-jeremymoriarty started following you-

Jeremy faltered for a moment, a the compliment or the new look in the eyes of the man before him. Had he said something wrong? He wasn’t sure but he could still feel a small rush of heat coming to his cheeks. He was turning to a foolish schoolboy of sixteen right in front of this man, how silly. “Thank you, I just hope that someday I’ll be able to compose half as well as you, sir. If you don’t mind me saying so.” He bowed his head and let out a small sigh, “I should probably get going, you must be busy and all with your work and I would hate to take you away from such a marvelous art. Plus I have things to do.” He shrugged nervously and felt like a completely awkward git. 

Hearing all this definitely had boosted his ego, of what little he had of it since the obvious occurred, and Erik fully planned on getting to work soon to produce more of that 'marvelous art'. " It was a pleasure meeting you again." Nodding to the man once more in acknowledgement before seeing him off on his way. 

Palais Garnier

Angsty Goblin King - Jareth & Erik

Jareth leaned up from the bed and nearly stood up on the bed. His eyes were wide as he stared at him. “You’ve…you’ve talked to this man?” A few seconds passed with this horrified look upon his face before he lurched forward. His hands grabbed the front of Erik’s shirt, pulling him forward. “You spoke to him?! Don’t let him poison you. He’s a bad man, I know it. Don’t let him seduce you too!” 

He let go and jumped off the bed, landing on the floor hard. If the girls were home, they could surely hear his ruckus from above. He grabbed the pillow from the wall and swung it about. “I dare that mongrel to come anywhere near me. I’ll show him the true wrath of the goblin king! No one is allowed to flirt with my Sarah except me!”

 " I really doubt he could do such a thing.." Obviously the phantom had known Jareth for a while and they were both very good friends so of course hearing this spouting from his mouth got him to laugh a bit. Though seeing the serious expression on his face, got him to try and stifle his laugh as he listened.

Erik simply watched as his good friend eventually began to tear himself all apart over this nonsense with Sarah and 'Jeremiah'.. Or was it Jeremy? No matter, all Erik knew was that eventually the goblin king would become the king of jealousy and feel better pastries. " Jareth, Jareth! Calm yourself. Sarah will come to her senses soon!" He could only hope. 

Truly a Sight to Behold...

“Magdalene, sir. You probably have never seen eyes like mine before because they aren’t like any others. But, I wouldn’t draw too much focus on them. They are just eyes, you know.” She said, smiling softly. She wondered what had put the man on edge, but she assumed it was just the fact that he was once chased out of this very opera house and assumed dead. She imagined that were she back home right now, she too would be on edge, flinching at everything. 

“You can call me Mag, though. If you’d like….I honestly don’t mind all that much. Magdalene is a little more formal. What I use on programs and signatures, that sort of thing.” She added. He looked a little more at ease now, and definitely looked less tense than he was moments prior, perhaps because he had space to move. 

“Can I call you something? Or should I forever refer to you as ‘The Opera Ghost’?” She grinned, wiggling her fingers and adding a small ghost like intonation to his title. 

 " Oh." Was all he could say regarding the large optics shining on him, they were just so strange... In a way, she was possibly like himself, if they had been mere eyes she was born with that is. The point was that they had been different, just as Erik's face had been. 

" Mag.. It's pleasure to meet you." he began, taking a small bow before straightening his position back up. " Though if you don't mind me saying, I do enjoy your full name, Magdalene."  He couldn't help but repeat it, wanting to get a taste of it before dropping it completely. If the nickname is what she preferred, it was what she would have. 

Blinking a moment, watching her playful wiggling of the fingers he merely stood by trying not to crack a smile but eventually doing so, causing him to look away slightly. " Erik." he mumbled, before gazing back at her, " You may call me Erik." Never before had he exchanged an introduction with another that was so calm within the walls of the Opera Populaire.. He didn't even recall if he had given Christine his name. No. He didn't. All she known him by was the Phantom, which made her so indifferent from everyone else in this wretched place; she hadn't taken the time to find out. Nevertheless, this woman asked his name, and for Erik, that was a large step on the stairs of respect for him. " That is my name." he added, a slight smile to his face. Though it was more like he had announced it, much rather to himself than Magdalene.

Angsty Goblin King - Jareth & Erik

He glared daggers at the pillow. He thought, for a moment, he could make it explode into feathers. Unfortunately, he didn’t have that sort of power. He didn’t really want to destroy the pillow. The only thing he wanted to destroy was whatever contact this man had between Sarah. Or the man himself.

“That lovey-dovey look she gets on her face says enough. It’s so aggravating. Erik, we ought to get rid of this man. He’s out to hurt her, I just know it.” He clenched his fist, causing the leather of his glove to squeak. “This…Jeremy Moriarty. He’s a bad egg, I tell you. Maybe we could get Norrington to call in the armada. He has no chance against a war fleet.” A grin was starting to curl on his face. He could see it now. Moriarty in a little dinghy. Then a huge army of ships aiming their canons directly at him. Jareth began to chuckle darkly. 

Stroking his chin with his gloved hands, he furrowed his brow as he tried to reminisce the familiarity of that name.. That name. Widening his eyes, he looked back to his friend, " I have conversed with him once before actually..." Looking down at the floor Erik muttered, " He took a liking to my music." Raising a brow, Erik looked at Jareth as though all this magic has gone to his head.. Which it literally had when regarding appearance but with a shrug of his shoulders, the phantom looked to the goblin king with a mischievous smile coming to his lips, " I am here to help you with whatever you may need."

-jeremymoriarty started following you-

He smiled with a nod, “You’re welcome.” He placed both his hands in his back pockets and leaned back against his heels, “Well ugh…I’m sort of both.” He shrugged, “More of a performer than anything else, I work for a traveling circus, modern type of course…” He trailed off, he didn’t want to ramble the man’s ears off about himself. He was nothing special. He once dreamed to be able to perform in the opera but his voice just wasn’t at par. 

It was lovely to hear that all his hard work was put into something. Seemed like he had always expected his work to go down the drain once people had learned who had written it. " Traveling circus.." he repeated, his smile descended slightly before picking itself back up again. All his thoughts now were revolving on his childhood, what could have been so decent and grand but was spent in an Opera house without a friend in the world. Blinking himself away from his thoughts, he returned his attention to the man, " I'm sure you have an amazing talent, monsiuer."

Truly a Sight to Behold...

“Nothing! I just…I’ve heard a lot about you.” She explained, giving him the simpler version. He was a strange one. Seeming on edge tonight, when she previously assumed he was a rather composed man. Yet another lesson in assuming things. Every so often she would catch him dart his eyes somewhere, looking for an escape route perhaps. She had sort of cornered him, after all. Under false pretenses, sure, but she still had done so. Mag removed herself from in front of him, allowing him the freedom and space to move, to leave if he wanted, or to grab the rope he had been eyeing for the past few minutes, in which case, she was prepared to fight back. 

“My eyes? No, nothing like that. I used to sing for another Opera House…far away from here.” She chuckled. What would her eyes have anything to do with her voice? They were only eyes! They could only see, just like any other pair of eyes. Just…the spectrum of what they could see was greatly heightened compared to others. 

“Do you want me to leave, monsuier?” She asked, opting for French titles instead of American. When in Rome, they say…or in this case, Paris. 

“I feel like I’ve unsettled you, I’m sorry. You’re quite the legend around here, you know. I had hoped to meet you, but I had imagined the situation and placement to be…different.” She admitted, gesturing to the room they stood in.

" That is what many say-" but instantly he was caught off to see her move out of his way. Was she just as naive as Christine had been all that time ago? Erik didn't intend on hurting the girl, god no. Even though he knew darn well that she wouldn't be able to take him on, yet she still provided mercy. It was nice to see that some people remaining here had a kind heart, seeing past all he had done, all he was capable of committing one day.

Calmly removing his hand from her shoulder, Erik spoke up with a slightly embarrassed tone, " I have yet to see ones such as yours, is all.." At first he had assumed the woman was possibly rich, an explanation as to her coming here along with her strange appearance. But of course it had been her singing.. From what he had heard, it was absolutely love, but then again he didn't hear much. His attention regarding singing was focused on Christine. It always had been.

Seeing that she had actually been a respectable woman, not wanting to scream, set him up, or any of the sorts, Erik took in a small breath. Ever since he had taken his leave from the Opera Populaire there was a great assumption that the security and weariness of the people affiliated would get him captured. Apparently they were slacking off. Firmin and Andre must have really thought he was deceased after all. Raising his hand slowly, his grip gone, Erik trying to stop her, " No, no.. It's.. I apologize. I haven't been myself tonight. I apologize.." Everything has just been causing him to lash out on all that happened to come his way, including the woman. Beginning, his eyes locked with hers, " What is your name?" he inquired, somewhat intrigued with the her and why she was willing to let him get away so easily.

Truly a Sight to Behold...

Mag took a generous step back as the man stood and turned, her breath catching slightly as she saw who she had run in to. She had expected a maintenance man, perhaps someone of the lighting or sound crews, but not the very man she had sought out to meet. She had expected that would take quite some time. Months, maybe even longer. She did question what on earth he was doing here though, crouched behind a stack of boxes, and her curiosity likely showed in her expression. 

With a quirked eyebrow, she studied the man for a long moment. He was younger than she had expected, or at least looked it, and wore a mask. They said he played host to a facial deformity, and hence hid it with his trademark piece. His hair was slicked back and he was finely dressed, considering he had been lurking in an auditorium all day. Which begged another question; if he was such a force to be reckoned with, why did he hide as he did? She wondered if it had anything to do with the events that transpired between him and the Prima Donna. It would make sense, that he did not want them to know he still remained, but if it were Mag, she would…well, then again, she was doing the exact same thing. Hiding from those who would want her dead. That was why she was in Paris after all. She always assumed he was a man of notoriety, but then, what one assumes from stories alone usually turns out to be mere folly more often than not. 

“I could ask you the same thing.” She finally replied, smirking at him. 

“I came to collect my belongings, this is a storage room, is it not? Where one can store things they do not need presently?” She asked with a little bit of sass in her voice. There were so many things she wanted to ask this man, so many things she thought she could learn from him. She wondered if she could ever get the time. His mood changed very noticeably. Where moments ago he was apprehensive, she could see his temperature even, his heart slow to an even pace (the things these eyes could do sometimes astounded her) and a bemused expression fell onto his face, reminding her something of a cat readying itself to chase after a mouse. If he wanted this to be a game, she was more than willing to play along.

“You’re him, aren’t you? The Opera Ghost?” She asked, already knowing the answer, but longing to hear it anyways.

 Everything was going fine, she reacted as any other woman would; stepping back in surprise, cowering, and last but the all time favorite, screaming. Despite how menacing the phantom might have been percieved at first, the woman eventually straightened her posture. Even taking her chances to talk back to him. Who did this woman think she is? " Yes. What of it?" he asked rigidly, unsure of this woman's intentions. She hadn't at most taken a step back after getting a good glance at him. Why? Why did she say?, he asked himself over and over again as he clenched his fists and grit his teeth. He wasn't aiming to hurt the woman like he originally planned. Not at all.. She showed him courage, bravery, for that he admired. But what it was that made him so fierce was the fact she was probably hear to see the supposed 'beast' of the Opera Populaire and watch him like an animal in a cage. But what one always had to be careful of was that this hazardous man could never be caged. There were always stage hands that ending up dying because they have failed to keep this obvious notion in mind.

He was just a roller coaster of emotions tonight. Wanting so badly to hurt someone, but care for them all in the same moment. Out of nervousness, Erik slicked back part of his already perfect hair, " You may know me but I have yet to know you. Where do you come from? The Opera Populaire don't just hand pick coaches. What made you so special, madam?" Stepping closer to her, inching a finger one by one on her shoulder as he whispered, " It was those eyes, wasn't it." They by far were not even close to a regular pair of them. Hers looked to be metal. 

Truly a Sight to Behold...

Managing to only find a few little passages, which lead mostly to stock rooms for lighting and sound, Mag began to give up the search for the night, realizing it was far later than she assumed when even the cleaning staff began to leave. It was a long way back to the stage, she realized, as she had worked her way up the catwalks, to the back wall, where there was a narrow walk way for lights to be changed, should they break. It was to her luck though, that there were few hindrances, and she could easily and quickly make her way back to the ground level. 

She took deliberate, slow steps across the stage upon arriving, loving the way her heels clicked against the wood and how it echoed in this most sacred of chambers. Everything here, be it the swish of a curtain or, in this scenario, a click of a heel, had a musical undertone bearing it. So a few steps to the right, say, would be a simple underscore, accompanied by the swish of her skirt and her naturally rhythmic breathing, and she had created a masterpiece all on her own. Mag reveled in it for a moment, allowing herself to get lost in the melody inside her head as she twirled herself across the stage, taking her sweet time in reaching her destination. It wasn’t as though she were leaving the opera house, after all, and being employed by them brought with her a set of keys, in the event they did lock something important. 

Finally, when too much movement brought a sharp but quick pain to her side, she ended her solo performance and retired to the back room, where she had kept her few belongings, namely, a decorated walking stick, which mainly served as an accessory rather than a necessity, and a folder heavy laden with musical arrangements and charts containing her tight handwriting and the names of hundreds of choral members. 

In turning to leave, Mag spotted a man hunched down behind a rather tall stack of boxes. With his back turned to her, she could do nothing  but assume that he was a member of staff, and lightly tapped on his shoulder, figuring he must have heard her coming, as her wardrobe alone tended to make a decent amount of noise when she moved. 

“You know, everyone else has gone home. How about calling it a night, hm?” she spoke kindly, hoping only that she didn’t startle the man. 

The phantom had assumed all was well, but since he had always ended up getting away with everything back then, he took this for granted. Instead of being left to be in the cozy room he was actually joined by a mysterious person. It was a woman, there was no doubt of that. The clicking of her heels was an instant give away. Something he could take advantage of, he thought, a woman was never as strong as men so there was absolutely now way that she could- his thought vanished as he felt a slight tap upon his shoulder. A wave of complete embarrassment shadowed his face. With a slow spin he stood tall and proud, not about to let a woman get the better of him, no way no how. His glare softened when seeing who it had been though- the vocal teacher. Instead of his permanent scowl, he actually had a troubled expression. Not knowing what he should instantly do, he narrowed his eyes, wanting to seem much more aggressive than he was. " What are you doing here?" he asked simply, but firm so as to seem what an actual phantom would do; remain calm. That was the key and yet he broke it so many times. But there was that part of him who wanted more than anything to speak to this woman like an ordinary gentleman. He had mixed emotions about all this, but there was one resolution that would always be possible if this befriending didn't work. " The supply room isn't for enticing women."  

With that, his charming disposition was instantly triggered. There wasn't many he got to practice this on, he usually did so in a mirror. But seeing as how Christine had fallen under complete control was pleasing and put Erik in a more comfortable state with his banter. She was no doubt a beauteous creature, but no one would ever take the chance on him. This was all for deceiving though, he decided. It would be easier to take care of her then. " I am sure you are fully aware of who you have run into; The Phantom." he walked toward her, aiming to frighten the woman a bit, " Aren't you afraid to be in a room with a homicidal man, madam?" 

-jeremymoriarty started following you-

“Good evening.” he replied. He rubbed the back of his neck, not knowing where to start and decided to just be honest, “Jeremy Moriarty,” he put out his hand, “I’ve been a distant admirer of your work.” 

Erik raised a brow, astonished at the turn of events here. An admirer.. He didn't know where to start- no one ever complimented him on his work before besides Madame Giry, Jareth, and a few others. " Oh. Thank you, I am glad to hear that you enjoy my hard work. Are you an actor, musician?" Most of the time it was always those in work with the arts that ever had the nerve to talk to the masked man.

Truly a Sight to Behold...

Mag continued her scan of the theater, every balcony, every box, every catwalk, ever listening both for something unusual, and to her girls. They sounded good, but a few were just a fraction off, something she could work out in private lessons. For the mean time, they sounded lovely, and would pass for at least rehearsals. She had a little more work to do before they were show ready, however.

Her eyes finally located something that was a bit different, an anomaly if you will. Just above the defining line of a large paper mache elephant was the shadowed silhouette of someone, a man. Mag’s heart raced excitedly, wondering if maybe it was the famed opera ghost, but before she had a chance to smile or wave subtly or anything, he darted away, no doubt back to the safety of the shadows. But what had brought him out in the first place? It didn’t seem like him to appear when he could so easily be spotted…or at least, Mag assumed it wasn’t. She didn’t actually know the man to tell otherwise. 

After one more brief round, Mag released the singers for the evening, wanting more than ever to investigate this recent development. There had to be a way behind the stage and the very walls themselves some how. If he could figure it out, so could she. And she would begin with the stage itself. Trap doors, secret panels, anything. 

The phantom remained in his seat a long while, angry at himself for being so foolish. Why was he here anyhow? The very people helping to put on a production were the same that chased him down all that time ago with torches and weapons, looking to get rid of him once and for good... Visiting this place was the last thing he should want to do but.. The Opera Populaire was his home, the only place he could belong even though barely anyone knew he was present and abiding in the ankle deep sewage of Paris. But with time, he really made it his own, adding mirrors, instruments, anything that tickled his fancy... All that was left though after the incident with Christine. The Phantom was just thankful he had lowered the gate, leading to his abode before he left; which apparently didn't turn out for good.

After a while, he stood himself up and made his way back toward where he came from along the walls. If he didn't have a torch, there was no point in going to his home if he couldn't see now was there? 

Finally getting a glimpse of a small glow, he slowed his pace. Expecting that someone might have been trying to follow him and that he might end up needing to 'take care of it' if so. Once nearby the illuminated room, Erik leaned out to get a good look of the room before entering. The room was close by the stage so at anytime the phantom had to expect the inevitable. And, hearing the steps of someone close, he instantly slipped his way behind a wall of wooden boxes. And lucky enough for him, it looked to be a supply closet. There was definitely rope nearby and with his speed and agility, there was no doubt he would be able to hang this stranger, be it man or woman. 

Truly a Sight to Behold...

Paris, a new world, and a vast cornucopia of opportunities. Mag had found a home here, in the center of the city where life was thriving and joviality prevailed. Upon her arrival, she had found employment and a warm bed inside the grand walls of the famed Paris Opera house, who’s masters had taken her on as a vocal coach for their chorus and leads. She had quickly fallen in love with everything about this place, and when one falls so deeply in love with something, one wants to find out all of it’s secrets and treasures. 

Months after her arrival, Mag, who now goes by Magdalene, in order to insure no one from her past may find her, had begun to hear rumors. Dark, terrible rumors and stories that were used not only to keep the company in check, but to give them unease and cause for nightmares. It was said that there was a man here, a genius and romantic in every way, who had fallen in love with the Prima Donna, a girl by the name of Christine. It was said she had fallen prey to his schemes, and while she was tutored by one who had dedicated his life to music, she had been tormented, tortured, and considered a hero when she and her lover drove the mad-man out, by one tale, and killed him by another. Some say she loved him, while others say she tried everything to fight against him. One thing that prevailed in every story however, was that he had lived, and had done so beneath the Opera House. 

Everyone, the Masters of the House included, swore however that he still remained, living elsewhere, but holding no tighter on the strings of his puppet than before. Controlling everything to his specifications. Even the pieces they performed were often his works. The cast was to his preference, and he had a reserved box in the theater. Mag had learned, in time, that the stories were true, and her curiosity flared anew. Fascinated, she always kept alert when on stage, listening to her chorus and teaching yes, but always alert to any misplaced sounds, a swish of a curtain or a twitch of a rope. How she longed to see this man, to visit where he lurked, to speak to him directly. Sometimes she would catch a shadow dart from somewhere shadows would not, and her eyes would flicker towards it, and scan for anyone or anything, but there was always nothing. At least she could be sure he lived up to his title of Phantom.

It was something barely attempted before, and only done on the night of a show to ensure no chance of capture, but Erik was found lurking his way behind curtains and set pieces. Of course there was that feeling deep in his gut forbidding him to go any further, but it was his heart who was leading him. More times than many he found himself needing to quickly duck or crouch into an uncomfortable position to hide from the eyes of the stage hands.. Why was he putting himself through all this trouble? He knew well, more than most, that following your heart got you tangled in situations you would end up regretting... But yet, he went on, determined to behold this woman. 

Finally the phantom had come across a large set piece, grand enough to hide his distinguishable figure. It was a large puppet of an elephant, nicely made and solid enough to be leaned on, which he ended up doing to get a better view of the woman and her students; including Christine... His eyes poking up above the elephant, just as an alligator would float along in the water, menacingly. He remained there for a number of minutes, entranced with their angelic singing as though it was a small lullaby. Closing his eyes, a small smile spread across his face as he gave the students and their instructor an invisible audience. But shortly after his eyes had closed the singing ceased. Immediately, fearing he had been spotted, he opened his eyes to find the voice instructor staring at him with her large, metallic eyes. " Merde-" he gasped, jerking away from the elephant and running toward the darkness to be sheltered by the shadows.

To ensure the woman wouldn't be able to follow, Erik made his way through various doors and hallways that eventually ended up leading to the sewers; his home, more like dungeon. " Why was it I had to go further... Why?!" he asked himself fiercely before clenching his fists, ready to demolish any that stood in his way. But with the lack of objects he instead ended up throwing one of the only torches set to light his way, leaving him in complete shadows. He wasn't afraid of darkness, he was darkness. And there he remained, in the hallway as his legs gave out, causing him to lean back and hit the cold sewer wall. Erik didn't understand why he was doing any of this, what his point of life was anymore. Stretching out his legs, unfortunately getting his expensive trousers dirty but, he leaned his head back with a sigh of lament. 

Angsty Goblin King - Jareth & Erik

Jareth nodded his head solemnly. “I think she’s seeing someone new…” He mumbled into his pillow. “I’ve seen her walking with him. She emails him all the time, smiling like a goofy idiot at her screen…” His gloved hands gripped the sides of the pillow. Just the thought of this man set his teeth on edge. Suddenly, he sat up on the bed and threw the pillow against a wall. “Who does she think she is, dating this guy? He’s so…so… narcissistic! I don’t like him. There’s something wrong about him.”

 Erik gazed at him in complete pity, knowing there was nothing he could do to revive the relationship between the girl and Jareth. Sure Sarah would give him an ear for a good hour or two but he was never able to persuade her as easily has he did the other woman around. And after all, how many times had the two friends had this conversation, but the majority of the time it being that it was the other way around; Erik whining and grieving over the fact him and Christine was never to be, or according to her, never was. He put a hand on the man's shoulder and gave it a soft pat, "... I'm sorry to hear that." he replied, still astonished. Erik always knew that the couple would probably never end up married or anything of the sorts for a long while but.. Cutting the other off completely was strange. It wasn't what he expected to hear about, especially about Sarah; she was always so kind and at least somewhat devoted. It was transparent by everyone but Jareth, he supposed.

All of the sudden Jareth sprang up, hurling the pillow against the wall in frustration. What could I do to help him, Erik asked himself, it's not as if I could magically change her mind about him... This was all so troubling. " Is this definite, do you know for sure? What if it is just another friend of hers? I think you may be making assumptions, Sarah would never do such a thing."