(Y/n) couldn't help but gasp in amazement. The large room was eerie. Haunting. Yet strangely, and wonderfully beautiful at the same time. A large organ commanding the room. It covered in the wax of hundreds of candles. The instrument appearing to be melting, itself. The young woman finding it hard to believe that she had actually located the centre of her labyrinth. The lair of her Minotaur. Or at least the dwelling of someone that called this subterranean world, their home. Hesitantly she looked around. Peering into the open expanse. She didn't want to scare whoever lived there. She merely wanted to introduce herself. But that said, how would one really introduce oneself to a phantom? To a man that she had only heard of in stories. In rumours. In truth, she didn't even know that this Phantom of the Opera even existed. But she hoped. She had hoped since the moment that her mother and father had been told the first tale of the Phantom, that he did exist. That one day, she would be able to meet him. To speak with him. To one day see the face that lay beyond the mask.
"Bonjour..........." (Y/n) called out softly. The room remaining eerily quiet. (Y/n) taking a deep breath before she cautiously moved further inside.
"Excusez-moi monsieur................" She continued, as she took another tentative step.
"I do not mean to invade your privacy. My name is (Y/n). My mother........well, my father that is, has bought the old opera house. He intends to bring it back to life. To restore it to its full glory. It will be filled with music, with life again, monsieur. Filled with song................" (Y/n) explained. Her heart pounding, as she took more steps forward. At this moment she didn't actually know whether she was talking to anyone or not. Whether in fact, she was just babbling on to herself. But either way, it was making her feel a little less apprehensive. A little bolder. And if the Phantom was actually watching her, at least he would know who his visitor was, and why she had come calling.
"I felt the need to come and find you. To speak with you. To explain. I have heard the stories of you. And I know that the opera house is important to you. That music is important to you. So.........I just wanted to assure you that we do not intend to harm the beautiful building above us. That I will make sure that no one finds your passages. That no one disturbs you. I.............." (Y/n) paused. Beginning to feel a little silly for talking to nothing but the air. Beginning to think that if there was someone down there with her, that they probably didn't want to meet her. And the assurance that the opera house would be safe, was all they needed to know.
"My apologies, monsieur. I have taken up too much of your time already. I will leave..........." (Y/n) added, turning to make her way back to the door. But as she did, her eyes inadvertently feel on the large desk which was covered in parchments. Her orbs able to pick up the notes that had been scribbled onto it, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to them. Couldn't help but give in to the music that had begun to surround her. To the need to sing.
>>--------------------------------<<
Erik watched as the beauty hesitantly entered his home. The man sure that his thundering heart would give his location away. He had known that she was beautiful. But in the flickering light of the candles, he realised that she was more beautiful than anything he had ever seen. Anything that he could ever imagine.
"Bonjour..........." Erik heard her call out softly. The Phantom forcing himself to remain quiet, as his Siren cautiously moved further inside.
"Excusez-moi monsieur................" She continued. Erik placing his hand over heart, as she took another tentative step. The composure sure that at any moment the pounding organ would burst from its bony cage.
"I do not mean to invade your privacy. My name is (Y/n). My mother........well, my father that is, has bought the old opera house. He intends to bring it back to life. To restore it to its full glory. It will be filled with music, with life again, monsieur. Filled with song................" The siren explained. Erik unable to stop himself smiling, as she seemed to blush a little.
"I felt the need to come and find you. To speak with you. To explain. I have heard the stories of you. And I know that the opera house is important to you. That music is important to you. So.........I just wanted to assure you that we do not intend to harm the beautiful building above us. That I will make sure that no one finds your passages. That no one disturbs you. I.............." Erik listened to her tell him. Finding himself quite shocked that someone would think of doing that for him. Would have the consideration, the courage to come through the dark and tell him all that.
"My apologies, monsieur. I have taken up too much of your time already. I will leave..........." (Y/n) added. Erik forcing himself to remain hidden, as he watched her turn and make her way back to the door. The breath catching in his throat as she suddenly stopped. As she looked over to his large desk upon which still lay his music. His eyes growing wide, as she quickly walked over to the desk. As she picked up the parchment and began to sing. To sing in a voice more perfect than even those of the angels. Her every pitch and tone perfect. Her grasp of his work so great, that for a moment, he believed that she herself must have written the score.
He couldn't help but drop against the wall behind him. Couldn't help but close his eyes, as her voice drifted through the dark depths. Her voice bringing it all to life. He had already been able to see his work in his minds eye. But now, now it was real. The pair of them, the mother and father of his work. He had cast his seed upon the parchment, and she had given it life. She was holding it in her arms and baring it to her bosom. Allowing his music to grow. To become great. Encouraging it to its full potential. And he had to thank her for that. He had to show her how much it meant to him that she had come to find him. That she had come to assure him that all would be well. But most of all, to thank her for being his muse.
>>-------------------------------<<
(Y/n) couldn't help but sing. The words. The music. It was as if it had just been written for her. As if someone knew her better than she knew herself. In her mind, she could see the whole thing. She could imagine scenes. Costumes. She could imagine the audience being amazed by the glory of this work. How they would get to their feet and applaud the man that could compose such music.
"Please. Don't stop." A deep calm voice suddenly said from behind her, as (Y/n) allowed her voice to fall away. The young woman stumbling back slightly, as slowly, out of the gloom, appeared a figure. A strong, tall, commanding figure. A figure that wore a pale, white mask that covered half his face.
"Please, my beautiful siren. Sing for me.............."