Monster High One-Shots

Operetta x Rochelle

Requested by amethystisbae

The sounds of an organ blasting filled Rochelle's stone ears as she walked past the entrance to the catacombs, causing her baby-pink granite lips to form a small smile. She sat down on the stairs, enjoying the music. It reminded her of her life in Paris, and of her time spent on the roof of the famous opera house, Palais Garnier, where she would listen to the beautiful opera below her. She would explore all the attics and sometimes even venture into the theatre a bit, only at night of course, she couldn't risk any of the normies seeing her. It was alright though, the attics were more than enough to satisfy her, filled with hauntingly beautiful abandoned sets and props and other strange and exotic treasures. She would dance to the opera up there, ballet. Her heavy stone body was very restricting, but if that hadn't been an issue, she was sure she would've made a fantastic ballerina. When she wasn't in the attics, she spent her time on the roof, watching the Parisians, so full of joy and life, walk around below her, wishing to be a part of that life. Of course, many years passed and monsters like herself slowly began re-integrating themselves into society. As soon as Rochelle had the freedom to walk the streets of Paris, she left the Palais Garnier behind, but she often thought of it, and missed it greatly. Now, today, as a 200+ year old gargoyle, Rochelle Goyle was walking the halls of Monster High, getting a 21st century education.

Operetta closed her eyes as she played the grand organ, down in the catacombs of Monster High. The powerful music it produced filled her body with life, fuelled her soul, made her spirit soar. There was nothing more Operetta wanted in life than to be on the grand stage of Palais Garnier, where she was born, singing Opera. But even if she did move back to France, she could never pursue her dream. Her singing voice had a strange effect on people when they heard it live, they would become bewitched and start to loose their mind. So all she could do to get herself heard was to record her voice, which really wasn't the same. She began to sing the tune of Un Bel Di Vedremo with the organ, being Operetta Destler, daughter of Erik Destler (more commonly known as The Phantom of the Opera), her voice was more beautiful than anyone's.

The music continued and Rochelle began to feel herself being drawn to it. Mindlessly, she made her descent into the catacombs. Enchanted by an ethereal voice echoing around the tombs, Rochelle wandered in the direction of the abandoned theatre. All of a sudden, Rochelle was back on the roof of the Palais Garnier, surrounded by her old Parisian gargoyle friends. She was standing on the edge, swaying back and forth. Her friends stood around her, towering high over her, taunting her, trying to make her fall.
How did I get here?
The stony faces spiralled in and out of Rochelle's vision and their eyes spun in their heads like tops. In horror and confusion Rochelle watched, loosing balance due the fact floor appeared to be sinking and rising.
What's happening to me?
The faces turned black and thick green liquid started to seep out of their eyes and mouths. She could no longer take it. The insanity was too much for her, and her stone body hit the floor with heavy crash, concrete lids closed over her cement eyes.

Operetta heard a loud bang come from right outside the room and she stopped singing, her head snapping in the direction of the noise. Careful as to not shut it on her fingers, Operetta slowly set the ebony lid down over the pearl keys and rushed down to the floor of the theatre. The Organ was kept on a high platform/room above the stage, the only way to access it was to walk up a spiral staircase of gold plated mahogany. The theatre was empty and cold, the corners inhabited by spiders and the red velvet seats aged to a dusty burgundy. Operetta liked to imagine what it would've been like when it was still teeming with life, the audience filled with an atmosphere of excitement and suspense, waiting for the curtains to part and the show to start. But those curtains hadn't parted in centuries. Operetta ran for the door, and flung it open, gasping at the sight she beheld. Rochelle Goyle, her classmate, lying still on the ancient, brick floor. Her veins pulsed with increasing worry as she rushed to Rochelle's side. Smoothing back her cotton-candy pink hair with a purple-hued hand, Operetta watched as Rochelle's eyes flickered slightly. Guilt overcame the phantom, like a tight fist squeezing her heart, she could tell what had happened to Rochelle, she had become bewitched Operetta's singing.
"Please be alright" whispered Operetta in her thick southern drawl.
The girly gargoyle stirred and looked up, her eyes widening as she saw Operetta Destler looming over her. A weak smile formed on her face and she propped herself up on her elbows.
"What happened?"
"Umm, well, actually..." Operetta's grey eyes flicked towards the floor.
Rochelle hesitated, before sitting up fully. A cool granite hand was placed on the left side of Operetta's unmasked face, over the music-note shaped groves of her scar-like deformity.
"It's okay, it was worth it, I would do it again if it meant I got to hear you sing" Rochelle said, a soft French accent to match her soft smile.
"You...remember my singing?" Operetta's surprised voice replied as grey eyes met pink ones.
"Oui, it really is beautiful...like you "
A blush, the same blood colour of her rockabilly victory rolls, rushed to the phantom girl's face.
"Why thank you" she giggled softly before a woeful smile crept over her features, "I don't know anyone who's been bewitched by my voice who can actually remember what I sounded like."
Rochelle nodded, the look in her eyes intensifying, her eyebrows raising slightly.
"I remember. It was like a light in the dark, the only thing that kept me from losing it completely. Funny, when the thing that makes you lose your mind is also your clarity..."
Operetta stirred, her breath catching in her throat. The words coming from anyone else would've made her roll her eyes, but when Rochelle said them, they unnerved her with their piercing sincerity. They rolled off her tongue like liquid pearls, like soft silk, like hot, melted honey. Rochelle was everything serene and warm and gentle, she filled Operetta with an all-consuming feeling of assurance.
"You're voice is surreal Operetta, more than just music, it has a soul"
It was now certain, and there was no going back, Operetta had just completely fallen for this girl.
"You don't know much it means to me to hear someone say that...other than my dad"
Rochelle laughed and Operetta was sure she had never heard a sound so great as that.
"Hey... Do you wanna maybe hang out sometime, other than in the old creepy catacombs?"
Rochelle grinned, "I would love to, do you have a something in mind?"
"Umm, maybe we get dinner and then... Go to the theatre?" Suggested Operetta, adjusting her music note charm bracelet.
Rochelle's eyes sparkled mischievously, "Hmm now- what do they call that? When two people go out to a nice restaurant and see a movie together?"
"I think they call that..uh...a date...yeah" Operetta replied, a small, embarrassed smile twisting the corners of her ought skywards. Rochelle bit her lip.
"That's right. A date"
"A date"