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"The Agency: Meeting of Souls "Written By: Karina Pairings 13x6 [eventual], 5xS, 3x4, Others undecided at this time. Warnings: Extreme Alternate Universe setting. Unbetaed, Aussie spelling and grammar, not much else in the early chapters though it will involve murder, stalking and possibly some colourful language down the track. Some Out Of Character depictions are unavoidable considering the alternate universe setting. Rating: M [In Australia that would be mature adult 15+] Not sure with the new rating system about international ratings. Rated for violence and language and adult concepts. Disclaimer: I don't own Gundam Wing. That's about as plain as you could say it. Summary: The world took a very different turn with the acknowledgement of psychic abilities and training of select psychic individuals enlisted in elite fields such as law enforcement and politics. A grading system for the strength of psionic abilities was developed and those who were the top of the elite have been dubbed Prime Talents and are highly sought after. Elite institutions have been developed to mark, train and employ individuals with useable psionic talents. The colonies of canon Gundam Wing do exist in this fic and were constructed before the psionic system was founded. With the advent of psionics in open use in society younger people are appearing in positions of power as they are awakening to their abilities earlier and are highly trained in their fields of expertise. Archive: Gundam Wing Universe [gundam-wing-universe.net]
//…// Thoughts
Chapter Thirty So many years, too many years, since last she had walked these streets. It was rare for nostalgia to be given licence to distract her from her set tasks, but this once, just for this one day, this one morning, she would permit it. This once she would not set aside her personal choices and instead devote her concentration to the difficulties inherent in assuring the young psychics of today a better future. Later she would devote her attention to that goal and to laying the groundwork for the psychics of tomorrow, to ensuring they had no cause to regret their role in the society of the future. Just this once she would permit herself to be Gabriella. She would walk through familiar streets for a few brief hours; streets many hundreds of years older than she and relax her guard. She would walk where her memories walked, as fresh today as they had been to her when she had had the joys of making them. It was many, many years since she had first set foot to these ancient, cobbled ways, and it had been a long time since last she had walked them. That last time it had been a quick and angry stride that marked her passage, righteous rage firing her blood. More than a generation in years, but some things, it seemed, never changed. Sanc always had seemed a place out of time. When last she had walked these narrow streets she had been much younger, but no less a fool than she was now. In her past, many, many years before she had given vent to her temper and stormed out of the palace, she had made herself a promise; a promise to the successive generations of talented individuals who, like her, were marked to change the course of civilization. A vow to improve the living and working conditions those with psychic talent were expected to operate under; to make of their talents in life the norm, not the exception. Psychic talent was nothing new in the development of the human brain, but it was new that it was accepted scientifically. Later, when she had stormed down these streets, she had turned her anger to productive use, focusing on that task rather than on wringing the necks of those who purported to know best, and who had, in their arrogance, made a tragic hash of lives. Psychic ability could now be measured, tested, strengthened and trained for the betterment of the individual, and for the advancement of their society. In her salad days it had not been this ideal now lived by those who followed her generation. It had not been an easy task, but it had become possible by the stubborn refusal of her generation to be used, and abused, without consequence. It was a lesson people in high places had been required to learn, and it was a long time in the learning. Even now, in supposedly enlightened times, there were those who thought to exploit the psychically aware. For a long time her driving force had been focused on improving living and working conditions; on getting a code of conduct and responsibilities ratified, so that those who were psi active would not need to face the gauntlet she had endured. Life was so much easier than once it had been and it was her lot to continue to find and secure improvement. It was a vow she had made soon after leaving Sanc for the first time, when all hell had broken loose about her and she had needed to give up the one thing in life she had treasured more than her own life. The old world, now fading beneath more enlightened times, had not been kind to those who had been marked as not `normal'. Such warped and twisted meaning that single word could engender. Normal. Certainly it was not her favourite word in any language of the world. It was deceptive; prone to distortion to suit the needs of the speaker. It could rarely be attributed accurately, as no two human beings were the same; so how did one define normal? What was normal for one person might be rare and exceptional for another. It depended on your personal view, after all. Individual perceptions were always dangerous when forced upon another individual… or the masses. If there was one thing Gabriella had learned over the decades, it was that `normal' was an individual thing, and should never be granted a group designation. The human race was made up of an infinite variety of individuals. The result of her years of labour, assisted by other like minded individuals, was this modern format of government and a somewhat intelligent breed of politician. She could say with pleasure that the existing government body had come some little way in dealing with issues of borders, international relations and, blessedly, understanding the rights of the individual. Particularly the rights of the psychic individual. Though at one time she had thought never to think it, let alone say it, she found herself pleased with the current crop of politicians. Of course it helped to have the political waters monitored by psychics. Monitoring sessions of parliament and meetings between representative countries, Terran based and colonial based political factions, and business and human rights representatives, had become the norm. It helped that amidst this new generation of political figures more than a few were gifted telepaths and empaths. Less clandestine back room deals muddying the waters equated to a more honest and open agenda. Of course there were drawbacks to the system. Nothing was perfect, after all, but for their success there had to be a price paid by all. One drawback was that some individuals with the talent now so much in demand, were not thrilled to be required to train their gifts and have their names entered onto the breeding register. It was a down side, she did not deny that, however it was a small thing on the larger scale of successes, and there were too few really talented psychics whose talents were required to further advance society overall. It truly was a small price to pay for the advances made over the decades in human rights, let alone the sciences. She was old, her days were numbered, and there was still so much to do. She had watched the world change for the better, and as yet she could not permit herself to rest. The younglings must be assured reasonable security as they grew and matured to face what could still be an unkind society. It had been many, many years since she had wandered the narrow streets of the old city. That so many of the buildings had survived the too often volatile past, a grand parade of wars threatening Europe and the world at large, was no small wonder she could permit herself to marvel at. These old streets had not changed much since the Middle Ages, and it gave the old city such character. It was rare to find such examples after the wars that had levelled entire cities over the last three hundred years. One might have been walking through another, far older world, were it not for the cleanliness of the streets. Though the setting might have been medieval, and had been used in the past for period movie productions, the streets were kept spotless. It was a far cry from the scents that once were to be found in such cities. There was no stale urine, open sewers, stagnant muddy streets, animals roaming loose, urinating and dropping faeces everywhere, and the general human filth that marked the period. Under the Peacecraft monarchy, one of the few monarchies remaining in the world, an ancient and archaic system of government some said, New Port City was the perfect tourist magnet. Under the Peacecrafts the country, which should have been absorbed centuries ago into one of the larger, more dynamic countries, was a peaceful haven in the hubbub of the world. It was a backwater with every modern convenience imaginable, and with a population that was disturbingly content with their lot. Of course, what more would one expect from a family as steeped in Psi ability as the Peacecrafts? There were few monarchies left in the world and all of them were constitutional monarchies, and of those few it was perhaps the Peacecrafts who retained the most actual state power. It was no accident either, but by design that the Kings of the line retained as much power as they did. It did not surprise her in the least as their genetics were steeped in psi active genes, specifically the telepathic gene was in evidence. There was also a healthy spread of empathic ability to be found in past generations. The Crown Princess of Sanc currently resided at Tsuberov, receiving instruction in how to control her burgeoning talent, and Gabriella determined to investigate the girl's potential. Relena was, she recalled, listed as a Suggestor, a telepath with the ability to influence the thoughts and actions of another person. Given the dangerous potential such a talent entailed, Suggestors were carefully trained and observed for the peace of mind of those who associated with them. The current King, Stephan the IXth by title, was also gifted with a significant Suggestors talent. He was by no means a young man, though he was far from old, being in his fifty ninth year. He had wed late, an arranged marriage at the behest of the Parliament and the union had produced only the one child, Princess Relena, who was doted on by everyone who associated with her. Gabriella had been sadly remiss in making the time to get to know this girl who was fast becoming a young woman. Something she could not long allow to continue. A telepath was never one to leap into a marriage lightly and with the modern laws governing the talented and the next generation to follow, there would be a broader genetic pool of guaranteed psychics to be considered. Not that the gene pool in Sanc was a problem when it came to that, she thought, highly amused, though it would not do to inbreed. A café spilled out onto the cobblestones, neat,white painted iron worked tables and chairs and Gabriella sighed softly. Even after so many years it still existed. She simply could not resist the temptation to answer its siren call to her and settled her bulk into what might have been the same chair, set in exactly the same place, as when last she walked these streets. The waiter was young and handsome and had a pleasant smile for her. Her talent sensed only amusement from him, a response to a joke told in the last few minutes teamed with a willingness to do his job and the thought that the sweet old lady looked tired… and yes, there it was, that brief flash of a pretty girl laughing and the momentary yearning to be with her. Ah, what it was to be young. Young people had no idea how precious a gift it was to be so young. Only when one had lived as long as she did one appreciate one's youth, lost in the mist of years. Ah, but it was nice to remember the good times, to sit here in the warmth of the sun and enjoy a decently brewed coffee. It was more than simply pleasant, it was fulfilling to sit here and reflect on the days when heads had turned with her beauty and not with the fear of her tongue's critique. Such long ago days. It seemed forever since she had been a slip of a girl, hiding a burgeoning talent which would bring her both grief and joy in later years. A gypsy indeed in those days, free to come and go at will, ignoring the borders laid down by fools who professed to own the land and the people. Such long ago days, filled with so many things. Her hair had been pitch black back then, her eyes bright with laughter and her head had turned to notice the young bucks with no small amount of pleasure and speculation. Ah, but some things never changed. She still had an eye for a handsome face and a fine, fit body. He had been that. Fine indeed. Young and devil may care, handsome as you could please, a man in all things… and he had noticed her. There were romance novels of the noble Lord and the Gypsy wench and of their doomed love; and there were those where the hero and heroine defeated the odds to love forever. Such drivel, all of it. In reality the Lord and the Gypsy made eyes at each other and humped like bunnies at every opportunity, and each knew, without a shred of doubt, that this was merely a passing moment in their lives. Ah, but she could see his lovely blue eyes and his pale, pale hair. He had not been the King's heir, but he was the King's relation and their assignations had been secret and frenzied with young love, but no innocence at all. Oh yes, no innocence. Memory of their passion still warmed her lonely nights. She had wanted him and he had wanted her and somehow, despite the vagaries of her then precarious talent, she had enjoyed every second of her time with him. They were, indisputably, a charming breed these Peacecraft men. Full of charm, and graced with an inherent knowledge of how to use that charm to best effect. If you were female, and willing, your knickers did not long linger as a barrier to a little indulgence; and a woman's age had little to do with it if one of those saucy, sexy boys chanced to look your way. They were like a drug, seductive without really trying, alluring, pleasing on the eye and pleasing to the mind of a telepath. They were a special breed, to be adored, loved and lusted over, but never to be chained by your lust. If perchance mutual lust should turn to love, once they were committed, they were faithful to you. Given their bloodline they were careful not to permit fancy to turn to love. Rakes the lot of them when young and single, but let there be a commitment, as there forever must be when one is of the ruling lineage, and there would, thereafter, be no dalliance until the next generation grew into their trousers. What a day of lamentation amidst the females of the country, when those lovely blonde boys were tied to the sacrificial alter of political purpose. It had suited her at the time, that claim which chained his blood to the purpose of the King. She was Romany, a gypsy, free as the wind, never to be held -ah, the innocence of the times! It had come, as they had known it would, and he would forever hold a special place within her. He had been special, in that deep place only telepaths were conscious of, and he would never be forgotten; despite the years she still held ahead of her and the growing infirmities of her body. A woman never forgot that special someone and he had been hers. But she had been a gypsy, young and free, and she had moved on before he might think to defy convention, before she could tempt herself to ask him to defy that convention. Their dalliance had be noted by certain agents of the King and she had known when to leave and done so, with only a parting night of passion and soft kiss to farewell him. A night of the full moon in a meadow with starlight and moonlight surrounding them, silvering his pale hair… And she had discovered he had left her with something of himself to remember him by. And soon after had come the discovery the secret police of her mother country were on her tail, seeking to learn more of the odd little things which were known to happen in her vicinity. Old days, long gone. Gabriella leaned her head back and looked toward the palace. It could not be seen from here, the buildings were too close together to allow a view of the castle, but she knew exactly where it was. Those ancient walls stood as a symbol of the old ways, of older and gentler times. They had been often harsh and dirty days, but simpler, less complicated. It was a symbol, a sign to those who lived beneath its shadow, a security blanket, as it were. The people of Sanc had been fortunate to have their royals honestly care for the welfare of their people; more fortunate still to be spared much of the strife and disease of the past wars. It was a result of the influence of the psi gifts rife within the family, of course. She had never been a fool, and she knew each successive generation of Peacecraft children were marked by the talent, and they had made good use of those talents to preserve this tiny corner of civilization from the excesses of the bordering nations. A hundred times throughout history this tiny country should have vanished into legend, gobbled up by the greed of the warring world. Yet it survived. No less than in the past, on the world stage of today, the Peacecrafts were a force to be reckoned with. Ah, there was one now, a stud with the classic blonder than blonde hair and blue eyes that were unmistakable to one who had stared into them as they burned with passion. A charming young buck, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, sometimes it was hard to tell with the breed. Peacecraft men aged very well indeed, and they were always older than they looked, so perhaps twenty one or twenty two? He would be a younger son of the satellite family, striding along without a care in the world and a giggling gaggle of girls following in his wake. At his age he could expect perhaps four or five more years of freedom before the King found an advantageous marriage for him and, like all Peacecraft males, he would dutifully obey the royal directive. In his face she could plainly see that other Peacecraft Lord, the one who had charmed her and bedded her, and who had sired her daughter. Such a long time ago, and so much had happened in the intervening years. She must remember to visit the grave of her daughter whilst she was here. Opportunity to return and pay her respects to her own flesh and blood had been hard to come by in the last score of years. Ah, but to be honest it was her anger to blame, not just work commitments. It shamed her, but she was here now and she must not lose the opportunity to take that small drive out of the city to the cemetery. It had been the hardest thing she had ever done, even amidst a life made up of hard decisions and harder actions. It had been near to impossible, but she had risen to the occasion and given her daughter up to her father. It had been necessary. By the time her daughter was born she had become aware of those who hunted her and she had determined whoever pursued her, and for what ever reason, they would not claim her child. He had taken her willingly, her Peacecraft lover, when she had contacted him. He had even kept his mouth closed as to the identity of the child's mother at her request and, bless him, he had reared her with the children of his wife. He had loved her and in turn he had loved their daughter. Such fools they had been, so long ago. She had loved him too. She did, to this day. //Enough of this foolishness. Living in the past will not guide anyone's steps in the future. I have places to go, people to shock.// Yet she could not bring herself to move, not while watching the shade of him stride down the street with fan club in tow. It was like watching him that first time she had laid eyes on him. //I know I was once that young, that care free; free to do as I pleased; when I pleased. Once, long ago.// If she was that young now there were a few young bucks who would need to watch out. She could teach them a thing or two about how to please a woman. She would forever lament the two brightest stars who were homosexual, but she would at least enjoy the fun of getting them to acknowledge each other in more than a professional capacity. If she were as much as fifty years younger she might even have tested just how male oriented they were. //Silly old fart of a woman.// This trip down nostalgia lane was serving no purpose other than to remind her of just how old she was. It was time she stopped day dreaming and moved on. There were indeed people she needed to speak with, and she did wish to visit her daughter's resting place. For an hour or so in the day, it had been good to walk in a younger Gabriella's shoes. There were eyes on her, as she had expected there would be. There were certain persons within the King's Intelligence Service who would know her by sight; even as old as she now was… or perhaps it was only because she was who and what she was. A Prime talent, and not just any Prime, but the First T/E Prime of the nine. Yes, her face would be marked by every intelligence agency in the ESUN. She would have been marked by someone at the terminal when she alighted from the plane. There would have been a swift flurry of calls made and questions asked and answered, and then she would have been observed with the utmost discretion. They would know she would know they were aware of her. It was actually rather kind of them to let an old woman walk down memory lane undisturbed. The kindness would most likely be Pagan's doing. That young man had always pleased her on her once frequent visits to Sanc. He might not be so thrilled to see her after all this time, of course. It had been more than twenty years since her last visit to Sanc, and on her last visit she had had a few rather pointed observations to make. How dare he permit such an atrocity? How dare he think she, Gabriella, who then was striding through the ranks of notoriety and fame, how dare he think she would not take notice of what was happening within Sanc's borders? How dare he think that she might have forgotten the children and the grandchildren of her daughter? She had had much to say to him, none of it good, but all of it honest. These were her children. The children of her child. Yes, she had given her daughter up, in the interests of keeping the child safe and giving her a secure future, but forgotten? Never. Never. She had left Sanc before her anger had broken from her tight leash and she lay waste to the city. She had not returned until now, and many would not be pleased to note her appearance in their midst. It was time the nobility of Sanc were reminded gypsy blood ran thick and hot, and that it laced their veins. To her knowledge, and when it came to counting her own descendants she did not err, she now had thirty nine great, great grandchildren amidst the noble families of Sanc and scattered throughout the European sector, up to and including the child born in the last month. It rather amused her that so many of the world's most ancient and noble families carried her genes, but then nobles found it difficult to ignore the fire of the gypsy soul. It was like drawing a moth to a flame. Utterly irresistible. And it was good for their bloodlines, keeping them from becoming inbred ninnies, something the Sanc Kings' had learned generations in the past. Unlike many noble and royal families of the old world, the Sancian bloodlines had crossed periodically with the so called `lesser' classes. To further strengthen the bloodlines it was expected that the young studs of the Peacecraft line exercise their hot blood. Children born of these liaisons were expected to be known and educated by their father's, and were brought within the bounds of the court. There was no shame within Sanc to being the child of a Peacecraft without the sanctity of a wedding band in one's pedigree. That was a bit of tradition bound in purpose, as she had discovered in her youth. It kept a flow of new genes moving through the aristocracy and kept them strong in both body and mind. She had met the current King within days of his birth, and as he had grown she had found him to be a serious young man, older in nature than his years allowed. He was not, as were his peers, to spread himself around amidst the eligible female community. It was fine for the lesser Peacecraft sons' and nobility of the court to extend the gene pool available to future generations, but it was not considered expedient or proper for the heir apparent to do so. To sire offspring who might potentially bring a throne into contention was not smiled upon. It was not unknown in the distant past for the throne to be in contention from rival half brothers vying against each other, and from the machinations of family who sought to claim the King as their own blood. It was a dangerous seat, a throne, requiring constant attention to detail, like keeping one's trousers zipped. No, Stephan Peacecraft had been too serious, too aware of his position. His family and his trainers had taken pains to stress the delicacy of the political situation at the time and the need to maintain a status quo, uneasy as it had stood at the time. He needed, in Gabriella's vaunted opinion, to relax more. Then and now. As she recalled, she had told him so on more than one occasion, he and his father, too. Twenty years since last she had walked in Sanc. It was far too long. Once she had been welcomed by the Kings' as a friend, but time and responsibility weighed heavily on her. And her anger, she must not overlook that as being behind her long absence. Regrettably she had permitted the ties binding her to this land to loosen. It was the land of her children and it was here, beside her daughter, if they would be kind enough to permit it, that she would like to be laid to rest. But that was in the future, not now. Now she needed to know if she might still be welcome. The world was not as unstable as once it was and it was time to remind Stephan and his court that she was still around. He was no spring chicken himself, and his daughter was being groomed to take her father's place. There was more than one reason Relena was being educated at Tsuberov and she would need to make some subtle inquiries, determine the reasons behind the unheard of education of a Sancian ruler beyond the borders of the country. Perhaps it had to do with the ingrained distrust of the older generation for modern techniques in the realm of genetic diversity? That was a rumour she needed to look into whilst she was here, should the occasion permit. There were many here not in favour of the modern dependence on genetic manipulation, and little trust for the artificial invitro techniques used around the world to ensure a healthy, sound population for the future. Sanc had its own means of ensuring a strong population. Courtesy of the young male bloods, Sanc had a flourishing society of telepaths and empaths, with more than a sprinkling of other psychic talents represented in the population. If Stephan had not produced a male heir naturally, he might have turned to a modern laboratory to genetically influence the sex of a second child and have the male heir Sanc's parliament had been harping on since he turned nineteen. He might have, but he had not. Relena was reported to be a strong, opinionated and compassionate young woman. From reports the girl would do quite well as Queen, but Relena, like everyone else, was well aware the traditionalists wished for a male to rule. There were multiple reports which concerned Gabriella, suggesting as they did that there would be another prolonged period of unrest in the country upon the new Queen's ascension to the throne. One report suggested certain factions were seeking around after a young man whose bloodlines were laced with Peacecraft genetics, even if the surname was different. In Sanc there were quite a few that would meet the criteria. An extension on the rumour suggested legislation would be passed to permit the Queen to retain the Peacecraft name and discard the moniker of her husband's own house. There was another rumour parliament was considering actively pursuing genetic manipulation to ensure the future Queen produced a male Peacecraft, using Peacecraft genetic material to ensure the purity of the bloodline. There were whispers of revolution, of assassination beginning to come to her ears, and she was not amused by any of it. Gabriella could see trouble growing in paradise over the fact the next ruler had boobs and not balls. It was idiocy, but the old ways were not easily discarded, a fact she knew all too well. Ah yes, she had missed the old system in Sanc, where nothing was ever quite as it looked and the boys were so very kind on the eye. They were a passionate people, and they loved a good debate. Perhaps some bright star amongst them might even think the girl might prefer to produce an heir without the need to tie herself down with a marriage no one actually wanted, for a host of reasons, given the current political hot bed New Port City was becoming. Though the issues of progeny were complex, Sanc had signed the legislation which required all Psi's of measurable talent were required to produce a minimum of three children, and the future Queen of Sanc was no exception to that requirement. No doubt someone would remind parliament of that little gem. Eventually. In the past Gabriella had been known to laugh herself silly over political infighting within Sanc's borders. They had a style all their own here, full of an archaic and honest charm rarely found in this day and age. She had missed it, she mused, watching the young man approach her, admiring him, marking him for future attention. "Madam Prime," He bowed formally from the waist to her before straightening to stand tall, though he did not loom over her. "Pagan sends his compliments. " He was a good looking specimen, dark haired, but with those lovely Peacecraft blue eyes marking a blood link to the ruling family. He was impeccably dressed in a designer suit, his long hair tied neatly back from his face with a black band and no radio in evidence, not even an earpiece. Telepath then. Only a Telepath would not have need of so basic a security device. "Sent a car for me, has he?" "Yes, Ma'am." He was good; there was the proper inflection on that ma'am. Well trained in the niceties of dealing with irascible old women. He made of the polite form of address a title, giving her full respect, as one should to one whose bloodline ran through the royal family. Ah, such a long way this old gypsy had come from the young woman who had considered herself as free as the wind. They harnessed even the wind in this day and age, but the wind, like the old gypsy, still had a wild streak and broke free of their constraints from time to time. It could be so inordinately pleasing to be a disturbance in their nicely structured world and she surmised she might exceed her past efforts by the conclusion of the day. From her unannounced arrival to the moment she would depart their borders, they would be on their toes, living in fear of what she might do or say. The ripples she could cause would surely emanate throughout the castle, right up to the top. If she so desired. It warmed her old bones to know she could make them hop to her tune with barely an effort on her part. Order in the world at large had been managed after so many millennium of war and revolution. The stability was being maintained without a huge cost in lives, due largely to the influence of the Psi faction. With psychics now credited as being something other than charlatans. For those who knew how to use them and make use of their potential, psychics were looked on as being more than mere tools. Psychics were taking their rightful place in the order of things, and with the final push for psychic rights about to take place, Gabriella felt this little side trip was not out of order. Not given what she must pursue here. She did not expect to gain answers to the questions she would ask easily or quickly, but it would be nice to be pleasantly surprised. She would not hold her breath waiting for that pleasant surprise; she was not so foolish as to think she would actually be graced with total honesty. She had considered the implications of this visit to Sanc before making the decision to pursue enquiries here. Thought had gone into how to distract those she did not wish to question her absence, and she had gone out of her way to ensure questions would not be asked. With no small effort on her part to disguise what she had done until it was too late, her Naughty Boy had been suitably distracted. She was quite pleased with herself for her work in limiting both the risk of his overloading his talent, and the defusing of his temper at her high handed methods. For his own safety her Treize of the naughty eyes was now contained to safe limits; he would never put that blonde of his at risk. There was no danger of anything untoward occurring between them. She was well aware he was aware of the active link she had left between them to monitor the link she had forged between him and that delightful youngster whom she would soon have sheltering safely beneath her wing. While the link was required to control her Khushrenada' s penchant for overworking himself, she would not have a premature bond form between the two. She must monitor and control any unwanted surges across their bond, halting the formation of unhealthy ties. She would not have them bound to something ill formed because of the necessity she act in haste for the good of all. Time would form the bond naturally, and she would not permit the necessities of now to affect the pleasures of what was to come. She owed it to them for interfering. Contrary to what was undoubtedly popular belief, it was not her preference to use such heavy handed methods, but circumstances being what they were, she had felt there was little choice. She would not chance the sanity of her favourite protégé who, if all went well, had rather a large part to play in the shaping and development of the world over the next fifty or so years. She was not above using the newly discovered, and very much in need of a champion, Zechs Marquise to control her Naughty Boy's wayward will. In the interests of both their well being. He had so much potential, this Khushrenada Duke. So much potential. He preferred working as a psi investigator to becoming the business mogul dabbling in politics that his family had desired him to be. As Duke within his own lands he upheld all of the traditions of his position, working additional hours beyond what was required by his contract with the Agency to do so. He took his responsibilities very seriously, and her shining star of the future was simply doing too much and getting too little rest. This was something Gabriella must see fixed and shaped in preparation for the future, before she departed to return to the colonies. Treize Khushrenada was, quite frankly, the sanest of the Nine and she would ensure he remained that way. But this was now, not in the near future, and there was this bright eyed boy with the midnight hair patiently waiting on the daydreaming of an old woman in a street side café to be dealt with. "Getting on then, we will be." He did not physically touch her, did not offer her his arm, instead there was the offering of the mental equivalent of such polite support, and she was well pleased with both his skill and manners. Telepaths did not need the mundane touches of polite society; they had their own methods and means of polite reference and protocol. Physical touch was reserved for the more intimate physical practices between partners and family. There was something about him that brought her old friend to mind. Something of the daughter she had lost too, which meant she should know this one. He was one of hers, and she felt the warm flicker at her recognition of his bloodlines as he acknowledged those bonds. Pagan had sent one of her own to inform her, in subtle terms, that he could forgive the past. She might forgive, as he had, and like him she would not forget. They had long memories and their purposes did not always coincide. Not in the short term. They each worked individually to follow grand schemes, and they could expect to have the odd altercation over the years, but this altercation' s repercussions had lasted more than a score of years. When it came to matters of blood, Gabriella did not forget. He walked at her side, forgoing the more formal half step behind at a flick of her mind to his. She wanted to enjoy the presence of this one who might, in the fullness of time, play a larger part in the scheme of things than to escort what might be considered a living fossil about the city. She liked the flavour of his mind and knew Pagan approved of him and, should she request it, might bend enough to give him to her. The vehicle was plain, black and sinfully comfortable to old bones and aching muscles. She did not travel so well as once she had; another sign of her advancing years and the unavoidable fact her days were numbered. It was to be expected with her years and therefore could be ignored in favour of more important things. Settling into her seat she permitted herself to rest her head back and sighed softly. He took the front seat, beside the driver, reverting from relation to bodyguard, and that was as it should be. It reminded her this was not a social call and allowed her to push aside the ghosts of the past. In moments they were on their way to the palace and to a confrontation of more importance than any of them would understand. She needed to ensure the one with the Sexy Eyes maintained his mental stability, just as she had ensured her Khushrenda was bound to sanity. There had been sadness in those blue eyes, confusion, uncertainty, and no small amount of fear. That must not be permitted to continue. Despite those wonderfully fashioned diamond shields of his, he was strained by the uncertainties binding his life. How had Tsuberov devised a training program capable of creating such diamond clear and solid shields? It was no surprise they were jealous of their methods if this was the quality of psychic their training produced. She must look into their training practises and determine if these remarkable shields were peculiar to Sexy Eyes or if they could be, and were, taught to others. If they could train others to such security then she would have other T/E talents trained in their methods. If it could keep a strong telepathic empath sane, then it should become a requirement of any future training programs. No doubt Tsuberov's Board of Governors would be delighted with her estimation of their programs. It would shake up the Psi Institute too. So much to do, so limited a time to do it all in. Her first priority must be in the securing of the guardianship of this young, soon to be, Prime talent. Whilst she was arranging the change over of legal guardianship she would also need to get to the bottom of the events taking place at Tsuberov. She needed to learn why word of a potential Prime T/E had been kept so quiet, not that she did not already have her suspicions. She needed to learn if supposition was fact, and if it was fact she needed to clear up any doubt of the circumstances involved and then, when he was securely her ward, she could grind a few ears with just how stupid it all was. With her hand hovering protectively over him, he would remain at Tsuberov to complete his training, with a few revisions to his subject criteria. What more need did he have with deportment instruction? He had had a great deal of that already, and he knew how to carry himself in polite society. No, he would be given more practical instruction than the idiot who was currently his guardian had determined he required. They left the city limits and the view from the limousine was spectacular as they wound up the access road to the palace. The sea was a remarkable shade of blue under the sun, not a cloud in the sky to dull the blue to grey. It could be green, dark and deadly in the approach of a storm, but in this blue beauty it was serene and lovely. Yes, he could remain at Tsuberov. She was no idiot and could see how well he was trained, even with so little contact with him. Those shields spoke for themselves. It was not his psi abilities that would need a little extra attention, Tsuberov catered well enough for those needs. She would need to work on his self confidence. There Tsuberov had dismally failed him, though she had to wonder just how much of that was the fault of his incompetent Guardian but, overall, she could not say she was displeased with Tsuberov. She had her reasons for wishing to keep the bright young thing right where he was. In the fullness of time she would ensure her bright young Prime's found time and opportunity to realize exactly what they had in each other. She must not rush them. For one of her advanced years it would be a wonderful treat to watch young love develop, but she would resist the temptation to rush them. She would ensure they had the opportunity to work together under various guises, with as much frequency as she could manage to further their developing bond, but she must not, and would not, push for them to seek something more from each other. Her Naughty Boy would complain she was manipulating him which, of course, she would be, but it would be manipulation designed to preserve the abilities and sanity of both young males. Not that she would interfere beyond giving them the opportunity to associate with each other. That much she would do, the rest was up to them. She could only hope she would live to see them pair bond. Ah, it shone as brilliant as ever. Glistening white in the sunlight. Turrets, spires and minarets reaching high into the sky, colourful pennants flying proudly in the wind. Such memories it invoked. It might have stepped out of a story book; a fairy tale for the young and the romantic. It was not so hard to overlook the satellite dishes and antenna sprouting from the towers, if one chose not to see them. Functionality, it was the curse of modern society. She chose not to see the arrays in favour of admiring the beauty of what was ancient. One final distraction, and acknowledgement of the passage of time and the needs of the past, as opposed to the needs of the present. It was time to remember the trials and pitfalls of walking through those doors. She must watch them all, as they would watch her. She must learn who was involved in what scheme, and mince her way through the mine field that was Sancian politics. She was not here to upset the balance Stephan was maintaining amidst his own court and the ministers of his parliament, that was not her intent. She could only hope her visit would be short and relatively painless. Her handsome young escort accompanied her into the cool interior of the Great Hall before bowing to her formally and, Gabriella was amused to note, he made no deeper obeisance to the woman approaching across the black and white marble flagstones of the hall. With a touch of her mind to his, an acknowledgement of her thanks for his escort, he faded dutifully into the background. "Prime Gabriella. What an unexpected pleasure." Katherine Marguerite Katarina Elizaria Rosemund Wayridge Peacecraft, Queen of Sanc. Gabriella, as was her want, and her right gained from surviving many decades of trials and tribulations in the name of progress, decided to be polite… but just a little difficult. It was unfortunate that the Wayridge heiress was not as well known to her as her husband. Until such time as Gabriella could observe and sense the woman to her satisfaction, and determine the strength and the nature of her character, she would be cautious around the woman. She did, however, have a certain reputation to uphold. To not do so would be to cause more questions than being her usual irascible self would engender. "Pleasing it is for Gabriella to be returning to an old haunt. Much time in the past has Gabriella spent in Sanc." The tall, slender woman with the honey gold hair and smiling blue eyes inclined her head, not seemingly surprised nor disturbed by the lack of deference to her social standing demonstrated by the old gypsy. She would have been warned what to expect, and no doubt Pagan would have warned her that making a scene was something Gabriella excelled at. It paid, on many occasions, to allow one's reputation to do the work for one. "Stephan has told me you visited quite often when he was young. He would usually smile quite fondly when he spoke of you. Please, come and share some morning tea with me. I am afraid Stephan is not here at the present time, and it will be a few hours before he returns." Excellent, she would gain the chance to learn something of the woman. The Wayridge family was deeply into the politics of the European sector and it had been considered something of a sensation for the Wayridge Duke to marry his daughter into the Peacecraft lineage, given the King was in his forties and the new Queen was not at the time twenty. The kingdom of Sanc might have been small, but it held a great deal of prestige amongst the blue bloods. "Good this is being. Allowing Gabriella time it will to be getting to know Princeling's wife." Katherine Peacecraft blinked. "Princeling? " Dark eyes sparked with amusement. "Dangled gangly legged little boy with wild mop of palest hair on knee did Gabriella, many years ago. Wiped his behind I did and dried his eyes when incapable he was of running on his own two feet. This is equalling Princeling forever." The woman's blue eyes sparked with unholy amusement and Gabriella thought she might just enjoy this interlude. She could amuse the woman for quite some time with tales of the Peacecraft children over the decades, her husband had been just one of many Gabriella had known. The Queen of Sanc appeared to have a sense of humour. Always a bonus. "Wanting to be speaking to Pagan Gabriella will be, when nicenesses are done and tired of gabby old woman you are." A low gurgle of amusement escaped the Queen. "I think it could be quite some time then, for I would like to hear of the exploits of a young Stephan Peacecraft." Gabriella cackled softly. "Warn you, did anyone, how Gabriella excels at character assassination? " t.b.c.
Gabriella : Romany descent. Level 10 Sending / Receiving Telepath + Level 10 Receiving and Projecting Empath. Prime Rated. Training facility rumored to be Government Laboratories of the Prussian Republic deposed in the year AC 45. Age: Unknown [rumored to be approximately seventy four]. Oldest of the Prime Telepathic Empaths. Adrian Carruthers: Level 8 Sending / Receiving Telepath Level 5 Receiving / Projecting Empath. Psychic Institute Luxembourg Division. [Age: 28 years, Blood link to Gabriella and Peacecraft lineage] |
