Aufurstehung
The Blind Premonition
Marion Stanchon was waiting. It wasn't something she minded, certainly; she enjoyed watching people, and from her position in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the twenty-first floor of a hotel building in Shinjuku, she could do so very easily. It would be impossible for her to actually watch the people on the streets below, but that wasn't what she was trying to do. Marion was content letting the feelings, the emotions, sometimes even the tiniest scraps of thoughts, brush across her mind in muted, yet colorful waves.
So it wasn't the actual waiting that had Marion slightly on edge. It was what she was waiting for. She liked the person she was waiting for well enough- she had, after all, put her life on the line for him without hesitancy and respected him the most out of all the students she had taught in her ten years at Rosenkreuz.
Marion only wished she was seeing him again under better circumstances. Her painted lips parted in a noiseless sigh and one hand came up to absentmindedly straighten the front of her tailored blazer, one of many that constituted her day-to-day wardrobe. They were the only outward signs of her nervousness.
The door opened with a muffled click, rushing softly over the lush beige carpet of the hotel's finest meeting room. Marion's eyes shifted to study the newcomer's reflection in the window. He was the same as the last time she saw him, only slightly taller. And…
His mind was shielded better than before. Much better. Marion was still picking up emotions from the people on the sidewalks below the building- the boy's emotions should have felt strong enough to be her own. But there were none. Marion brought her powers close to her, and then focused the full receiving range of her empathic talent at the boy still standing at the door. Nothing. Only a blank wall. She could break that wall easily, shatter it beneath the force of her empathic talent, but that would cause irreparable damage to his mind, and she wasn't about to do that. Not after working so hard to save that mind from erasure.
All of this was thought through in a matter of seconds, years of training causing Marion to note small details that may come in handy during a fight, despite the passive nature of the meeting. Marion turned from the window to face her old student as the door slid shut behind him. She smiled slightly in greeting; a false smile, although she genuinely was glad to see him again. There was no greeting in return, simply those dark eyes meeting her light brown ones, and that sheer, impenetrable wall.
"Shall we sit?" Marion asked, voice quiet in the dimly lit room. Another formality, like the smile. She moved away from the windows and walked leisurely towards the two long couches that faced each other over a low coffee table. Two manila folders were already waiting on the table, the only thing Marion had brought into the room with her.
The dying afternoon sunlight illuminated the room in a hazy fashion, causing dust to sparkle in the air as time moved sluggishly. The boy came away from the gloom of the doorway, and the sunlight highlighted his face and hair. Marion was struck by how young he still looked. She lowered herself gracefully onto the edge of one couch, crossing her legs and smoothing her knee-length skirt against them. She rested her hands in her lap as the boy settled himself on the couch across from her, and once he had finished moving, she began to say what she had flown halfway across the world to say.
"We both know this meeting is mostly formality, so let's just cut to the chase, shall we? After tomorrow your team will function again and we can put this incident behind us." Marion leaned forward and pushed the two folders in the boy's direction. He picked up the top one, glancing at her without opening it. A silent question.
"That contains the details of your team's next assignment. Everything is in place for your team to resume duties here in Japan. Walters has been given a copy of the file as well, and he should have time to review it sufficiently before he arrives." The boy nodded and placed the folder beside him on the couch.
"And this?" He queried, low and soft, taking up the second folder in slim fingers. There was no need for him to be polite- they were both Class 1 talents in their different fields and he was no longer a student, but his tone of voice was polite nonetheless.
"That would be background information on Zachary Walters. I thought you might want a chance to look over it before he arrives tomorrow. You may not keep it, however. Once we are finished with our conversation, you may look through it as long as you wish, but you must leave the folder here with me when you leave."
He nodded again and she knew he understood. Rosenkreuz had given her the folder for her own personal information; choosing to share it with the boy would be frowned upon by the Council if they were to find out. Marion was taking the risk because she felt the boy deserved to know what was coming.
"Your teammates should have been returned a few days ago. How are they?" Marion asked, scrabbling for any trace of emotion, anything to know what the boy's mental state was.
"They're fine," was the response. No inflection, no feelings. The nails of Marion's empathic gift slithered uselessly down the side of the boy's shield, unable to find any purchase. He reached for the second folder and began to open it.
"And you?" The boy's movements paused momentarily, but he did not look up from the file, merely stared at his hand, grasping the edge of the folder. The seconds stretched on before he responded, and Marion became hopeful that perhaps he would show some glimmer of emotion now. But it was as before.
"Fine." And then he opened the folder, and the chance Marion was searching for withered and slipped by.
"I see. As I expected," Marion said crisply. She decided to leave the boy to his folder and wandered back to the window in the gathering dusk. She looked out on the city and its people again, opening her gift up wide enough to feel the warm rush of emotions, unaware of the fact that the boy had stopped scanning the folder's contents to watch her. The sunset's bloody color washed over her and framed her silhouette in the window, and for a moment the boy was blinded by the brightness. But then it was over, and he turned back to the file.
Minutes passed. Years, centuries, eons; it felt immeasurably long to Marion, yet it didn't matter. Time was inconsequential to her right now, and she did not grow impatient, merely relaxed against the soothing touch of so many emotions around her. Eventually she heard the folder snap shut, and the sound of it gently hitting the table was swallowed up in the dying sunlight of the room. Marion watched the reflection of the boy rise from the couch, single folder in one hand, and move towards the door. But with one hand on the doorknob, he stopped. Marion waited patiently, wondering if he would speak. He did.
"I would like to request a different name for the team."
Marion turned halfway towards him- not enough to be facing him directly but enough to see him out of the corner of her eyes. The question, a favor, actually, was not one she expected. Usually teams were assigned new names only if they lost more than half their members; only one was being replaced in this instance. To change the name, Marion would have to file a request with the Rosenkreuz Field Department, in charge of all the assignments and placements of the various Rosenkreuz field teams. The probability of it being granted was high, simply because the team in question had a Class 1 telekinetic, and because Marion had been given responsibility for the team's rehabilitation, and she herself was a Class 1 empath. Rosenkreuz only had eleven Class 1 talents working up until recently- because of the mishap with this team now there were only ten. Rosenkreuz considered the requests of its Class 1 talents above the requests of others, and they were rarely denied if the requests were reasonable.
"I'll see what I can do. May I ask why?" If he was asking her to make the request, then she certainly had the right to ask why. Marion turned back to study the window while waiting for his answer.
"Schwarz is dead," he stated simply. And with that final comment, Naoe Nagi left the room. Marion watched his reflection in the glass, lips pursed in thought. It wasn't the comment she had expected, and it wasn't one she wanted to hear. But there was nothing she could do about it now, only sit and wait to see how things worked out. Marion turned her thoughts back to the people outside, contenting herself with the knowledge that she would check on the boy again in a few months.
Author's notes: Welcome to 'Aufurstehung: Tod von einem Vermächtnis,' my latest attempt at an epic, multi-part Weiss fic. This is the short prologue- it takes place not at the beginning and not at the end, but somewhere in the middle of the story to come. One might notice that this is a Schwarz-centric fic. I'm not including warnings because that'd ruin the surprises. Thank you for reading and any reviews would be greatly appreciated.
Obviously, Weiss Kreuz isn't mine. If it was, I wouldn't be writing fanfiction about it, would I?