Ras Zebradog (vivo) wrote in painteddays,
Ras Zebradog
vivo
painteddays

And wakes imagination...

A set of burning eyes are fixed upon the collie's every footfall, unblinking and full of ancient, endless longing. The Phantom knows this place near as well as he knows every passage, every stairwell, every hidden nook and rafter and trapdoor of the old Opera House, and so no thoughts go into his own silent tread... his feet know the way. His ears twitch at the sound of the sharply closing gate, but he doesn't otherwise startle. The black shepherd's mind is too full.

Merging with the world's growing darkness, the Phantom stalks the object of his desires.

(Only just discovered this, and was Overwhelmingly Compelled to reply.)
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    Anonymous comments are disabled in this journal

    default userpic
  • 5 comments
Christine turns her head back around to face the snow-buried graves. Glowing in the moonlight, the fenced-in yard becomes separate from the rest of the world. Slowly pulling up her lower jaw so that her lips purse, the collie collects her bearings and lifts her head before stepping into the rows of graves. One particular headstone seems favored by the moonlight, glowing whiter than the rest--Christine's eyes bore into it as she draws nearer. She stops so close that her nose nearly brushes against the carefully engraved name on the stone. It is a girl's name; above it, two years without many in between; below it, the words 'Our Beloved Daughter'.

Christine bows her head against the stone and closes her eyes. Suddenly, her voice cuts softly through the chill air in a haunting melody, rising with the puffs of fog from her breath.

"You were once my one.. companion. You were all that mattered."
Meanwhile ..back at the Opera House. (:D)

Raoul slept. Uncomfortably. He hadn't meant to fall asleep, hence his frame was slumped against the wall, he'd only meant to prop against it a moment. The German Shepherd's watch was dutifully by Christine's room. All he promised to Christine, he held true. Guard her and guide her whenever she needed him, lately as she'd been particularly troubled, he'd offered to keep watch by her door.

Waking with a start, as though from a nightmare, Raoul peered up blearily to find Christine's door ajar. Leaping up, he pushed his way in ..empty. Nose to the floor, he found Christine had left, not long ago.. yet it was still dark, Giry would not have taken her. He found himself following the Collie's trail -- all the way to her dog door. She ..must have just needed to wander? Take the air. Unable to stifle his curiosity, Raoul stepped slowly out the door, nose still to the ground. The futher along he went, past the alley he found increasingly, a second scent entwined with Christine's . The Phantom.

They hadn’t left together, but ..they had followed the same path. Breaking into a desperate run, Raoul tore toward the graveyard.
(I have FINALLY REPLIED. :D)
Dark, pointed ears perk and twist, the long fur tufted about their bases shifting in the wispy breeze. The Phantom felt that familiar lurching in his chest, that aching, longing sensation that threatened to overwhelm him every time he heard his angel sing. But he remained level-headed and in firm control... he had lost himself, once, and the consequences had been brutal. Never again would he dare to assume...

A silent breath is huffed from his nose, icy wet on this chill night, and his silent steps draw him on betwixt the gravestones leaving only that breath as a shimmering cloud in his wake. The black dog is a shadow, flickering in the light of Christine's presence, humming gently in tune with her mournful lullabye.
While singing, Christine pulls head head back, letting her eyes roam over the headstone again. "You were once ..a friend and sister, then my world was shattered." Swallowing, the heavy-hearted collie presses the very tip of her nose against the cold, slick grave and closes her eyes, longing for the comfort of her old friend through her softly-uttered song.

"Wishing you were somehow here again.. wishing you were somehow near."

Little does she know that one pair of eyes already watches her, and another seeks her out. Her song, although gentle, quiet, and almost private, can be heard of the still silence of the graveyard.

"Sometimes it seemed, if I just dreamed, somehow you would be here!"