Legacy of the Moon
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,816
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
1
Views:
2,816
Reviews:
2
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.
Legacy of the Moon
Title: Legacy of the Moon
By: Blue Lunacy
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Speech”
‘Thoughts’
*~*~*~*~* = Scene change/separator
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hope doesn't come from calculating whether the good news is winning out over the bad. It's simply a choice to take action.
Anna Lappe, O Magazine, June 2003
Chapter One: Hope
Angel Huney usually found bliss in a deep tub of hot water, full of glistening bubbles that smelled of vanilla cake after a nice long shower, the fat little butter cream scented candles sat along the countertop created a soft glow. Comfortably within arms reach was a hamper with a silver tray on top. Small china plates with a pink flower pattern and there had been two chocolate truffles, an éclair, and a small bowl mint brown chip ice cream with a caramel topping. Angel had managed to finish them all.
Usually this ritual in the bright purple bathroom made him feel so much better but it didn’t work today. He shank deeper into the tub, feeling to urge to cry again, not even the ice cold coke he was nursing help brighten his mood. He looked better today; last night he had taken a very hot bath filled with a healing powder and had downed a potion.
Yesterday he looked dreadful. His eyes had been blood shot, one of the blackened, his lips chapped and busted, there was lose teeth as well, his skin a dark red with multiple bruises and small blisters that were painful and itchy, more than once he had popped them while trying to alleviate the ever-present itch. Both heels of his feet were covered in one big bleeding blister each. The sides of the foot, the top and multiple toes had sported bleeding blisters as well.
All his injuries were compliments of the sadists of the summer school for P.E that he had been sent to by his blood father David Sorin. Six weeks, Monday thru Friday from eight o’clock to three o’clock. From 8:00am to 9:30 am was roll call and bookwork, though what bookwork had to do with P.E only the Coach knew. 9:30 am to 11:00 am was stretching and from 11:00 am to 3:00 pm consisted of walking in a1 ½ mile circle in the hot sun.
All this was to ‘toughen up’ the students before they went to various military schools. For Angel, who had never been especially active physically, it was hell. Both the teacher and the students considered him a lily-boy; so many took upon themselves to ‘make a man out of him.’ To make matters worse, his long hair had been completely shaved off. It had been another ‘toughen up’ attempt. He could use a hair growth charm until his hair had grown out a bit. The last straw was when David Sorin had signed him up to be a Knight. Angel himself had other ideas. Never again would he endure that.
He hoped
Angel pulled the plug in the tub and took a cool rise off shower. Once done, he dried him self off, he rubbed lotion into his skin that smelled of mint and put on his robe. Knowing that one else was home, he took the dishes down stairs and into the kitchen before he padded back upstairs to his room and sat on the bed.
So, when Sorin had a meeting (he was a general of some sort) and would be gone for a month, Angel ran away. Back to the Huney family, he considered them his true family, who had welcomed him back with opened arms. They were horrified at the way he looked and his treatment. They swore that he would never have to go back. But the law was on Sorin side. It wasn’t fair, it was true that Angel was David Sorin’s begotten child (Angel had privately refused to acknowledge Sorin as his father) but his mother, Mara Delune has ran off with Angel hours after he was born, risking both their lives in the winter storm.
She had died and become a Wandering Mother. Wandering Mothers were the spirits of women who had either died in childbirth, or died without making sure that their children had been provided for. She had lead Louis Huney and his wife Lilly to where Angel was. Wasn’t that enough? She was willing to die to keep him away from his birth father.
‘Obviously not.’ He thought. He couldn't help but look around the room. This could the last time he would see it, if his plan worked out. Every thing was done with various colors of blue, while not the most stylish choice, he loved it. The black oversize suitcase and back pack reminded him that he couldn’t stay here though, as much as he wanted to, his presence here would cause trouble when Sorin found out Angel had ran back to the Huney family.
His plan for escape was simple and complicated. He didn’t want to be a Knight or anything like that. On top of that he was Talented, unheard in a boy and he wanted to learn how to control and use it.
He had been six when he discovered that he was Talented. A power surge had cause a black out, he had been reading a book and was surprised at the sudden darkness. In his need to for light, he didn’t create just one orb but several. He never told anyone due to the fact that only girls had Talent and were trained to be Witches and use that Talent.
So simply, he was going to masquerade as a girl and attended Orchid Academy, a relatively new school for Witches. It had been almost scarily easy to get the appropriate paper work and change his name from Angel Huney to Angélique Delune. He'd decided to use his mother’s last name because it would the last thing anyone would suspect.
He hoped.
Easier still was to acquire the appropriate clothes and makeup. Living next door to six female cousins, (Kitiara, Rosalie, Tish, Calla, Beryl and Alexandra) their mothers Zara and Melina and living with his mother Lilly and Louis, who worked at Morning Glory as the singer Louisa, Angel knew which shops to go to and what to get. He didn’t think he would have a problem playing female.
He hoped.
Getting off the bed, he started to dress in the outfit he’d picked out last night. Black panties were first, next came the black lace garter belt. The matching bra was a little harder to get on especially with the breast forms inside. It would have been easier and cheaper to use socks or tissue but he liked the softer, life-like look of the silicone, might as well do this right. Even in his gloomy mood, he giggled in embarrassment at both the lacy underthings, but no one was going to see them. The opaque thigh highs were next, smokey grey in color, lifting his right foot first, he stepped through the loop, pulling it up slowly, carefully up and repeated to process with the left, attaching them to the garter.
He couldn’t help the grin as he shimmied into his turtleneck dress, charcoal grey in color with wide long-sleeves and the helm fell to his ankles, made from soft angora and lambs wool. He did a little spin, laughing softly at the feeling of both the thigh highs and the skirt. He put on large thin silver hoops in his ears and a silver chain around his neck. He took the wig from its stand and placed on his woeful baldhead. The simple black pageboy with full bangs was a vast improvement over his forced baldness.
He then draped a towel across his shoulders, faced the wall mirror, and put on his makeup. Contacts turn the brown of his eyes into a dove grey. A smudge of gunmetal grey eye shadow, black liquid eyeliner, a bit of shimmering powder and a cool toned pink lipstick and gloss. He smiled at his work and removed the towel. He then put on a pair of oversized sunglasses and slid his feet into a pair of slate gray lace-up ankle boots. Finger combing his hair, he placed a grey broad brim sun hat on. Lastly he pulled on a pair of heather gloves. Put on the backpack and grabbing both the suitcase and the pewter lace parasol, he was ready to go.
He turned off the light and closed the door to his room. Down the stairs he walk, he step feeling heavier and heavier. He had to do this. He had to leave. There was a letter on coffee table in the living room that would explain everything. They would understand.
He hoped.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To be continued…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Questions? Comments? Suggestion? (No flames please)
By: Blue Lunacy
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Speech”
‘Thoughts’
*~*~*~*~* = Scene change/separator
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Hope doesn't come from calculating whether the good news is winning out over the bad. It's simply a choice to take action.
Anna Lappe, O Magazine, June 2003
Chapter One: Hope
Angel Huney usually found bliss in a deep tub of hot water, full of glistening bubbles that smelled of vanilla cake after a nice long shower, the fat little butter cream scented candles sat along the countertop created a soft glow. Comfortably within arms reach was a hamper with a silver tray on top. Small china plates with a pink flower pattern and there had been two chocolate truffles, an éclair, and a small bowl mint brown chip ice cream with a caramel topping. Angel had managed to finish them all.
Usually this ritual in the bright purple bathroom made him feel so much better but it didn’t work today. He shank deeper into the tub, feeling to urge to cry again, not even the ice cold coke he was nursing help brighten his mood. He looked better today; last night he had taken a very hot bath filled with a healing powder and had downed a potion.
Yesterday he looked dreadful. His eyes had been blood shot, one of the blackened, his lips chapped and busted, there was lose teeth as well, his skin a dark red with multiple bruises and small blisters that were painful and itchy, more than once he had popped them while trying to alleviate the ever-present itch. Both heels of his feet were covered in one big bleeding blister each. The sides of the foot, the top and multiple toes had sported bleeding blisters as well.
All his injuries were compliments of the sadists of the summer school for P.E that he had been sent to by his blood father David Sorin. Six weeks, Monday thru Friday from eight o’clock to three o’clock. From 8:00am to 9:30 am was roll call and bookwork, though what bookwork had to do with P.E only the Coach knew. 9:30 am to 11:00 am was stretching and from 11:00 am to 3:00 pm consisted of walking in a1 ½ mile circle in the hot sun.
All this was to ‘toughen up’ the students before they went to various military schools. For Angel, who had never been especially active physically, it was hell. Both the teacher and the students considered him a lily-boy; so many took upon themselves to ‘make a man out of him.’ To make matters worse, his long hair had been completely shaved off. It had been another ‘toughen up’ attempt. He could use a hair growth charm until his hair had grown out a bit. The last straw was when David Sorin had signed him up to be a Knight. Angel himself had other ideas. Never again would he endure that.
He hoped
Angel pulled the plug in the tub and took a cool rise off shower. Once done, he dried him self off, he rubbed lotion into his skin that smelled of mint and put on his robe. Knowing that one else was home, he took the dishes down stairs and into the kitchen before he padded back upstairs to his room and sat on the bed.
So, when Sorin had a meeting (he was a general of some sort) and would be gone for a month, Angel ran away. Back to the Huney family, he considered them his true family, who had welcomed him back with opened arms. They were horrified at the way he looked and his treatment. They swore that he would never have to go back. But the law was on Sorin side. It wasn’t fair, it was true that Angel was David Sorin’s begotten child (Angel had privately refused to acknowledge Sorin as his father) but his mother, Mara Delune has ran off with Angel hours after he was born, risking both their lives in the winter storm.
She had died and become a Wandering Mother. Wandering Mothers were the spirits of women who had either died in childbirth, or died without making sure that their children had been provided for. She had lead Louis Huney and his wife Lilly to where Angel was. Wasn’t that enough? She was willing to die to keep him away from his birth father.
‘Obviously not.’ He thought. He couldn't help but look around the room. This could the last time he would see it, if his plan worked out. Every thing was done with various colors of blue, while not the most stylish choice, he loved it. The black oversize suitcase and back pack reminded him that he couldn’t stay here though, as much as he wanted to, his presence here would cause trouble when Sorin found out Angel had ran back to the Huney family.
His plan for escape was simple and complicated. He didn’t want to be a Knight or anything like that. On top of that he was Talented, unheard in a boy and he wanted to learn how to control and use it.
He had been six when he discovered that he was Talented. A power surge had cause a black out, he had been reading a book and was surprised at the sudden darkness. In his need to for light, he didn’t create just one orb but several. He never told anyone due to the fact that only girls had Talent and were trained to be Witches and use that Talent.
So simply, he was going to masquerade as a girl and attended Orchid Academy, a relatively new school for Witches. It had been almost scarily easy to get the appropriate paper work and change his name from Angel Huney to Angélique Delune. He'd decided to use his mother’s last name because it would the last thing anyone would suspect.
He hoped.
Easier still was to acquire the appropriate clothes and makeup. Living next door to six female cousins, (Kitiara, Rosalie, Tish, Calla, Beryl and Alexandra) their mothers Zara and Melina and living with his mother Lilly and Louis, who worked at Morning Glory as the singer Louisa, Angel knew which shops to go to and what to get. He didn’t think he would have a problem playing female.
He hoped.
Getting off the bed, he started to dress in the outfit he’d picked out last night. Black panties were first, next came the black lace garter belt. The matching bra was a little harder to get on especially with the breast forms inside. It would have been easier and cheaper to use socks or tissue but he liked the softer, life-like look of the silicone, might as well do this right. Even in his gloomy mood, he giggled in embarrassment at both the lacy underthings, but no one was going to see them. The opaque thigh highs were next, smokey grey in color, lifting his right foot first, he stepped through the loop, pulling it up slowly, carefully up and repeated to process with the left, attaching them to the garter.
He couldn’t help the grin as he shimmied into his turtleneck dress, charcoal grey in color with wide long-sleeves and the helm fell to his ankles, made from soft angora and lambs wool. He did a little spin, laughing softly at the feeling of both the thigh highs and the skirt. He put on large thin silver hoops in his ears and a silver chain around his neck. He took the wig from its stand and placed on his woeful baldhead. The simple black pageboy with full bangs was a vast improvement over his forced baldness.
He then draped a towel across his shoulders, faced the wall mirror, and put on his makeup. Contacts turn the brown of his eyes into a dove grey. A smudge of gunmetal grey eye shadow, black liquid eyeliner, a bit of shimmering powder and a cool toned pink lipstick and gloss. He smiled at his work and removed the towel. He then put on a pair of oversized sunglasses and slid his feet into a pair of slate gray lace-up ankle boots. Finger combing his hair, he placed a grey broad brim sun hat on. Lastly he pulled on a pair of heather gloves. Put on the backpack and grabbing both the suitcase and the pewter lace parasol, he was ready to go.
He turned off the light and closed the door to his room. Down the stairs he walk, he step feeling heavier and heavier. He had to do this. He had to leave. There was a letter on coffee table in the living room that would explain everything. They would understand.
He hoped.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
To be continued…
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Questions? Comments? Suggestion? (No flames please)