Angel Of Music

Passion, trust, and love.

Erik's point of view

I went over to the younger Giry girl, shocked from her voice.

"Trixie... whos the Legend?" I asked.

She sniffed, and answered with a sob. "Christine Daae."

I cringed, the collar of my coat sagging with my movement.

"Ma Belle, it's true that Legends never die. Christine is dead, ma Belle. She is not my Legend." I said.

She sniffled. "Oui. I suppose so. But... you wrote for her..." she cried.

My heart broke. The love of my life before i met Patricia had been Christine. I had wrote for her, mostly about my pains of losing her.

And when she came back as an actual angel, i had wrote in joy of our reunion.

And then she disapeared. And took my inspirations with her.

Patricia had been there the while time, loving yet pretending not to... for her cousins.

I had loved Christine forever. I never felt anything but a familial love for Meg. But Trixie...

For the longest time, i had cared not for her. She was annoying and loud and clingy and inquisitive and i only had her at Masked for her managment skills.

But now... everything about her made me smile. Her disaray of multicoloured hair, her crooked smile, her voice...

I had neglected her for so long.

And i still hadnt ever wrote for her.

"I dont need to write for you to love you. Writing expresses aggrevation, and love lays not in aggrevation, but in trust. The trust i have for you is my love." I said, my voice cracking with emotion.

She shook her head sadly.

"Alas i wish it was so. But love lay in passion. Passion is expressed through aggrevation and fear and pain. All you felt for her, shown in your work. Your song is you, Erik. And she is your muse. You can not fathom what I see and feel. You fathom through song, where i am absent. Trust..." she broke off into a sad laugh. "Trust is something you give a child or friend or a person of power. Passion is what you give your lover. Trust is a daisy, and love is a rose. That is missing for us."

I looked at Trixie, trying to understand what she was getting at.

"I beg your pardon?"

She looked down. "My pardon is yours. I believe that until we get that passion, we are nothing but friends."

With that, she turned around, her brightly coloured hair flapping in the breeze as she moved towards an awaiting carriage, and in turn back to her hotel.