Blades: No, we haven't abandoned this story. I just have a tendency to procrastinate and we are both working on so many writing projects at the moment that sometimes stuff falls behind. Sorry for the delay. The next chapter is under way.

Wings: Yeah and we live in two separate continents. Enjoy! ^^

The Cassandra Syndrome
Chapter Two

The Girl and the Towel

The first time they kissed it was by accident. Maybe it would have more accurate to call the act an accident.

It never should have happened, that was something that Hitomi believed very strongly. Maybe it was that kiss that had been the start of everything.

In the evenings it was her habit to linger in the Emperor's private garden after playing chess with Dilandau. Even on the nights when the young general was too occupied with the war to spare the time the young priestess would dismiss her maids and revel in the quiet sounds that were so rare in a city that was starting to carve a future out of steel and blood. She was so accustomed to the solitude of the gardens that she nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the telltale sound of a stick being crushed under a heeled boot.

Hitomi was more then a little irritated with herself for whirling around with a gasp. She had seen too many of the women who clamoured for Dilandau's attention act in the same manner and the last thing she wanted to do was act in a manner similar to theirs. Besides, it was difficult to spin around in a kimono.

The Fanelian Prince, Escaflowne, as the Emperor had ordained that the man would be addressed, was standing at the edge of the garden, just underneath drooping branches of a willow.A cool breeze kicked his cloak upwards, and it was only then that the scent of blood reached her. Unable to stop herself Hitomi wrinkled her nose in disgust at the coppery scent.

"Does it offend you?"

The cadence of his voice made her stop and look at him all the more closely. There was an intensity in his cinnamon gaze that she had never received before and she couldn't stop herself from blushing.

"Do you find the scent of blood offensive?"

There it was again, that mocking tone that she couldn't quite place. Quite a few retorts were on the tip of her tongue—it's your manner that offends me ,Fanelia—but she opted to keep her silence and try to reinforce the calm, quiet mask that was the only way she could retain her sanity.

Something hard was smouldering in those eyes of his and Hitomi had a distinct impression that he wouldn't let her leave without an answer. The silence that spread between them, punctuated only by his slow steps as he made his way to the cherry tree that she stood under, made her skin itch.

"It isn't that," She said finally. Briefly she wondered if he was aware of her discomfort and was acting this way on purpose. "It is just not something I am used to."

It was a lie, and she knew from the moment the words left her lips that it was a mistake. Something shifted in the man's expression, and Hitomi was quite sure that she didn't like the tension churning in the pit of her stomach. Was he aware of all of the times that she was summoned by Dilandau to give Death's Blessing to her friend's latest victim?

Did he know that there wasn't a scent that she detested quite as much as she did the scent of blood?

Liar.

She could practically hear the word that went unsaid. His mouth quirked up as if he found something particularly amusing. Her gaze was drawn to that mouth, and her own went dry. Nervous, she played with the golden embroidery over the black silk of the kimono sleeve that bared her pale wrist.

"Is the priestess so innocent?" Then he moved until he was a handspan away from her worried form.

Hitomi expected the blood stench to be nearly overpowering and was a little surprised when it wasn't. She hardly had time to register that surprise because quite suddenly a strong arm had wrapped around her waist and ruptured the distance between them.

She didn't even have time to utter a sound before she was pulled flush against his body. She could only stare dumbly at the bloodstained leather that covered his chest. Before she could even register the sense of revulsion that filled her when she realized that blood clung to nearly every portion of the hardy material a hand that was encased in a leather that was surprisingly supple was touching her chin and tilting her head up. The priestess was hard pressed to suppress a moan at the way her skin tingled pleasantly from where he was touching her.

She raised her eyes to look into his cinnamon hued ones. There was that same fire there. The one she couldn't identify.

"Are you innocent?"

Before she could even jerk back Escaflowne was lowering his head and his lips were crushing hers.

If it had been possible she would have gasped at the sensation of the hand that played at the small of her back, just slipping underneath her obi. She should be pushing him away, she knew that—Goddess, if the old priestess saw her at this very pinnacle of time—but the tingling on her lips from him as he pressed harder against her and pulled her more securely against him was—

He nipped her lower lip and all coherent thought ceased.

For one mind numbing moment she didn't notice anything. She tried to kiss him back tentatively—this is wrong, wrong, wrong—and was nearly mortified at how inexperienced she must have seemed. She clutched at the bloodstained folds of leather, not noticing the way the dried liquid fell onto her fingers in flakes, and was pressing herself against him. His kisses were coaxing, encouraging her to give all that she was and even though Hitomi didn't know why she should, she couldn't help relenting.

She was panting when he finally released her from the kiss, and she wasn't quite able to contain a moan when he brushed her hair forward as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin underneath her throat. She arched her neck back, unconsciously, to give his better access and whimpered when he found her pulse point at the hollow of her throat and nipped and sucked at the now hyper-sensitized flesh.

It wasn't until his hand brushed the heavily detailed silk just over her breasts that she was able to push away, indignation flushing her skin crimson, and look up at him.

Despite the new and staggering need that coursed through her body the look she saw there made her blood freeze.

She had seen cruelty in her service to the Emperor, by the Goddess did she know cruelty, but there was an edge to the mocking smirk that stole her breath. For a moment she forgot to breathe. There was something in that smirk that felt as if someone had taken the sacrificial dagger that she used for ceremonies and driven it straight through her heart. She could only stop and stare at his emotionless eyes as they perused her form and Hitomi had to bite her cheek to prevent her lip from trembling.

How could he make her feel so dirty?

The look he levelled her with when he finally looked her in the eye again couldn't be considered hatred, but it was the closest that she had ever come to seeing it. As ashamed as she felt, she couldn't tear her gaze away from his mouth when he spoke.

"Nothing more than a woman after all." His voice was soft. Hateful.

Tears were starting to gather at the corner of her eyes now and she raised shaking fingers to her lips. Try as she might Hitomi couldn't find the words to reprimand him for daring to—daring to... Her thoughts trailed off and her green eyes, luminous with the tears that threatened to fall, could only stare.

He moved past her, the coarse material of his blood stained cloak harsh against her bare wrists. Hitomi froze, breathing in sharply, when he stopped next to her. He leaned close so that his breath puffed softly against her earlobe and his chin rested on her shoulder.

"Never," His voice was no longer soft and was thick with some sort of emotion that she didn't quite understand, "wear that in my presence. Never again."

She shuddered when he stepped away from her and suddenly felt very cold.

XXX

Van looked up at the 'Otel they had come across which according to Dilandau was the best in the town. Not that the town seemed any better, with few people out on the silent streets and an overwhelming military presence on almost every corner. He silently wondered whether it was strange to feel an oncoming ripple of dread as they had crossed the border into Zaibach, both geographically and militarily imposing.

As Head of the family company he had travelled broadly and his intuition told him that any establishment missing letters from the outside sign were often absent of other things on the inside. But Dilandau had insisted it was a reputable place and found them rooms efficiently and quickly. Still, something jarred with Van on the coach ride into the Republic of Zaibach. It also felt odd how such a notoriously closed off country had let them in without any visas or prior notice.

It was easy to brush it off with the notion that Dilandau was a well connected man, his family deeply mazed in Gaean politics. However Van was not stupid or ignorant by any means, simply connections didn't get you immediate entry into a country with tighter immigration control than a bank vault.

Sighing, he picked up his bag along with his sister's and followed Dilandau who strolled into the 'Otel as if he was walking into a Palace. As a group he noticed that Allen, Millerna, and Merle seemed passively curious about why they had entered a country where Armed Policemen were more common than beggars, not that he had seen any of the latter. Folken, Sora and his twin assistants were talking, huddled together, his brother gesturing with a delighted expression on his face.

But it was the girl leaning against a window and looking out at the grim view that caught his full attention. There had been something in Hitomi's stance that screamed at him she was uncomfortable. Even though her posture was relaxed, he noticed her clenched hands, and the way her lips pursed tightly. And a part of him felt an urge to stride over to her and pull her against him.

She was clearly uncomfortable from the way her eyes shifted back and forth across the room. Van felt as if someone had shot him when her swift sweeping gaze met his. Any idea of going over to talk to her disappeared as she stared at him ever so intensely for a second then tore her gaze away, seemingly wary of him. Almost frightened. It didn't help his already unnerved state at their ominous location.

He wondered cautiously whether he should go and talk to the extremely quiet young woman separate from the rest of their group. But what in the name of Escaflowne would he say? It struck him that he hadn't heard her actually speak since Dilandau had somehow managed the miracle of getting them into Zaibach without prearranged agreement, visas or anything else.

Was that worrying Hitomi? If so surely she would have said something to Folken, he mused. Turning round to look at his brother again he understood why she wouldn't – Folken was still engaged in a highly animated conversation with the twins, his wife and now Dilandau, all with eager expressions on their faces. His brother's gestures increasing, stopping inches of breaking Dilandau's nose.

Van felt it strange that no one else had noticed the girl standing apart from them all and not engaging in any conversation. Any indecision on going to talk to the rather pretty woman left him when Dilandau waltzed over and handed him a door key attached to a large block of wood with the number carved in on it. The quaintness of the key was lost on him as his ass suddenly stung, Dilandau winking as he walked away. Uncaring as to who saw it, Van marched over to the stairs, ignoring his sister-in-law's giggled comment.

"That'll leave a bruise and you know it."

His only focus was to get to his room and sleep through the night. Maybe shower first, and wash in bleach to get rid of the over-abused-by-Dilandau feeling.

XXX

Hitomi watched the little interaction with her professor's younger brother and her childhood friend in silence. Her lips quirked up into an amused smile, even though she hardly found the situation amusing. She had known that going to Zaibach would be a bad idea, but she had been unable to come up with a proper excuse to dissuade Folken. Besides, there was a part of her that couldn't quite deny she wanted to know if she would find anything in those ruins.

She hadn't expected the pain.

Van. Her mouth formed the word, and she grimaced at the sheer precision in the name. Just looking at him was difficult. It was a mercy that while he had definitely noticed her—and probably found her odd—that he had not approached or tried to talk to her. Though a sadistic part of her wished he would come up to her, she would probably have a panic attack if he did.

It wasn't like she hadn't known what Folken's brother would look like. There were times when she practically lived in the professor's office, so there had been more than a couple pictures of both Van and Merle. She had known what he had looked like, yet for some reason it had never even occurred to her that it might be painful to see him. The desire to pull him close had and run her fingers through his thick raven locks with his head resting on her shoulder had been overwhelming enough to bring tears to her eyes. More than once she had thought about leading him to some secluded corner and telling him, showing him, who she was and what he was and what they had once meant to each other.

After all there were ways to show him what she had seen that night in the library when she had stayed late to do some extra research, but Hitomi wasn't sure if she could stand the hate and look of betrayal that was sure to be there when he knew. That was if he believed her and didn't think she was crazy or abusing some sort of glue. So all she could do was swallow thickly, curse Dilandau and his matchmaking tendencies, and pretend that she didn't know him. Pretend that she hadn't known him in another life.

XXX

His curiosity over the honey haired woman, anger with Dilandau's reoffending behaviour and the sudden feeling he was at the beginning of a horror film all fell when he threw his bag on the bed and rolled his tensed shoulders. The room was sparse but it still had a TV and he enjoyed watching Fanelian dramas that were either dubbed or subtitled. Yawning broadly he scanned the room for the ensuite bathroom and narrowed his eyes in surprise as the door was next to the TV.

If he hadn't assumed it was the bathroom, he would have thought it to be a door to an adjoining room. But any confusion or lingering curiosity at the strange layout passed over him at the promise of a shower. Van didn't want to but he knew eventually he would have to check whether the silver haired bastard's gesture had left a mark on his skin. Of all places! Only more embarrassing would be to ask to borrow cream from his sister or worse the demon his brother had married.

He had no complaint towards Sora most of the time. But her indulgent glee at Dilandau's harassment made him wish that his brother had proved him right by only being attracted to humans that were long dead and missing organs, not to mention their skin and muscles. Pity really.

Biting back another yawn he pulled his jumper and t-shirt over his head, throwing them to the bed before kicking off his shoes by the foot of the bed. It was truly testament to how deranged Dilandau could be that he padded barefoot across the thin carpet to the door and locked it, checking twice that anyone, female or perverted male could get in. A quick third check of the lock was made before he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his jeans. Maybe his instincts were slightly off as the room was still quite warm despite the biting cold outside, and he wasn't running to the bathroom to jump into a hot shower.

In hindsight, he should have heard the low gentle humming that wasn't mechanical coming from behind the door he opened. Walking into the bathroom it stupidly took a good few seconds for him to realize that despite all his checks of the door he wasn't alone in the bathroom. Only then did he see another ajar door on the far side of the room that also led to the apparently shared bathroom.

Hitomi looked up for a moment, her brow raised in inquiry as she finished wrapping the towel around her slim form. Van could feel his face turning at least ten shades of scarlet, and cursing himself again for letting Dilandau handle the hotel arrangements.

Her emerald eyes travelled down the course of his body, and it was only through sheer will that he was able to stop himself from flinching back. Her gaze lingered on the pale scar just above his belly button, before travelling downwards. He could just see the amusement in her eyes when she finally raised her eyes back to his.

Once again Van cursed his little sister to the seventh level of hell for arranging his suitcase.

Her lips curved into the faintest of smirks, before she sashayed to her room in a move that he knew was deliberate.

Van couldn't move.

"Folken-SENSEI!" Hitomi's lilting voice caused a cold dread to curl in Van's gut as he waited for her to continue. "Your brother's a perve."

If he cocked his head, Van was almost sure he could hear a faint snickering in the next room over that he knew a certain silver-haired gossip queen had vacated.

Shaking his head, he closed both doors before stepping out of his horrifyingly kitten-imprinted boxers. He had just turned the knobs and a spray of sputtering water was pouring out of the shower head when there was a light tap on the door leading to Hitomi's room.

She opened the door before he had a chance to respond.

He had to give her credit where it was due, never once did her gaze leave his face.

"Be careful with the hot water knob. If you turn it too far it goes cold. Enjoy your shower."

Van stifled the urge to scream (because, after all, it wasn't a very manly thing to do and the last thing that he wanted to do was to attract more attention) and pushed back the curtain to fumble with the knobs. He glared venomously at the closed door. He just knew that it hadn't been an accident that he and Hitomi happened to be assigned the only two rooms that shared a bathroom.

It was enough that he suffered sexual harassment from the Albatou wasn't it? He blamed it on the misogynistic sexism of the government. Was it really so unusual for a male to file a complaint against another male?

Of course that train of thought turned his thoughts to dark alleys and things he really didn't want to think of. He shuddered as he pondered just exactly how much worse it would have been if Dilandau had been the one to take the conjoining room.

Taking care to remember Hitomi's warning about turning the knob too far he waited until steam started to rise before stepping into the shower. Just as he poured the cool gel of his shampoo into his hand he heard a rather piercing loud, feminine voice coming from the direction of the room he now knew also adjoined the bathroom along with his own. This was quickly followed by a high pitched giggle. He groaned. If that was the twins then the fact that he had unintentionally walked in on Hitomi—which, of course, the whole unintentional factor of the entire incident would be completely forgotten—would be known by the entire group within the next five minutes.

Hell, he didn't doubt that complete strangers who didn't even know who he was would know tomorrow that Van Fanel had walked in on Hitomi Kanzaki wearing just a towel, a very small towel.

At that moment he wasn't entirely sure he would have completely regretted Dilandau or even Allen being in the next room.

Even the perverted self proclaimed Gossip Queen couldn't spread rumors as fast as the twins.

Groaning he knew that any amount of hot water would do nothing for his temperament or the feeling of being dirty twice over. He knew that being a voyeur was terrible, but for some reason his mind kept going over the very clear image of the curve of her bare, creamy shoulder. Not to mention the droplets of water falling from her short, lopsided ponytail that slid down her shoulder and beyond. Maybe a cold shower would serve him better.

XXX

Despite all the rumours surrounding the Zaibach sense of hospitality, Van felt as though he had slept well in his barely furnished hotel room with an inflexible mattress. But he liked a firm mattress and once his head had fallen on the rough pillow he had slept soundly despite the odd images of a girl with long hair and blood, so much blood. Not to mention the recollections of the girl in a towel he had come across the night before.

He found himself surprised by how easily he had gone along with his brother and Dilandau's mad cap scheme to visit the reason for the exhibition on the Chezarian border with Zaibach. He wasn't all that surprised by how easily they had crossed the border; after all Dilandau's family were powerful people in Asturia. Still, for some reason he kept thinking back to the youngest assistant of his brother's.

Hitomi. She had appeared surprised by the sudden decision to go into the Republic of Zaibach and somewhat unwilling. At least that's how he interpreted the grimace that slid across her face and her clenched fists. He really needed to stop thinking of the amount of skin that minute towel had allowed him to see. He only hoped for Escaflowne's sake his eyes wouldn't stray anywhere inappropriate when she came down for breakfast. Not that Allen needed any excuse to check out the three females from Folken's group of archaeologists. Or any woman ever.

Yawning, he wondered downstairs and over to the buffet, picked up a variety of sweet dumplings before heading to an empty table and sitting down. Van began to eat in peaceful silence, where his thoughts wandered back to his dreams and the scent of the girl's hair, of incense which calmed him as she silently cleaned the blood from his hands; relaxing as he rested his forehead on her bare shoulder and her cheek brushing his. She had a pleasing voice, humming a song he knew he had heard before somewhere.

"Good morning my beloved." Van blinked as a plate towering with food was set down next to his and a pair of arms wound round his neck, silvery hair nestled in the crook of his shoulder. At another moment he would have reacted instantly, and with as much force as possible. But he was still tired, so he settled with replying devoid of emotion. "Get off me now Dilandau." To his surprise, Dilandau actually respected his request and moved away, settling in his own chair, slumping slightly towards the table.

He bit back a smile of triumph and then tensed in annoyance as the honeyed, overly dramatic voice came, dripping in distress. "You don't love me anymore."

"No Dilandau, I don't. Especially when you're pissing me off at an ungodly hour."

"Did I do something to upset you?" Came the even more honeyed tones, and Van glared at the puppy eyes his soon to be disowned friend bestowed him with.

Yawning again, he turned back to his food and found his knife and fork missing. Turning back to his ever increasingly evil friend he glared once more at Dilandau and demanded, "Give me my cutlery. Now."

The pout from his dining companion only served to increase his anger towards him as Dilandau waved his fork in front of him. "Nuh uh! I've made you angry so I'll make it up to you!"

Van dreaded the word before it even left his mouth, "How?" He flinched as the arm slid across his shoulders and Dilandau loomed closer, his mouth quirking up in an evil sort of way and started stroking Van's cheek. "I'll feed you! Now open wide!"

At that moment Van couldn't decide whether to hate Dilandau, the fork, or the pork dumpling more as they all invaded his personal space.

"Come on honey, don't be shy! Open wide!" The words sounded disgustingly like a come on as the dumpling in his, dammit hi,s fork pressed against his mouth. He closed his eyes in irritation, trying his best not to grab Dilandau's neck and squeeze.

As he opened his eyes, after counting to ten but still feeling irate his face drained of colour despite his tan as the girl he had been trying not to think of sat across from him with a rather knowing smile. It couldn't get any worse he thought.

"Don't let me stop you two. I haven't read a good yaoi manga for ages. And you two would make a hot couple!" She grinned at them and Van cringed as Dilandau's arm tightened around his shoulders, further entrenching in his personal space.

"I'm…we're…not. He just…" His face flushed and he knew it could always get worse where Dilandau was concerned. A part of him cringed in embarrassment at the smile on her face, but it seemed she had some mercy for him as she replied, "No worries Fanel-san, Dilandau can get a little over-friendly at times. Play nice Dilly!" Van watched in amazement as Hitomi pointed her spoon at his groper who withdrew his arm from his shoulders and moved across the table to sit beside her obediently.

Those crimson eyes that glittered with something that Van really didn't want to think about watched him and it was only his pride as a Fanel that kept him from creeping away and running from the room altogether. Somehow he didn't have much of an appetite anymore. He hazarded a look over at Dilandau—

Damn, he couldn't leave without making it look like he was admitting defeat and the smug bastard knew it. Once again, Van asked himself why he didn't just severe all ties with that Albatou.

What was Zaibach's policy on murder?

The soft murmur of the voices of the other members of their group reached his ears and Van knew that his fate was sealed. Biting the inside of his cheek to suppress a groan, he eyed his tarnished knife and fork.

If he didn't pick those up and start eating soon he was going to get all sorts of weird looks.

A sudden snort had him whipping his head up so that he could glare at the culprit.

And noticed that she was wearing a v-neck that was currently showing an ample amount of cleavage. Dear gods the flashbacks from their encounter the night before ran to the front of his mind, smashing against his skull and jack-knifing. And of course his conscience dryly informed him he had seen more than that last night. Was it acceptable to glare at someone he had known for just over twenty-four hours? Surely Hitomi-san would understand the family temper, or was Folken mellowing as he got older?

"Was it really so terrible, Fanel-san?" The look on Hitomi's face as she leaned forward—damn it, it wasn't his fault that his gaze was drawn down there—with both elbows on the table.

Van decided that it wasn't his fault that her breasts were pressed close enough together that he could make out the black lace lining of her bra. Her voice drew his attention back to her face, and he swallowed thickly at the way she regarded him with one raised brow. There was something so evil, so much that it reminded him of Dilandau, about the smirk that her (Kissable! His hormones supplied gleefully) lips curved up into that it made him want to hide.

"Wow, you really do have a one track mind." Hitomi picked up a french toast stick from her plate, swirling it generously in the syrup, before taking a bite in a way that had Van swallowing thickly. Of course, then she had to groan. "Oh, gods! This is real maple syrup. I haven't had any in ages." Her eyes half fluttered close in a way that did nothing for Van's sanity.

XXX

He still remembered the exhibition that had occurred at breakfast. It was definitely a good thing his sister had talked to someone other than him or he wouldn't have been able to answer. He could still picture her rose pink tongue sliding out of her mouth and licking a drop of maple syrup hovering on the edge of her bottom lip. Van definitely needed more than a cold shower. And how long had it been since he had … not that it mattered. For some jarring reason that he couldn't define, he knew that even in a room full of strippers and lap-dancers, he still would have focused all his attention on Hitomi Kanzaki.

Thinking on it, he could recall his brother mentioning her. Apparently she had talked a museum curator in Basram into letting them examine letters written from the Emperor of Zaibach at the beginning of the Era of Science to the then ruler of Basram. Folken had sounded so astounded at the time, but it hadn't seemed very impressive to Van then. In reflection he could completely understand the awe. It wasn't just because of the glimpse he had gotten of her last night. She had something about her that made it seem as if Royalty would bow down to her.

But he had found his curiosity about her growing as Folken had told them about their plans for the day. An archaeologist would be meeting them out in the desert on a dig. For some reason he had noticed immediately the difference between Hitomi's expression and the other fossil dorks as Allen had christened them. Where the twins and Dilandau had broken into excited chatter as apparently Zaibach archaeological digs were very rarely exhibited to academics from other countries, the emerald eyed girl had looked worried, if not downright unhappy about the trip. Van supposed that maybe she was uncomfortable in the country bordering on a dictatorship.

After they had all finished breakfast his attention turned swiftly to avoiding Dilandau's wandering limbs, having pulled his knees as close to him so the silver haired pervert wouldn't try and instigate a game of footsy under the table. He had repacked his belongings quickly, though as he spotted a book that was notoriously placed in every hotel room in the country Van wondered whether to take it with him or not. The Red Book, beholden in the country, written by its leader, barely concealing their dictatorial hold over the country to outsiders, was full of propaganda. On the one hand Van was curious to see how far the brainwashing went in the book and if the traps were obvious, but it would also probably be a long ride into the desert and he liked to have something to read on long journeys. But Van had been told by his brother from the few trips Folken had made to this semi-enclosed country that tourists were often treated with suspicion if they showed interest in anything political or military.

So he decided to leave the burdensome book on the nightstand and trawled down the corridor to the lift. A pensive haze drew over him as he tried to absorb everything that had happened since yesterday. So he barely registered the imploring yell before him, "Hold the doors!" Not making a move to press any button on the lift, Van could only stare as the girl who seemed to hover in the midst of his thoughts threw a heavy duffle bag into the lift before bolting into the metal box herself just as the doors closed behind her.

Still unable to take in what had just happened, he watched as she rested her hands on her thighs and breathed in deeply before stretching up to look at him.

It was so very strange but the hairs on the back of his neck bristled as her expression changed so swiftly. For a second it looked as if his brother's youngest assistant was going to reprimand him, but as she met his gaze she seemed to recoil and look away. As she turned away to look at herself in the mirror, he heard he murmur quietly, "Thanks for holding the doors." He felt as if she had elbowed him in the stomach with her somewhat annoyed tone but any chance he felt to apologize or say anything that wasn't a defence of his sexuality fell apart as the lift doors opened onto the ground floor. Calmly the girl next to him lifted her rather large and heavy looking bag onto one arm and swept past him.

Van had no chance to protect himself as once again the silver haired archaeologist flung himself against him and murmured in a faux whisper, though no doubt the occupants of the reception heard Dilandau ask brokenly, "Are you cheating on me lover?"

"...children's souls are the inheritors of historical memory from previous generations." - Hayao Miyazaki