It was late at night and the piazza was deserted by its usual tourist crowd. Empty and vast, the former terrace of a huge villa owned by a noble family from the last century was a perfect vantage place to view the town below, providing spectacular view of the entire town. It was the beginning of spring but the night was still as cold at it had been during winter.
A young girl stood near the stone balustrade at the edge of the piazza. Her dark blond hair looked even darker in the darkness of the night, her dress dark and heavy, seemingly weighing her down, keeping her feet firmly on the ground. She gazed down at the town whose occupants were probably sleeping soundly in their beds, noting how beautiful the town looked at night with yellowish light shining from open windows. She breathed in deeply, smelling the faint fragrant of a blossoming frangipani bush nearby. She loved being back here, the country she grew up in. In Japan, she had often found herself dreaming of medieval castles, cobbled uneven roads, and sunsets behind lush green hills - she'd woke up disorientedly, unable to recognize the alien bed and bedroom she was sleeping in. Even the morning sunlight streaming from the open window had a different quality to it. A different shade, a different tone, a different warmth.
The clicking sound of a lighter case being opened beside her made her turned. The man beside her was leaning his back on the balustrade, an unlit cigarette hanging from between his lips. She smiled faintly and the end of the cigarette flared briefly from within and lit itself up. The man paused midway in the act of bringing his lighter to his cigarette, shot her a disapproving frown, closed his lighter and put it back in his coat pocket. Still smiling, she turned her head back to the panorama before her.
"The church," she began, breaking the silent of the night, pointing at the dark shape of a tall conical spire protruding from the center of the town below them, "is now almost a thousand years old. It was caught by fire several times in the medieval ages. Back then churches were the center of knowledge, the monks being the only people who were literate. When a church was burned down, plenty of valuable books and manuscripts disappeared. It was always a tragedy, really."
The man beside her inhaled his cigarette deeply. "Not all knowledge are good," he said quietly.
She shook her head slowly, "There may be a time in the future when it may turn out to be good and useful."
"Are we supposed to care?"
She lowered her head. "I was the result of such a knowledge. Would you say I'm something bad?"
He stared at the space in front of him, not looking at her, not answering her, either.
She was silent for long minutes. She raised her head again and focused her gaze on a particular large building by the bank of the river running through the town below. It was easily recognizable by its domed roof. She bit her lip and concentrated. On a dark 4th-floor window of the building, an orange light appeared. It grew larger by the minute and moments later, the window next to it was lighted by the same orange glow.
She turned her body abruptly against the spectacle. "Let's go now. It's getting cold."
The man nodded. He took out his half-burnt cigarette from his mouth, dropped it on the ground, and estinguished it with his booted foot. He put his hand on the girl's back and they started walking together towards a black car parked at the edge of the piazza.
Below them, a building burned through the night.
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END
WHR is property of Bandai Visual, Sunrise Inc, et al.
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Notes:
I know this is too long to qualify as a drabble, but I think it's too short to qualify as a fic too. This fic is set post-series. It's been a while since I watched WHR and I think I might have gotten some things wrongly. Sorry for that. And, oh, you DO realize this fic is about Amon and Robin, do you? D
