The Portrait Chronicles
© Omega-Leigh 2001
Rating: PG-13 Notes: Deathfic? Horror, goes deep into the minds of each pilot and brings out the hidden light (or darkness) that each possesses within. Dark and angsty, sort of humorous. 5-part series.
Dawn- Heero's Story
Morning- Quatre's Story
Noon- Trowa's Story
Twilight- Wufei's Story
Midnight- Duo's Story
Dawn I
Daniel Roylotte leaned against the mahogany bar of the nightclub, Man's Ruin on Bourbon Street. His sharp grey eyes darted across the room searching for something. The twenty-five year old man impatiently blew his chestnut bangs out of his face.
He hated waiting. It was a waste of good time that he could be out hunting for them.
But tonight was different. There had been a disturbing change of pace. Tonight, he was the one being hunted. And it wasn't by them.
That was the problem with mortals. Something from the outside interfered with their lives and they got too scared. Because they didn't know or understand that part of existence. Then they'd start messing with him, and that was not what Daniel wanted.
But tonight that was what was after him. A mortal.
A puny human boy who had witnessed Daniel's horrifying secret. And Dan wasn't about to let the boy interfere with the plans he had already begun.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
20-Year-Old Heero Yuy rushed down the empty alleyway, his heart pumping rapidly, not from exertion, more from completely unfettered fear. He was chasing after a dark figure that insisted on alluding him.
Suddenly the dark haired ex-Gundam Pilot came to the end of the alley and onto busy Bourbon Street, part of the mysterious, exotic French Quarter of New Orleans.
The figure had disappeared into the crowd.
Heero growled inwardly and ground his balled up fist into a nearby trashcan lid. "Dammit, I lost him."
Heero's eyes searched the sidewalk for some sign of the dark man. He could have gone anywhere, Heero thought. Without wanting to, he allowed his mind to wander back to the bloody events that had occurred on the deserted Fourth-and-Smith Street on the outskirts of the city less than half-an-hour before.
Heero shuddered and squeezed his sapphire blue eyes shut as the image bored into his brain. An old friend had told him about this a long time ago, but back then Heero had not believed him. It was pure myth, fantasy. Nothing like that could truly exist. But, they had been right. They were real.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
"This eighteenth century mansion is a magnificent portrayal of what restoration can do for an old home" A young woman in a business suit and a stewardess like hat explained, leading a group of tourists through the elegant foyer of the Louisiana mansion.
19-year-old Quatre Raberba Winner sighed and rolled his eyes over to look at Trowa Barton and Chang Wufei. Preventers should not be forced to see stupid tourist attractions. Quatre then turned and followed the tour guide down the hallway, Wufei and Trowa not far behind.
"Why exactly are we here?" 22-year-old Trowa finally spoke up, as the three young men moved from one lavishly decorated room to another. "I mean, what does an old mansion in Louisiana have to do with our mission?"
Quatre shrugged. "He's right, Wufei. We're looking for a ring of serial assassins that are connected to the remaining OZ faction, not an out of place napkin ring."
21-year-old Wufei ran his long, slender fingers through his ebony black hair and lifted his onyx eyes to meet Quatre's own cornflower blue ones. "I didn't want you guys to actually know yet, but, since you are here, I guess I can tell you." Wufei grimaced slightly and headed off of the tour guide path and into an empty room on the route.
"We're here investigating serial murderers, yes. But, they're not related to OZ. At least, not unless OZ has been reaching to the bottom of the pits of hell to find assassins."
Quatre eyed the boy suspiciously. "What are we here for then?" Wufei bit his lip in thought. "We're here because, the whole system is supposedly being run out of New Orleans, and its old, deserted mansions."
"An assassination ring being run out of one city?" Trowa spoke up from where he was leaning against one of the walls.
"That's right. But, these are no ordinary serial killers." Wufei's face visibly darkened, and his eyes looked troubled. "What do you mean?" Quatre asked.
Wufei paused a moment before answering. "Their victims.each one of them has had every bit of blood removed from their body." Quatre gasped openly and lifted his hand to his mouth. Trowa stepped up close to his friend and placed his hand on Quatre's shoulder.
"What the hell?" Trowa cursed. "How is that possible?" Wufei shrugged and stared deeply into Trowa's emerald eyes. "That's why we're needed here."
"So, what? What does this mansion have to do with anything?" Quatre finally stuttered, his initial shock spent.
"The first two victims were found in the deserted upstairs of this particular mansion." Wufei informed them. "We're here to go up there and check everything out."
Trowa stepped away from the doorway and motioned Wufei through. "Then lead the way." He said.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Wufei fumbled along the hallway wall, searching for a light-switch. "Wu, this IS an old house, do you think it'll even have electricity in the un-restored sections?" Quatre said, feeling along the other wall. "Found it." Wufei growled, ignoring Quatre's comment. His fingers hit the light switch and he flipped it on.
Nothing.
"Shimatta." Wufei cursed beneath his breath. "Hey, I found some old candles and stuff." Trowa came up behind the two young men and struck a match, lighting on of the covered candles.
"That'll work." Quatre took the candle from him and held it high above his head to see up the winding oak staircase that snaked its way up to the third and fourth stories.
The dim candlelight flickered and cast dancing shadows along the age darkened walls. Dust was heavy over the railing and the stairs themselves.
Wufei ran his finger over the ornate railing and wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "For a tourist attraction, you'd think they'd clean even the unused rooms." He said.
We'll be able to search around better if we split up." Trowa said. "Quatre, you take the top floor, Wufei, you take this one, and I'll take the third story." Wufei and Quatre nodded in agreement. Wufei disappeared down the hall, while Quatre and Trowa started up the winding staircase.
"It's so.mysterious." Quatre whispered, afraid to speak any louder, almost as if his voice would disturb the air of haunting beauty that the old house set off.
Trowa chuckled beneath his breath, having had the same feelings Quatre did.
They reached the third story landing and Trowa smiled at Quatre momentarily before disappearing into the first doorway. Quatre watched as his candlelight slowly faded. He felt very alone.
"Aww.stop it Quat." He chided himself. "It's a house, what's it going to do to you?" Quatre turned and began up the last staircase, which led to the topmost floor of the house.
He clutched his candle close, trying to keep any draft from blowing out his only light. The dim light lit up the narrow staircase, revealing old pictures on the wall. Quatre leaned in to look closely at each picture.
They were portraits of long dead past owners of the mansion. He began reading the inscriptions beneath each picture. /1782.the deChambres Family/
In the picture stood a middle aged man with slightly greying temples and a stern but fatherly look; his hand was on the back of a chair in which sat a woman with peaceful eyes and long hair.
A young man, who looked to be about Quatre's age stood beside his father, his hand resting on his mother's shoulder.
Two beautiful twin girls sat at their mother's feet, their long flowing skirts of their dresses swirling about them. The smaller of the girls held a little boy of about two years in her arms. He had curly hair and a bright smile.
Cute family, Quatre couldn't help but think. He moved on, just glancing over the other portraits. As he neared the top a certain painting caught his eye. It was a portrait of a young man in early 1800's style clothing
He was casually leaning against a brick wall with his slender arms crossed. A hint of a smirk graced the teen's pale face, lighting his wide violet eyes that were semi-hidden by his messy bangs.
Quatre knew that grin. He knew it very well. His own sky blue eyes traveled down to the inscription beneath the portrait. / Demetrius Maxwell 1754 /
"Oh, Allah." Quatre whispered. There was no possible way. The young man in the picture was a carbon copy of Duo Maxwell, Quatre's friend and fellow ex-Gundam Pilot.
Duo had never known his family. And here, in a mansion in rural Louisiana Quatre had found Duo's past.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
From the dark shadows of the landing of the third story a dark figure watched the young blonde boy with trained eyes. The boy had beautiful pale skin, platinum blonde hair and trusting eyes the colour of the sky. Viktorio wanted him.
And right now was the perfect time to have him.
Why was the boy so intrigued with the picture of Demetrius? Demetrius was long gone. Not that it was something that upset Viktorio.
Viktorio sensed something special about the young boy standing on the stairs. Power radiated off of the boy, it rolled off of him in waves.
That's how Viktorio knew the boy was untrained. He didn't understand his powers, he probably didn't even know he possessed them. He was a threat..a very beautiful, deadly threat.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
End of Dawn: Part One. Let me know what you think!
Heero: I Don't get it.
Quatre: ::cries:: AM I GONNA DIE??? Omega_Leigh: No, you're not gonna die..yet. Quatre: WAIII!!!! ::cries harder::
Duo: HEY, WHY AM I NOT IN THIS STORY?!?! Wufei and Trowa: ::tackles Duo to the ground and covers up his mouth::
Omega_Leigh: ::anime Sweatdrop: yeah, well, next part will be up shortly. Luv ya'll!!
Rating: PG-13 Notes: Deathfic? Horror, goes deep into the minds of each pilot and brings out the hidden light (or darkness) that each possesses within. Dark and angsty, sort of humorous. 5-part series.
Dawn- Heero's Story
Morning- Quatre's Story
Noon- Trowa's Story
Twilight- Wufei's Story
Midnight- Duo's Story
Dawn I
Daniel Roylotte leaned against the mahogany bar of the nightclub, Man's Ruin on Bourbon Street. His sharp grey eyes darted across the room searching for something. The twenty-five year old man impatiently blew his chestnut bangs out of his face.
He hated waiting. It was a waste of good time that he could be out hunting for them.
But tonight was different. There had been a disturbing change of pace. Tonight, he was the one being hunted. And it wasn't by them.
That was the problem with mortals. Something from the outside interfered with their lives and they got too scared. Because they didn't know or understand that part of existence. Then they'd start messing with him, and that was not what Daniel wanted.
But tonight that was what was after him. A mortal.
A puny human boy who had witnessed Daniel's horrifying secret. And Dan wasn't about to let the boy interfere with the plans he had already begun.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
20-Year-Old Heero Yuy rushed down the empty alleyway, his heart pumping rapidly, not from exertion, more from completely unfettered fear. He was chasing after a dark figure that insisted on alluding him.
Suddenly the dark haired ex-Gundam Pilot came to the end of the alley and onto busy Bourbon Street, part of the mysterious, exotic French Quarter of New Orleans.
The figure had disappeared into the crowd.
Heero growled inwardly and ground his balled up fist into a nearby trashcan lid. "Dammit, I lost him."
Heero's eyes searched the sidewalk for some sign of the dark man. He could have gone anywhere, Heero thought. Without wanting to, he allowed his mind to wander back to the bloody events that had occurred on the deserted Fourth-and-Smith Street on the outskirts of the city less than half-an-hour before.
Heero shuddered and squeezed his sapphire blue eyes shut as the image bored into his brain. An old friend had told him about this a long time ago, but back then Heero had not believed him. It was pure myth, fantasy. Nothing like that could truly exist. But, they had been right. They were real.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
"This eighteenth century mansion is a magnificent portrayal of what restoration can do for an old home" A young woman in a business suit and a stewardess like hat explained, leading a group of tourists through the elegant foyer of the Louisiana mansion.
19-year-old Quatre Raberba Winner sighed and rolled his eyes over to look at Trowa Barton and Chang Wufei. Preventers should not be forced to see stupid tourist attractions. Quatre then turned and followed the tour guide down the hallway, Wufei and Trowa not far behind.
"Why exactly are we here?" 22-year-old Trowa finally spoke up, as the three young men moved from one lavishly decorated room to another. "I mean, what does an old mansion in Louisiana have to do with our mission?"
Quatre shrugged. "He's right, Wufei. We're looking for a ring of serial assassins that are connected to the remaining OZ faction, not an out of place napkin ring."
21-year-old Wufei ran his long, slender fingers through his ebony black hair and lifted his onyx eyes to meet Quatre's own cornflower blue ones. "I didn't want you guys to actually know yet, but, since you are here, I guess I can tell you." Wufei grimaced slightly and headed off of the tour guide path and into an empty room on the route.
"We're here investigating serial murderers, yes. But, they're not related to OZ. At least, not unless OZ has been reaching to the bottom of the pits of hell to find assassins."
Quatre eyed the boy suspiciously. "What are we here for then?" Wufei bit his lip in thought. "We're here because, the whole system is supposedly being run out of New Orleans, and its old, deserted mansions."
"An assassination ring being run out of one city?" Trowa spoke up from where he was leaning against one of the walls.
"That's right. But, these are no ordinary serial killers." Wufei's face visibly darkened, and his eyes looked troubled. "What do you mean?" Quatre asked.
Wufei paused a moment before answering. "Their victims.each one of them has had every bit of blood removed from their body." Quatre gasped openly and lifted his hand to his mouth. Trowa stepped up close to his friend and placed his hand on Quatre's shoulder.
"What the hell?" Trowa cursed. "How is that possible?" Wufei shrugged and stared deeply into Trowa's emerald eyes. "That's why we're needed here."
"So, what? What does this mansion have to do with anything?" Quatre finally stuttered, his initial shock spent.
"The first two victims were found in the deserted upstairs of this particular mansion." Wufei informed them. "We're here to go up there and check everything out."
Trowa stepped away from the doorway and motioned Wufei through. "Then lead the way." He said.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
Wufei fumbled along the hallway wall, searching for a light-switch. "Wu, this IS an old house, do you think it'll even have electricity in the un-restored sections?" Quatre said, feeling along the other wall. "Found it." Wufei growled, ignoring Quatre's comment. His fingers hit the light switch and he flipped it on.
Nothing.
"Shimatta." Wufei cursed beneath his breath. "Hey, I found some old candles and stuff." Trowa came up behind the two young men and struck a match, lighting on of the covered candles.
"That'll work." Quatre took the candle from him and held it high above his head to see up the winding oak staircase that snaked its way up to the third and fourth stories.
The dim candlelight flickered and cast dancing shadows along the age darkened walls. Dust was heavy over the railing and the stairs themselves.
Wufei ran his finger over the ornate railing and wrinkled up his nose in disgust. "For a tourist attraction, you'd think they'd clean even the unused rooms." He said.
We'll be able to search around better if we split up." Trowa said. "Quatre, you take the top floor, Wufei, you take this one, and I'll take the third story." Wufei and Quatre nodded in agreement. Wufei disappeared down the hall, while Quatre and Trowa started up the winding staircase.
"It's so.mysterious." Quatre whispered, afraid to speak any louder, almost as if his voice would disturb the air of haunting beauty that the old house set off.
Trowa chuckled beneath his breath, having had the same feelings Quatre did.
They reached the third story landing and Trowa smiled at Quatre momentarily before disappearing into the first doorway. Quatre watched as his candlelight slowly faded. He felt very alone.
"Aww.stop it Quat." He chided himself. "It's a house, what's it going to do to you?" Quatre turned and began up the last staircase, which led to the topmost floor of the house.
He clutched his candle close, trying to keep any draft from blowing out his only light. The dim light lit up the narrow staircase, revealing old pictures on the wall. Quatre leaned in to look closely at each picture.
They were portraits of long dead past owners of the mansion. He began reading the inscriptions beneath each picture. /1782.the deChambres Family/
In the picture stood a middle aged man with slightly greying temples and a stern but fatherly look; his hand was on the back of a chair in which sat a woman with peaceful eyes and long hair.
A young man, who looked to be about Quatre's age stood beside his father, his hand resting on his mother's shoulder.
Two beautiful twin girls sat at their mother's feet, their long flowing skirts of their dresses swirling about them. The smaller of the girls held a little boy of about two years in her arms. He had curly hair and a bright smile.
Cute family, Quatre couldn't help but think. He moved on, just glancing over the other portraits. As he neared the top a certain painting caught his eye. It was a portrait of a young man in early 1800's style clothing
He was casually leaning against a brick wall with his slender arms crossed. A hint of a smirk graced the teen's pale face, lighting his wide violet eyes that were semi-hidden by his messy bangs.
Quatre knew that grin. He knew it very well. His own sky blue eyes traveled down to the inscription beneath the portrait. / Demetrius Maxwell 1754 /
"Oh, Allah." Quatre whispered. There was no possible way. The young man in the picture was a carbon copy of Duo Maxwell, Quatre's friend and fellow ex-Gundam Pilot.
Duo had never known his family. And here, in a mansion in rural Louisiana Quatre had found Duo's past.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
From the dark shadows of the landing of the third story a dark figure watched the young blonde boy with trained eyes. The boy had beautiful pale skin, platinum blonde hair and trusting eyes the colour of the sky. Viktorio wanted him.
And right now was the perfect time to have him.
Why was the boy so intrigued with the picture of Demetrius? Demetrius was long gone. Not that it was something that upset Viktorio.
Viktorio sensed something special about the young boy standing on the stairs. Power radiated off of the boy, it rolled off of him in waves.
That's how Viktorio knew the boy was untrained. He didn't understand his powers, he probably didn't even know he possessed them. He was a threat..a very beautiful, deadly threat.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
End of Dawn: Part One. Let me know what you think!
Heero: I Don't get it.
Quatre: ::cries:: AM I GONNA DIE??? Omega_Leigh: No, you're not gonna die..yet. Quatre: WAIII!!!! ::cries harder::
Duo: HEY, WHY AM I NOT IN THIS STORY?!?! Wufei and Trowa: ::tackles Duo to the ground and covers up his mouth::
Omega_Leigh: ::anime Sweatdrop: yeah, well, next part will be up shortly. Luv ya'll!!