A Somber Morning

[Marius Rousseau]

July 3, 1875
5:30 a.m.

Marius was an early riser. He always had been as long as he could remember. He may have begrudged it as a child and especially as an adolescent, but by now, it was second nature. Now, it was something of a gift, he had decided. It not only allowed him the time to wake up without too much of a distraction but also afforded him the privilege of seeing the sunrise each morning. Certainly, he ran into some people at times, but he had learned his way around the opera house well enough to know just how to avoid everyone else's path and thereby make the road from sleep to wakefulness a smooth, enjoyable one.

He remembered his mother used to talk about the sunrise. She had always preferred it to sunset because it rang in the new day rather than welcomed darkness. His mother had been terrified of the dark. The few times his father had had to travel to town before she had passed away he had bravely comforted his mother even if secretly he had been afraid as well. Marius smiled to himself as he remembered one particular night. It had been cold and stormy. He and his mother had been polar opposites in that arena. She had hated the lightning whereas he had always been intrigued by it. He had been terrified of the thunder, however, and had spent the early hours of the evening hiding behind his mother's sleeve every time the thunder sounded.

But what did that matter now? She was dead now. She had been since he was only nine. Everything had been different since then. A little less fun, a little more serious. His father had chosen to send him off to his uncle because he couldn't handle the reminder. He had rarely seen him since. And his uncle had been a God send, but even in that, there had been some somber realization that things would be forever different. And they had been. In some ways, it had been for the better. He had received an education. He had learned how to sing and had gained his position here at the opera. None of that would have happened had his sister's birth been uncomplicated and his mother had lived.

Marius sighed, resting his head back against the wall and bringing a leg up to him on his perch on the ledge. This was one of the rare mornings where he actually wished for another's company. It would keep his mind off these thoughts, these thoughts that would do nothing to improve his life. The past was the past. Nothing would change that. He had to move ever forward with time. Time didn't wait around for you to feel sorry for yourself, after all. Time carried on whether you liked it or not.

[Liana Marceau]

July 3, 1875
5:30 a.m.

Most mornings at the opera house were the exact same. Every morning Liana would rise quietly from her bed in the dormitories like a ghost from the grave trying not to disturb her fellow occupants. After that she would splash her face with the cold water used for the same purpose the night before and with a towel nearby vigorously scrubbed away the remaining signs of sleep from her eyes. From there it was just a matter of dressing and leaving the room as quietly as possible while the girls still slept.

Once out of the dormitories the opera house seemed to be hers for the exploring. Most mornings it was quiet. She still had to be cautious of the stage hands slumped over in their corners from the night before- half drunken and empty bottles still by their sides. They would cause mischief if they were to wake and Liana was not about to give them anymore excuses to create it- they had enough with out an encouraging opportunity. Heaven knows a girl right in front of them as they awoke would be taken as an opportunity, maybe even a sign. But, given her practice in these hours it would not be Liana giving them that pleasure. No, she would continue her path straight down to the chapel to pray as she did every morning.

She would silently make her way bellow the general opera house to sit in silent contemplation in the chapel. It was the only place she could even reveal a part of her former self. She would often spend an hour or so there speaking and praying under her breath to her dear mother, asking for advice, speaking of fears, and hopes, of the things that went on around the opera house, and the thoughts dancing inside her head. And when that was done Liana put away any signs that she had ever been a person other than the plain chorus girl Liana Marceau and would go exploring.

Sometimes it was a figurative exploration. She would make her way to an empty corner, or the costume department, even the stage or a quiet box and she would explore other worlds in a book she would obtain from one place or another. A local bookseller in town often let her borrow one or two works for a sou and then she would get half back when she returned the books, if they were in good condition of course. She would let the books take her beyond the opera house, beyond fear, beyond life. She would read of kings and knights, of dragons, and intrigue and potions and murder and true love. It was a way to have a few more moments of piece before she knew she would have to make her way back to the dormitories to tie this ribbon or give advice on a dress, or sit in the back of the chorus and sing quietly until Reyer told her she would have to sing louder or risk losing her position.

Other times Liana would take to her heels and walk about the opera house as if she were exploring the jungles and forests from her books. She would comb through hangings of the latest fabric samples or dart through doors of set pieces. Sometimes she would let her fingers dance over props she knew she should not touch and walk up and down the stairs and ladders of the opera house until she had found one knew thing she had never seen before.

Today she had gone up several flights of stairs she had never walked on before this moment though she had a feeling she knew where they led. Up into a tower where she would find some captive peering from a window or some cursed creature kept there for eternity. But as she opened the wooden door sure to reveal such things she was rewarded with sky that caused her to gasp loudly in surprise. A beautiful sky. Sky colors of which she was sure she had never though to look at before. After all, her explorations were only indoor. She could never think of why she had never thought to look at the sunrise since she was already up at that hour. The rich reds, the lively yellows, the burning orange tones making way at the edges for the light pure blue of the daytime sky against the buildings of Paris- it was nothing short breathtaking. The light was gleaming off the gold winged angels on the corners of the roof and Liana could not help but step closer and carefully touch the angel as if it would come to life between the warmth of her touch and the light of the rising sun. "Like magic," she whispered under her breath. "Absolute magic."

[Marius Rousseau]

The silence of dawn was unusually deafening to Marius, who typically enjoyed these moments of calmness before the city woke and, with it, the rest of those who occupied the Opera Populaire. Still, those first sounds of voices or of hoof beats or even a carriage taking off were always something that he anticipated and enjoyed. They were soft yet striking sounds, intriguing in their own right. Where were the people going? What was being discussed? Oftentimes, he was left to wonder and imagine as he watched the small figured move about and wander into town. Ultimately, he would have to head back inside to prepare himself for rehearsal. Vocal warm-ups were often begun a few minutes before he headed down or even as he left the roof and made his way to the stage. It was his responsibility. M. Remy didn't care to spend time with the vocalists before rehearsal just as Mme. Giry wouldn't appreciate ballet stretching to begin right with rehearsal.

It was easier to think of these things right now--routine, to push out the emotions and bring in the more technical aspects of life. Yet, he was quickly distracted with the sound of a female voice, a voice so sudden in its appearance that Marius jumped, startled at first by the girl then by the realization how jumping could have resulted in something far scarier than a human interaction. Scowling at the ledge, Marius pushed himself up then looked at the girl, his face back to a more neutral expression.

The girl was familiar to him yet not all at once. He wondered if she belonged to the chorus or to the dancers. Either way would explain the vague memory. Still, she was striking to him. Perhaps being lost in music had kept him from truly noticing that, but none of it had bearing now nor did it matter. He had but one thing to do right now, and that was to greet her. "Good morning," he said cordially. "I...I didn't hear you come out."

[Liana Marceau]

The sky looked like it was on fire. Not that Liana had ever wanted to see the city of Paris burn, but the hues of the sky touching the heights of the buildings created an enchanting tableau- one that Liana was loath to look away from even for a minute. It was the type of sight that her mother would have enjoyed; the type of sight that they would talk about, perhaps even make a song about. It was times like this, when Liana had made a particularly lovely discovery, when she thought she was alone, that Liana could feel her mother most keenly. She knew that while her mother had been long dead she had never truly left her daughter alone. These moments were the ones that left Liana feeling full and strong in a world that so often left her feeling along, and afraid, and weak. Maybe it was for that reason, finally feeling secure in these first few bright and beautiful moments of the morning that she had not seen that she was accompanied in her admiration of the sky.

The speech of another person behind her startled her and she jumped slightly, her hand flying to her chest as she whirled around to see who had spoken. The comfort from the beauty of the sky had left her the minute the voice had lifted lightly into the air and left Liana's heart beating rapidly- like the wings of a bird against the heavens as it tried to stay afloat. Had her father finally found her? Had her mother's love finally forsaken her? Would she be returned? The answer had to be not today. She would never be returned. Liana knew, as sinful as it was, that she would rather hurl her body off the roof of this palace of music rather than be his prisoner again. Trying to regain her composure Liana closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and opened them to face whoever it was that had disturbed her revery.

The breath flew from her body in relief when she saw it was only an employee if the opera house. Well, not only an employee- the lead tenor of the opera house wasn't exactly just an employee by any means. Liana blushed lightly. She hadn't been alone with a man since she left her father's house. Generally that policy served her very well at the opera considering the kinds of men that usually found there place here. Liana swallowed lightly realizing that on the roof no one could hear her scream. She backed up slightly, her lips parted and her eyes downcast as she tried to think of a way to respond without stammering. None found her but if she didn't say anything he would just press her further- all men were like that in her experience. Resistance only made women more attractive to them. "Good Morning. I am so sorry to interrupt. I did not realize I was not alone. I-I can leave. I-I should leave" She smiled softly bobbed a swift little curtsy that was far too good for an opera chorus girl and started toward the door.

[Marius Rousseau]

He'd startled her--a fact which normally would not have struck Marius as unique, but with this stranger, it was. She didn't try to hide it nor did she attempt to hide her relief as she recognized him. Most of the girls here at the opera house would have decided to hide their startled feelings with boring flirtations. Did they not realize it made them look more foolish than simply admitting to the normal emotion? Marius was not a eunuch nor was he without an interest in women, but he didn't like the loose variety. No mystery, no allure. Unfortunately, chastity and modesty did not run rampant in the circle of people who typically affiliated with actors, singers, and dancers.

Under other circumstances or in another setting, it might have been comical to see the girl seemingly nervous to be alone with him on the rooftop and to have her excuse herself. Instead, it was nothing short of intriguing, not for the fact she was nervous but for the fact she said she should leave. It was peculiar, but it could be said Marius liked the peculiar--just not of the same variety Henri seemed to like and think he should.

Finally remembering his words as he instinctively bowed to her curtsy, Marius shook his head and took a slow step toward her. Rather, he took a step toward the door and toward her merely by consequence. "No, I'll go," Marius offered, curious what this girl would say. He hoped she would refuse. He would come back with a compromise that allowed both of them to enjoy the dawn of the day, but he realized that was potentially a risk to hope for with this one.

[Liana Marceau]

Why was he staring? Liana was sure he wasn't really staring at her and it was just her imagination. After all, she had made her life's work to be invisible for such a long time that when someone did look at her she automatically thought of it as staring. Even for a few seconds longer than a mere glance could mean a second longer to see right through her lies and recognize once again who she was and perhaps end her freedom- end her mother's sacrifice. Liana could not and would not allow such a thing to ever occur no matter the cost to her personal happiness. Not that she was unhappy. She had learned to reconcile herself to solitude and find comfort in other pursuits. Besides, it was not as if she was alone. She had the ballet girls and the chorus girls and Mori among others to keep her company and ensure she was not a complete hermit. She just did not seek out the company of gentlemen was all. This was exactly why she would and should leave- at least in her mind.

The tenor took a step forward and she instinctively took a step back, fearful of what a man's advances meant. The only men who had ever advanced on her without directions of blocking were those with one of two intents- to ruin her or to strike her and she was not about to go through either of those again. Liana took another step back quickly to widen the space and felt her face grow warm with embarrassment and fear as her back hit the solid wood of the door behind her. She felt for the handle while keeping the rest of her body forward- too nervous to turn back. "No. I insist you stay. You probably need the solitude more than I do. Besides there is so much to do in the mornings."

She offered a nervous smile as an excuse and continued her search of the handle just finding it and beginning to jiggle it for a quick escape. So it had been a lie. She really had nothing else to do but it might feed his ego and offer her a quick and unscathed escape if nothing else.