Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 12, 2012 15:01:51 GMT -5
The ballroom of Ravenhearst Manor had been empty for many years now. Cobwebs had grown over the windows, some of the glass panes were knocked out, the chandelier hung precariously from the ceiling by only a few thin chains, and the only instrument left in the room was an old piano tucked in the corner of the room. Still, through all of this, it was clear to see that, once, it must have been very beautiful. The same went for the bride that haunted the halls of the manor. Anyone who was able to get a close look at her (and this didn't happen often, for she was loath to let herself be seen by the living) would have been able to sense the beauty that her face must have once possessed. The beauty was now only a shadow, for her face was gaunt and pale, and she looked incredibly sickly. Still, it was a slight improvement on the way she had looked when she had died. Her current ghostly pallor meant that the sickly color of her skin was rendered unnoticeable. Not that it mattered. The only person who looked upon her was Charles now, and he thought her beautiful no matter what the circumstances. His thoughts were of little comfort, seeing as his mind was far gone. And who could trust the word of a murderer? For Emma Ravenhearst had been murdered by Charles, and it was for this reason that she roamed the halls of Ravenhearst Manor in her bridal gown, married to one by force and kept in the manor for the rest of eternity. She could hardly spend all that time with a mad man. She wanted to keep her sanity, if nothing else could be granted to her. Her grieving for her death was done now. 117 years had been plenty of time to come to terms with what had happened. Her state of melancholia was persistent, however, when she had to spend around her killer, who still loved her with a passion. Whenever she could, she would escape his company and flee to somewhere he would not bother her. Places like this were few and far between, but when Charles knew she wanted to be alone, he would often let her be, as he still hoped to win her love. This was one of those times. Emma had shaken Charles off, and was now gliding through the halls of the manor, looking for someplace mildly entertaining to go. Someplace she had not gone to in some time... Her journey to the ballroom was almost unconscious, and she was mildly surprised to find herself there. It had been one of her favorite rooms while she was living, though there had only ever been one ball held there...She could remember it as though it had only been yesterday. In commemoration of the finish of Ravenhearst Manor, Charles had called for a ball to be held. The entirety of Blackwood, England had been there...The gowns, the music...It was all beautifully engraved in her mind... She could hear the music as she began gliding across the floor, notes coming from between her lips as easily as could be, tracing the outline of the music she could hear so clearly in her head. She could see the forms of the other dancers, swirling around her, hear the swishing of gowns, see the orchestra on the stand, see the brightness of the chandelier as it twinkled above them, setting the stage for the ball. Her white form glided and whirled across the floor, ducking between the forms of the dancers that only she could see, her singing the only sound that an onlooker might hear...And then, her singing was gone. The music swelled as she saw Charles, across the floor, walking towards her, his madness gone, his smile large and his arms outstretched for her. The sound of the piano was deafening in her ears as the two danced across the floor, swirling. And she was no longer her ghostly pallor, but beautiful once again, in the prime of her youth as they danced.... But the music was fading, she couldn't hear it any longer. A red glow was filling the ballroom, loud laughing and cackling, and Charles was being roughly from her grasp, no matter how she tried to hold onto him, by some invisible evil force. Charles was crying for her, Emma was screaming in protest... And then it was gone. The ballroom was as before. Emma was standing in the middle, trembling...It had all been in her head...She was indeed, losing her mind...She stood there in the middle of the ballroom, tears streaming from her eyes, clutching her bouquet of wilting flowers. She was going mad, like him.... ((This is what she would be singing and hearing. I hate the ads that show up when you embed videos, so I'm just gonna give you the link www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZPRu1WX5PtY&t=2m12s
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 12, 2012 15:40:48 GMT -5
Erik stepped out of the lift and started toward the ballroom. He'd been meaning to go there just to play the piano he'd restored, and he really needed to get out of the house. He loved his house, to be sure, but he loved getting out of it more. He'd been to the library recently and found piles and piles of music from composers he'd never heard of, and he wanted desperately to try some of these pieces. He'd also brought a folder with his favorite pieces, so his repertoire for his little performance was extremely varied today.
Rachmaninoff...he'd found a prelude in the library in C sharp minor that he'd desperately wanted to play for a few days, but time didn't allow it. And now, he'd found some free time. Teressa was out and about, so Erik figured he'd do something to pass the time.
He finally arrived at the doors to the ballroom and entered, striding right over to the piano without looking up from his music. He rifled through his folder and found the song he wanted, then opened the lid. Placing the music folder on the stand, he adjusted his bench and began to play. This was his favorite piece by Liszt, an arrangement of Saint-Saen's Danse Macabre. It was difficult, and he loved playing Liszt. Liszt had made music on the determination that only he himself would be able to play it. Little did he suspect that in his future, Erik was one of the best in the world at playing Liszt pieces.
He let his fingers dash across the keys in great crescendos and tremolos that could rival any master. Closing his eyes, he let the music take over, pouring out his soul with the sound. He smiled slightly underneath his mask, and he was happy. Happy to get away from it all, from this predicament, from this manor, from everything.
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 12, 2012 16:04:43 GMT -5
So caught up had Emma been in her melancholia, she didn't even notice the entrance of another person. It was only when the piano music started that she realized she was not alone in the ballroom. Her head jerked up and she stared at the form of a man, crashing away at the piano. Liszt...She could recognize the composer. She, of course, had only ever learned pieces for the violin, and she had never been a real master at them. They were incredibly difficult, requiring finger movements that she never seemed able to execute.
But this man...Why, he was playing it as though it required no thought! As though it were an easy composition! Curiosity swept away her depression of before and her general fear of the living. She glided closer to the man, her form just a white mass as she moved, becoming more defined as she stopped a good 10 feet behind him. She wanted badly to move closer, to take a glance at the sheet music. She hadn't even known they had Liszt in their library. Then again, she didn't frequent the section that held the sheet music much anymore.
She hadn't played violin since before her sickness, and that had been over 117 years ago. As far as she knew, the instrument that she had called her own was still in her old room, waiting for her to return. She wondered vaguely if it was still there...She didn't play anymore, of course. She had to ability to, as a ghost, but not the muse. She hadn't had any muse to play in years, having been stuck in the same manor, year after year. There was simply no reason to play.
She dared move slightly closer, the chill of her presence certainly tickling at the man's back, but she wasn't concerned with that now. The music on the sheets held much more interest for her than the possibility of being seen.
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 12, 2012 16:16:38 GMT -5
Erik's skin crawled as the air around him became cold. He continued to play, but his eyes opened, and he kept his senses at full blast. It was strange, the air just suddenly chilling like that...He hadn't known it to happen before.
He flipped to the next page of music, going on with the waltz, his fingers dancing over the keys. It was ironic. His bony fingers dancing over the keys. Danse Macabre...he laughed softly at his own stupid joke. His baritone voice echoed in the hall, along with the endless stream of notes eschewing from the piano. He started humming the main melody. His own voice added more body to the piece, he thought. He never really got the chance to sing, except for when he was doing housework, or writing that little piece on his organ stand.
That piece...he hoped to possibly turn the hellish motif into an opera one day. If he could find some muse for it. He hardly knew what he wanted to write about, but he had the music in his head. And what he'd written on the page. He was thinking something like Mozart's Don Giovanni. Mozart had always been one of his favorites...
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 12, 2012 16:52:47 GMT -5
The man didn't seem to notice her presence, and it wasn't long before Emma breezed up right behind him, the swirling mist of her form literally inches from his back. She barely suppressed a gasp as she noticed the strangeness of the man's form. She had, of course, noticed that he was deathly skinny, but it was something she was used to. She herself was that skinny, and Charles was as well. It wasn't often that she saw anyone that was well fed.
But those hands...She could literally see the bones beneath the skin that made them work! She could see the joints pulling at them, could see the full inner workings of his hands...It was strange, extremely strange. But it wasn't as disconcerting as the dark mask that covered the man's face. She furrowed her brow, looking at it. Why would he feel the need to wear a mask...? What could possess any living person to feel the need to cover their face? Goodness knows, she had seen her fill of horrifying faces...She had watched her own body rot away, had watched the skin on her face eaten away, the muscles blacken and fall away, and the skeleton be picked clean by bugs. Yes, the horror of faces was no stranger to her. His face could not possibly be as horrible as all that...Could it...?
Her attention was pulled away from the mask by the start of a new song. Emma recognized it within a second. Danes Macabre! She knew this song by heart, had studied it extensively on the violin until she had gotten it right for love of the music. Oh, how she wished she had her violin with her now...How ironic that he was play the song...The dance of the dead...The thought brought a ghost of a bitter smile to her face. How interesting it would be to play it now...She could fetch her violin...She should...With a silent hope that he would continue to play in her absence, she rushed away, her form a white ball of energy as she rushed for her room.
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 13, 2012 20:55:35 GMT -5
Faster and faster, the motif repeated itself. Again and again and again, Erik let his fingers dance across the keys, arms stretching out to full length then back inward. The pages were flipping faster now. Then a repeat. Another motif, slowing down, another page flip.
Oh, how Erik missed having his studio in Persia. His view of the Caspian Sea in the apartment all to himself...That was the only part of Persia he didn't miss. He rather liked sharing his home with Teressa. He couldn't bear it if she had to leave forever. She was like a daughter to him, truly. BUT, his studio, the quiet...that he did miss. Here, he did have his own studio in his home, but it didn't have that view of the sea he so adored.
He closed his eyes again, envisioning it...
And he was home. He could taste the salt in the air, feel the breeze play through his hair...see the rugs on the floor, the vases in the corner, his divan in the back, and his beautiful hand carved piano...He grinned. This was perfect.
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 13, 2012 21:19:55 GMT -5
Emma flew to her room, trying not to pay attention to the memories that the place harbored. God, there was still blood on the carpet...She snatched up the violin, which was leaning against the wall where she had last left it, and hurried back down to the ballroom, the sound of whooshing wind accompanying her arrival, though she hardly thought the man would notice.
She moved slowly into the ballroom, her dress swirling at her feet, the mist dragging against the floor, as the hem of the dress might have done had she ever worn it in life. The violin in her left hand, the bow in her right, she crossed to the center of the room, closing her eyes and listening to the music. Her father had once played this song for her, when she was learning to play violin. As morbid as it sounded, it had always been one of her favorite songs on violin, along with Alla Turca.
She had the song memorized, of course. Her skill on the violin was limited, for the most part, and her real skill came in memorizing music quickly and accurately. Danae Macabre was the exception to her limited talent. She had endured countless hours of practice and numerous blisters on her fingers to perfect the song that she adored so much. About 5 feet behind the skeletal piano man, she stopped, listening to the notes he was playing, watching the sheet music. He was repeating the main melody of the song, over and over, growing faster and more frantic with each time. A small smile, something that barely ever crossed her face, twitched at her lips. A challenge...
She mounted the violin upon her shoulder and waited, the bow hovering over the strings, waiting for a place where she could jump in. She sensed that the same solo allotted to the violin and, readying herself a second beforehand, jumped in, breaking the solitary piano sound, drawing long strokes across her violin, closing her eyes and moving her head back and forth with the music.
Her form, wedding clad as it was, would had looked quite odd had she been fully visible to a living person watching. As it was, anyone who looked would see only a white, wispy form, moving away at a barely distinguishable violin.
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 13, 2012 21:31:54 GMT -5
Erik could almost SWEAR that he heard a violin accompanying him. But then again, he could also swear he was back in Persia. So he continued on until the end of the waltz. When he finished, he opened his eyes, inhaling deeply. It had been a long time since he could just...play. He took off his jacket too, getting up to place it beneath him on the bench. But as he did so, his eyes were drawn upward.
There was a white spot, not far from him. A silhouette of mist, almost. It was unsettling. He'd heard rumours of ghosts here, and he knew what a manifestation was supposed to look like. But no, that was utter child's talk. Ghosts weren't real. They never have been, and they never will be. But his eyes stuck there. Glued to that misty silhouette...
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 13, 2012 21:40:37 GMT -5
The song, the music...Emma poured her heart, still as it was, into the song, almost feeling silvery tears threatening to drop as she played. It took her back to her father and Jack and Iowa...How she wished she could return. But now, so much later...There would be no real home to return to.
She was disappointed when the song ended, and lowered her violin, opening her eyes to look at the skeletal man. It occurred to her, only now, that he was going to see her. He was standing up, he was moving, he was going to see her. She froze completely, floating there, waiting for the inevitable. And, though she was prepared for it, it still caused a chill to go through her (and, consequently, the whole room) when he caught sight of her.
Now it was going to come. He would yell, call in the exorcisms, purge her soul from the manor and from existence. It almost brought her to panicky tears to think of it, to think of the unknown that faced her. But, more than that, it was upsetting that she knew he would be frightened of her. There was no question. He was going to be scared of the horrid state she was trapped in. Why, she did not know. Perhaps because the living feared they may be trapped that way themselves.
As he continued to stare, her form, now that she was not pouring all of the energy she possessed into playing, became clearer. Her dress could be defined now, and it was clear that she was a woman and that, at one time, she must have been beautiful, though the beauty was but a lingering thought now.
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 19, 2012 12:17:58 GMT -5
The form of a woman appeared in front of Erik. He breathed out slowly. Was this a ghost? Perhaps it was an illusion...Either way, he'd stay calm and be civil. He stood carefully, walking around the bench and toward the figure. She was...well...she was beautiful, by any man's standards. He cocked his head.
"Hello, mademoiselle..." Erik spoke softly, silkily. He didn't want to frighten the illusionist off. He looked around for a projection light, then back at the figure. He studied her, his eyes roving over every aspect of this grand illusion. She was engulfed in a strange mist, which would help his theory if he could find the light for the projector. He could see through her. But only just.
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 19, 2012 12:30:10 GMT -5
Calm, Emma, calm...Luckily for this strange man, it wasn't the first time she had dealt with humans seeing her in the major as of late. The first time, she had been absolutely petrified. Now, though she still wasn't extremely comfortable with it, she could function at least a little bit. Charles wouldn't begrudge her a small talk with a man who obvious knew about music, would he...? It had been so long since she had gotten the chance to talk to anyone about music, she couldn't possibly leave now. She felt rather unworthy to be talking to someone of such obvious musical talent, and her form shivered slightly with nerves as she spoke, bowing her head, "Bonjour, monsieur...You...You are very talented..."
She clutched her violin close to her side, looking at him with a sort of reverence. Were all the masked men who now inhabited the manor so talented in music...? If so, she thought, she might find she quite liked having them here...She was very still as he came closer, her eyes following him, the hand that was holding the violin how fidgeting with it a little, her fingers running over the smooth wood. Normally, she would have backed away quite quickly if anyone living came near her like this, but she tried her best to stay put, fighting nerves to speak with this virtuoso.
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 22, 2012 12:08:42 GMT -5
"Merci....was that you on the violin?" Erik took note that there was a little misty violin at her side. She was clutching it for dear life. Erik knew that feeling. He backed up a little bit.
"I must say, this is one of the grandest illusions I've ever seen....I cannot find a projection screen, nor can I place the exact whereabouts of your voice except for straight from the image in front of me...and I'm a ventriloquist! How grand, indeed..." Erik remained calm and quiet when he spoke. It was like trying to get close to a deer without frightening it away. Keeping his voice low, quiet, and silky smooth was the only way to go about talking to her, he figured.
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 22, 2012 12:53:57 GMT -5
Emma nodded a little when he questioned if it was her on the violin. He didn't seem to be particularly impressed, but he also wasn't disparaging her for playing at all, which was something to be grateful for, she decided.
She appreciated his backing up, and loosened her hold on her violin very slightly. She felt slightly more at ease with him than she did with most humans. His voice was soft and pleasing and he didn't seem scared by her. He seemed more fascinated and curious than anything else.
She was a little confused when he began to speak of her as an illusion and wondered, vaguely, if she should be offended. She had never really been called an illusion before. People tended to take her as what she was, a ghost, and didn't really need much proof for them to believe her. She could hardly blame them, considering the condition of her form, She furrowed her brow as he spoke, and, when he seemed finished, murmured a soft reply, "I....I am no illusion, sir..."
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Post by Erik Lavalais on Jun 24, 2012 8:44:22 GMT -5
Erik furrowed his brow. "I'm afraid I don't understand..." She couldn't seriously mean that she was an apparition of some sort! Ghosts weren't....they weren't real. He nodded decisively. Ghosts couldn't be real. Logically, how could the soul of a person live on after the body was gone? It couldn't be done....right?
Moreover, if such apparitions were to exist, how could they speak intelligently with a person? Hold a real conversation such as this one...? And how could an apparition PLAY THE VIOLIN?! That escaped his logic completely. He cocked his head. He was absolutely intrigued. Scientifically, he might've just discovered something new...He could write a thesis on it if he studied a bit more...
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Emma Ravenhearst
Love can hold one captive in more ways than one...
The bride of Ravenhearst
Posts: 269
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Post by Emma Ravenhearst on Jun 25, 2012 10:38:24 GMT -5
This was strange, even by her standards of the word. She had never really had to explain what she was to anybody, and wasn't really sure how to go about it. Was she meant to call herself a ghost...? Well, that was what she was, though she hated the word. Not so much the word, perhaps, but the fact that she had to use it to describe herself. She hated what she was.
"I...I'm a ghost, sir..."
This was said softly, with almost a confused look on Emma's face. This man was absolutely fascinating! Truly, he was! Never had she met such a genius of music...or one that did not want to believe that she was what she knew she must be. She had never been so intrigued by a mortal before, and it caused her to creep forward very slightly as she said the words, moving just a little towards him.
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