milliways_bar | (no subject)

He enters from the front door. Should someone look out, they would see a room which is only distinguishable by its lack of feature. Grey walls, ceiling, floor. A grey piano, identical in visible texture to the surroundings. Grey bench, grey cat-pillow on the floor under the piano. A few touches of color. The fur on the pillow is cream and cinnamon. Parchment is creamy yellow. A quill pen in white, black ink.

Ayesha is draped lovingly around Erik's shoulders, sleeping. He is glancing at the piece of parchment in his hand as he steps into the bar from purgatory.

It is the darkness within
Which makes the light hurt
Yet to exist without light
Is to freeze.

I walked too long in the dark
And my soul lost so many things
Is it too late to turn
To the sun?

In reaching for life I
Reach for the light
And redemption comes
On hints of summer wings.

The warm touch of a hand
On ivory keys
Liquid sounds of dawn
In the night.

Darkness seduces with
Promises of safety in
A world which doesn't
Understand pain.

The light is often cruel
Hard and burning
Brightly illuminating
Flaws and sins.

Yet without it we freeze
And in my final hours
I turn weakened eyes
To the sky.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

*listens, and is very still*

He speaks to the cat, looking over the page.

"It needs something, Ayesha, and I am not sure what."

And thence to the piano, skeletal fingers picking out a tune; fitting the words to music.

*draws closer to the piano, without intruding so closely that Erik cannot ignore him if he wishes, and listens quietly*

"Good evening, Monsieur Will."

His rich, sinful voice is calm as he speaks. Ayesha ignores the boy. A series of arpeggios, light and evoking images of the journey of the sun across the sky, trill out from under the over-long and frail seeming fingers.

Good evening, monsieur.

That song, there, is... lovely.

*and when he speaks of the song his eyes are grave and far older than they should be*

"Thank you."

He ceases playing to set ink to the parchment. Writing out the music he is composing.

"I am attempting to capture redemption, as once I captured failure."

*softly* It is never too late to turn to the Light, not if you truly choose it. Not even at the last moment of your life.

Or after its end, here.

He laughs, as rich and beautiful as his speaking voice;

"I abandoned evil before I died, Monsieur. By a matter of two deaths that did not happen, and the release of a spoiled young girl whom I had obsessed over. This, I am certain, is why I reside in a slice of purgatory rather than hell. As I come closer to good, and compose more music of hope, it becomes more pleasant."

He rubs a skeletal finger along Ayesha's triangular, furred head. It took three operas, a requiem, and a mass before he heard her purring on a pillow under the piano.

*smiles, bright and glad*

Hope is the greatest thing there is, in the end. And the Dark has nothing of it in the end, whatever it may say.

I am glad you chose against evil.

The hand which is not petting the cat is waved in one of those Gallic gestures which encompasses enough variety of possible meanings that it is almost a speech itself.

"I can not say that I am not. I am certain that Mlle. Daae and her Viscount are as well."

*his smile has fallen away, but his eyes are still warm with it*

The two deaths that did not happen?

*his voice is soft, half a statement -- not because he is certain he knows the answer, but because he does not wish to pry into matters Erik would rather not speak of*

"Non. Or rather, only one. Mlle. Daae was not one of them, the Viscount and an old friend of mine were."

His expressive voice is wry,

"I feel no shame in saying that for at least the last year of my life I was quite mad. Others would no doubt say longer, some to dis-credit my accomplishments and some to forgive my sins."

*a small and crooked smile, acknowledging the wryness*

And yet in the end you chose against it. And that is no small thing.

Another expressively Gallic gesture, and then his mask turns to the door.

"I must bid you fare well, Monsieur. My interludes here are fated to be brief, and it is time I return to my task."

With that he stands, bows slightly, and walks away.

*inclines his head*

Good night.