Enigma Nocturne
folder
DarkFic › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
5,213
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
DarkFic › Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
20
Views:
5,213
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Jore
~*~*~*~
Enigma Nocturne by RulerOfTravels.
~ Full Summary: The Berns P. Nairicks’ School for the Arts houses some of the greatest young artistic minds in the country. But there is more to this institution than meets the eye. Through its doors lie countless sinister secrets, locked inside the hearts of fearful students… All suffering under the governing hand of a psychotic Headmaster.
One student in particular, a Mr. Jordan Meili, has recently drawn unnecessary attention to himself, and the Headmaster has found his target.
What will become of Jordan? Will the Headmaster's reign of terror ever be stopped? And who is the mysterious boy named Amgine?
~ Warnings: Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, BP, H/C, Humil, M/M, Minor, N/C, Oral, Tort, Violence.
* * *
* * *
* * *
Part One.
Jordan, or Jore, as nearly everyone the boy knew called him, sat on the floor of the Berns P. Nairicks’ School of the Arts’ massive auditorium. Tonight, the grand hall was filled with parents of the boarding school’s population, almost all of which had cameras of all sorts trained on the performance before them. The air was heavy from over three hundred bodies crammed into the hall, and Jore tugged at the collar of his school uniform with a black-gloved hand, and then shook some of his long, feathery black hair out of his face. The whole auditorium was in deep shadow, save for three spotlights on the stage. Two girls in glittering, blue, flowing dresses framed another girl, the star of the show. The two of them were dancing in unison, but the girl in the center stepped to her own beat, wrapped in glorious golden ribbons and silks, her long sleeves flowing like wings as she danced, her black hair shining behind a translucent veil, and her gold point-shoes stepping lightly in elaborate ballet choreography. The girl in gold hypnotized the entire audience, and Jore, sitting in his makeshift front row (the wood floor directly in front of the stage), felt a great sense of pride for his younger sister. She looked so wonderful as the star of the show, and Jore knew that even though his parents loved her more than they loved him, she looked up to him with the powerful love of siblinghood.
The ballet ended, the music fading, the curtain falling before the climactically motionless dancers. The audience stood up immediately, applauding deafeningly loud. Jore stayed seated on the hard wood floor, but he clapped and whistled enthusiastically. As the dancers stepped out from behind the curtain to take a bow, Jore and his sister made eye contact, and Jore blew her a kiss. She smiled and winked, and as the lights came up again to illuminate the auditorium, the rest of the play’s crew joined the dancers and sat on the stage. As the applause died down, an student announcer came to the center of the stage with a microphone, and then cleared his throat.
“The proceeds from tonight’s performance--” for a moment, the announcer was interrupted by much applause and whooping form the audience, then as it died down again he continued, “The proceeds will go to the American Red Cross to help underprivileged children conquer cancer and leukemia.”
The audience erupted, once again, into deafening cheers. As the applauding continued, the school’s Headmaster, Mr. Nairicks (whose great-grandfather had started the school), entered through a side door of the stage, his smoothly combed-back white hair and tall, dark stature being recognized instantly by the students, all of who immediately stopped smiling. The Headmaster was clapping half-heartedly as he walked across the stage, his expression one of superiority and barely-hidden disgust at the cheering crowd. He reached the announcer’s microphone, and the announcer moved out of his way inhumanly fast. The Headmaster grasped the microphone and cleared his throat to silence the crowd, but it didn’t work. He paused for a few moments, and then took the microphone away from his face to whistle extremely loudly, effectively silencing the crowd, who just then seemed to sense his authority. He began to speak to the crowd as they sat down, but then one woman near where Jore was sitting stood up and yelled, “Come on, let us celebrate! Don’t think you can interrupt our joy that easily, Sir Spoilsport.”
The rest of the audience chuckled and many clapped for the woman who had been brave enough to voice their thoughts. Mr. Nairicks’ face reddened with anger. How could this disgusting woman ever dare to talk back to a man of his power? He glared at her, but said nothing.
Meanwhile, the students in the audience and on the stage were perfectly quiet, their faces pale, except for Jore, who clapped along with a large portion of the crowd at the woman’s words. Unfortunately, in Jore’s enthusiasm he forgot all about the Headmaster’s imminent anger. Mr. Naricks saw him, and as Jore looked back at the stage, caught his gaze. Jore immediately stopped clapping, his face turning white with fear as he stared into the Headmaster’s cold, silver eyes.
The Headmaster had given him that look before. And instantly he knew that he would seriously regret the accidental show of his rebelliousness.
* * *
Enigma Nocturne by RulerOfTravels.
~ Full Summary: The Berns P. Nairicks’ School for the Arts houses some of the greatest young artistic minds in the country. But there is more to this institution than meets the eye. Through its doors lie countless sinister secrets, locked inside the hearts of fearful students… All suffering under the governing hand of a psychotic Headmaster.
One student in particular, a Mr. Jordan Meili, has recently drawn unnecessary attention to himself, and the Headmaster has found his target.
What will become of Jordan? Will the Headmaster's reign of terror ever be stopped? And who is the mysterious boy named Amgine?
~ Warnings: Abuse, Anal, Angst, BDSM, BP, H/C, Humil, M/M, Minor, N/C, Oral, Tort, Violence.
* * *
* * *
* * *
Part One.
Jordan, or Jore, as nearly everyone the boy knew called him, sat on the floor of the Berns P. Nairicks’ School of the Arts’ massive auditorium. Tonight, the grand hall was filled with parents of the boarding school’s population, almost all of which had cameras of all sorts trained on the performance before them. The air was heavy from over three hundred bodies crammed into the hall, and Jore tugged at the collar of his school uniform with a black-gloved hand, and then shook some of his long, feathery black hair out of his face. The whole auditorium was in deep shadow, save for three spotlights on the stage. Two girls in glittering, blue, flowing dresses framed another girl, the star of the show. The two of them were dancing in unison, but the girl in the center stepped to her own beat, wrapped in glorious golden ribbons and silks, her long sleeves flowing like wings as she danced, her black hair shining behind a translucent veil, and her gold point-shoes stepping lightly in elaborate ballet choreography. The girl in gold hypnotized the entire audience, and Jore, sitting in his makeshift front row (the wood floor directly in front of the stage), felt a great sense of pride for his younger sister. She looked so wonderful as the star of the show, and Jore knew that even though his parents loved her more than they loved him, she looked up to him with the powerful love of siblinghood.
The ballet ended, the music fading, the curtain falling before the climactically motionless dancers. The audience stood up immediately, applauding deafeningly loud. Jore stayed seated on the hard wood floor, but he clapped and whistled enthusiastically. As the dancers stepped out from behind the curtain to take a bow, Jore and his sister made eye contact, and Jore blew her a kiss. She smiled and winked, and as the lights came up again to illuminate the auditorium, the rest of the play’s crew joined the dancers and sat on the stage. As the applause died down, an student announcer came to the center of the stage with a microphone, and then cleared his throat.
“The proceeds from tonight’s performance--” for a moment, the announcer was interrupted by much applause and whooping form the audience, then as it died down again he continued, “The proceeds will go to the American Red Cross to help underprivileged children conquer cancer and leukemia.”
The audience erupted, once again, into deafening cheers. As the applauding continued, the school’s Headmaster, Mr. Nairicks (whose great-grandfather had started the school), entered through a side door of the stage, his smoothly combed-back white hair and tall, dark stature being recognized instantly by the students, all of who immediately stopped smiling. The Headmaster was clapping half-heartedly as he walked across the stage, his expression one of superiority and barely-hidden disgust at the cheering crowd. He reached the announcer’s microphone, and the announcer moved out of his way inhumanly fast. The Headmaster grasped the microphone and cleared his throat to silence the crowd, but it didn’t work. He paused for a few moments, and then took the microphone away from his face to whistle extremely loudly, effectively silencing the crowd, who just then seemed to sense his authority. He began to speak to the crowd as they sat down, but then one woman near where Jore was sitting stood up and yelled, “Come on, let us celebrate! Don’t think you can interrupt our joy that easily, Sir Spoilsport.”
The rest of the audience chuckled and many clapped for the woman who had been brave enough to voice their thoughts. Mr. Nairicks’ face reddened with anger. How could this disgusting woman ever dare to talk back to a man of his power? He glared at her, but said nothing.
Meanwhile, the students in the audience and on the stage were perfectly quiet, their faces pale, except for Jore, who clapped along with a large portion of the crowd at the woman’s words. Unfortunately, in Jore’s enthusiasm he forgot all about the Headmaster’s imminent anger. Mr. Naricks saw him, and as Jore looked back at the stage, caught his gaze. Jore immediately stopped clapping, his face turning white with fear as he stared into the Headmaster’s cold, silver eyes.
The Headmaster had given him that look before. And instantly he knew that he would seriously regret the accidental show of his rebelliousness.
* * *