people here seemed to be acquainted with. It wasn't worth the trouble. They could have their imaginary opera houses – it really made no difference to her either way. She knew for herself what was real and what was not, and if they chose to believe in a place which didn't exist, then that was their own burden to bear.

Christine bit her lip ever so slightly when the woman offered her a seat on the bed. It was her bed! She shouldn't have to wait for an invitation from a woman who had simply invited herself in... Regardless, she went and sat, rearranging the little bottles a bit as they rolled some with the shift in distribution of weight on the mattress.

A way out of here.... Oh, how Christine wished for nothing else more than a way out of here and back to Paris, back to the arms of her beloved Raoul. “Do you think that there would be a way to get back to Paris from a nearby village, madame?” She certainly hoped that there were. If so, then perhaps there was still hope of saving Raoul and going though with their plans...

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

Meg's face moved into a smile. "You met Christine! Isn't she just lovely?" Meg was a little surprised at the change in her attitude toward her friend. He supposed seeing her again, knowing she hadn't been with her Master yet at all, made her feel at ease around the woman, despite the fact that deep, deep down she was still raging inside.

The woman then went on raving about the different operas or something of Paris. She flapped her hand and shrugged. "Oh, honey, it's been so long ago I can hardly remember what still exists and what doesn't. I haven't been home in ten years!" She sighed in remembrance. "I miss the simplicity of Paris. In New York, everybody's always busy doing something. There was no rush in Paris... Everything was peaceful... At least compared to Manhattan!"

“Do you think that there would be a way to get back to Paris from a nearby village, madame?"

Meg blinked and looked at the girl incredulously. "You're kidding, right? Madame is my mother. Please call me Meg!" she said with a smile. "I don't want anyone to call me Madame until I'm either married or forty, and in NYC everyone is under forty," she smirked with a wink of her eye. "In any case, I don't see why we wouldn't be able to, it's just this house is so big I've been having trouble trying to find the entrance to this place at all, and everywhere I've seen outside the windows has been fields; anything but a town. Maybe it's farther down the way..." she muttered, beginning to get caught up in her daydreaming of Paris.

[Christine Daaé]

“Oh, yes,” Christine said to the woman's exclamation about her friend, the married Christine with the auburn hair. “She seems like a very nice woman. I only hope that she and her husband are able to find their son. They both seemed worried sick about him...”

Christine couldn't help a bit of a dry laugh when the woman said that she missed the simplicity of Paris. Christine knew very well from experience that Paris was anything but simple. It was full of people constantly judging, every internal thought and emotion shrouded carefully beneath a veil of indifference, people waiting to jump out and bite your heads off if you made even one wrong move. It was a city of passions of every sort – art, life, love... To be a Parisian was not merely a description of where you lived – it was a description of who you were. one could always distinguish a Parisian by the way that they carried themselves...

“I would not call Paris at all 'peaceful'. In fact, in the past ten years or so, there have been several uprisings, political unrest... recently it's calmed down politically, thank goodness. You must have lived a rather sheltered life in Paris...”

The woman then corrected her about the use of madame. She had been trying to be rather formal, but it seemed she was speaking to a highly informal woman as it was, so... “Of course, Meg. My apologies...” But then Christine gave a very odd expression, tilting her head and looking at the woman as if she'd suddenly been speaking in Mandarin. In NYC everyone is under forty... “But how is that even possible?” Christine asked with a great deal of confusion. This woman made less sense the more that one spoke to her...

She nodded, still clearly confused and shaken when the woman commented on how large this place was. “Yes, very large indeed, although I really do need to find a way back to Paris soon. You see, m y fiancé could be in a great deal of trouble if I am not there...”

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

"Gustave's a little cutey, I'd say. Spitting image of his daddy, though I think he acts more like his momma, but that's just my opinion," she laughed. He was indeed the spitting image of his father. Dark hair, dark eyes, pale skin, piano hands... Yes, just like him.... All but the right side of his face.

Meg was confused at Christine's laugh, but she laughed uneasily with her. Her idea of Paris was certainly not Meg's idea of Paris. She knew all of that had been going on, but compared to NYC, Paris was a cakewalk. "I must have lived a sheltered life, you're right, but clearly you've never been to New York. It's usually just as bad, if not worse, on the harshness scale. I'd say, from a scale of one to ten, it's an eleven."

When she was confused about her forty comment, Meg laughed. "You misunderstand me, honey. In New York City people are obsessed with their age and appearing young, so everyone says that they're under forty, even when they're clearly not. Some people even shave off five years from their real age. I usually tell people I'm 21, but I'm 26. It doesn't bother me telling you, but my customers... you know, my audience? When I dance on stage they think I'm forever young, and I try to stay that way for them. It's just how it works around here... er, there, haha!" She rubbed the back of her head, doubtful Christine would understand. She seemed a bit of a prude, to be honest.

“Yes, very large indeed, although I really do need to find a way back to Paris soon. You see, m y fiancé could be in a great deal of trouble if I am not there...”

Meg frowned. "I'm sorry, honey. I'm sure Paris is just around the corner. A little birdy told me we might be in England, so it's just a hop, skip, and a jump over the pond, and there you are! What kind of trouble's he in anyway?" she asked, honestly curious.

The woman looked down at the bed to her fanned out the skirt she was wearing. She noticed all the bottles and array of pleasure and care products Christine had put on the bed, and picked up the bottle of perfume. She smiled, muttered a "do you mind," as if she did, and took of the cap and sprayed it just just in front of them to smell it. "Smells like roses..." She put the cap back on and the bottle back. "Say, what are you doing with all this stuff, anyway? Storing for the winter?" she joked with a laugh.

[Christine Daaé]

Christine frowned and tilted her head slightly. “That's funny,” she said “From the description his father gave to me, he seemed to look more like his mother... Oh well. I've never actually seen the child, so I suppose you would know better than I... Have you seen him here at all? Both of his parents seem terribly worried...”

Christine shook her head a little. “No, I can't say that I ever have been to America, although from what I've heard recently, I'm not sure I ever would want to go. The people there, from how they were described to me, seem terribly.... how shall I put it.... brash? It just seems like the sort of place I would rather stay away from.”

Christine sighed a little when the woman mentioned England. “England, France, I've heard it all. Honestly, the closer the better. And as to England.... I'm afraid my English is rather poor. France would certainly be the more convenient of the two...”

She looked down a moment, collecting her thoughts, when the woman asked what sort of trouble her fiancé was in. She took in a deep breath and let it out as a sigh before returning her gaze upon the other woman. “He was accused of crimes which he did not commit which, in turn, may lead to his execution.... My fiancé is no criminal. He is not a murderer, or a traitor, and if it were not for me, he would not have wound up in any of this mess...”

By the end of her little speech, the girl could not help but to choke up a bit on tears which she vainly attempted to prevent from falling. She wiped her eyes with her little hands and buried her face for a moment before glancing at the other woman again. “I'm sorry, but if I do not get back there soon, he may not be alive when I return...”

She looked up at the woman half heartedly when she laughed asking about all the bottles. "Just some toiletries..." she said. "There weren't many in the room..."

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

"I haven't seen the kid around here, no. If his parents and me are here, though, I'm sure he'll be soon to follow." Meg raised an eyebrow. "Then they can have a family reunion." 'Though Mister Y would make it complete,' she thought sarcastically. However she sighed at the thought of the man, wishing suddenly she was back home practicing a new routine, knowing that he was watching. She didn't know where he was now.

"If we knew where we were it might be easier... or why we're here. As it is, though, I'd say I'd rather be in the rough streets of New York than in this dump!" she frowned, kicking the post of the bed to her right in defiance. "None of us have time to be wasting away here! You've got your beau who's on the chopping block, I've got money to be made back home, Mister Vicomte over in the dining hall has his brandy to make love to... But now we're practically all screwed! I... Lordy, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I want to go home!" Like a child, she thought.

This Christine didn't seem like the very cheery sort, so she could hardly make Meg of all people feel better. On the back side of the same coin, Meg didn't know if she could make her feel better either. "Sorry about your love, honey. That's a horrible thing to go through, being accused of something you didn't do. But I know how it feels for you... to be afraid for a man's life." Her eyes glazed over for a moment upon remembering what happened ten years ago. Paris was enraged.

She fingered the perfume bottle in her hands absently, but then realized it could be put to better use. "Say, instead of sitting here moping, maybe we should do something!" She looked down to the toiletries and grabbed the shampoo bottle in the strange plastic. "Why don't we put this stuff to good use? I know!" She looked up and down the dreary looking girl and tilted her head. "You look like you could use a makeover. I was told I did the best makeup in Brooklyn when I lived there!" She smiled sadly. "Just to take your mind off it, you know?"

[Christine Daaé]

((1100!))

Christine nodded simply when the other woman mentioned a sort of family reunion. “Yes, I'm sure that given the situation, they will all be quite happy to see each other once again...” She only wished that she could also be so lucky as that. He honestly didn't know if she could believe that she would ever see Raoul and her Mamma Valérius ever again, or if it was only some false hope she'd managed to keep barely enough alive to prevent herself from completely snapping.

She looked over to Meg when she said that she wanted to go home. She could certainly second that sentiment, but just exactly how that was possible, she had no idea. “I... believe I know why I, myself, am here at least, but somehow I do not think that it will help any of us to find our way back, nor does it help figure out where we are... I had assumed that we were at least somewhere nearby to Paris, but since you say that you are from New York, and there are so many things here written entirely in English, I am not so sure how that's possible....”

She bit her lip a moment before continuing on. “I remember that... when I first arrived here, I had been asleep in my bed at home. And then, when I awoke, I was in on of the rooms here in the dormitories... Not this room exactly, but a few doors down from here... Anyway, I felt as if someone had knocked me out with some sort of a drug, possibly chloroform, and then brought me here while I was unconscious... I don't know how long I had been asleep for, but when I awoke, I was so dizzy I couldn't even stand... If you don't mind my asking, how exactly are you here? If you don't know where you are, then how did you come here?” The girl tilted her head a bit, wondering if Meg had been somehow drugged and brought here as well. Her name wasn't 'Christine Daaé,' so she did not see why she would be one of the actors if her theory about this place was correct...

She noticed a quick look of what seemed almost like tears wanting to fall from the other woman, but then Meg's mood seemed to shift, even if only a little bit. Christine gave an odd expression, wondering what could have sparked the sudden shift, but she did not complain. After all, She really didn't like this discussion. It was a path of conversation which, if followed much further, would surely just lead to an outburst of pained emotion. Instead... “A makeover?” she asked, a bit puzzled. “Do you really think that it would help...?” She wanted to ask if she thought that she needed one, but didn't want to come off as being offended, or being rude. After all, if she was trying to help take both of their minds off of the present conversation, then perhaps it was for the better...

[Meg "Oh! La La" Giry]

Meg stood up and took the girl's hands. "Sure, sure! It'll be fun! Makeovers always make people feel better, trust me. It makes them feel refreshed and beautiful. Even when I'm feeling at my best, a friend up-doing my hair or painting my nails makes me feel like I'm on cloud nine!" She pulled her up and led her to the adjoining bathroom, and then went back for the toiletries.

"And I came here under strange circumstances," she answered her question as she gathered them in her arms. "I was waiting backstage for Christine, that is my Christine, to finish singing on Coney Island in the final show of the season. I was in my dressing room, and accidentally tripped and smashed the mirror, and the next thing I knew it felt like I was being sucked through some vortex! I woke up covered in the shards of the mirror, but then found that I was in the bathroom of the front hall, that mirror also smashed! I don't understand it, really!" she finished as she re-entered the bathroom and set everything down on the counter.

"Well! Let's get started!"

And so she gave Christine a makeover. She washed her hair and dried it (she found a machine called a "hairdryer" as it said on the side of the device and used that, though it startled them both with the noise), put it up in a lovely coiffure, found a pale peach dress from her time era in the closet (though what it was doing there she didn't know) and dressed her in it, did her makeup ("you're still a maiden but you're also a woman!" she'd said, and made her up accordingly), and painted her nails to match the dress. When she was finished, she took her hand and led her to the floor length mirror in the closet.

"Ta-da! What do you think?"

[Christine Daaé]

Christine didn't really have time to reply to Meg's enthusiastic spiel about makeovers. Before she could, the other woman had taken her and led her into the adjoining bathroom and then left again. Christine sat and listened as she described how she had come to be in the manor. The girl tilted her head a little as the other spoke. They were extremely strange circumstances, and Christine couldn't help but to get the impression that it must have been some sort of delusion of the senses. Perhaps she had been drugged? Being “sucked through a vortex” was most certainly not something which occurred on an every-day basis...

She looked up at the other blond woman as she reentered the room and addressed her again. They began the makeover process, which wasn't exactly what Christine had expected either. They found a sort of strange machine that frightened them both. It made a very loud sound and blew hot air. Apparently it was called a “hair-dryer” and so Meg had used it to dry her hair. There was a bit of frizz that came with the process, but Christine was shocked at how quickly this “hair-dryer” device had dried her hair.

After Christine's hair had been washed and dried, she changed into a pale peach dress that Meg had found, and then Meg began to do her makeup. She tried to stay as still as possible (she was used to people doing her makeup in the opera), but couldn't help but to feel a little nervous. After all, she barely knew the other woman, and the circumstances were quite different. It wasn't long though before she finished and then led Christine to a full length mirror.

Christine regarded the woman's work in the mirror as she looked herself over. Meg had done a wonderful job, and then Christine noticed something.... She found herself to be smiling. It wasn't a big smile – small, faint – but it was a smile. She hadn't smiled much at all recently, so to smile at all, even if only a little bit, was an accomplishment in itself.