Is Christine Still Good? (Claude Delacroix)

[Christine Daaé]

The smile returned to the girl's face and she gave a quick nod when Pêre Delacroix finally accepted the tea and began to drink. She sat st the foot of the bed, listening to him speak “Please, Pêre Delacroix, take all of the time that you need. I am only happy that I could be of some assistance.”

Her smile brightened more when he asked about her doing the same thing. “Yes. I recalled a prayer that I had read once, which was meant to banish Satan and all of his demons... The prayer to Saint Michael, the Archangel. It seemed to work before. Afterward, the demon disappeared... Do you think it would work the same way?”

She shook her head a bit then, and lightly tapped her temple with her index and middle finger. “No, no, I believe I do recall where I left off....” She took a deep breath, let it out and then continued to speak. “I... I know that it is wrong for one's own life, but... I regret that I have attempted so, not once, but twice... I was wrong. I should never have done such, but... I was so frightened. I thought... I thought that I was going to die anyway...” Se could not help a few tears forming at the memory of those times. “And the second time... the second... Why, I feared I was going mad! I could hear a voice in my head head and.... it sounded so friendly. So.... so understanding... as if it knew my sufferings.... Surely this all must sound absurd to you, but... I followed the sound of that voice, and it took me to a balcony, not far from here. Just down the corridor... I was going to jump, but... but Monsieur de Chagny stopped me. He....” She paused with a sigh. “i had thought him to be dead. I.... I wanted to be dead with him if that were true....”

((This wasn't the case when the event happened, because it was pre Dalimar and the manor is the devil thing, but it could have been the deamons of the manor speaking to her. DUN DUN DUUUUUN!))

[Claude Delacroix]

The priest smiled and nodded his head before pulling out a handkerchief from his sleeve and using it to gingerly dab at his lips. He held out a hand and took her own in his. "I hope you will be able to trust me and not fear me for my affliction."

He flinched inwardly... A prayer? No, NO! She had better not say it! Those cursed words would make him scream and writhe in worse agony than when he had been in the presence of Nathan at the library. He shook his head and looked straight into Christine's eyes. "No. I have tried that before. All prayers seem to have no effect." Hopefully the lie would work. After all, he was the Prince of Lies.

He listened again, this time with much more interest. She was suicidal at a time? Twice before? Gracious, she would make such a fine meal, he thought. More so than the other Christine he had met... His mind wandered once more and he mused for a moment upon Emilie. He had so enjoyed frightening her. Perhaps he would indulge himself once more, more so for fun than to satiate his thirst. He saw the girl was starting to cry and, reluctantly, he pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her. Not that he cared; he didn't. He just didn't want to see her turn into a complete, blubbering mess before he even started in on her. He was glad she didn't jump, actually. Otherwise he would never have met her. "But you are alive now. Is there something that you want? Anything at all. I can help you, I mean it."

[Christine Daaé]

“It would be wrong of me not to, despite your affliction, Pêre Delacroix....” And then she frowned and tilted her head. “Not at all? That is very strange... one would think.... one would think that if anything a prayer of exorcism would work... ” Christine was truly stumped. If it was in fact a demon possessing him, then it should work... She couldn't imagine why it wouldn't, but if that was what he had said...

She took the handkerchief from him with a trembling hand. “Thank you. I.... I'm so sorry you have to see me like this... forgive me, please. I... I don't know what's come over me this evening. It must be the stress of the wedding finally starting to take it's toll on my emotions....” The girl dried her eyes, trying to pull herself together. She doubted it was so much the wedding as it had been the recollection of those instances where she had been so inclined to take her own life, but she did not wish to go any further into the topic...

It didn't seem she would have to though, for the next question he asked... Is there something that you want? Anything at all. I can help you, I mean it. She was a bit confused. Why was he asking her this?... “I'm afraid that what I want no one can help me with.... You will surely think me mad for this, but.... I am not supposed to be here... I'm not even quite sure where here is, nor how I came here... but what I want... What I want more than anything else in this world... is to go home.... Monsieur de Chagny, my Mamma Valérius, and myself... I... I want to go back where things made sense and where I could understand what people were saying and doing... One of the others sent a letter to Monsieur de Chagny's superior offers. Perhaps...” She couldn't help but to chuckle a little, wiping away a few more tears before they could fall. “Perhaps somehow he would have been able to receive a pardon... and we could have... have been married in the little church at the end of the street where Mamma and I used to live... or we could have gone back to the beach at Perros... and have received my poor father's blessing...”

She hung her head in her hands for a moment before lifting it once more and then looking back at the man. “That is what I want. Thank you for your concern, but... what I want isn't possible... It's just too much to ask for... Thank you though... for offering your help... I... I suppose I should just try to gt used to it...”

[Claude Delacroix]

He sat still, motionless while he mused to himself. The nasty little teacup, oddly enough, still in his hands. He did a double-take then set the porcelain dish-ware back upon the desk. Was he growing soft while being around this woman for such an extended amount of time? By now, he would have happily eaten her soul, sucked the marrow from her bones, and left her body broken and in a pitiful, bleeding heap upon the floor. And everyone in the manor would be none the wiser until the very next morning.

The monster knew all too well that it was no demon possessing him. He himself was the demon, the monster, the Devil incarnate! "Please, my dear. Don't worry about me, I-." He coughed violently, the black blood dripping from his lips as he doubled over as if in pain. He could no longer hold back. He had a taste of her delicious blood and he wanted more! More of her essence, more of her flesh, more of her!

Claude was weak, really weak. No longer faking like before; he crumpled to his knees and groaned. The pain in his belly was like fire. His eyes became dark once more and that black tongue slithered into sight then back into his mouth. "You said," He paused and a large grin spread across his face. "You said you wanted to die. Then why don't you? Why don't you just die?!" He whipped his head around to look up into her eyes, his own wide and filled with insanity.

His hands reached out and grabbed hold of Christine's ankle. "The light..." He hissed and drew himself up before taking Christine's chin in his clawed hand. He looked her right in the eyes, his lips drawn back into a malevolent grin. "The light..."

Claude let out a low and wicked chortle that dripped with venom. "The light in your eyes offends usssssss!"

He pulled back his hand, holding it up rather threateningly as if to bring it down to tear out her throat. "LET US PUT IT OUT!!

[Christine Daaé]

Christine could not help but to let out a shriek and instinctively tried to kick the man away then he grabbed her ankle. Whether it was because he was possessed or not, she was certainly not comfortable with him grabbing her there. She trembled at his words, squirming, trying to free herself from his grasp. Squirming didn't help though, for she found that his nails were quite sharp, which only made trying to remove herself from his grip to be rather painful.

You said you wanted to die. Then why don't you? Why don't you just die?!

“Let go of me!” she cried out. “Let go! You're hurting me!”

She shivered with fear when he took her chin in his other clawed hand and stared straight into her eyes, continuing to speak, and giving a low chortle. She could feel tears of fear beginning to sting at and well within her eyes – her eyes which light 'offended' him (or this demon possessing him) so! Her lips quivered as he spoke, her blue eyes staring into his dark ones, and then, he drew back his hand in a rather frightening matter.

Enough was enough! He was obviously unable to control his demons at the moment and she could not sit there and wait to see how far they would go. If it was truly a demon, it was unlikely that it would stop before causing any harm. She quickly turned her head away when he drew his hand back, and caught sight of the teacup sitting upon the desk as she did so. In a quick motion, she flung out her body toward the desk, reaching for the cup, then grabbed it and threw it toward the man, aiming at his head and praying that it would hit.

[Claude Delacroix]

After releasing his grip on her ankle, Claude quickly stood up and grabbed her chin. His eyes bored deeply into her own as if trying to burn her with his intense and fiery gaze. His lip curled into a sneer… He was starting to grow impatient. He could hear his hellhounds howling- no, wailing most pitifully as the manor whispered and begged him to simply take her soul and be done with it. But that was not how he worked. He chose his prey carefully, which one first, how he would corrupt them, and only then would be feast.

He kept hold of her chin, his mood shifting to a much calmer demeanor. He needed to stop frightening her but he had to get her soul, just a little bit. Was that so much to ask? Was it? Then he noticed the tears in her eyes… Liquid fear! That would be enough for sure. He slowly leaned in towards her face as if about to kiss her. But, no… He only kissed away her tears. As soon as the sweet, salty flavor hit his tongue, he felt renewed strength surge through him once more. But it wasn't enough. He would have thanked her for the delicious treat but that would be overkill. This was just the right touch.

He eyed the teacup that Christine was now looking at. He knew she was going to throw it and that only made him more impatient. Just as she snatched up the cup and threw it, Claude sighed and lazily shifted out of the way just as the fine china smashed and shattered against the wall behind him. "Now you're starting to bore us, girl." He casually snapped his fingers and the glass reconstructed itself and floated into his hand. He set the cup down on the table and found a wine bottle. Picking it up, he popped the cork and filled the cup with the deep red liquid. "Why don't you just hand over your soul, we can have a quick snack, and you'll be back to your old self- well, just a little bit- before you can even say 'Bob's your uncle.' Fair enough?" He smirked and held out the cup to Christine in hopes that she would drink.

[Christine Daaé]

((crap post is crap .-.))

The girl's lips quivered as the man took her chin in his hand, his eyes burning at her. That gaze.... something about that gaze made her feel weak, helpless... almost paralyzed, really. Her own eyes grew almost distant, consumed with fear, as he stared at her. But then, he did something she did not expect in the slightest.

Still grasping her chin, the man leaned down closer to her and she closed her eyes, her head reeling and making her feel dizzy. But then... then she felt lips on her face, and the man kissed her face, kissing away her tears. Her eyes flew open when he pulled away, no longer looking at him in fear, but in shock.

She stood motionless; her trembling had now stopped. She watched in silent awe as the shattered cup came together and was made whole again, and then Père Delacroix poured a red liquid into it from a bottle she had not recalled being in the room. How did that get there...?

He spoke and held the cup to her. She took it, almost in a trance-like state, staring at the simple cup that had been made so extraordinary by what had just happened to it. She stared down at the red liquid, watching it as it rippled slightly. A sweet, pleasant aroma teased at her nose and she inhaled, sitting once more on the bed.

[Claude Delacroix]

Claude's deep gaze saw the fear in the poor girl's eyes. Oh, if he could just taste that fear, it would be euphoric! But he was sustained for now. He drew closer to her, his cool breath upon her skin as he saw the tears welling up in her eyes. She was rather fair and doe-like, so innocent.

He was being so gentle, so tender with how he kissed her cheek to taste her tears… He slowly opened his eyes and looked at her after he pulled away. She was a pretty, young thing. But he was not drawn to her the way he was to Teressa, no. He felt something unusual for that other woman. He did not know that it was love, but he had an inkling of some sort of attraction to the disfigured woman. She was different, strong-willed and somewhat defensive. He greatly liked her and wished to make her his Queen of Hell. But enough of her; Claude had to pay attention to his prey right now.

He looked at Christine now with an almost bored expression, his demeanor so much calmer than before. He smiled a bit as he watched her take the cup and swirl the wine around. "How are you feeling? Again, I am rather sorry you had to see that." He fiddled with his hands a bit and looked down. He had to keep her talking, keep her accepting of him enough to learn more about her. And perhaps the wine would loosen her tongue a bit as well. Yes, that would help.

[Christine Daaé]

Christine shivered, the cup of wine still in her trembling hands. “I... I'm not sure,” she answered weakly when he asked her how she was feeling and apologized again for her seeing this... this demon inside of him.

The wine...

She recalled in the opera Faust, how the demon Mephistopheles had touched a staff or sorts to the sign of an inn and turned it to wine. She did like wine, but it was not something she had very often, and never much of when she did, for she found it often gave her a headache.

For some bizarre reason though, which she could not fathom, she felt compelled to sip from this cup of wine that Pêre Delacroix had handed to her.... or was it the thing inside of him that had handed it to her? Christine was not sure what to believe any more...

Slowly, she raised the cup to her lips and took a sip of the hard beverage. It was a rather strong wine and already she could feel her head starting to spin, her senses beginning to cloud, and a warmth overtaking her body. An oddly fond smile spread across her lips and she let out a contented sigh.

Mmmmmmm....

[Claude Delacroix]

Claude needed to control himself, control his monster. He was unlike the other ghosts of the manor; he was the Devil Himself. He kept his eyes on the sweet, young woman… She was very interesting. So reserved and yet rather jumpy at times.

He got up and went to look at some of the photographs in her room. They were rather old and faded… How long ago it must have been. Yet so strange that she had been brought here. He did not remember having her specifically bought to the manor, but perhaps Charles had something to do with it? He turned and sat back down, folding his hands together.

His fingers twitched… He blinked and watched as she lifted the cup of wine to her lips. Unconsciously, he leaned forward and looked into her eyes to see how she would react. A small smirk tugged at his lips.

One of Claude's eyebrows lifted as he watched her sip the wine. He knew it was very strong and that she would feel the effects instantly. Her fingers would tingle, her head would swim, and her senses would be slightly compromised. He kept looking at her and wondered if she would become faint soon. "Does it taste good?" He asked, trying to remain polite as he smiled at her.

[Christine Daaé]

She closed her eyes a moment, the cup still in hand. It seemed strange that wine should be so strong it should take such an effect so quickly, but she was far too gone already to pay it any mind. She heard Pêre Delacroix ask her if the wine was good.

“Mais, oui. Very good, mon Pêre, but I must say, I've never... never tasted anything like it.... what is it?” She opened her eyes and stared down at the cup in her hands with a new found fondness, her lips begging to take another sip.

[Claude Delacroix]

Claude smiled and gently took the cup from her hands. She needed a small reprieve from drinking the hypnotic wine. "Now tell me," He began, setting down the glass on a small table beside his chair. "What do you desire most?"

"Oh, the wine?" He shrugged and smiled. "Just a red wine, dear. Nothing more." He reached out to gently pat her hands in a soothing manner. He wanted to hear her talk more about that man, that Raoul. Maybe he would use him to delve deeper into Christine's mind. "Please, tell me more about your future husband-to-be."

[Christine Daaé]

Christine watched with sadness, as the priest took the cup of wine from her. Her hands and eyes followed after it with a longing, but he set it down on the table, which was just out of her reach. Reluctantly, she sat back up again.

He patted her hands and she looked at him as he asked her about hr 'husband-to-be'. “Raoul?” she asked, forgetting her manners a moment and giggling with a strange drunken fondness. “Oh, you'll like Raoul. He's my be– my best friend,” she said, hiccoughing and, in turn, giggling in the middle of her sentence. “He saved my scarf in the sea when we were children..... May I have some more?”

She looked over at the wine again with a longing desire. It was very good – dry with a sort of a nutty, fruity taste and spices... It reminded her a bit of glögg, but much stronger, and much dryer....

[Claude Delacroix]

Oh? She wanted more? Hmmm… Perhaps Claude could oblige. He picked up the cup and poured another few ounces before swirling the wine a little. He brought the glass to his nose to inhale deeply, lowering the cup just a little. "Are you sure you want more of this? Or is there something else you desire?"

Claude smirked and finally handed the cup to her. With a graceful, fluid-like motion, he rose from his seat and moved to Christine's side. "Tell me more about Raoul…" He allowed one hand to slide over the young woman's shoulder, his fingers curling around her arm. "You may have some more wine… But not until you tell me more about your relationship with Raoul?"

He tilted the bottle a little and let the intoxicating liquid pour into Christine's cup once more. "Does it taste good?" He whispered in her ear, his lips just barely brushing against her skin. "Is it intoxicating? Alluring? What do you feel?… What do you wish for?"

[Erik Lavalais]

Erik went over the conversation again in his head. He'd FOUND the handkerchief...Yes, that was it, he'd found it. Just lying there on the ground, and he thought it might be hers...that might work....If questions came up, he could just make something up, like he couldn't remember which hall he'd found it in. Perfect...Yes, perfect.

He came to the door, and cleared his throat. The handkerchief was in his hand, he was ready. He could talk to her. He could face her. Right? RIGHT.

With his free hand, he knocked on the door to her room. Was she in? He hoped she was in...It would be rather counter-productive if she wasn't. Then he'd have to come back tomorrow, and try again, and he really wanted to see her NOW. Even if it was a tad bit late...