Admiring the Scenery (Erik/Open-INACTIVE)

[lefantomeromance]

Christine settled herself on the bench. The park was covered in snow, chilling her to the bone, but it was too beautiful to leave. She tightened her ebony coat around her, wrapping her long red scarf closer. She gazed out at the perfectly blanketed landscape, gigginling when flakes started to fall. People were in the park, of course, not just her. Couples laughed and joked around, throwing snowballs at each other playfully. Families built snowmen and and made forts fit for kings in the deep snow. She smiled at them, though she doubted anyone would pay attention to little old Christine Daaé.

The bench was also covered in snow where she didn't sit. She traced little snow angels with her fingers next to her, drawing little hearts and Christmas trees here and there as well. Soon she had an entire Holiday scene layed out before her. It amazed her how she could get so caught up in things, but she knew that was how she was. She rubbed her red-with-the-cold nose with her gloved hands, straightening her toboggan better on her freezing head. What she wondered was how she even decided to go to the park in the first place.

'I remember...' she thought. 'Something told me I should be here when I ate breakfast this morning... Hmm... It was true. When she ate her cereal a thought had suddenly popped into her head. She had wanted to go for a walk around the city, but it was snowing too hard just for a simple stroll. So the park was what she needed. The beautiful landscape was perfect for deep thinking, which was exactly what she needed at the moment.

When she was honest with herself later, she would remember that her father loved winter, and the way Minnesota had snowed so hard. She would remember how he taught her to make snow angels by laying to the ground, moving his arms and legs back and forth. She would remember how he played the violin in the local graveyard where her mother was buried, against the gothic backdrop of the dead trees and gravestones covered with the white splendour, giving it an eerie, yet angelic mood. She would remember how his dark hair looked much older than she was used to when he'd shake the snow from his locks, leaving traces of white behind.

She'd remember these things and cry. So she would forget them at this moment, choosing to remember them at a later date.

Instead she admired the scenery for its beauty. Some people just didn't like the snow, and she could understand that, simply because of how cold it was. But she didn't mind the cold, not when she was bundled up snuggly. So she sat there, smiling fondly at the children running past, playing games with their friends. She started humming a little tune from her last vocal session at the club, one the audience seemed to enjoy. She got more tips that night than any before, she was pleased to know. But perhaps it was simply because she showed more cleavage than normally...

She sighed heavily, wishing life in this time didn't mean having to advertising your looks to put food on the table. She hated showing off what she had, simply because it was improper. That's why she was glad it was winter. No reason in the world to show anything. If someone did, they were either mad or poor. Thank God she was neither.

The snow makes everything magical, she admired in her mind. Watching it fall was like catching a glimpse of Paradise. She thought, if Heaven looked this beautiful, she would sing with all her heart to enter it, becoming an Angel of Music, just like her father said she would.

She started humming happily again, lost in her own dizzy appreciation of a winter phenomenon.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

The thing about her was her hair.

Victor had only seen hair like that once in his life, and once hadn't been enough. Now, he was just admiring the scenery; his usual prey were prostitutes, and the urge wasn't nudging him at the moment. The woman he was watching from across the walkway seemed to be occupied with her thoughts, but, honestly, Victor would have liked it if she was occupied with him instead. This little thought made him chuckle and with a sharp shiver, he whipped out his leather gloves and put them on. The damn cold was getting to him again...dear god, he hated it. He hated winter.

So why was he out?

Victor looked back up to the woman across the walkway and adjusted his fedora. He just wanted to walk up and touch her hair...it reminded him so much of--

Oh, god no. He wouldn't think of that. Instead, he stood, lifting his fedora and sweeping back his hair, then replacing it on his head again. His casual steps made a light crunching noise as he walked toward her through the snow. He did not make it evident that he was struggling to even be out and walking in it in the first place. Any given moment, the snow would turn blood-spattered--only shaking his head violently would make the vision go away, and that would seem a bit peculiar to other people. Though, of course, in New York City, the norm was the least you expected.

When he finally managed to make his way over to her, he put on a charming smile, listening to her hum for a moment before he interrupted her. "Hello," he said, his tone warm and conversational, "Is there room on this bench for me? Or do I need a backstage pass to see the diva?" He chuckled, waiting for her response with sparkling eyes.

Her hair.

[lefantomeromance]

Christine gave out a light "eep!" when the stranger made his presence known. It's not that he scared her. She was just a bit startled. She hadn't heard anyone approach, which was odd for her. She usually heard everything. She looked up to him with wide, but curious eyes. The first thing she noticed about him was his black fedora. It was the most prominent thing about him, and it struck her as business-like and serious. But then... then she noticed the eyes. They sparkled with an intensity she'd never seen before.

Not to make a baffoon of herself, she wanted to say something. But she was a bit dumbfounded at his abruptness, so she mearly scooted over, allowing him room to sit down. Sadly, in the process, she ruined her little Christmas scene. She rolled her eyes at herself, wishing she had just shook her head no, for a moment. But the man seemed so nice. Polite, too. She couldn't say no to politeness, it just wasn't in her.

She looked back up at him, waiting for him to sit down. After she was finished gawking, she mustered up the courage to say something. "I... I'm no diva, sir. Just a jazz singer." She looked down to tighten her coat around her, fingering her leather gloves in nervousness. Her father always told her not to talk to strangers... But she was an adult now. It's not that she didn't feel safe... But the man seemed... foreign to her. Like he was from another time and place. The way he carried himself didn't sit right with her.

But she didn't let that on. No, she just smiled lightly out at the snow, closing her eyes for a moment to readjust her mind.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor smiled politely and sat down, casually crossing his legs. He took the moment she was righting herself to admire what was showing of her figure through the folds of her coat. He only looked for a moment and his expression did not change from the polite smile he had put on. He then looked ahead, at the snow, attempting not to glare; for the sake of the girl sitting next to him, he would keep on his happy face for a little while longer.

"A jazz singer," he repeated. "Well, that's more than I am." Victor glanced over at her again, grinning. Jazz singer...he could use more live entertainment down at the bar. The girl was probably already into work, though, so he wouldn't ask--at least just yet.

"Sorry about my randomly coming up to you," he said with a charming smile, "but it's not every day I see a lonely, pretty girl." The tone in his voice made the comment come off as simply complimentary rather than creepy. He wasn't extremely older than her, but the way he carried himself reminded her of someone's grandfather--charming and cute; always friendly but never creepy. The difference was, of course, in his appearance. The man was handsome, no denying that.

[lefantomeromance]

'Pretty girl...?' Christine thought. She smirked, looking off to the side. "I'm not lonely, mister. Maybe you're the one who's lonely." She laughed. "I can tell by your eyes... I'm good at reading people." Shaking her head, she changed the subject. "And what, pray tell, are you, if not a jazz singer?"

She crossed her legs, brushing the piled snow from her dark coat. She noticed the coat was the color of the hair that lay underneath his equally black hat. In fact, the man was covered from head to toe in the color. It wasn't odd, just unusual. Black kept people warm; something she knew, as she was wearing black that very day. To other people they must have looked like twins, the only distinction Christine's red scarf, bundled up around her.

The wind picked up, nipping her nose and lifting her hair lightly around her. It spread the scent of her perfume, tickling her nose and making her giggle. She looked at the man, blushing a little with the cold. 'He's very mysterious... But... There's just something about him that seems... caring? Is that the right word?'

She had no idea.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Victor smiled down at her, draping one arm across the back of the bench, but not touching her at all. "Well, my job can't be nearly as exciting as yours. I own a bar. Jack's...down in Manhattan. Heard of it? I would think you have, considering it's a classy place, and...you're a classy lady." Well, he certainly was charming! And his eyes sparkled like diamonds, too, when he looked at her. They were almost a bit like hers, but sharp--his eyes had a harshness that was reminiscent of some kind of jungle cat.

His eyes would never let on all the things Victor was thinking at the moment, though. He had no idea why he'd come over here just to talk to this girl. Perhaps he was hoping for a good time, but that wouldn't come instantly. The first thought he'd had of her was her hair, and he'd only seen hair like that once before; that soft silver-gold, tumbling down her shoulders, stuck a bit in her red scarf. The kid was beautiful, but he'd seen beautiful women before. She looked so much like...

Lonely, he thought. She called me lonely...she thinks she can read people? Let's see her read me, then. Let's see her read. Christine would never see behind those eyes, that handsome, lonely man that sat next to her, into the foggy streets that lined his mind and the monster that stalked them. She wouldn't be able to tell what he wanted to do to her-- the joys of the flesh, both with cutting and without. That pretty little frame; pale and lifeless. That hair. All his.

He hid it all with a small, effective smile.

[lefantomeromance]

Christine smiled, titling her head at him. "Classy, eh? I've never been called classy before. First pretty, and now this. Sir, are you sure you aren't flirting?" She giggled, batting her eyelashes. The man reminded her of a musician she had met when she went to college. He always tried to make a move on her, but there was something else behind his eyes... Something... Sinister? No, this new person wasn't sinister... There was a harsh bleakness to his eyes, but not the sort you'd run away from.

But should she? She hated talking to strangers. It was always awkward, but this man... He seemed likable. A strange likable. 'At least he's not some bum... He owns a bar... Or does he? He could be lying to me... I doubt it.' His smile seemed to reassure her.

She looked him over, up and down nonchalantly. Picking at her gloves whilst looking down. She analyzed him without looking. His black coat was high class, long, like a business man would wear. His fedora, the first thing she noticed about him, was made from the finest material. His shoes looked almost brand new, the snow barely covering them.

Yep, he was definitly rich. She always thought rich people snobbish... But maybe he was different.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

"Flirting! Why, the thought! Why would an old man like me be flirting with a slip of a girl such as yourself?" he asked, a rather sexy smirk forming on his thin lips. He certainly didn't look old, but what did she know; if he was old, he'd aged well. "To answer your question," he said in a businesslike tone, leaning back and looking ahead, "I am not flirting...merely telling the honest-to-God truth."

Victor's eyes flickered when he knew she wasn't looking at him, the clear pools for a moment becoming a shattered mirror, dark and filled with madness. He could feel her analyzing him even though she didn't lay her eyes on him. Well? Did she like what she saw? The lonely, broken man sitting next to her...was she enjoying herself, the whore? Yes! Flirting indeed. Women always seemed to expect men to look at them, as if they were predisposed to it simply because they have breasts...thus proving that they all were temptresses and whores.

((Lame, short post :c ))

[lefantomeromance]

"Sounds like you're flirting, or something of the like..." she sighed. "Maybe I'm wrong. I'm not always right, you know. Sometimes I think I was wrong about coming to NYC..." She dipped her shoe into the snow, digging a little hole. "I told you I was a singer, right? Well... I guess you could say I sort of gave up college back in Conneticut to become a big hit... It's not working out too well... So I'd hardly say I was the classy sort."

She shrugged, blinking a few times to rid herself of the sting of tears that hid themselves behind her lids. She wouldn't let herself cry about this. Not in front of this man, this... Dear Lord, she didn't even know this man's name! She really was talking to a total stranger.

"I've just realized... I hadn't caught your name. It's not Jack's, like your bar, is it? That would be far too cliché for my taste, sir."

[JACK THE RIPPER]

"If you want to call it flirting, then, you may," Victor said with a shrug. "You certainly are pretty enough." She was; beautiful, actually, though he thought so for all the wrong reasons. Her rosy cheeks just reminded him of the blood flowing to them, and her hair...well, her hair...

"No," he chuckled, smiling down at her. "My name's Victor. And yours?" He nudged her with his arm a little, as if to urge her to tell him her name. Victor could not stop staring at her hair, sickly intrigued and yet irritated by how it looked.

He finally shook himself a little, bringing back his smile with full force, ice eyes examining her and interesting, calculating sort of way. He didn't look like he wanted to hurt her, and she hadn't done anything to him...but damn, wouldn't it be fine if he could get his hands on her...

[lefantomeromance]

Christine blushed at his comment about her beauty. "Thank you... Victor," she said nodding. She hugged her coat more closely. It was odd for her, when this stranger walked up to her, telling her she was pretty. Something about his word choice... Not tone... startled her.

"I'm Christine," she replied. At least they weren't too much of strangers anymore. "May I ask what your doing in Central Park? I have a feeling you don't really like the cold..." The way he was bundled up was not uncommon, but he seemed uncomfortable out in the winter weather, unlike her. Maybe he was born in the summer. She'd lived long enough to know that whatever season you were born in is the one you like best.

[JACK THE RIPPER]

Christine was wrong; Victor had been born in the dead, dead of winter, and like his true tone, his life had been frigid ever since. Only those moments of wet, steaming, bloody bliss warmed him; it had always been that way, even killing animals when he was little.

That, and sex. But even so, that was bloody business as well.

"Christine," he repeated quietly, his arm twinging. With a sudden movement, the hand that had been on the bench near her shoulders flew to his arm and itched it, but he made no change in expression. He must have been used to the itching, whatever it meant. He replaced his arm back near her shoulders and smiled down at her.

"Well, I'm supposed to be running an errand," he said quietly, smile still in place. "I got sidetracked and...well, here I am. But, frankly, I wasn't expecting to be met with such a friendly face."

God, he was good.

[lefantomeromance]

Christine eyed him with a raised eyebrow as he scratched his arm. That was curious. The man himself was curious. It felt like, to her, that he was flirting with her and warning her, almost. By his actions, she was warned of a deeper meaning to his choice of words, but at the same time she couldn't bring herself to dismiss him. He was all too charming for her to inch away from.

Christine scoffed at what he said. "Sir, I'm not the only friendly face around here, you know. But I thank you for choosing me to distract you!" She smiled her bright smile. "What, pray tell, might that errand be?"