Is Christine Still Good? (Claude Delacroix)

[Christine Daaé]

It was a rather cloudy night, and the moon was not visible other than a faint silvery hue that could be seen through a few of the clouds. The weather was just starting to change as fall came nearer. There wasn't a night bird that made a sound, nor was there a rustle of the trees because the wind was so calm and so still. It was a dark, silent night if ever there was one.

Christine was in her room in the dormitories preparing to go to sleep. She had already changed into her night clothes, and was sitting at the desk, unpinning her hair and singing softly an old Scandinavian melody her father used to play for her.

Natten går tunga fjät
rund gård och stuva;
kring jord, som sol förlät,
skuggorna ruva.
Då i vårt mörka hus,
stiger med tända ljus,
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.

Natten går stor och stum
nu hörs dess vingar
i alla tysta rum
sus som av vingar.
Se, på vår tröskel står
vitklädd med ljus i hår
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.

Mörkret ska flykta snart
ur jordens dalar
så hon ett underbart
ord till oss talar.
Dagen ska åter ny
stiga ur rosig sky
Sankta Lucia, Sankta Lucia.

She let her golden locks cascade down as she sang softly in that bright, clear nightingale tone, and then continued by brushing them carefully with the brass bristle brush that sat there. She glanced over at the painting Monsieur Carrière had brought her, which was still sitting propped up against the wall, and smiled.

She was in a very good mood. She and Raoul had discussed having the wedding fairly soon and the mere thought of it made her feel warm and fuzzy inside, almost giddy, and she did not make an effort to hide it. Instead, it radiated throughout her entire being, a visible glow of happiness to her entire aura.

Happiness...

It had been something that, until very recently, she hadn't truly felt here in this place, with the exception of when she first discovered that her love was still I fact alive and well, and was there at the manor. And even then, her emotions were soggy and tainted with the scum of depression. Though now, it was nearly impossible to tell that several times behind those crystalline blue eyes laid the deep longing to put an end to her life. This was the happiest she'd been in a very long time, years even... The happiest she'd been since the day her father had left this earth...

She gave one last smile at the portrait resembling her fiancé before setting her brush down and rising from her seat. She turned and walked across the room to the basin and splashed some water on her face, massaging her cheeks gently and then flicking her hands over the bowl to shake away excess water. She them picked up a small towel and began to pat her face dry, completely naïve to the thought that something or someone could be nearby. Her paranoia of the room had finally left her.

[Claude Delacroix]

Everything seemed to be going Claude's way for the past few months. Little Meg was growing more and more fond of him every day, Destler was bound to be having fun with the maid HE had brought back to life. And poor Charles, doomed to be nothing more than a shell of his former self now that his soul had been taken back. All that was left now was to learn more about these little 'meal tickets' that roamed the manor so freely.

He did not mind the other ghosts for what could they do to him? He was The Devil, after all; Beelzebub, the Lord of the Flies, the Princess of Darkness incarnate (well, more or less). The night was still and calm, not his favorite kind but it would do. He had been wandering the manor, sticking to the shadows as he went about to survey all that surrounded him. Suddenly, he heard singing. He growled to himself, the sound jarring upon his entire body, almost as if it were a hymn being sung. And it was! The demon growled deeply and turned his head towards the dormitories just down the hall... It was coming from one of the rooms.

Claude disappeared and slowly began to search the hallway for the source of the song. He dragged his nail across the walls, scrapping and tearing the surface of the fading wallpaper. The torn edged began to curl and blacked as if burned by an invisible fire. The man let out a low snarl like that of a mad dog as he came closer and closer to the singing. But as he drew closer, he felt increasingly weaker; each step was now a trial as he forced himself towards one of the doors. He finally reached the threshold and panted heavily before closing his eyes and materializing through the door, keeping himself hidden from view.

There was a woman seated beside a desk. A very beautiful woman at that. He watched her carefully and, still keeping to the shadows, he drew closer. This must be that Christine he had heard of. The one to be married. Yes, he had eyes and ears all over the manor; he knew so much about a few of the inhabitants: Charles, of course, Destler, the sweet little maid, Christine Emilie, and, of course, Little Meg, his new number one.

"Christiiiiiine...." He whispered, making his voice echo softly around the room. Suddenly, the portrait that sat against the wall began to bleed around the edges and HIS voice whispered again. "Christiiiiiiiiiine...." The bloody drips retreated and disappeared. With that, he slipped back out of the room and stood in front of the door. He ruffled his unkempt hair a bit more and knocked softly.

[Christine Daaé]

Christiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine....

The girl looked up from the towel which she had been using to dry her face and then glanced about the room in a somewhat frantic manner. She could have sworn she had heard a voice, calling her name... but there was no one in here with her, was there? She knew that several months ago, back at the Opéra Garnier in Paris, there was seldom a time when someone wasn't watching her, but now, it was surely just the old paranoia of being alone in that room kicking in again, right?

She tried to ignore it, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw something that made her tremble. She could have sworn that the edges of the portrait looked almost as if they were bleeding. She staggered a bit where she stood stood and looked about again as that voice came back.

Christiiiiiiiiine.....

She blinked and the blood was gone; the voice had stopped... How very odd, she thought to herself. It must be this place playing tricks on my mind again... It must be from fatigue. I really do need to go to bed...

Trying to shake away what she had just seen (or thought she had seen – she wasn't sure which it was), she pulled back the sheets and covers of her bed and was about to climb in to go to sleep when there came a light knocking at the door. Who could it possibly be at this hour? she wondered to herself. She wasn't exactly expecting any visitors, especially so late at night.

She grabbed a dressing gown and tied it around herself, for modesty's sake. “Coming,” she said as she tied the thing around her. Whoever it was that had knocked, it must have been of relative importance, considering the hour, and if it were important, she most certainly did not want them to think that she was ignoring them or was already asleep.

After she had put the dressing gown on over her nightgown, she stepped over to the door and cracked it open, peering around the edge to see who was on the other side. Outside her door was a tall, thin man with messy hair, dressed in priestly vestments. Christine had never seen the man before, and was a little confused as to why he was here.

“Can I help you, Monsieur?” she asked, still from partially behind the door. She was a little shocked to see a religious man in a place such as this, especially knocking on her door at this particular hour. Is he from the village? Did someone send him here?... The child's mind was full of questions as her little blue eyes gazed up at him with curiosity.

[Claude Delacroix]

Oh, how he loved to torment the residents within the walls of the manor. The demon smiled to himself as he observed the anxiety and fear in Christine's face. It made him feel stronger by the minute. He watched the confused girl survey the room in search of the location of the voice to no avail.

It had been too long since he had a new plaything to torment. He started with Charles after he was reunited with his wife, Emma, once more. He had stolen the man's soul and left him a mere shell with his wife. Then he grew bored and found his old servant Destler. Claude had made the man go and torment a young maid even against his will. But then something had happened that he did not anticipate. A young girl... Little Meg, nonetheless, had fallen for him and was now completely infatuated with him. She seemed to hang on his every word and was desperate to please him, which he liked very much.

But now he had bigger fish to fry. The other guests of the manor. The Devil had happened upon a log book of everyone staying within these walls. None of them seemed to terribly interesting until he read about a young woman and man to be married soon. A miss Christine Daaé... How terribly rude! To have a wedding and he wasn't on the invitation list?? This would not do.

Claude gave his best meek grin, his hands shaking and fingers twitching behind those long and cared for nails. "D-Do forgive me, my child." He tried very hard to keep from slipping out a 'we' or 'us' (it was true, he was "many" just as Legion had spoken within the pages of the Bible). He wanted to be sly yet gentle with Christine before breaking her utterly.

"I-I would be most grateful i-if you were to confirm with me that this-.. This is the room of a m-m-miss Christine Daaé?" Claude stammered most pitifully in hopes that the girl would take pity on him and allow him to properly enter her room. True, he could apparate and disappear at a whim, but when he was standing just outside her threshold he needed her to concede and allow him entry.

In his right hand was that apple again, the very apple he had given Christine Emilie just before she passed out at his feet. He tossed the apple back and forth between his hands and smiled at the young woman. "M-My name is Claude. Claude Delacroix. I am the priest to perform your marriage ceremony. P-Perhaps I can ask you a few questions about the wedding s-so I am prepared?"

[Christine Daaé]

Christine kept behind the modesty panel and security of her door as she listened to the tall man speak. He was a good foot or more taller than her, so she was forced to sort of cock her head around the door and peer up in order to see him. He asked her if this was the room of a 'Miss Christine Daaé'. “Yes, I am she, though there are several here it would seem... perhaps it is another you are looking for?”

But he then told her his name and mentioned the wedding. Odd... She hadn't contacted anyone about a priest. She had had difficulty contacting anyone at all in the village because she didn't speak much English. Perhaps Raoul had managed to find a priest who spoke French? That must have been it. It was really the only explanation she could think of.

“Oh! Père Delacroix, please forgive me. I am terribly sorry. Did my fiancé send you here? I wasn't aware he had contacted a priest at all, or even that he had found one who spoke French... Please accept my apologies, but I fear I am not appropriately dressed to receive guests... Is it possible for this to wait until tomorrow morning, or are you busy?”

She really didn't feel comfortable receiving visitors so late at night, though if there were no other free time, she supposed it was possible give the circumstances. This was a rather important matter, after all, and she most certainly did not want to appear rude...

[Claude Delacroix]

The tall, almost frail man held the apple a bit tighter in one hand while the other gently scratched at the panel like a cat trying to get at a juicy mouse. His nails dragged against the wood, leaving slight marks upon the glossy finish. He tilted his head as she confirmed that she was Christine and his eyes widened a little. The corners of his mouth tugged upwards in a slight smile. "No, no, my child. I-I do believe I have the correct room..."

She seemed surprised when he spoke of the wedding. Claude heard her thoughts. A French speaking priest? Simple enough. "I-If you are in need of someone who speaks a second language, I am fluent in all tongues of the world. Je ferai volontiers parler français pour votre cérémonie, Mlle." There. He hoped that the bit of french dialect would help ease her mind.

"Oui, Mlle," He said cheerily, giving a reverent bow. "He did send me here to the manor. Do not apologize, please. It was very rude of us- er, me to just come up to your room this late in the evening. But I fear that I am unable to return to you on the morrow. I-If it is not too much to ask, might I trouble you to open the door and let me in? I have been walking many miles until I finally reached the village and found the manor. I fear my legs are feeling rather weak at the moment and I do not have my own room in which to reside."

The demons within the manor whispered to Claude, begging him to try and allow him access to Christine's room. His eyes darted back towards the ceiling and he emitted a low hiss, causing the voices to retreat into the darkness. He quickly looked back at the girl with a most piteous stare. "Please, Mlle. Just let me in for a moment. Then I shall be on my way."

[Christine Daaé]

((Just assume from here on she is speaking in French lol As much as I enjoy getting to practice it, it seems like a hassle to write the whole thing with translations.))

The girl's eyes lit up a little like a child at Christmastime when the priest before her began to speak in French. She did not speak much English, which made it quite difficult to communicate with the residents in the nearby village. “Pardon, s'il vous plaît, je ne me lui avais pas attendu à trouver si vite un prêtre. Entrez, Pêre Delacroix.” Pardon me, please, I was not expecting him to find a priest so quickly. Enter, Father Delacroix.

She opened the door more, in order to allow him entry, still keeping behind it, as if for a modesty shield. She still was not so keen on receiving guests in her current attire, but it would be rude to leave the poor man standing outside when he had been traveling so long. “Please, come in and sit down. You must be weary from all of your walking...” She gestured to the chair at the desk where she had been seated only moments before.

As she moved aside for him to enter, she took a coat from the rack by the door and put it on over her dressing gown and her night gown. Granted, it was a bit warm, and still not exactly the savoir faire, but it made her feel a bit less awkward. It would have to make do.

“I am afraid I don't have anything that I can offer you unless you care for peppermint candies. I know it's not much. You must be hungry after your journey...” She turned and looked through some little jars on the shelf as she spoke, hunting until she found one that was full of little white candies with red stripes in a sort of plastic wrapping. She had come across them a while ago and found that they had a pleasant peppermint flavour.

She picked up the jar and then turned again to face the man and caught sight of the red apple within his hands. “Oh! Silly me, it seems that you already thought of that. Well, should you care for one, you are more than welcome to have a peppermint candy.... Would you like some water? I do believe there is a clean glass...”

[Claude Delacroix]

Claude gave a slightly crooked grin and cautiously stepped into Christine's room. He gazed about the room and went to sit in a chair by the young woman's desk, running a hand through his messy hair. He didn't mind looking a bit scruffy; it just made him seem all the more weak and pitiable.

"Merci," He croaked softly, thanking the girl for letting him in. Exactly what he had hoped for. Now that he had be properly invited in, he didn't feel as frail as he had feigned. But he merely was keeping up appearances to coax the girl into trusting him more. He looked about her room and saw a cross.... Damn, this would not do. He wrinkled his nose at the relic and began to feel sick, the black substance threatening to be spit up from his gullet. Now he really was as weak as he had been letting on and he was none too pleased about it!

Claude visibly grimaced when Christine offered him the sweets. Those vile, pasty little candies?? Bah!! Disgusting, he thought! He needed something with a bit more sustenance, more... body, if you may. But then the girl spied the apple he was holding. Good! That got her attention. Claude gave s small jump of surprise and looked down at the apple as if he had forgotten about it.

"Oh! This. D-D-Do you want it?" He offered the apple and his smile widened a little. The priest then shook his head at her offer of water. "Th-Thank-you, but I h-had plenty along the way here, m-mostly by the springs outside the village... Please, i-if you would like the apple, you are more than welcome to take it, my child."

[Christine Daaé]

Once the man had entered, Christine closed her door behind him. She noticed a grimace from him when she offered him a candy and shrunk back a little. “I'm.... I'm sorry, Father. I'm afraid I don't have anything else I can offer to you....” She took one of the candies from the little jar before closing it again and sticking it back up on the shelf. She unwrapped the candy and held it in her hand before turning back toward him.

He seemed a bit surprised though when she mentioned the apple. He offered it to her, simultaneously refusing the water she offered to him. The girl tilted her head a little. It was very strange for him to say how weary he was and then to refuse the refreshments she had offered to him in an attempt to be hospitable. And now he was offering the only thing he had brought with him...

It was a very lovely apple, bright crimson in color and not a bruise or blemish on the thing. There was something that was almost... alluring about it. Yes, that was the word. The girl couldn't fathom why – it was only an apple – but something about it drew her closer to the priest who was seated there at her desk. She continued to examine the thing with curiosity as she moved. Then, she looked back up at him, making eye contact once more.

“It's very lovely, Father, but I couldn't. Please excuse me. I worked in the opera for some time and learned that eating before bed can often cause your throat to be soar in the morning. I'm not very hungry at the moment anyway... But thank you for the offer..”

She took a seat at the foot of her bed, facing toward him in the chair. “I believe that you mentioned you had some questions you wanted to ask me? About the ceremony? I do not know what Monsieur de Chagny told you already. I wasn't even aware that he had contacted a priest in regard to the wedding. We've only been throwing around dates; I do not believe anything is set in stone yet...”

She took the peppermint candy she had in her hand and popped the little white disc into her mouth, sucking on it as if it were a lozenge. She'd discovered that, not only were they good for one's breath, but they also had a sort of soothing and relaxing effect on one's throat.... And on top of that, she did enjoy the flavour of mint. She crossed her ankles off to the side and watched the man, waiting for him to ask her his questions about the wedding ceremony.

[Claude Delacroix]

Claude quickly held up his hands, desperately trying to calm Christine. "N-No, my child, it's alright. I just don't really care for sweets, that's all. You are far too kind already to allow me into your room. Bless you."

He kept hold of the apple and bowed his head to the girl. "To be fairly honest, I do not enjoy food all too much, Mlle." Claude leaned back in the seat and let the apple dance between his hands. The ruby-red fruit glistened brightly as the sweet scent began to tease at Christine's nose. The priest's dark eyes stared straight at the girl's, almost looking into her very soul... He was starting to wonder how it would taste.

.... He twitched. His smile began to fade as his grip upon the apple tightened; his nails were leaving marks upon the fruit's thin skin. The man flinched, seemingly coming back to reality. "Then keep it with you until the morning. You will be... Ravenous by then."

"Now," He inhaled deeply, turning away a moment... He coughed into his hand... The black substance bubbled forth like coal-shaded blood as he wiped it on his robes. He turned back with a wide smile. "I-I am sure that you and Monsieur de Chagney will be most happy together. I am only interested in some minor details. How many family members and guests will be attending the service? Do you wish for me to speak French for the ceremony or English? A-And-..." Here Claude paused before finishing. "You are a virgin, correct?"

He didn't really need to know that. Well, he did- well, no, he didn't... Oh, hell, it did matter. If he wanted to torment this little open-book, he needed to know as much about her as he could. He could smell the sickeningly sweet scent of the mint candy and it made him want to destroy the rest of the nasty little sweets. But he had to be patient... There would be time enough until he could rip out this girl's heart and drink the virgin blood before her slowly dying eyes. Virgin blood was sweeter, he felt, than deflowered blood. Slightly bitter and not as appetizing. The thought was making his mouth water but he forced himself to gain control over himself and wait for Christine to answer.

[Christine Daaé]

The girl smiled a little when the man commented on her kindness letting him into her room. “It would have been cruel of me to have turned you away when you have already made such an effort to come here, Pêre. I am honored that you would go through such trouble to ask me about the ceremony...”

She trailed off as the ruby red fruit once more caught her eye, its peel shining in the light of the gas as Pêre Delacroix tossed it from hand to hand. Her blue eyes fixated on the thing, entranced by the mere sight of it. It felt odd to her that a seemingly ordinary apple should seem so fascinating, but she could not help herself. She inhaled deeply and could almost taste the sweet aroma that came from the lush red fruit.

She closed her eyes and opened her mouth ever so slightly, as if to better take in that succulent aroma. It mixed with the peppermint on her breath and created a sort of fragrant perfume that was utterly irresistible. She was so enraptured by the mere thought of it that she could hardly hear his words. They more echoed through her subconscious, penetrating into her mind, commanding her very will.

keep it with you until the morning....

Slowly, she rose from where she had been seated on the bed, eyes still closed, lips still parted, still taking in that delightfully intoxicating aroma and the sheer pleasure that came with it, wondering what such a delectable thing would taste like. Her legs trembled beneath her as she moved until she fell on her knees before his feet and slowly outstretched her hands up toward him, as if to take it from his hands, letting out a soft, whimper-filled sigh as she did so, an almost sickly smile tugging at the corners of her lips.

The tips of her trembling fingers nearly touched the thing, when suddenly the sharp noise of a cough caused her to instantly return to her senses. She let out a small gasp as her eyes flew back open and she swiftly withdrew her hands, shaking all over, almost as if she was shivering from cold, despite the fact that she wore a night gown, dressing gown, and coat. Her blue eyes gazed up at him as he wiped his hand on his robes.

“Oh dear... Pêre Delacroix, you are ill! Oh heavens, I am so sorry. Here,” she said as she reached out and touched his hand which still held the apple, giving it a light pat. “Let me find you some tonic for that nasty cough. I'm sure I have some in one of the cupboards.”

She arose to her feet and moved toward the bathroom, listening to his questions as she moved. She could not help, however, giving a glance back at that apple resting in his hand.

How many family members and guests will be attending the service? Do you wish for me to speak French for the ceremony or English?

“As to the number of family members that will be in attendance, I am afraid that it shall only be my adoptive mother. I do not have any living relatives that I know of and My fiancé... well, for one thing, all of his relatives are still in France and we have no way of being able to contact them. His sisters, I believe his aunt is still alive... though frankly, I am certain they would be opposed to the marriage... In fact, that's the main reason why we had initially planned an elopement about six months ago, but our plans were.... unexpectedly delayed. You see, his family is nobility, and with his older brother's recent death, he inherited the title of 'Comte' so if they didn't have enough reason to disapprove of him wanting to marry someone of my class before, they most certainly would object to it now...”

She let out a sigh and turned back to the man. “It will be a very small wedding, not many in terms of guests either, as there aren't exactly many we know at all here... I suppose this delay is good for us though, in a way... It gives us the time to have a proper wedding, however small it may be. Though honestly, I couldn't care much either way so long as we are finally united. I feared for a long time that we may never have that opportunity....”

She turned back toward the mirrored cupboard above the sink and opened it before she continued to speak. “In regard to the language in which the service should be in, I would personally prefer that it be in Latin, though all things considered, French may be best. I do apologize, but my English is not very good and it has been very difficult adapting here, which is the main reason why we wanted a priest who was able to speak French... though I assume Monsieur de Chagny already mentioned as much to you if he contacted you about the ceremony. If at all possible though, could there be a portion of it in Swedish? For my mother... You see, it is both her and my native tongue, and I am sure it would please her to hear it again”

Her hand hovered over the different bottles in the medicine cabinet as she glanced over the labels. Salicylic acid, honey, sugar, arsenic, some loose tea (I'd forgotten I put that there), vinegar, apple cider, matches, baking soda... “Aha!” she exclaimed, selecting a tall dark green colored glass bottle with squared edges from the cabinet along with a spoon that she kept in there. “Here we are: cough tonic.” She shook the bottle in order to make sure that the medicine was properly mixed as she walked back to the room and set the spoon down on the desk at which the man was seated.

She began to work at the lid on the bottle (it was a bit tight) as she listened to him, ad had just managed to get it loosened, but then faltered when he asked his next question: You are a virgin, correct?

She could not help but to pale a bit. Oh dear.... it's because I mentioned the fact that I had worked in the opera, isn't it?... “Pêre Delacroix, while I do realize that it is not uncommon for ladies in my particular line of work – in the theatre that is – to have rather... libertine pastimes, I assure you that I certainly have more decency than such, nor have I ever had any desire to join in on such escapades.... Honestly though, I do not see how this should be important when determining the ceremony...”

She fumbled a bit with unscrewing the lid of the bottle, her hands shaking slightly in frustration. She could not help but to feel a bit insulted by the question. It was almost as if by telling him that she had worked in the opera in the past, he had assumed that she must have also taken part in some of the rather less than virtuous behaviour often associated with such women...

She set the bottle down on the desk for a moment in frustration, pressing her lips together. It was far too difficult for her to get the lid off with her hands shaking so much. She refrained from making eye contact with the man, for it would only upset her more at the moment. To be quite honest, she wasn't sure if she could really give a straight and honest answer to his last question. With all that had happened there in that dreadful manor, she honestly did not know if she could be certain about it.

She let out a frustrated sigh and pressed a hand to her heart touching the engagement ring which hung from a chain around her neck as she did so. She had had to replace the chain since her encounter with the blood-dripping demon several months before, but honestly preferred keeping it there rather than wearing the thing. Besides the fact that she was paranoid over losing it since it was a bit loose (it was an old family heirloom that had been passed down from generation to generation in Raoul's family), she felt that wearing it there kept it closer to her heart. She slid her fingers in and out through the band in a sort of calming repetitive motion.

Slowly, the tension left her and she dared to speak once more, picking up the bottle again, this time easily removing the cap, and then pouring the thick syrupy liquid into the spoon. “Forgive me, Pêre, I do not know where my manners went... I also came across some tea as I was going through the cupboard, if you would care for a cup. It might help with that cough of yours. You must have caught it while you were traveling...”

She mustered up a kindly smile and turned toward him again with the spoon full of tonic, holding it before him and waiting for him to take it. “I know it probably will not taste the best, but it will help you to feel better...”

Christine's blue eyes darted away from the man for a moment in thought. There was so much that she was unsure of, and so much that she needed to say... It could not hurt to ask....

“Pêre?” she asked timidly, her eyes once more returning to look upon him. “I know that this is not the reason why you came, but it has been so long since I have been able to see a priest, and... well.. if it is not too much trouble to ask, I.... I would like to make a confession... Please?”

The girl stared at him with an almost pathetic look, like a little lost lamb without a shepherd, her eyes almost pleading for him to hear her out. There were very few people here whom she could speak to at all due to the language barrier, and even fewer whom she could speak freely to about what was tormenting her. In fact, with the exception of her fiancé and perhaps one or two of the other residents there, she did not feel comfortable discussing anything of that nature with at all, and even with them there was only so much she was willing to say...

[Claude Delacroix]

The demon in disguise bowed his head to Christine. "Think nothing of it, my dear," He cooed... Then he noticed she was looking at the apple once more. His eyes darted back up to gaze upon her, wondering if she would take it or not. He continued to play with the sweet fruit, rolling it between his hands in a very teasing manner.

This is going very well, He thought to himself. Soon she will be pouring out her very soul to us and we shall have her! His nails scrapped at the fruit again, still pensively watching Christine. He watched her body react as she inhaled the scent of the apple... He was unable to suppress a smile as he kept his gaze upon her. Oh, the way she sighed and parted her sweet lips. He licked his own in thought of her delicious soul. He already had consumed a part of Charles' spirit, that was already a succulent little morsel. But this girl... This soul would be at the peak of ripeness, the peak of perfection! There was so much he wanted to say, wanted to do. Still, he had to be patient, had to wait for his prey to succumb and give in...

He didn't have to wait long.

Claude's eyes widened when he watched the girl try to rise up only to have her legs crumble beneath her and drop to her knees. Oh, if he had a heart, how it would leap with joy at the sight!! This was it! He was ready to have her, to rip out her soul and consume it!! He needed, no WANTED it desperately! Too hell with his hunger, he wanted to torture this delicate little flower, watch the blood flow. His hands began to shake as he reached out to touch her pale, trembling lips. But then...

Damn the pain! The bubbling pain of hunger and agony filled his corporeal form and he was forced to turn away and cough into his free hand. Damn! He thought, growling to himself. Where is Meg when we need her? After wiping away the 'blood', he turned back to Christine and reassured her everything was fine. But it was no use for she was already at the cupboards, taking out a glass bottle with a clear liquid in it.

When she reached out to touch his hand, she would have noted how cold he felt. Deathly, almost lifeless as he snatched his hand away from her touch. She as hot, in contrast, like fire upon his skin. Something about her touch, about HER, made him feel that sickening way. Must have been those relics she had lying about. Perhaps he could coax her into going with him to another room? One where there were no religious objects and little trinkets?

It would have been best if he had just consumed her now and gotten over with it, but no. No matter how ill he felt, how weak he became, he would not give in to his own lust for blood and flesh. He only sat, listening to the girl ramble on about the ceremony and guests. And ramble... And ramble.

Damn! This was getting too tedious as he tried to seem interested, nodding ever few sentences she spoke and acknowledging her request for a portion of the ceremony to be spoken in Swedish. He could sense the hellhounds just below them, straining to be freed upon the manor. A few floorboards shook and Claude was forced to cough once more while, at the same time, slamming his foot upon the wood. "Silence," He hissed under his breath. "It will not be long now. We must be patient, our pets."

This wolf in sheep's clothing continued to watch Christine as she moved about to the small cabinet, his eyes never leaving her as she flitted about in search of something for his 'cough'. He saw her grab up the green, seaglass bottle. It looked rather antique, much more different that some of the other, more modern, items in the manor... This one must be from a different time, He thought, placing a hand to his chin thoughtfully. And she was, much more different than Charles or the maid. Charles had been from the 19th century, the maid from the 14th century, and now this girl, clearly from the early 20th century. All of these people, trapped in the one manor, stolen from various different places in time and history. And it was by his own hand that they had fallen victim to being brought to this place, forced out of their comfort zones and thrust into a strange, new world.

Claude only have an innocent smile and tilted his head slightly at her shocked reaction to his question. He was pleased, quite pleased, in fact. This was going along so perfectly that he was almost afraid she would try to see him off before anything more could be done. Then he started to wonder... He wondered if Christine had noticed his stutter had suddenly stopped, and that just made his smile all the more.

"Forgive me, my child. I was not insinuating anything, not in the slightest. I only meant that you are very wise for being strong and not... Giving in, so to speak, to certain temptations." When he said 'temptations', he almost hissed out the word with a soothing, poisonous tone. His facade was beginning to peel away as his true, darker side slowly started to rear its terrifying and ugly head. Just a little, he still needed to be patient a while longer.

He could sense that she was very unsettled about something. And he knew exactly what it was. She had seen Charles when HE was taking over his very mind. She was the one who had witnessed the thing he'd become, and the strange fluid, that dark something dripping, dripping, dripping. His eyes turned to watch Christine toy with the ring. That repetitive motion, the way her thin little fingers slid back and forth, in and out of the band... Oh, it was maddening! He felt almost hypnotized by it as his eyes started to wander over her young body. She was perfectly proportioned and very pleasing on the eyes. Now, it seemed, that he was the one feeling tempted by her.

Claude smiled and leaned his head forward to take the spoonful of the syrup. Surprisingly, it had no ill effect upon him as he swallowed the bitter liquid. But then the girl asked him something he was a bit surprised about, and which made him almost choke on the medicine. "A c-confession?" He repeated, raising one eyebrow. NOW he was very interested in what she had to say. What was this confession, he longed to know. "Very well, my child. You may speak."

[Christine Daaé]

Christine hadn't paid much attention to the mans hands when she had given it a light pat before. They were cold, yes, but she had become almost accustomed to the feeling. After all, when one had been locked underground with a living dead man, one got used to feeling his cold, moist, bony grasp like that of a corpse.

Forgive me, my child. I was not insinuating anything, not in the slightest. I only meant that you are very wise for being strong and not... Giving in, so to speak, to certain temptations....

“Well... there was a time actually when I wanted to join a convent... Mamma would never allow it though, She said that father would want me to keep with music and made me go to conservatory ins– instead.......”

She trailed off, her eyes fixating once more on the red thing in his hand. It only lasted for a moment though before she shoot her head, passing a hand over her forehead. She couldn't understand it. Why did that keep happening. It was strange that a simple apple kept grabbing her attention over and over... and even stranger that there seemed to be a part of her that found the thing to be utterly the most fascinating thing upon the face of the earth. There was a part of her that so desperately wanted to take that apple for herself... Whereas another part of her took one look at it and shivered at the sight.

She managed a small smile in returning to her senses when he took the tonic from the spoon, and she gave a quick nod in return. She feared that he would deny her request for a confession, whether because he was too weary, or for whatever other reason there may have been.

She stepped back over to where she had set down the bottle band rested the spoon beside it, picking up the lid and putting it back into place. Almost unconsciously, she began to loop her fingers in and out of the ring on its chain once again, breath still, waiting in anticipation for his response to her request. When he granted her request, she let out an audible sigh of relief and clutched the little ring in her hand a moment before letting it go, then turning to face him one more.

She walked back to him, and knelt down upon the floor before him, making the sign of the cross and then humbly bowing her head before him. “Bless me, Pêre, for I have sinned.... It has been nearly seven months since my last confession....”

The girl took a deep breath and let it out before closing her eyes briefly and then looking back up at Pêre Delacroix with her clear blue eyes, her golden ringlets framing her fair face. “These are my sins...”

[Claude Delacroix]

The man, no... The monster continued to keep his sharp gaze upon the girl and felt intrigued by her reaction to touching his hands. She hadn't flinched or recoiled in horror when she patted them. He looked at her and tilted his head to the side a bit, leaning back to rest an arm upon her desk with the apple still in his hand.

Claude just continued to listen and nod his head absently. So, she had wanted to join a convent? But as she continued, he noticed her eyes constantly straying over to the apple he held onto. He only smiled with delight as he sensed her faltering in her attempts to stay focused on her own words. "You want it, don't you?" He teased, tossing the apple up and catching it in his other hand without even looking at it.

Once more, he watched Christine continue to slide her finger in and out of the ring. Claude growled softly, feeling is stomach tighten. Suddenly, the manor began to whisper and taunt him:

"When the Devil has nothing better to do...
He rapes his own Children."

The voices of the manor cackled softly as Claude grit his teeth and strained not to simply burst out a curse to the taunting chatters. The tightening in his stomach began to relax as he noticed Christine's brightened expression when he had granted her request for a confession. He leaned forward, his devilish smile widening as he pressed his fingertips together, letting his nails clack together.

Claude leaned forward still and strained to take in every sweet word which Christine spoke. He licked his lips again and tilted his head downwards, his eyes looking up at her beneath darkly hooded lids. "Go on, my child...

Confess..."

[Christine Daaé]

You want it, don't you?

She looked up at him, a little confused. “I... I do.... but I don't.....” she shook her head a little in confusion “I don't understand, Pêre Delacroix. Why? It is only an apple, but... a part of me is afraid of it... and yet another part of me wants to take it... Oh, you must think I sound absolutely mad, don't you....”

She shook her head again. “I'm terribly sorry. I keep getting distracted. I'm not usually this... this flighty....” Her eyes strayed to the apple again. The thing was almost making her delirious. Her head hurt and she was dizzy, and it was a good thing that she had been kneeling or else surely she would have fainted away. She closed her eyes and gently massaged her temples, hoping that the feeling would go away.

“I'm sorry.... Where was I?” she blinked a few times, managing finally to regain her steadiness, and looked back up at the man as he spoke.

Go on, my child... Confess...

“I..... I have been truly cruel.... There... There was a man... A very sad, lost, brilliant man, who told me that he loved me, and who worshiped the ground I walked on as if I were some sort of a queen to him... He was my teacher... a sort of 'Angel of Music' if you will... I'm sorry, that probably sounds strange to you... My father, when I was a little girl, used to tell me stories about an Angel of Music that he would send to watch over me after he was dead... Anyway, this man, this... 'angel' of sorts, well... six months ago he... he took me with him into his home underground.... and.... and he asked me to marry him... It.... was a complicated situation, but after a while, after I had promised him I would wed him, he.... he decided to let me go... he thought that I would be happier with Monsieur de Chagny... well... two weeks after that, I woke up and I was not in my home, but here! Here in this very– well, no, not this room. It was a couple down the hall, but here in this... this place... I was frightened and wanted an explanation and so.... blindly, I accused him. I accused him of kidnapping me and going against his word, bringing me here to this place while my fiancé was nowhere to be found... I was frightened! Not only for myself, but for Monsieur de Chagny as well... the other reason why we had been planning on eloping was that he was still bound to his duties in the navy at the time. If they had found out about his plans to desert them so we could be wed and remain together, he would have been executed... It was not only that I blamed him though.... but I called him a demon and a monster, and ran from him after he rescued me from being kept in a dungeon full of rats..... I was ungrateful and wrathful and cruel to him...”

By now, the girl could not help but to begin trembling as emotion slowly began to slowly consume her. She had not said nearly all of what happened, but even the memory of such events tormented her. She was sure that by the end of confessing all that she had seen and done, Pêre Delacroix would surely take her for a madwoman, but she needed to get all of this out somehow... There were so many questions she had that she needed to be answered, so many fears she needed to be assured could not hurt her, and perhaps by the end of all of this, she could somehow make a penance for all of these horrible things...