Christine DeChagny (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
lethermindwander) wrote2016-11-06 09:56 pm
lethermindwander) wrote2016-11-06 09:56 pm
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littlehades
She had been alone for so long. It felt like it had been more than a year. Perhaps that could be attributed to how most of it had been spend on the train, staring out the window. In life, there had been a gap in time, that period between her father's death and when Erik had come to her as the Angel of Music. It had been longer than a year.
Christine sighs, drawing her eyes away from the passing, hellish scenery. The crumpled advertisement was clutched tightly in her hand and she did not wish to admit that she was growing tired. It was so strange, answering to no one but herself. Most days, she found herself crippled with anxiety, being forced to make decisions on her own. To think them entirely through, to imagine the consequences and determine whether or not she was okay with them.
It's gotten easier. Slightly. Perhaps it would have gotten easier more quickly if she had bothered to make friends. Found someone to confide in. As such a private person, Christine saw this as being entirely too time consuming. To build her trust up with another to the point where she'd share her secrets? It was unlikely.
She has a feeling she'll be staying in Little Hades for a while, though.
She looks down at the paper in her hand and gently unfolds it. She focuses on the words. Angel's Requiem. Little Hades. Christine can't just leave this stone without turning it over. It feels like some sort of magic is drawing her into this place. Damn romantic fool, she is. There's no guarantee that Erik even wishes to see her again, if, in fact, this is where he's been all this time.
It's a thought that she doesn't like dwelling on. That this entire search might just send her back up to Heaven with the knowledge that he doesn't love her anymore. It's been creeping into her thoughts more and more, though. Regardless of the outcome, she has to tell herself, it would finally tie their story up in a neat little bow. Give her the chance to move on with her afterlife.
The train stops, pulling into the station. Christine's heart jumps into her throat. They've arrived in Little Hades. It's like the final act of some horrid opera. As other passengers filter off, Christine stays put for a moment. She rifles through her bag, pulling out a small potion. It's her last one, she'll need to find more as soon as she can. She pops the cork off and downs it. Hiding her wings is a necessity, at least for the first day she's in town. Hopefully this town won't be outright hostile to angels. She'd rather not be forced to actually use her wings and fly away. That was never pleasant. Far more adventure than Christine had truly bargained for.
She's the last person off the train. As if procrastinating her exit will somehow protect her heart from whatever it will find in Little Hades. For now, she doesn't even leave the train station. She justifies this with the knowledge that these sorts of places are usually pretty good spots to start to sing. Never mind that she's immediately avoiding the thing she had specifically come to this town to do.
She finds a decent location within the station, a place where she can stand there and be out of the typical pattern of traffic. Then she sets down her things and gets the violin out of it's case. Her father had insisted on her taking it. She was not a master violinist by any means. Instrumental music had always been a bit lost on her. But after her father had decided to teach her, she was passable. She could carry a tune with the stringed instrument that was good enough to justify receiving money for her talents. Mostly, she played simple things to accompany herself as she sang. A way to compliment her true instrument, her delicate soprano voice. She's done everything in her power to protect it, cherish it, make sure that it'd be preserved for the man that had cultivated it.
She sings out into the station. Songs of love, songs of heartbreak. As the coins start getting dropped in the violin case, her mind wanders away, getting lost in the music. Losing herself to the moment seems like a much better plan than actually trying to figure out what she'll do next. Her goal might be in reach. Her search may be coming to an end. The child in her hopes for the best but the adult fears for the worst.
Whatever it will actually mean, all she wants is to find her happily ever after.
Christine sighs, drawing her eyes away from the passing, hellish scenery. The crumpled advertisement was clutched tightly in her hand and she did not wish to admit that she was growing tired. It was so strange, answering to no one but herself. Most days, she found herself crippled with anxiety, being forced to make decisions on her own. To think them entirely through, to imagine the consequences and determine whether or not she was okay with them.
It's gotten easier. Slightly. Perhaps it would have gotten easier more quickly if she had bothered to make friends. Found someone to confide in. As such a private person, Christine saw this as being entirely too time consuming. To build her trust up with another to the point where she'd share her secrets? It was unlikely.
She has a feeling she'll be staying in Little Hades for a while, though.
She looks down at the paper in her hand and gently unfolds it. She focuses on the words. Angel's Requiem. Little Hades. Christine can't just leave this stone without turning it over. It feels like some sort of magic is drawing her into this place. Damn romantic fool, she is. There's no guarantee that Erik even wishes to see her again, if, in fact, this is where he's been all this time.
It's a thought that she doesn't like dwelling on. That this entire search might just send her back up to Heaven with the knowledge that he doesn't love her anymore. It's been creeping into her thoughts more and more, though. Regardless of the outcome, she has to tell herself, it would finally tie their story up in a neat little bow. Give her the chance to move on with her afterlife.
The train stops, pulling into the station. Christine's heart jumps into her throat. They've arrived in Little Hades. It's like the final act of some horrid opera. As other passengers filter off, Christine stays put for a moment. She rifles through her bag, pulling out a small potion. It's her last one, she'll need to find more as soon as she can. She pops the cork off and downs it. Hiding her wings is a necessity, at least for the first day she's in town. Hopefully this town won't be outright hostile to angels. She'd rather not be forced to actually use her wings and fly away. That was never pleasant. Far more adventure than Christine had truly bargained for.
She's the last person off the train. As if procrastinating her exit will somehow protect her heart from whatever it will find in Little Hades. For now, she doesn't even leave the train station. She justifies this with the knowledge that these sorts of places are usually pretty good spots to start to sing. Never mind that she's immediately avoiding the thing she had specifically come to this town to do.
She finds a decent location within the station, a place where she can stand there and be out of the typical pattern of traffic. Then she sets down her things and gets the violin out of it's case. Her father had insisted on her taking it. She was not a master violinist by any means. Instrumental music had always been a bit lost on her. But after her father had decided to teach her, she was passable. She could carry a tune with the stringed instrument that was good enough to justify receiving money for her talents. Mostly, she played simple things to accompany herself as she sang. A way to compliment her true instrument, her delicate soprano voice. She's done everything in her power to protect it, cherish it, make sure that it'd be preserved for the man that had cultivated it.
She sings out into the station. Songs of love, songs of heartbreak. As the coins start getting dropped in the violin case, her mind wanders away, getting lost in the music. Losing herself to the moment seems like a much better plan than actually trying to figure out what she'll do next. Her goal might be in reach. Her search may be coming to an end. The child in her hopes for the best but the adult fears for the worst.
Whatever it will actually mean, all she wants is to find her happily ever after.