Phantom Thoughts pt. 35
Feb. 5th, 2019 05:12 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
zellephantomWe're on a roll!
{"Before answering that," said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, "I should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not hate him."
"With horror!" she said. "That is the terrible thing about it. He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He accuses himself, he curses himself, he implores my forgiveness! ... He confesses his cheat. He loves me! He lays at my feet an immense and tragic love... He has carried me off for love! ... He has imprisoned me with him, underground, for love! ... But he respects me: he crawls, he moans, he weeps! ... And, when I stood up, Raoul, and told him that I could only despise him if he did not, then and there, give me my liberty ... he offered it ... he offered to show me the mysterious road ... Only ... only he rose too ... and I was made to remember that, though he was not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius, he remained the voice ... for he sang. And I listened ... and stayed! ... That night, we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep.}
Ohhh I feel for you, Christine. It's HARD to articulate complicated feelings about people, especially about people who hurt you. How can I hate him? He's so pathetic. I reduce him to tears! To self-deprecation! To emotional declarations and prostrating himself before me for forgiveness! What terrible villain would do that? He respects me, even to the point of groveling as if I was a queen! And yet he ensnares me and holds me captive with his voice!
{"When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bath-room. On returning to the bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said, 'My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate. You have no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself. You are alone, at present, in this home which is yours. I am going out shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need.' I felt sure that I had fallen into the hands of a madman. I ran round my little apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. I upbraided myself for my absurd superstition, which had caused me to fall into the trap. I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at the same time.}
Erik likes writing in red ink A LOT. (And yet I almost wonder if it's ink and not... ketchup.) Also, if she has no better or more respectful friend than you, Erik, I'm concerned at the state of her social life.
(I'm just trying to picture Erik in full mask getup shopping at a modern grocery store. Highly amusing. I strongly recommend it.)
{He had his arms full of boxes and parcels and arranged them on the bed, in a leisurely fashion, while I overwhelmed him with abuse and called upon him to take off his mask, if it covered the face of an honest man. He replied serenely, 'You shall never see Erik's face.'}
I don't think Christine could handle dating a superhero, then. "Christine, I'm Batman." "NOPE. No honest man covers his face!"
{He said he would give me half an hour and, while he spoke, wound up my watch and set it for me. After which, he asked me to come to the dining-room, where a nice lunch was waiting for us.}
That's... nice of him? Sure, he kidnapped you, but at least he's courteous enough to wind your watch and make you a nice lunch.
{I ... slammed the door in his face and went to the bath-room ... When I came out again, feeling greatly refreshed}
Me at parties.
{Erik said that he loved me, but that he would never tell me so except when I allowed him and that the rest of the time would be devoted to music. 'What do you mean by the rest of the time?' I asked. 'Five days,' he said, with decision.}
Ah, yes, Christine, I've planned out the whole schedule of your abduction! Check the itenerary- it's color-coded.
{However, I ate a few prawns and the wing of a chicken and drank half a glass of tokay}
Wait- this was HOW long ago, and she still remembered to tell Raoul exactly what she ate? Frankly, I can't remember what I ate yesterday.
{I asked him what his nationality was and if that name of Erik did not point to his Scandinavian origin. He said that he had no name and no country and that he had taken the name of Erik by accident.}
It's official: Christine Daae is a name orgins and meaning nerd. (Modern!Christine would totally be on those baby name forums.) How do you take a name by accident, though? You're at Starbucks and caught off guard when the barista asks, so you just make something up and go 'welp, that's my name now'??
{And he opened a door before me. 'This is my bedroom, if you care to see it. It is rather curious.' His manners, his words, his attitude gave me confidence and I went in without hesitation. I felt as if I were entering the room of a dead person. The walls were all hung with black, but, instead of the white trimmings that usually set off that funereal upholstery, there was an enormous stave of music with the notes of the DIES IRAE, many times repeated. In the middle of the room was a canopy, from which hung curtains of red brocaded stuff, and, under the canopy, an open coffin. 'That is where I sleep,' said Erik. 'One has to get used to everything in life, even to eternity.' }
Ah, how cheery. (Also, Christine, dead people don't have rooms and even if they did, I doubt they would be as ridiculously goth as this. Unless she's thinking that coffins are dead people rooms??)
{"Before answering that," said Raoul, at last, speaking very slowly, "I should like to know with what feeling he inspires you, since you do not hate him."
"With horror!" she said. "That is the terrible thing about it. He fills me with horror and I do not hate him. How can I hate him, Raoul? Think of Erik at my feet, in the house on the lake, underground. He accuses himself, he curses himself, he implores my forgiveness! ... He confesses his cheat. He loves me! He lays at my feet an immense and tragic love... He has carried me off for love! ... He has imprisoned me with him, underground, for love! ... But he respects me: he crawls, he moans, he weeps! ... And, when I stood up, Raoul, and told him that I could only despise him if he did not, then and there, give me my liberty ... he offered it ... he offered to show me the mysterious road ... Only ... only he rose too ... and I was made to remember that, though he was not an angel, nor a ghost, nor a genius, he remained the voice ... for he sang. And I listened ... and stayed! ... That night, we did not exchange another word. He sang me to sleep.}
Ohhh I feel for you, Christine. It's HARD to articulate complicated feelings about people, especially about people who hurt you. How can I hate him? He's so pathetic. I reduce him to tears! To self-deprecation! To emotional declarations and prostrating himself before me for forgiveness! What terrible villain would do that? He respects me, even to the point of groveling as if I was a queen! And yet he ensnares me and holds me captive with his voice!
{"When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bath-room. On returning to the bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said, 'My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate. You have no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself. You are alone, at present, in this home which is yours. I am going out shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need.' I felt sure that I had fallen into the hands of a madman. I ran round my little apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. I upbraided myself for my absurd superstition, which had caused me to fall into the trap. I felt inclined to laugh and to cry at the same time.}
Erik likes writing in red ink A LOT. (And yet I almost wonder if it's ink and not... ketchup.) Also, if she has no better or more respectful friend than you, Erik, I'm concerned at the state of her social life.
(I'm just trying to picture Erik in full mask getup shopping at a modern grocery store. Highly amusing. I strongly recommend it.)
{He had his arms full of boxes and parcels and arranged them on the bed, in a leisurely fashion, while I overwhelmed him with abuse and called upon him to take off his mask, if it covered the face of an honest man. He replied serenely, 'You shall never see Erik's face.'}
I don't think Christine could handle dating a superhero, then. "Christine, I'm Batman." "NOPE. No honest man covers his face!"
{He said he would give me half an hour and, while he spoke, wound up my watch and set it for me. After which, he asked me to come to the dining-room, where a nice lunch was waiting for us.}
That's... nice of him? Sure, he kidnapped you, but at least he's courteous enough to wind your watch and make you a nice lunch.
{I ... slammed the door in his face and went to the bath-room ... When I came out again, feeling greatly refreshed}
Me at parties.
{Erik said that he loved me, but that he would never tell me so except when I allowed him and that the rest of the time would be devoted to music. 'What do you mean by the rest of the time?' I asked. 'Five days,' he said, with decision.}
Ah, yes, Christine, I've planned out the whole schedule of your abduction! Check the itenerary- it's color-coded.
{However, I ate a few prawns and the wing of a chicken and drank half a glass of tokay}
Wait- this was HOW long ago, and she still remembered to tell Raoul exactly what she ate? Frankly, I can't remember what I ate yesterday.
{I asked him what his nationality was and if that name of Erik did not point to his Scandinavian origin. He said that he had no name and no country and that he had taken the name of Erik by accident.}
It's official: Christine Daae is a name orgins and meaning nerd. (Modern!Christine would totally be on those baby name forums.) How do you take a name by accident, though? You're at Starbucks and caught off guard when the barista asks, so you just make something up and go 'welp, that's my name now'??
{And he opened a door before me. 'This is my bedroom, if you care to see it. It is rather curious.' His manners, his words, his attitude gave me confidence and I went in without hesitation. I felt as if I were entering the room of a dead person. The walls were all hung with black, but, instead of the white trimmings that usually set off that funereal upholstery, there was an enormous stave of music with the notes of the DIES IRAE, many times repeated. In the middle of the room was a canopy, from which hung curtains of red brocaded stuff, and, under the canopy, an open coffin. 'That is where I sleep,' said Erik. 'One has to get used to everything in life, even to eternity.' }
Ah, how cheery. (Also, Christine, dead people don't have rooms and even if they did, I doubt they would be as ridiculously goth as this. Unless she's thinking that coffins are dead people rooms??)
