lethermindwander | They never quite thought I was right in the head.

Christine wished for this decision to be plucked from her hands. With feelings so twisted, how could she possibly make sense of them? She couldn't and it was eating at her heart, causing it to feel like a rotting, broken thing. If she would only let him, yes, she knew Raoul would whisk her away from all of this. She knew she and Raoul could live a happy life together despite the obvious difference in social standing. He'd endlessly fight for her, she knew that. She only knew that the guilt would eat her alive. She couldn't possibly be with Raoul; Christine knew she'd find herself longing for Erik's dark world filled with magic. She couldn't be with him, either. Too afraid to face her fears, too repulsed by his death's face. How could she possibly be the lover he so desperately craved?

She didn't understand why they had both chosen her.

As for her choice? In a split second, not very well thought out decision, she ran. She stopped at her dressing room, ripped her necklace (including Raoul's ring) off and unceremoniously left it on her vanity as the only clue. As quickly as she could, she gathered as many of her things she could carry and left in the dark of night. The only things she stopped at her flat for were the essentials.

Christine found that there was something oddly poetic about leaving them both to forge her own path, as foolish as it likely was. She barely knew anything about navigating this world but Erik had opened her eyes to all the wonders she might discover. Whatever may happen, she thought it would most certainly be better than trying to make sense of her own head.

She made it as far as the train station. As she waited in line to purchase a ticket, she deliberated where she might go. Perhaps she would travel to the south? She'd never been to Italy before, or Spain. As long as she was as far away from Paris as she could get. There were glorious opera houses besides the Palais Garnier. Certainly ones that weren't as haunted.

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She turned at his voice, her whole body instantly going on the defensive. She did not recognize this man's voice and that startled her a bit since clearly, he recognized her. It took her a moment to place his face but once she did, Christine took a step back and frowned.

Of all the times he could have spoken to her, the strange Persian man chose now. She had always avoided him, like everyone else seemed to do. What business did he have trying to stop her from fleeing now? They were not friends. What was he, another man who had been admiring her from afar? That was ridiculous. She entertained the idea for less that a second. She was not vain enough to actually believe that another man would be an interested suitor.

"It's not a hasty decision, monsieur. I simply need to leave the city for a few days to clear my head," Christine said, all but lying. She hoped that this man would accept her answer and leave her be. Christine had never been a good liar, though. The uncertainty was still etched into her features.

Mademoiselle Daae was not a great actress, he thought. But then, he had seen enough opera to know that acting was not in great demand on the stage of the Palais Garnier. Still, he reflected, he had managed this rather badly, as like to attract attention as not. He inclined his head slightly, in apology.

"Forgive me, Mademoiselle Daae," he said. His French was perfectly fluent, though he had never quite lost the accent--it was one thing to study, and learn, and another still to get the required practice. "It is, indeed, presumptuous of me to stop you. I assure you, I have no ill intent, and no ability to stop you, should you desire to remain in line." He paused, meeting her eyes meaningfully. "But I think you and I have common cause, and I should like very much to present my argument to you before you decide on the preferred direction to, ah, clear your head. As you say."

His immediate apology put her at ease slightly. She was still suspicious as she listened to him but he gave her no reason to exit the conversation.

"A common cause?" She questioned, raising an eyebrow, "Our paths have barely crossed before this day and yet you believe we have a common cause?"

She glanced back at the schedule, her eyes latching onto the nearest time.

"The train I wish to board leaves in forty-five minutes. You may make your case in that time," She explained. Christine could not outright say no to him, although that rash part of her mind that had made her flee in the first place wished she would. Her curiosity got the better of her, though.

Perhaps she was not quite to flighty as he had first thought. After all, most at the opera would refuse to be seen in public with him, much less speak to him. He had approached in a fit of desperation, not wholly expecting her to accept his proposal. Though she was wrong about one thing--their paths had only not seemed to cross because he had made certain to let it appear that way. For all their sakes.

"A common friend, then." He inclined his head. "You are most gracious, mademoiselle. Perhaps we might walk in the sunshine--I see that there is a rather handsome fountain in the waiting area."

In the sun, and with the babble of falling water, they would be less likely to be seen by any eyes that mattered. Paranoid, perhaps, but he had not yet perished for being too careful. He gestured towards the small courtyard

In her current frame of mind, Christine truly didn't care about what anyone at the opera would think of her. She was under a contract, she had made promises to both the Vicomte and her poor, unhappy Erik. And yet here she was, trying to leave all of it behind. Let them talk about her, let the gossip columns of Paris ignite with vitriol towards her horrible character. If she disappeared to someplace else, all of it would cease to matter.

"That would be agreeable," she nods, stepping out of her place in line to walk with him. Whatever he has to say, she will try not to let it sway her. Even if his words were compelling, she hoped that they would solidify her already shaky thoughts. She needed to prove somehow that she was strong enough to do this on her own.

He had done as she was attempting, once. Not quite for the same reasons, though in truth, Erik had been at the center of that, too. How one man could ruin so many lives while remaining so unknowable was a remarkable talent. If one could call it that.

No, Shirazi thought, the true talent was in keeping a shred of loyalty alive in those like himself. Like Mademoiselle Daae.

They stepped out into the courtyard, happily unpopulated at this hour though several benches lined the walls and faced the fountain. Nevertheless, he kept his tone low, private.

"I trust I need not name our mutual friend," he began, eyes meeting hers. "Nor, I think, would it serve either of us to deny the connection at this time."

"The ghost that haunts us all," she says with a hint of bitterness and something that might be interpreted as longing. Her feelings towards Erik contradict themselves and yet Christine wishes that there was something more she could do to make Erik happy, even for just a moment...She is far too fearful of him to actually give him what he's asked of her, though. She can't. So many parts of him terrify her and that's even before thinking about his awful deformity.

So it's best to let both Erik and Raoul suffer. And herself, really. If there's no way to make everyone happy, it's better to just leave it all behind.

"You may speak your peace, sir," Christine politely smiles at the Persian man, her voice quiet and demure. She is anxious, but trying not to let that show. If this man is truly connected to Erik, he might just be capable of persuading her and that's something else to be feared.

Ghost. Yes, Erik could certainly present himself as such, and no doubt found himself very amusing. Shirazi did not share his amusement, however, and it worried him a trifle that Daae would use the term, even in passing. It was tinged too much with the mystical, the intangible. And his concerns, at the moment, were of the exact opposite nature.

He does not smile, but he does school his features to calm, hands folded in his lap.

"You must forgive my lack of propriety in this matter," he said. "Please believe me when I say that I have not intentionally pried into your personal affairs, Mademoiselle Daae, except inasmuch as my interest in our friend has led me to a certain... awareness of your connection." He glanced pointedly at the ticket in her hand. "I cannot presume to know your mind, or to tell you what to do. However, I cannot, in good conscience, let you embark upon your present course without a warning. I realize it is a presumption on my part. But if you do what I believe you are thinking of doing, I fear for the fates of many."

They never quite thought I was right in the head.

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