Of Masks And Roses

My Journal

For the next few days the only thing on my mind was the Phantom. Partly because of the interactions we had together, and partly because whispers were spreading around that because of the 'attacks' the Phantom had some personal vendetta against me; which in turn had caused me to become nervous. I had spent most of those days looking around corners and staring into the shadows for any signs of movement. Part of me was wary of seeing him again, knowing that seeking him out would be a death sentence. But another part of me couldn't help but want to. I just couldn't get the Phantom's image out of my mind. When I wasn't working there was nothing to keep my mind busy and free of him. I tried walking around my room, looking out the window and watching pedestrians walk by. I tried my best to get my mind on something else. But I knew that none of these attempts would work. The only thing that would work is drawing it out.

Whenever I couldn't focus, which mostly happened during my school years, I would sketch or draw a little. It would always help pull me back to reality, help calm me down, or help me get my mind off something. Art and music is my go-to. Listening to music while I studied or work helped to keep me at ease and helped me work faster. So the moment I had enough time and had collected my first earnings I left in the early hours of the morning for the closest store I could find, my well-earned money in hand. The birds were beginning to chirp, the sun's rays beginning to peak over the horizon.

I wore a simple, soft green dress, with red embroidered roses around the edges, the sleeves just coming down to my elbow and a square neckline as I walked into the closest supply store. I bought myself one blank journal and a couple pencils, and went straight back to the Opera Populaire. As soon as I was back in my room I sat down at my desk and immediately began to draw the first thing that came to mind, and it was the Phantom's eyes through his mask. They were green, with a hint of blue around the edges, and they seemed to burst like a dying star. They screamed with loneliness, and longing. They were full of pain.

SNAP!

I blinked, broken out of the zone I was in as I looked at my broken pencil. I groaned, quickly brushing away the lead and reaching for the sharpener.

"Calm down, Scarlet," I reminded myself, "You're getting way too into this."

As I placed the tip of the pencil on the paper, I could faintly hear the sounds of people talking around the Opera House. I sighed and took my hand away from the paper, closing the book.

"I guess I should start to head down to the kitchen," I said to myself. I tucked my journal and supplies away in a drawer and left my room, following the delicious smells of breakfast.

                                                                                           XxX

I sat at an empty table with my food, a croissant with jelly, an orange and an egg sunny-side up on my plate. I quietly munched on my food and stared off into space, not even noticing that someone was sitting across from me, until a small cough woke me from my daydream. Startled, I looked up at the smiling face of Meg Giry, and the shy face of Christine Daae.

I smiled back, "Good morning, girls." I said.

"Morning!" grinned Meg as she shuffled in her seat, a plate of food similar to mine sitting across from her, as well as Christine, "How is your morning so far, Scarlet?"

I shrugged, "Eh, same as it has been, really. Although, I was able to escape for a bit and I bought some art supplies."

Christine perked up a bit, "Oh! Are you an artist?"

I chuckled nervously, moving the food on my plate around with my fork, "Well, I guess. I took some classes in highschool and college. I've been drawing since I can remember, really."