Sacrificed During a Violet Moon
Description: Duo's POV, except for beginning part. Duo, ever since he was a little baby, never knew his family. He was left to an orphanage in the city without anything but the clothes he wore and the necklace around his neck, something that speaks of his mysterious and painful past. Yet, when after almost 18 years of his life he has to return back home, he never expected it to be a repetition of things he never remembered in the first place of when he was just a baby, chosen as the sacrifice of the violet moon and a past come back to haunt him.
Pairing's: 1+2/1x2 (if you haven't noticed I abhor 2x1 and you will never see me with anything relating to it, sorry to all those fans who do, my best friend for example), 3+4/possibly 3x4 (I most likely won't, since I believe that their relationship works best if subtle hints are dropped from the sky), 13+6+5/possibly 13x6x5 in future, 13x5 mention in past but 6x5 in past (this has become my most favorite paring next to 1x2). As I am on Fanfiction all MA material will be on my website in livejournal.
Chap 4: Infatuation
"As I myself, in an Ozark Airlines DC-6 droning over towns made of crossroads, headed down into Waterloo, Iowa, actually found her, held her face a few hours in my hands; and for reasons—cowardice, loyalties, all which goes by the name "necessity"—left her…"
From what I could see there were nine other guests besides myself. Quatre, who happened to be a rather wealthy young man (like I didn't see that coming?). A Ms. Relena Darlian, who had connections all over the world through her daddy's political money. She was the one who had rented out the Pink wing and I could see why from her appearance.
A light pink blouse with an almost shockingly hot pink skirt, which hugged her little girl thighs, almost like spandex…god I hoped not. A pair of sparkling, most likely diamond, earring studs, a (yep you guessed it) small elegant diamond ring set in a slender gold band and a string of tiny pearls about her almost too swan like neck. She could have been a pretty girl to me, if she didn't wear so much pink or flaunted her money like it was perfume.
She was definitely daddies little princess. Blonde hair, blue eyes, makeup piled on like cement and white stiletto heels, completed the entire bimbo stereotype to a T. It was almost hard to look at her.
There was a lovely elderly couple, Mr. Elbert and Louisa Donovan, who, like most, used canes and told their bland life stories to anyone who said hello. Then there was a young couple, an Amy Rusp and a David House, whose hands didn't stray to far from each others bodies. Sick really…
I didn't take the time to get to know these four, since any time you asked them anything the elderly couple went off on a tangent about how they met, while the two love birds just stared deep into each others eyes and smiled sickly sweetly.
The last three were by far what attracted my attention the most. When you look at people and see a label, you generally judge them accordingly. There were two men and one woman. Nothing about them seemed extraordinarily noteworthy, so I guess you could call them average looking people. The woman and one of the men were either related or married, I couldn't tell which. Mr. Will and Mrs. or Ms. Adriana Gray. The other man with them, Daniel Ash, was by far the most social of the three. His happy go lucky demeanor, in case you wouldn't notice later, attracted mine almost instantly. He was only a few years older then myself, but younger then the other two.
Once Quatre and I made it into the dining room and had taken our seats we all introduced ourselves formally, which was where I had lost interest in most of the guests, except Quatre and Daniel. What can I say; I have an attention span of a kitten. What I did find really creepy though was when it was my turn to state my name, average joe and his…lady gray friend looked at me, oddly. You know, like when one happens to see a dancing bear in a tutu. Not that many people do see a dancing bear in a tutu but when you do it's given a pause of consideration.
The rest of the evening went a lot smoother. Daniel, Quatre and I basically spent the meal talking about stupid everyday things; you know like, who thought up the color of money or what color the sky is. We even stuck in a few phrases about sex. Hey were randy young men, I'd like you to go through a day without thinking about it.
All in all though, I wasn't expecting to have such a good time. Of course there were those few who kept their sour puss faces intact the entire evening, which were basically one Ms. Relena Darlian and the gray twins.
"Hey, Quatre, why does this girl…well…" I really couldn't figure out a nice way of saying it.
"Why the hell is a she devil doing staying in this ancient tomb?" Daniel smirked cheekily under his spiked black hair.
"Yeah…" Quatre seemed to think this over for a bit, placing his fork down, eyebrows kitted in contemplation.
"Well, you see, from what I've gathered she has been coming here because she is infatuated with the place ever since she was a child. For the past five years she's been trying to buy the property but the owner won't budge. So she just comes whenever she feels like it and pretends that it's hers. She's basically bought the entire Pink wing so that no one else can ever use it."
Blinking I watched the girl on the opposite side of the table slice her potato in half. "Sheesh, talk about Princess Syndrome." Daniel pointed out through a mouthful of roast.
"So wait, who does own this place and why keep it if some rich kid like her wants to buy the entire dig?" I just couldn't fathom how much a place like this could go for. I'm sure the local historical society would love to buy the manor for tourist visits instead of having it as an inn.
"You didn't know? Mr. Callaway, he gave the place to his son to do whatever he liked with it. The thing was that Adrian Callaway was not "rich enough" for Ms. Relena Darlian. She refused him a date so he refused her the house. Fair trade I think." Quatre smiled illicitly through his water glass.
Looking over at Relena, through her straight blonde locks, into her downcast baby blue eyes, there was determination, false purity only a princess of a spoiled and pampered lifestyle could create and anger, a deep plastic anger. Anger that could snap just as easily as melt.
"Why does she want Lowe Manor so much?"
"Because…" Quatre set the glass down and turned to me, aqua eyes glistening with humor, "I believe she has a crush on Sir Heero Yuy Lowe's image…even though he never had a known female partner in his entire 20 years." Beside me Daniel choked on his bread, guawffs of laughter disturbing everyone at the table.
Yes it was going to be a very long but amusing time at Lowe Manor.
There were no TV's, nor radios and only one phone, which was down in the Manor manager's office. This was going to be the suckiest time ever. So basically this was one of the many reasons why many tourists viewed this place as unacceptable, especially for those couples with little rugrats screaming bloody murder every 5 seconds if they weren't played with.
I wasn't exactly sure what to do next, since Telfords main attraction was the manor I didn't have to go far.
Once Quatre and Daniel headed off towards the White wing I ventured on, wandering without reason. Something plagued me still about the manor's history. Something I couldn't put my finger on exactly. There were still so many unfinished questions that Quatre said would be answered tomorrow by our tour guide who had been unexpectedly busy.
What was the Violet moon? Why was Sir Heero Lowe sacrificed? What did his lover look like and why was he suspected of murder?
I looked up and found myself faced to face with the picture of my query. He looked exactly the same since I left him…obviously. 'Pictures don't move Maxwell,' I pinched myself in the hand for my rather stupid thoughts before I sighed and walked up to the picture. The eyes were still entrancing, chips of shattered ice in a river of eternally deep waters. But it was the bangs that enraptured me at the moment. The messy quality was almost, adorable, in an odd; I don't find paintings of dead people attractive, way.
My hand of its own violation reached up, once again that night to touch the bumpy surface of the canvas and its glistening oil paint. I could almost still smell the unique scent oil's give off, but it faded before I could even think briefly on it. But before my hand could even get close enough another hand shot out and gripped mine. It was the second time that day that someone stopped me from admiring this painting. Stopped me from really touching its unique surface. I looked at the acrylic nails, of a delicate shade of brilliant pink, knowing instantly who was there beside me.
"The, gross, oils on your hand will ruin this painting if you touch it." The voice was menacing, there was no doubt about that. Turning I could see a distinct frown on her ladyships face, marring the once serene almost whimsical daddies little girl look from dinner. "So don't touch." She manhandled my hand away, and walked between the painting and myself, like I didn't even exist in her little universe of pink and Lowe manor.
"I know that." I spoke slowly, anger just below the surface of my calm. She couldn't know what I did for a living, no one here does, and I'm going to keep it that way. I'm a very private person about such things as my profession…or lack thereof at the moment.
"If you knew, then I shouldn't have had to stop you." I watched imaginary flames coming from my ears as she reached up with her daggers and swished her lotioned and perfumed hand across the left cheek of Sir Heero. I was close to screaming bloody murder. Her hands didn't magically disinfect themselves. They were as dirty as anybody else's could have been after eating a meal. "I'm sure that Winner and the staff of this moldy old building have been telling you false lies about Sir Heero and I believe it is up to me to set them straight. Heero never had a male lover, he was a virgin his entire life, saving himself for his future bride. A tradition that is carried on through the Lowe line for generations. The man people believed to be his 'lover' was just an apprentice and a murdering witch. Nothing more…" Here she turned hands folding under her bosom and pronouncing the swells just slightly. Making them appear more of a perky pear shaped then apple shaped. For a beautiful lady as she was, I gotta say that she wasn't all that well endowed. But knowing the rich and powerful, inconvenience against their appearance would be eradicated as soon as possible.
"Really. So how many people know the 'truth' as you say it to be. Why do all these people center a business on a lie?" A minuet vein appeared on the pale face, throbbing at the disobedient question.
"Because, their stupid." It was a petulant child act, and with the stance she had adopted it appeared more so. "Now if you'll excuse me, I must have a proper rest." She spun around, something she probably practice down to a T as a teen, since it showed off her long legs, breasts and unbound hair. It would have been sexy for anyone else, but for me it was absolutely nauseating. Why waste such perfectly good time?
She turned right down the pink corridor, pausing only briefly to glance in my direction before continuing on. A spiteful thought jumped up and down in my brain. The evil part of my persona that always made itself present when someone tried to suppress me below them. I could touch the painting all I wanted now, get as much oil as I could possible get on it…but I squashed it with a resounding splat. The painting was too beautiful, the model too handsome and mysterious and the painter wouldn't be pleased to see his work ruined over a humdrum argument.
But, in order to get even, I walked back up to Heero and reached for one strand of hair, believing that I could push it out of the way to see the full face. The oil was smooth, layered on professionally with only a few slight problems. Too many layers couldn't…I pulled my hand back, looking at my fingers. They throbbed, almost as if something had bitten them. It was too dark to tell, but logic would seem that one of the globs of paint could have accidentally been sharp enough to break skin of an unwise trespasser.
I looked up, blinking at the man before me. Eyes taking in the almost glowing eyes. It was definitely getting creepy…I thought laughing nervously as I backed away and continued on my way to my own room. I would get a nice deep sleep and start tomorrows exploring with refreshing new vigor. Maybe I could even explore the Blue wing…
The shadow watched as the boy slowly left, eyes never leaving the slender form until it was out of sight. It could still taste him. He had missed that…so much. How lonely the past centuries had been. Admired as it was, nothing could replace what he had lost.
Nothing…but…maybe now, things could change, finally.
A/N: Now I know Relena may not be that spiteful but we all know that when it comes to Heero Relena is all "He's my man bitch." So I'm sure I've portrayed her…almost accurately.