"You know it wasn't your fault."

"That doesn't change how I feel," Alfred bemoaned, his head on the table. Matthew had already left to wherever he usually disappeared to, probably the library. His breakfast was cold and, for once, he didn't even feel like eating. "I should have said no."

"Well, you didn't," Arthur frowned over his cup of morning tea, "So what now? Are you just going to sit here and pity yourself o-?"

"That was the idea," the American interrupted.

Arthur eyed him dangerously. "Or, you can take this as a learning experience."

Compunctious cornflower orbs gazed sullenly back. Finding no pity in his companion, Alfred simply rolled away so his forehead rested on the tabletop, hiding his face. "He pushed himself too far, I'm sure he's hurt worse than anything I ever did."

"That would require Feliciano to have used more energy in his transformation than you. Do you really think he could manage that?"

There was silence, Alfred not sure how to respond to that statement. He didn't want to admit that was even a possibility, his pride wouldn't let him. Even still, he didn't want to minimize anything either. He hadn't actually been able to see Feliciano, but partial transformations that weren't properly handled could damage the physical body, hence why he usually tried to play it safe, despite how Gilbert mocked him. Chewing the dry flakes on his bottom lip, he finally lifted his head, pushing away from the table.

"I'm gonna go out for a bit."

Arthur opened his mouth to respond, but the boy had already left the room. The front door closed, leaving the blonde alone. He sighed, placing the teacup down, "Cowards, the both of you, running from your problems like that'll make them go away."

"Beilschmidt!"

Gilbert jolted out of his daze, straightening as he looked up at the angry chinese man. He really didn't need to deal with this right now, he just wanted to get back-.

"Don't ignore me Beilschmidt. Two of our students could be seriously harmed because of your negligence," Yao snipped. Despite his temper, or maybe because, his voice remained even but cold. His face was too composed. It was probably worse than being yelled at, not that the albino could care either way, he was too busy tearing himself up over it. Nothing Yao could say, no matter how inaccurate, could make him feel any worse.

"I'm not," he sighed, rubbing his forefinger against his brow to soothe the stress headache that had come to settle permanently right there. "Just… Is that all? I have to get back to the infirmary."

"What am I going to do with you? Tell me, how should I deal with this?"

The German actually looked his age for once. He hadn't been his usual self for a while, but he still seemed okay. Then this happened.

Glassy wine-coloured eyes finally opened, his expression unreadable. "I don't know, just can it wait until they wake up?"

Yao sighed. He couldn't even stay mad at this broken thing. "I know your history with Feliciano makes this hard on you, but punishing yourself like this-."

"It isn't just Feli."

Yao blinked, stammering to a stop mid-sentence as Gilbert's body language crumpled in further on itself. "I-."

"That Meister is my little brother."

Alfred didn't care where he was going. It was an island after all; wasn't like he could go very far anyway. It was a prison all of a sudden; no longer the escape from the rest of the world, it had become much too small. Walking wasn't helping with the suffocating feeling, it was catching up. Alfred found himself walking faster, then jogging. He left the paths, sprinting into the trees blindly, the dark hands of guilt just out of reach of him.

'My soul must be a mess.'

He ran straight ahead, a low-hanging branch swiping his cheek as he did so. It left a hot, stinging line across his face.

'I made a-.'

He staggered as a rock rolled underfoot, almost meeting the ground. Screwing his eyes shut, he barely maintained balance, running harder.

"That nasty ego of yours is going to get you in trouble."

"You call it a magnetic personality, I call it thinly veiled insecurity."

"You really don't understand how lucky you are. That's what makes you worrisome."

His eyes stung behind their lids. Frustration, regret, fear.

'Mistake.'

Blue irises cracked open, half-blurred by stubborn tears. His ears were pounding with blood, he hadn't heard the crash of waves against rock. Alfred dug his foot in, trying to stop, but even he knew it was hopeless. The forward momentum catching up, it was like being shoved, falling forward, he reached out to grab something, anything. Nobody would even know where to find him.

The landing was relatively soft and surprisingly brief; so much so that he instinctively propped himself up for air than actually acknowledging he didn't just throw himself off a cliff.

"Oh my," a startled little voice practically squeaked. Alfred couldn't see much of anything however. Swiping a hand over his face, powdered snow rained from his glasses, leaving behind droplets on the half-steamed lenses. A brown and beige figure stood a ways away in the clearing.

Snow.

Crawling to his knees, Alfred stared around him dazed. Evergreens and the smell of pine replaced the warm-loving cherry blossoms and the thick ocean air. He hadn't seen snow in over two years and the slow creeping chill was reassuring him this wasn't some hallucination.

Did the afterlife have snow?

"How did you get here?" the blurry figure asked, sounding just as shocked as he felt.

The only dry part of him was the back of his shirt as he removed his glasses and awkwardly twisted the article to clean them off. "I, uh…. I ran."

A tall teen with purple eyes gaped at him, a long scarf around his neck and sandy hair tousled gently by an icy breeze. He wore a knee-length overcoat and boots to ward off the cold, but the part of his pants that was visible were blue checkered, like his own.

"But how could you pass through my door?"

"Door? I-!" Turning to where he came from. Trees. Snow. His arm rose numbly, fighting through a space of dense air that resisted a moment before blooming open. Snatching it back, holding his hand to his chest, Alfred could just make out the cherry blossoms as they glided to the ground before it vanished.

"Holy shit. I thought only the Keeper could do that."

How had it come to this? The streetlamps flickered on overhead as the sun dipped below the horizon and the streets were filled with students of all ages and class. Normally he wouldn't be out here without much prodding from his roommate, but the disturbing lack of the teenager was what had drawn him out to begin with.

"In the end it doesn't matter," he sneered to himself under his breath, trudging through the crowd. Alfred never missed dinner. Nor did he miss a chance to pester Arthur to go with him.

"Where's Alfred?" Matthew asked, shrugging out of his blazer and hanging it by the door.

"Out was the only location I was informed of," Arthur snipped bitterly. He was rather bitter at them both since neither could bring themselves to even try and function normally. And this was him speaking. "Where have you been?"

The bespectacled boy frowned, practically tiptoeing around the older blonde to get to the refrigerator. "Talking with Instructor Adnan?" he offered. He probably meant it as a statement, but the way he pitched the end of it made it sound like a question. "What's going on?"

"Just another day in the life of an unappreciated therapist." If one could sip tea indignantly, that was exactly what he did. Lips pulled into a thin line and legs crossed at the knee, he radiated frustration.

"I don't und-."

There was a loud clatter as the cup he held was slammed against the table. It was more a miracle it didn't just shatter as the auburn liquid geysered before droplets splattered across the tabletop. "Why don't you tell him?"

Matthew stared at him blankly for a beat before closing in on himself, looking at the floor. "Because… he-."

"Because his family looks so perfect, you can't bring yourself to mess it up? Yet you sit here day in and day out resenting his mere existence because you just can't get over it!"

Hurt pooled in his amethyst eyes, splashing over him like ice water. The cold feeling of knowing one has gone too far settling just above his stomach.

"I'm trying."

"I've spent too much bloody time with the brat." His fingers pressed firmly in his forehead, rubbing circles into the constant ache that had settled there. "Becoming too brash."

"It isn't your fault, Arthur," the little voice spoke into his ear, causing him to jump and look around fervently.

"Gelsey," hissing at the faerie, "There are Meisters here!"

"I just wanted to tell you not to beat yourself up. There is nothing wrong in caring."

"So you risk both our lives for that?"

She didn't respond as he suddenly ran into something, staggering back a few steps in confusion. It couldn't have been more than a bump, but the Englishman felt a lingering pressure as if they had just collided at high speed. "Pardon me, I wasn't paying attention."

The taller student didn't respond, forcing him to stay until his apology at least got some acknowledgement. They stared at each other, an uncertain chill growing in the pit of Arthur's stomach as he noted the Meister patch on his sleeve, fighting the urge to pale as thoughts of Gelsey hiding in his shirt collar rose to the surface. They were basically the same height, a centimeter or two off perhaps.

"I'm … sorry?"

The older teen blinked rapidly, coming out from wherever he had been, "No, it's alright."

Arthur stared a moment longer, his arm still tingling faintly before stepping back and away, watching the blonde with his heavy French accent follow him with his gaze until they lost each other in the dinner-going crowd. Tearing off from the main road into the wooded area until the lights were too distant to reach him, he leaned heavily against a tree. Clammy hands pulled at each other numbly, trying to warm them up as he released a slow, wavering breath.

"Bloody hell was that?"

The understanding of Soul Wavelengths is similar to that of neurons, the physical body the protective sheath around the raw fibres that make up a being. When Weapons and Meisters interact, they communicate in much the same way, never directly coming into contact with each other's wavelength, merely communicating and transferring energies between the barrier that is their physical forms. In the case of two Soul Wavelengths meeting directly, both fell unconscious from the shock. Upon waking, both mentioned an experience of memory-sharing and altered perceptions in their wakeful state. Eventually these sensations fade to normal and do not appear to leave any permanent damage.

Roderich entered his office, absent-mindedly turning on the light before noticing the figure sitting on the edge of the bed where Feliciano laid sleeping. He knew she was here, had been for several weeks already, they just never crossed paths. Or rather, they intentionally avoided each other.

"Do you think the same thing happened to them?" Elizaveta asked, more seeing him from her peripherals than sensing his approach. She could see them, between the beds, they were still tangled.

The Austrian looked between her and the peaceful faces of the two students, "It's the same symptoms. If they're anything like you and Gilbert, they should wake up soon."

A pregnant silence grew between them, words unsaid hovering just out of reach. The very real fact that this was where they were. It was very different than what she had thought they'd be eight years ago, and it was disappointing.

"I'm proud of you," she finally managed, finding something that wasn't a lie. Emerald finally met amethyst with a small smile that felt a little too tight. "This does suit you better than hunting, doesn't it?"

"It does," Roderich agreed, finally moving away from the open door, letting it slowly fall shut as he made his way to his desk, "I have to say however, I never imagined you teaching. You never liked being in one place for long."

She looked away, to the floorboards, to the children in the bed, to the ceiling. "You're right. But the choice isn't mine it seems."

"Elizaveta?"

"I hope you don't mind," she changed the subject, the sad little smile widening just a bit with a hint of mischief as she held up a small bottle she must have stolen from his cabinet, "But I need to borrow these."

"As long as you get him to sleep, I won't say a word." They both relaxed visibly, the quiet between words not so heavy.

A/N: There is soooooo much here, damn. And if you all are wondering, YES, the prologue is almost over. THANK FUCK! I like all this character building and all, but holy jesus, this is just setting the stage. This hasn't even really touched on the main plot! God, I'm excited!