Dancing Roses in the Melting Snow

by Adjudicato

A heart left cold, blanketed by snow. A soul left wanting, in the shadow of winter. All things must give way to season's passage, all lives progress by phase. Yet, in the warming light of spring, new life blooms from the frozen ground. As winter's shadow gives way to spring, as friendship heals and begats love, so too do roses of all shades bloom. Roses of red, and white.

1. Educational Entertainment

Dancing Roses in the Melting Snow

Chapter 1

Educational Entertainment

Ϯ - A Forward Note

What is one's destiny if not to shape it oneself? What is life if not a trial of perseverance and innovation? What is love if not an exertion of our ability to recognize fate's gentle rapping upon the door of our soul?

When faced with these realities, as they present themselves over the course of our all too short existence, it is oft the case that opportunity is missed and replaced by tragedy. To see the coming precipice and not slow our pace, only to plummet over the edge, is indeed the ultimate folly of one who assumes their path preordained. And yet, there is always the glimmer of hope in these darkest moments.

Thus, if you are interested, join me for a story I wish to relay. A story of two individuals, plucked from their desired paths in the ever-flowing river, as their respective journeys intersect. A story of life, its tragedies and hardships, both self-inflicted and inevitable. A story of what may blossom from opening oneself to possibility born of consternation.

A story of roses that dance in melting snow.

Љ

The day was just beginning, the sun peeking shyly through stained glass, as a massive body of students stood at the threshold of their new lives. Cool spring air, carrying with it the final whispers of winter's grasp, drifted coyly through the open assembly. The room would be otherwise unremarkable, were it not for the awe-inspiring material of which it was crafted.

Formed of what, to the untrained eye, seemed as granite, the mighty walls were gray and foreboding to behold. Their sleek façade bade the ingress of feelings of entrapment, tempered paradoxically with the warm glow cast by the rays of the sun. The myriad of colors, created by the scattering of the rays through the stained glass, shone magnificently upon the walls and students alike. In excellent contrast to the depressing façade of the walls, the light was welcoming and freeing.

It was an amazing feeling to be there, so washed over and filled with the paradoxical auras of this room. A fitting feeling it was, as those assembled here today knew well in their hearts. Hearts that were strong and willful, possessed of the drive to move mountains by their mind's visions alone. For, you see, these were no ordinary students which were now gathered in this unordinary room.

Indeed, this room was but one of many which comprised a monolithic university, within which the future members of a certain company were trained to be tomorrow's visionaries and leaders. As the few hundred stood there, eagerly awaiting to be addressed by their new Dean, one student in particular held an altogether different air about her.

Standing not much taller than the norm, with hair and skin the alabaster-white of freshly fallen snow, was a woman whose mere posture spoke volumes of her pedigree. Icy-blue eyes gazed intently toward the lectern at the forefront of the assembly, their cold stare unmoving and unfettered by the commotion all around. Her mind was entirely unbound by that which so concerned the rabble, as she perceived them to be, all around her.

Weiss Schnee, heiress apparent of the mighty Schnee Dust Company, stood elegant and composed as she awaited the commencement of the orientation. Her focus was honed and her intent clear, for she stood here today, embarking further upon her journey, to take the first of many steps to free herself. The drive to be free of the shadows which so consumed her, the shadows of her sister and father which she had so long been held within, marked her reason for attending this place.

These were the thoughts that ran through the heiress' head, coloring her posture and aura with a cold aloofness easily felt by all around her. These were the thoughts that were broken by the gravelly voice of an older gentleman, addressing the entire body of the newly enrolled students.

"Welcome, one and all, to the Schnee Dust Company's Management Training University!" he boomed into the microphone.

All at once, the rumpus of conversations and excited mutterings was halted and stilled. All eyes, the heiress' included, were focused immediately upon the man behind the lectern. He had approached so calmly and inconspicuously as to be entirely unnoticed. Now, with the assembly's full attention, he adjusted his glasses and addressed his new students in earnest.

"You have all come here, through trial and tribulation, for reasons that are fully your own." He began, gravelly voice shuddering the speakers, "Know first, though, that your position here is neither guaranteed nor given. By merit of hard work and due diligence, you have, each and every one of you, carved a place for yourself in the roster of this prestigious academy."

Every student beamed with a well-earned sense of pride at the Dean's words. Every student, that is, except for one. The heiress' cold and calculating heart neither fluttered nor raced under the praising words, assured beforehand of her innate prowess. She merely gazed on, listening intently for anything she deemed important.

"Furthermore, be well aware that slacking and misconduct will be swiftly rewarded with expulsion." The Dean continued, "While you have certainly taken a good first step toward proving yourselves worthy of the Schnee Dust Company, there is no room for chaff in our granary. Thus, I implore you all to take your studies seriously and apply yourselves, with all the same fervor by which you entered, toward the shared goal of honorable graduation."

These words tempered the listening crowd somewhat, the heiress still remaining an exception. As all ingested and contemplated the speech, allowing the gravity of it to sink in, the heiress was joined by another unfazed individual. A pair of silver eyes, gleaming with no less enthusiasm than before, watched the Dean with excitement unwavering.

"Now, with all these things in mind, I urge you all to listen carefully to the instruction of your faculty. Their guidance will assure you, along with your own industry, a clear path to your goals."

The Dean's introduction finished, he stepped back from the lectern and exited the stage. So muted was the man's presence, even while being watched, it almost seemed as if he left unnoticed as he had come.

After that came a barrage of various teachers and other members of the facility, nigh unto three hundred once all was said and done. They introduced themselves in turn, explaining with succinct detail of their function and duties within the academy. To the amazement of some, these professors and coaches covered everything from business basics to philosophical studies. It was little wonder how the Schnee Dust Company had managed to become such a behemoth of the corporate world.

During all this, Weiss' mind took in the information on a subconscious level while her higher thought wandered. Plans had to be made to assert herself as the top student; notes had to be taken on which teachers could be made allies and which would have to be placated by academic means. Ever the calculating opponent, Weiss would not allow herself to be bested by any challenger.

These thoughts were once more interrupted by the gravelly voice of the Dean, alerting the heiress to the end of the assembly as he addressed them once more.

"There you have it, my newest scholars." The man began, "These will be your pedagogues and drill masters for the next five years. I wish you all the best of luck, and may the light of knowledge shine ever warmly upon your fertile minds."

Љ

The heiress paced carefully around an elegantly appointed room, her icy blue eyes wandering across every detail and facet of her surroundings. It was a long-bred habit, instilled by a childhood of nearly military drills and rules, to make sure everything was perfectly placed and dressed. Not a single book stood apart from the others on her bookshelf, lined with utter perfection and attention to detail. Not a stitch of clothing lay out of place upon their hangers, placed evenly and meticulously in her oaken wardrobe.

The little coffee table at the center of this room, which would serve as the heiress' private dorm for the duration of her attendance, was lavishly decorated with a bouquet of flowers. These stood in a crystal vase, their colors matched painstakingly to be appeasing to the eye, towering above an extravagantly crafted tea set. In a word, Weiss' room was the absolute expression of compulsive order.

This was not to say, however, that the heiress was satisfied with the fruit of her obsessive labors. Though it would seem perfect to the untrained eye, the uncouth mind, the icy jewels in her head caught glimpse of every wrong detail. Any speck of dust left by her marching gait, any item turned just a degree past where she wanted it, nothing escaped her eye.

"Honestly, you'd think the man was standing over my shoulder…" Weiss scoffed aloud, to no one in particular.

She continued her errant pacings, eyes flitting about the room in search of further errors to correct. This little ritual would drive the average human mad, indeed, but served to acclimate the heiress to her new home for the next half of a decade. It was her way of making the room her own, knowing full well that it was not given her on her own merit.

As the thought ate away at her mind, that this excessive room was appointed to her of her father's will, a dull chiming caught Weiss' ear. She ceased her touring, turning elegantly on the heel of her white dress-boot, and snatched the offending object from its rest on her nightstand.

"Speak of the devil, himself…" Weiss scoffed, reading the name displayed on her scroll with no small disdain.

Though she hesitated for a moment, considering the idea of ignoring it and attributing such to a missed call, the heiress opened the device and accepted the call. Three rings in, just as her father had always insisted she do.

"Hello, Weiss."

Purposeful and succinct, ever the professional as he was. Swallowing her childish irritation, the heiress did her best to sound sincere and not the least put out.

"Hello, Father."

"I assume you're finished settling into your room?"

"Yes, Father, my things are put away appropriately."

"Have you familiarized yourself with your schedule?"

"I am doing so as we speak, Father."

Their conversations always seemed to proceed in this manner, as if a supervisor attending to his employee. As Weiss continued to answer her father's questions, growing ever more impatient with his micromanaging interrogation, a tinge of sorrow almost seemed to well up in her stomach. It wasn't an unfamiliar feeling, per se, but had become gradually rarer as she had aged. Now well into her twenty-sixth year, Weiss had not felt this feeling in some time.

"I have another auspicious young man I'd like you to meet, Weiss." Her father said, breaking the heiress from her ruminations, "He's a promising young entrepreneur who has recently been appointed as the head of a successful Dust research group. I think you'd hit it off swimmingly."

There it was, the entire reason for this farce of a wellness call. Weiss' mind had set to wandering during the first half of their conversation, assured that this would eventually be revealed as the subject matter. Though she would never think of outright refusing or objecting to these attempts, the heiress detested this above all her father's idiosyncrasies.

"If my studies permit, I will meet him, Father." Weiss replied, almost like a machine.

This was not the first, as suitors had been thrown at her consistently since she came of age to date, and would certainly not be the last. Thus, the heiress merely acquiesced as politely and convincingly as possible, having no interest to speak of in any of these men.

"Very good, see to it you concentrate on your lessons and make some time." He replied, "I'll keep in touch. Goodbye, Weiss."

The sound of her father hanging up chirped loudly in the heiress' ear, ending the call before she had time to say her own goodbyes.

"Talk to you later… Dad." Weiss whispered to the empty room, her icy eyes fixated on the communicating device still open in her hand.

Without realizing it, a tear tickled her cheek as it slid off her face and onto the screen of her scroll. The same feeling that teased her heartstrings earlier, a feeling that had not visited her this much in many years, throbbed noticeably in her bosom. With an irritated cluck of her tongue, Weiss wiped the moisture from her face and the device, shutting it and placing it upon her nightstand once more.

As she set about to reading her class schedule in earnest, the heiress' thoughts turned once more to the subject of her suitors. It had started around her sixteenth birthday, when she had been accepted into a prestigious college unusually early. Time after time, her father would find eligible bachelors of no small pedigree or renown, insisting that she meet and consider them. It seemed well enough at first, having such ready access to considerable individuals, but the truth had eventually dawned on her.

One was the son of a wealthy partner, a partner who had been dissatisfied with the company and considered selling out. One had been the younger, much younger, brother of a well-to-do merchant, with whom her father wished desperately to conduct business. Different stories colored different shades of the same deceitful murk, it always seemed to lead back to her being a pawn on a chessboard. This was when Weiss had had enough, growing ever more disillusioned each new suggested suitor.

"A psychology class, hm?" she mused to herself, half paying attention to the booklet in her hand.

The heiress' mind swam all around creation as she multitasked, ruminating and reading while sipping a cup of ice water. This was just another day wrapping up for the young Schnee, one in which she continued her motions as she prepared to break herself free of her family's shadow.

"Sorry, Father, but it seems my schedule is looking too full for even I to carve time out of it…"

She flipped through the booklet for a fifth time, having almost entirely ingested and committed its contents to memory. This last scanning of the pages was more for the sake of obsessiveness than anything else. Finally, her task completed, the heiress shut the booklet and carried it to her desk. She opened up a drawer and put it away, neatly and orderly, before returning to her earlier task of looking the room over.

The sun was now setting outside, its twilight hues gleaming through a marvelous bay window. Weiss noticed this in passing as she meticulously went about her evening ritual, shedding her waking outfit and donning her eveningwear. At this time of year, in this part of Atlas, the setting sun indicated quite the late hour and the heiress was quite consistent with her bedtime.

With practiced speed and precision, she made herself ready and retired for the night, snuggling up under a posh cover. As she lay on the plush mattress, another gift of her father's affluence, the heiress' mind wandered somewhat before sleep took her.

"I suppose I could have been a huntress, to get away from this dreg." She muttered, eyes growing heavy as she stared at the ceiling, "Heaven knows, Father would have thrown a fit over that…"

Љ

The weeklong orientation came and went with little of interest occurring, aside from Weiss' odd encounter with a most interesting fellow student. The silver-eyed vixen had caught her eye for all of a moment before her incessant chatter dissuaded further interest. Yet, aside from this, it was merely a week of introduction to classes and issuance of books. It had passed smoothly and given way to the first true week of university.

Now the heiress was fully engaged, her mind locked onto the target of academics. With an unusual eagerness, she had dressed herself to the nines in order to make the best impression possible on her first real day of class. After having checked her uniform over many times, Weiss had made her way to the designated muster for her group. Though made up of individuals with different focuses than herself, the group shared enough classes to be assigned homeroom together.

Upon entering, she quickly made her way to her assigned seat, sitting down and arranging her things accordingly. Hands folded and posture confident, Weiss watched as her fellows gradually filed into the classroom. She had arrived purposefully early, as she ever did, and was less than surprised to see a veritable trickle of students following after her.

Those icy blue eyes scanned the room, observing the now familiar details, as a figure approached unnoticed. The figure sat beside her rather mutedly, the heiress failing to notice its presence.

"Weiss!" a very girlish voice called, loudly interrupting the heiress' thoughts.

With a start, she turned to her addresser and was less than pleased to see who it was. There sat a familiar woman, whose name escaped Weiss' memory, with her familiar silver eyes trained eagerly upon the heiress.

"I'm sorry," she began, clearing her throat, "who are you, again?"

Weiss had hoped to dissuade the overly friendly woman from further interaction, by way of seeming aloof and uninterested. Much to her dismay, from either ignorance or lack of concern, the woman seemed unfazed by the response.

"Don't you remember, from orientation?" she asked, smiling wide as possible, "Ruby Rose, your partner in Psychological Sciences and Business Ethics!"

Weiss' level of irritation took a dangerous ascent at this, dreading the thought of being stuck with such an individual for even the one class. It wasn't enough to be insulted by being assigned a partner when, in her eyes at least, she was fully capable of excelling on her own. By some stroke of bad luck, as it seemed, it would be one with whose personality she clearly did not well mesh.

"Yes, well, just try not to be a hindrance." Weiss replied bluntly, turning to face the professor's lectern, "If we must be partners, then please take a page from Business Mechanics and be the silent partner."

Unseen by the heiress, as her view was focused keenly on the lectern below, Ruby merely flashed a wide grin in response. The friendly woman chuckled softly and turned her gaze likewise, watching for the professor to enter and begin the class. It seemed Weiss' harsh greeting had none of the desired effect.

The two sat in palatable silence for a good twenty minutes as the classroom filled with the rest of its attendees. Another five minutes after this, the professor herself marched confidently into the room, striding gracefully to her place behind the lectern. When Weiss' eyes first caught sight of the woman, whose bearing eerily matched the heiress', a cold sweat began to form upon her.

"This isn't happening…" she muttered under her breath, just quiet enough not to be heard by her desk-mate.

There, at the front of the classroom, stood an all too familiar individual. Pure white hair tied neatly in a bun, porcelain pale skin peeking from under a militaristic uniform. Icy blue eyes filled with the confidence of a thousand soldiers, their gaze passing over each and every face in the room. A basket-hilted cutlass draped neatly on her hip, silvery finish gleaming in the synthetic light of the room.

Undoubtedly, no less than a few students were likely wondering why their teacher was armed. Weiss, however, was more concerned with why this woman was here in the first place. The heiress' throat nearly closed shut with trepidation when the woman addressed the class.

"Good morning, students." She spoke evenly, eerily calm, "I'll be replacing the professor you met during orientation, starting today, for the duration of your attendance."

Now dreading the coming years, Weiss was visibly sweating and perhaps even shivering in her seat.

"My name is Winter Schnee and expect you all to go above and beyond with your performance in my class."

The heiress wanted desperately to slam her head upon her desk, yet held herself together admirably in the face of this entirely unwanted development. On the bright side, however, the day had nowhere to go but up from here.

Ͼ

Three weeks went by with relative ease, not accounting for the anxiety of being under her sister's tutelage. The daily grind of this university was little challenge to the heiress, her experiences already tempered with previous college attendance. Even her desk-mate, the ever-cheerful Ruby Rose, proved to be little detriment to her capability to concentrate and excel. This paved way for Weiss to prepare to indulge in a habit she had thus far ignored, one she had developed since joining the age of majority.

This evening, as the last rays of sunlight shone through her bay window, Weiss was busy readying herself for a nocturnal endeavor. Her classwork complete, subjects studied and memorized for the upcoming battery of quizzes, the young Schnee glanced over a map of the area on her scroll. She had spent each night of the last week walking the grounds of the university, inasmuch as she needed to, and noting the areas of least traffic.

All this in the name of a private pursuit, one which she absolutely had to keep from her peers. None could know, none could see her heading off into the night. This fact was cemented by the attire which she now prepared.

Having read the map to satisfaction, Weiss placed the device, now shut, upon her desk and stood. With graceful steps, she approached the oaken wardrobe and opened it. There, from the bottom, she removed a medium sized box and returned with it to her desk.

The box was of little note aside from its sturdy make and tough lock. The glimmering bit of metal cast a ray of sunlight, caught from the nearby window, in all directions. It was made of a particularly tough alloy, one which few could afford, and securely held the contents of its charge away from prying eyes.

Placing the box on her desk, Weiss then reached over and flipped a switch on the side of the bay window. With a hushed whir, the window became suddenly dark, blotting out the only source of light in the room. The panes, made of a particularly deceitful strain of dust, had changed from translucent to opaque.

"Ancillary lights, on. Set to dim." Weiss called out, just loud enough for the room's computer to pick up.

A line of bulbs over the desk, hidden under the edge of the ceiling, came to life slowly. Just as commanded, the room's AI kept the illumination just bright enough that the heiress could see the box before her. That, and her own image in a nearby body mirror.

With gentle motions, Weiss reached behind her neck and took hold of a delicate silver chain. She carefully undid the clasp and removed it and the object strung upon it. Pulled from its hiding place within her bodice, a lusterless silvery key glinted faintly in the dim light from above. With practiced movements, she then placed it within the lock of the box and turned carefully, three times. Three faint pops could barely be heard, followed by a fourth click, as the tumblers within were released.

Placing the chain back around her neck, reaffixing the clasp and slipping the key into its hiding place, Weiss opened the box and looked upon its contents.

"Let's see what this city has to offer…" she muttered.

From the box, she first removed a long black coat. She set it, folded, over her chair and went about removing her uniform. After donning a guise of inconspicuous street clothes, she returned to the coat and slipped it over top. Pulling up the hood of the coat, she then removed the box's other item.

In her hand, Weiss held a very intricately carved mask of darkened steel, matching well the coat that now sat upon her shoulders. The patterns upon it were murals of fire and storms, a popular motif for militaries of foreign lands. Satisfied that this would serve her purpose well, the heiress placed the mask back within the box. After removing the coat, returning it to the box as well, she shut and latched the container.

"Door light, on. Set to dim. Time to five minutes." She called out, turning and walking toward the door. "Ancillary lights, off."

As Weiss exited her room, box in tow, the AI system followed her commands to the letter. The posh, private dorm room was entirely devoid of light as the heiress left the university grounds.

Ͼ

The city of Constance, which only came to exist in the shadow of the Schnee Dust Company's massive university, was aptly known as the University City. A sprawling metropolis, housing businesses which employed, almost exclusively, interns of the university, one had to make use of a central transit system to get anywhere important. Thus, it was here that Weiss found herself starting her journey into the seedier parts of this massive city.

The heiress stood at her designated platform, her foot tapping the ground impatiently, within the MTU Central Transit Hub. Her ticket in hand, ready to show the doorman when the train arrived, had the name of a very high-class establishment emblazoned upon it. It read, simply, Olympus Heights, and designated her as a guest of the prestigious hotel.

The train arrived precisely three minutes before its scheduled time, its doors opening with an audible pop as the pressure within was released. Weiss stepped on, showing her ticket to the attending doorman, and quickly took a seat beside the door. Much to her relief, there were few other passengers at this time of night. Clutching the box tightly upon her lap, the heiress passed the time by reviewing her memorized coursework.

This served her well, as the train pulled into its destination before she realized it. Having entirely failed to notice the passing scenery, which was, in no other words, indescribably beautiful, Weiss' icy blue eyes shimmered whimsically upon exiting.

All around her were the myriad golden hues cast by the softly lit marble of the hotel's grandiose platform. Here, in this station contained within the hotel, one found the only means of entry to this monolithic establishment. Indeed, the young Schnee had spared no expense from her personal account for this weekend's venture.

At the back of the massive platform, past the turnstiles and automated ticket booths, stood a gargantuan pair of doors. Made of some lavish wood, gilded to the nines with gold and platinum, they towered very near twenty meters tall. Just a little farther and they would have been to the ceiling, touching the mural of cherubs and clouds upon its façade. The heiress was somewhat taken aback by the sheer splendor, despite the equivocal resplendence of her own home.

With the loud clicking of her high heels trailing behind her, Weiss walked briskly across the station proper and through that massive entrance. The gargantuan doors gave off a sense of warmth and safety as she passed between them, their massive size seeming to beg a feeling of security. Yet, upon entering, the view of the station was entirely crushed in comparison to the interior lobby.

Weiss nearly dropped the box she held in her arms, so shocking was the extravagance that greeted her icy eyes. Floors adorned with handspun rugs, colored luxurious shades of burgundy and bronze. Walls graced with murals of deified hunters and huntresses of yore, their eternal battles committed to legend with golden and jeweled inlays. A mural upon the ceiling, accompanied with a set of grand chandeliers, depicted the founders of the Schnee Dust Company.

The heiress had to catch herself from tipping, so oddly craned was her neck in admiration of the view. Realizing that she was in full view of the public, though the public comprised few individuals at this late hour, she resumed her posture and proceeded toward the receptionist's plaza.

"Greetings to you, Ma'am." A comely young woman greeted her, bowing deeply, "How may I assist you this evening?"

Without a word, Weiss held the ticket she'd boarded the train with out to the woman. With another bow, much shallower than before, she took and placed the ticket on an odd little box. The box lit up briefly, brightly, before a sharp chirp sounded accompanied by a green light. Retrieving the ticket and offering it back to the heiress, the receptionist bowed once more, just as deeply as the first time.

"We hope you enjoy your stay with us, Ma'am."

Once more, Weiss ignored the woman and simply took her ticket, making her way for a glass-faced elevator. Upon entering, she rode it to the forty-fourth floor, where the suite she had reserved awaited her, and exited quickly upon arrival.

Hardly stopping to admire the surroundings, equally posh as the massive lobby and train platform, she made her way quickly through the hall.

"Fourteen… seventy-seven." She muttered to herself, the sought after door coming into view at the end of the hallway, "Time to spend the weekend in some real style, without Daddy's wallet."

Weiss walked up to the door, placing her ticket against a panel just to the right of the frame. Just as the box at the receptionist's plaza, the device hummed to life and flashed briefly before a chirp resounded. Without the accompanying green light, the door displayed, in a cursive font, a welcoming greeting.

"Welcome to Olympus Heights, honored guest!" an automated voice said smoothly, "We hope you enjoy the Olympian Suite!"

After this display, which noticeably irritated the heiress' impatience, the door clicked hollowly and swung inward.

"Oh, the trappings of wealth…" Weiss muttered, crossing the threshold.

Once in, as the door shut firmly behind her, she immediately set about to readying herself for the real fun. In a matter of minutes, she had tied her flowing, snowy locks into a tight bun, much like her sister's, and donned her coat. Jet black covering upon her, hood pulled up over her head, the heiress added the final touch.

With her mask satisfactorily in place, Weiss left the suite and made her way for the train platform once more.

Ͽ

The marvelous University City held many a wondrous and fantastic sight, easily attracting tens of thousands to it every month. Tourists and vacationers, philanderers and gamblers, people of all walks and inclinations of life. The Schnee Dust Company had built itself a reputation over its many decades of existence, colored a darker shade recently by such practices as this city propagated. Though the city catered as much to outsiders as it did to the students of its namesake university, there was indeed temptation aplenty.

A vice for every niche, a poison for every palate.

A certain area of the city, however, was almost entirely dedicated to the worst aspects of humankind in general. Named as the Oasis District, this was to be a place of hedonism and respite from societal constraints and the norm. If asked, the founders of this section of the city would proclaim its necessity to facilitate outside ideas and thought from pupils. Of course, if asked, a snake oil salesman would tell you his swill can cure whatever ails you.

All around this district were clubs and bars, casinos and houses of ill repute, decorated with designs harkening to the deserts of Vacuo. Sandy fronts surrounding the buildings, spotted with palm trees and cacti, sat in place of lawns. Shining effigies of the sun seemed to adorn every entrance and street-visible façade of the buildings.

As the cloaked heiress meandered along, eyes darting from place to place, all sorts of individuals passed by. Groups of fraternity brothers and sisters, living up the high point of their lives thus far. Sharply dressed men and women, likely looking to flex their animal magnetism. Simple vagrants and drunks, likely come from all over to drown their worries and sorrows with chips and liquor.

Weiss ignored each and every passerby, her gaze intently searching for one establishment in particular. An enterprise she had found whilst scouring the web, which had duly garnered her interest, was the entire reason for her venture this weekend.

When at last her perusing bore fruit, the heiress' eyes landing upon a particularly extravagant sign, Weiss' chest swelled with a familiar feeling. A sensation caught somewhere between excitement and anxiety, the selfsame feeling she assumed hunters and huntresses vied for. The feeling throbbed stronger and stronger, coming to a flame as she passed under the sign above the establishment's entrance.

The heiress strode along the sandy walkway leading to the front gate, guarded by a suitably imposing individual. There was a line stretching entirely to the street from the entrance, a line which Weiss entirely ignored as she approached, filled predominately with anxious males awaiting their turn to be granted passage. The imposing man at the gate, likely a hunter of some small renown, held up a mighty hand as she stopped before him.

"Gonna need you to wait in line like the rest, Miss." He thundered commandingly.

With hardly a word, without even looking upon her addresser, Weiss reached into her left pocket and withdrew a neatly rolled stack of paper. Removing a clip from it, she counted out a number of Lien bills and held them out to the man. He looked for only a moment before responding.

"Gonna need some ID, Miss." He thundered once more, taking and pocketing the bills.

Scoffing audibly, Weiss once more counted out a number of bills and held them out to the man. This time, he did not address the heiress when he took them, stuffing the cash into the same pocket as before.

"Open up!" the man boomed, slamming the gate with his meaty fist.

The wrought iron gate, tall and striking, swung slowly open before Weiss. The imposing hunter stepped aside, bowing and thrusting one arm out toward the front door of the establishment. The heiress walked along the cobblestone path, her chest swelling yet again with that adored feeling.

"Enjoy your time at the Siren's Call, Ma'am." The guard's voice thundered over her clacking footsteps.

An aptly named establishment for a suitably chosen venue, the Siren's Call greeted Weiss expectedly as she pushed open the marbled door. Within was exactly what the heiress had come for, a plethora of exotic and entrancing beauties dancing to an exhilarating beat.

Weiss stopped for only a moment, with which to ascertain her surroundings and pick a suitable location from which to observe. A spot found, her chest felt ready to burst with the excitement of this taboo as she crossed the floor. She sat at a suitable booth, from which she could spy each and every dancer, and laid back as she made herself comfortable. It would be an absolute scandal if she were found, this she well knew, predicating the need for her seemingly over-the-top disguise.

The beat playing throughout the darkened room was deafening and electrifying. Bass tones thumping deeply beneath squealing, nearly chirping, lines of frantic music. The lighting accentuating the stage was perfection, a myriad of colors displayed evenly yet not overbearingly. The furnishings were properly posh and lavish, yet still comfortable. However, all of this absolutely paled, in the heiress' mind, to the display before her on the stage.

At present, three dancers occupied a stage fashioned like three intersecting circles. Each clung to a shaft of silver-plated steel, stretching to the ceiling, as they twirled enchantingly along with the music. Faces covered with elegant masks, much like the heiress', were the only thing to be hidden from view. The entirety of the rest of them shimmered gorgeously under the dancing lights, to the point that even the sweat upon their skin glimmered like jewels.

Of the three, two were bronze-skinned maidens likely brought from Vacuo, their lithe frames twisting and contorting in a host of acrobatic positions. One had hair of a flaxen shade, striped with runs of white and violet, that flowed long in her spinning wake. The other had locks of a burgundy hue, cut short and fluttering as she surged with the beat.

The last was a sight altogether inspiring, her porcelain skin looking as if it shone a light of its own. Long, limber legs swung enchantingly through the air as she performed a pirouette upon the pole. Sinuous locks, of a royal violet shade, danced along with her as she went, appearing entirely lost in her routine. Weiss felt herself drawn in by this one, far more so than the other two.

"Good evening, Madam." Called a sweet voice, pulling the heiress from her fixation, "Might I get you something to drink?"

Weiss knew well that the libations were likely expensive to the point of ridicule, but decided to go all out on her first trip into her new stomping ground. After all, the point of cutting loose was to cut loose.

"Gin martini, shaken please." She replied tersely.

"Very good, Madam. I'll have it to you right away." The waitress replied, bowing as she took a few steps back before turning and walking away.

Once more, Weiss turned her attention to the performers, admiring their flowing forms as she basked in their energy. The atmosphere was overwhelming, to say the least, after such a long period spent denying the habit. While watching the dancers intently, her mind wandering in a sea of adrenaline, Weiss failed to notice the waitress' return.

"Here you are, Madam!" the woman called in the same singsong voice, "Will there be anything else?"

Having been more than a tad startled, Weiss turned and addressed the woman rather curtly.

"Yes…" she replied with some small venom, "You can leave me to my musings."

Ignoring her cold attitude, the waitress simply smiled and decided to try and strike up a conversation. Weiss was more than a little disinclined to listen, ignoring most of the woman's chatter until a certain bit caught her attention.

"You certainly picked a good night to attend, Madam, as we're introducing our newest dancer shortly. From what I hear, she's prettier and sweeter than the rest put together!"

"Is that so…" Weiss replied halfheartedly, her gaze still affixed to the stage.

"I hope you enjoy, Madam!" the waitress spoke, bowing as she prepared to leave the heiress to herself, "Please, don't hesitate to let me know if I can get you a refill."

The heiress ignored the woman, now thoroughly interested in the well talked of newbie. It seemed rather notable as well that her first attendance should coincide with such a talked up individual's debut. Thus did Weiss anticipate the evening's main attraction, gently sipping her martini as the current salvo of dancers finished their performance.

When at last it was over, the club's loudspeakers came to life with an introductory announcement. Weiss' interest, as well as her excitement, was peaked.

"Gentlemen, and Ladies, it is my pleasure to introduce to you the newest member of our family here at the Siren's Call!" the voice spoke eloquently, "Please give a warm welcome to this shy beauty, joining us for her first performance anywhere, the exquisite Chrysanthemum!"

The music gradually slowed and quieted, until it had completely faded away, as all eyes in the club turned to the stage. No matter what had garnered their attention, whether private performances or chatter among groups, all now stopped and stared in expectation. A feather could have been heard as it fell through the air in the silence.

Much as rumored and whispered for the last week, though none of this had reached Weiss' ears, the woman who walked upon the stage was hauntingly beautiful. Had one asked the heiress to, she could not have summoned the words from her vast vocabulary to give justice to this one's beauty by virtue of description.

She stood perhaps a few hairs taller than the heiress, her frame lithe and fit as if perfection incarnate. Long, pale-blonde locks poured gracefully along her porcelain skin, which was entirely devoid of any imperfection. Her outfit was of a teal coloration, sensually lacey yet not overly revealing, and clung tightly to her form. Her chest, which shuffled lightly with each nervous step, was amply voluptuous against the rest of her features.

Sadly, much to the heiress' chagrin, this avatar of perfection had her face hidden, much like the previous trio, behind an intricate mask. Carved of ebony wood, inlaid with what appeared to be thorned vines formed of gold-glowing Dust, it hid what was surely the literal face of perfection. Weiss might have been more upset by this if, immediately upon the commencement of the woman's performance, she wasn't entirely consumed by the enchantment of it.

No sooner than the new dancer had taken to her routine, the music came back with avengeance. The flashing lights came down, instantly leaving the room devoid of the whimsical colors, and were immediately replaced by a sharp spotlight. This, along with the new beat, served only to further increase the effectiveness of this newcomer's spell.

The heiress was instantly, hopelessly, hooked to this entirely new sensation. Thusly did she spend her entire weekend, returning to watch this newest Siren.