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Question may I be a Christine in any roleplay on here

Sitting in the dark Christine wonders if she is making the right choice : " Angel, Father, Friend or Phantom... Am I making the right choice by marrying Rauol? Please, Oh Father, I need your guidance."
 (Meg knocks on door)
Meg: " Christine?"
 Christine does not answer.
 Meg enters and finds Christine staring into darkness only with a lit candle at her side.
Meg: "Christine? It's time."
Christine: " Meg, I need a bit more time to get ready. Can I have a few more moments alone please.
Meg: " Okay, I will be waiting at the chapel door."
Alone again Christine askes for guidance. And suddenly in the darkness she hears a voice calling her...

May I roleplay Christine?

not much action people... got burned out?
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It's different for me. I could just put a simple sentence of "Christine looked and him and he smiled." -- but that's sooo boring. where's the passion, the creative artistry for writing? Try and put some pizzazz in the post. Some mystery, drama, intrigue.
so for me... it takes a lot longer to create a post. I put much thought into what i write, I look for specifically chosen words, I build a scene, I give it richness and texture.
"Christine looked deep into the holes of the mask that concealed his features. Dark and empty recesses of a face that she longed to see.  The mystery of a man that she longed to uncover. Christine burning for the answer and drawn by the power of this enigma came upon the tall looming figure of Eric standing before her. She pressed close to his dark cloaked form and could sense that he was pleased. Eric undoubtedly smiled at Christine and accepted her tentative advances."
----- just an example of how to put a little craft into a simple sentence and form it into a nice rich moment.
so come on people! get a little more creative than "she looked at him and he smiled" 

thanks for invite! is there anyone you want me to role play as?

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Raoul told Christine that he was to leave on a long journey for a Polar expedition. He told her that the date of the expedition had been put forward and that he would leave France in three weeks, or a month at latest. She suggested, almost gaily, that he must look upon the voyage with delight, as a stage toward his coming fame. And when he replied that fame without love was no attraction in his eyes, she treated him as a child whose sorrows were only short-lived....

"Come for a walk, dear. The air will do you good."

Raoul thought that she would propose a stroll in the country, far from that building which he detested as a prison whose jailer he could feel walking within the walls...the jailer Erik.... But she took him to the stage and made him sit on the wooden curb of a well, in the doubtful peace and coolness of a first scene set for the evening's performance.

On another day, she wandered with him, hand in, hand, along the deserted paths of a garden whose creepers had been cut out by a decorator's skillful hands. It was as though the real sky, the real flowers, the real earth were forbidden her for all time and she condemned to breathe no other air than that of the theater. An occasional fireman passed, watching over their melancholy idyll from afar. And she would drag him up above the clouds, in the magnificent disorder of the grid, where she loved to make him giddy by running in front of him along the frail bridges, among the thousands of ropes fastened to the pulleys, the windlasses, the rollers, in the midst of a regular forest of yards and masts. If he hesitated, she said, with an adorable pout of her lips: "You, a sailor!"
And Christine began to sing ---- the mermaid's song

(I will be adding on to the "Carlotta's Bad Singing" part)

Down in the catacombs, Erik Destler was at his organ, trying to finish up Don Juan Triumphant.  He was hoping to finish that day, so he could bring it to the managers and force them to perform it.  And of course, Christine would play Aminta, the heroine of the play.  While he was finishing up the next set of lyrics, Erik was startled by a horrifying screeching sound from above him.

"My God, what is that?" he exclaimed aloud.  "Sounds like a bat escaped into the opera house!"  He listened more closely to the sound and realized it wasn't a bat, it was just Carlotta. 

"Ugh, when will they have the good sense to replace her?"  Erik asked his Christine mannequin.  Obviously, the Christine mannequin didn't reply back.

"No matter" he said simply, returning back to his work, "once they hear you sing, Christine, they will forget all about Carlotta."  With that, he went back to Don Juan Triumphant.

The End...For now

Raoul awoke, unaware of the danger he had just avoided. Alone in in the dark of a deserted passage, his memory of the event that had just transpired was vague. He had remembered sudden cold, darkness..and .... the most horrifying gleaming pair of eyes. Eyes that seemed to burn. Whether they were filled with rage or actually burning he could not tell. He was certain that it was both. The flaming eyes were the last thing that he could recall before an extraordinary pain crippled his senses. Yes, a pain that originated on the back of his head. Did he black out and hit his head? Or was he struck by some unknown entity from behind?

The early morning post came as usual to the chateau where Raoul had spent many sleepless nights dreaming of a Christine abandoning her ties to the theater world and accepting herself into the leading role as the wife of the Viscount Raoul De Chagny. Many happy nights of bliss and many miserable mornings of a disillusioned reality. A reality where Christine is cold, distant and indifferent to his advances and is most often unaccounted for. Now a days, the only time Raoul seems close to her are when she visits his dreams. For even that is fleeting. Upon the arrival of morning light she soon vanishes, once again, into the shadows of memory.
Raoul aroused from his slumber by the little bell that rings every morning which signals the advent of the post, opened his eyes to another day of despair.  He lay sprawled upon his bed when the head servant came into his chamber to deliver the mail.
"Good morning sir... I just arrive to bring you the most unusual letter today. A very strange letter. I do say that I've never seen such a fancy letter in my life. Such impressive gold embossing and remarkable print. Do you suppose it's from royalty?" 
The letter vivified Raoul into action as he quickly grasped the ornamented parchment. Hope germinated in his young heart as he thought to himself "Could this be from Christine?" tearing the envelope open, he scrutinized every minute detail, line after line.  It was from Christine. The blossoming flower of life which sprang from his fertile heart was abruptly halted. A dark cloud had suddenly hovered over the life bearing sun. That sun, which had offered such sweet viability was now stifled by a looming storm. The dark cloud had swiftly accumulated into a fierce tempest. Line after line had been like tumultuous rain, relentless wind and furious lightning to strike down the fragile blossom of love until it was a poor dying weed.
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