Disclaimer: Monty Oum of Roosterteeth created the world of RWBY.
Warning: This is an OC-driven plot.
The Ascending Lark
Chapter One: Steady Beginnings
Carissa Aria, Third Person PoV
This is it.
For the third time since Carissa boarded, she glanced beyond a window panel, brushing a hand across its slick surface.
Light brunette, green-eyed with a slight tan complexion and between ranges of heights, she stood in an ample crowd, a plain sight, well-aware she was one student among many gathered within one of Beacon's airships. Their energy mingled with hers, vibrant and hardly bottled, while she internalized the anticipation of arriving into one of the world's finest academies.
The nearest in Vale, as if it was stationed to follow up Signal's graduates and others filling the slot.
Carissa leaned from the window and glanced down. The bird's eye view stole her breath as her old school minimized to a speck beneath her. Up here, and heading…where?
Vale from above underscored its title as a city. Every neighborhood she pinpointed, every small landmark she sought, appeared like thick veins of land carved by architecture and traveling lights. To look at both familiar and new sights composed of her homeland drift further apart just drove a lump in her throat, and she swallowed.
Involuntarily, Carissa found herself pulling a paper from her thin, pewter overcoat's inner pockets. She read over the few names of classmates she listed, and then returned it. Remember the initials.
The list contained just three people that graduated alongside her from Signal. She would like to see a colleague, even if seldom, with these changing movements, since she doubted she had a chance of making acquaintances in the next few hours.
Beacon was a combat school that eclipsed others training outside a Huntsman or Huntress career. Beacon graduated people who you could depend on. And Carissa would take the mantle. However conflicted she still felt about leaving a civilian life, she had spent days deciding and now accepted this.
It was what she wanted, after all—leave common ground and in exchange, join the ranks of defenders of the world. Not just to nick the Grim and villain population. Past years, learning, and from her current life choices, desertion was nonexistent. She possessed the skills needed, so she offered her services. Today, she was a Huntress in training.
Huntress rolled rough through her mind. Well, it's a title many others adopted, but it's not disposable as a nickname.
"The robbery was led by the nefarious criminal, Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities…" A hologram of the Vale News Networks rambled out of her sight, and she kept an ear open in advance.
Although she qualified for Beacon, she doubted how she would survive. Academics were no problem, unless she needed a load of textbooks. She learned the majority of combat in a safe place; down to the rudimentary, discipline and all.
Carissa sighed lightly, turning back to the airship's side facing Vale. The motion swept her light brown hair and curtained her view, and she parted it to the left once more. The idea of living four years all worth of training questioned whether, after, if her goals remained unchanged. This is not the time; you haven't stepped foot into Beacon at all, yet! Carissa reminded herself.
Her thoughts went to a halt, interrupted when everyone fell to a silence enough that it gave way to the humming engines. She turned in their general direction and found herself staring at a hologram of a blonde, dressed in a dark pencil skirt, a white blouse, and ragged cape.
"Hello, and welcome to Beacon." The woman began, and Carissa took a few steps nearer, taking in the rectangular frames and chartreuse eyes. Her authoritative tone had everyone hold their breaths, waiting for what they thought would transition to a speech. Which did. "My name is Glynda Goodwitch. You are among the privileged few who have received the honor of being selected to attend this prestigious academy."
Carissa dipped her head to stare at the toes of her gray knee-length boots. The best candidates came here not by luck or raw talent, but through polished skill. Usually. Fortune came to most. "Our world is experiencing an incredible time of peace, and as future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it. You have demonstrated the courage needed for such a task, and now it is our turn to provide you with the knowledge and training to protect the world."
As quickly as the hologram appeared, it blinked out. Whatever excitement everyone carried burst into chatter that resumed while the airship climbed altitude. Carissa, though, couldn't help but linger on Miss Goodwitch's words.
The privileged few.
As future Huntsmen and Huntresses, it is your duty to uphold it.
Knowledge and training to protect the world.
You have demonstrated the courage needed…
Courage won't be the only recognized quality to have, I hope. She furrowed an eyebrow. If one could unload their worries in a bank and withdraw them on the occasion, she would. She wished.
There were skills needed—and to be honed constantly—to battling. The essential ones could be recalled easily: years of practice, experience, healthy aura levels, morality, integrity, cooperation, studies, finesse…and the desire to protect the people of Remnant.
If her hopes met reality, she would find allies, acquaintances, friends and guides geared towards protecting the world. Within a four-year span.
Now Carissa regretted safeguarding all her books in her luggage, but she chose not to bother whoever manned the flight. Landing was tricky business.
So she busied herself with her messenger bag. It was layered with pockets of varying sizes. She sifted her hand carefully, their contents clinking, pulling out a hand-sized cartridge of grinded Dust. It was coated in a protective layer in case someone messed her things, with one side covered in olive green that enhanced her element, wind—aerokinesis. It's on low supply. She would have to avoid using vast amounts of it for the semester, even if she never depended on it too much. She blinked. How often will I need to fight?
"I heard that this year's batch is going to be very diverse." Someone said from her right.
Carissa glanced at a pair of boys who seemed older than the fresh ranks, laying back and ignoring the airship's progress.
"Wonder what the headmaster's gonna throw at them? He changes it every time…" the other replied.
"Well, I'd hate it if every year was the same, or everyone would think that's the standard."
Carissa flicked her eyes down her bag when one of them looked to her, setting her bag on the front of the window to count all cartridges she could find. Its insides had three layers, so she stuffed them full of cartridges. Next, she went through her baker's dozen of palm-sized crystal Dust.
Once his gaze passed, she zipped, clasped it shut, the review finished, and returned to the window.
She watched the suburban view subside into the river in thought. The academy, she knew, was set over a separate land with an entrance by a cliffside, both for security and geographical reasons to prevent anyone causing accidents near civilians, or pitch down themselves when things spiraled out. With this old information she tried to visualize how Beacon would change her. Meeting new faces and challenges were what would develop her into a future Huntress.
A fifth-generation Huntress. She corrected herself. All of those discussions must amount to something. People, places, progress! The mental pep-talk managed to bring out a very-needed, small smile on her face.
Carissa rolled back and forth on her slight heels, memorizing harmless snippets through the past half hour of the flight. While she lacked any topics worth a talk, the ride to Beacon went leisurely.
As if it's one of the few things that'll be simple here.
In the long run, she knew nothing could be expected.
"Cadets, please exit the transports and continue down the landing platforms. Please do not wander near the cliff." A mechanical voice rang out, startling everyone into obedience. Like a swarm, the student body trickled down the halls and out the entrance of the airship. A few stopped to admire the view. Others walked and absorbed within a stride.
Carissa was the latter. Her eyes swept over the scenery as she shed her pewter overcoat to reveal a white-collared, long-sleeved blouse under a loose green vest with silver lining. She paused, away from the streaming crowd to roll her gray pants below her knees. Her twin blade sheaths winked dully in the light, and to be sure, she adjusted her knots. Her hands hidden by the overcoat wrapped in her arms, she went, heart racing.
It surprised her that the air stayed crisp at this height while the sun shone fierce in the clear sky. Farther ahead, there was a pond drawn in front of the academy's paths, complete of bridging structures and towers. Their size dwarfed standard buildings down in Vale when she contrasted them.
I hope there's a tour. This calls for a tour. She strolled alongside the remainder of the crowd out. Their doors slid shut, marking no return.
Carissa dismissed the wonders of the vast academy to speed up through the avenue. Poles that held blue banners flanked both sides of the path, fluttering slightly. Her mind blank, she held her overcoat close, glum. She adjusted her bag strap.
Her first day, uneventful. She noted catching eyes of a few passerby, but none seemed friendly enough to strike a conversation. There had been three people on that list: all of Signal, one who attended most of her classes, another closer, and the third she'd known since she acquired a taste of confections—twelve years ago. Three people who she knew comfortably. All nowhere to be seen, even as the minutes drew at a sluggish tempo.
Sylph Catalyst sunk her now, the twin blades unyielding to her waist. Inwardly, she grimaced yet plowed on, all high spirits.
"Excuse me?"
Carissa turned back promptly. The voice belonged to a girl about her height, black-haired, amber-eyed, and a bow just as dark topped on her head. Strapped to her back was a large sword sheathed in a formidable, black case. "Is this the right way?"
"Yes." Carissa replied.
"Thanks." She said briskly and continued on. Pondering, Carissa followed, keeping a respectful distance between her.
They went down the avenue. The travel felt faster, now that people flanked around her like scattershot towards the center of the place: a castle. Its namesake stood above it even farther, rising as a sharp cone supported by columns to contain the peculiar orbs within. Carissa broke her gaze before reaching the doorway, tenfold their size, thick, and open.
Inside seemed to be a large assembly area, already packed and thriving. No ceiling existed here. The sun was at its summit, as voices bounced off, louder than they should. With a light exhale she surveyed.
An amphitheatre claimed a quarter of the area full of uplifting aesthetics. Four windows aligned opposite of the amphitheatre entrance, tinted teal. Its purpose, Carissa could only guess. A lone microphone stood on the platform's edge. Sturdy walls surrounded the students congregated, who waited for the headmaster to appear.
Maybe I should speak to—nevermind. Carissa turned just in time to see the black-haired girl disappear, head buried over a book. She would prefer to make her presence known later, not when every sound garbled another.
More murmurs added to the discord when a new wave of students swept in. They commented under their breaths, most on whether who seemed most compatible in teams, or whose weapon looked the best, worst, or strangest. Free space remained, to see the front easier, and she took that chance to pass through rows of people, apologizing and giving "excuse me"s all the while. Now she could view the stage without standing on her tiptoes.
As if on cue, the headmaster appeared; Ozpin was a grey-haired man dressed in greens and grays with small, round glasses, supporting himself on a cane that had grooves designed across its surface. Glynda Goodwitch followed; it seemed she was most likely another teacher. Ozpin situated himself behind the microphone and cleared his throat, silencing the crowd. They waited as the headmaster pressed his glasses closer to his nose.
"I'll…keep this brief." Carissa clasped her hands before her and looked on. His eyes cut those who murmured beneath the stage. "You have traveled here today in search of knowledge—to hone your craft and acquire new skills, and when you have finished, you plan to dedicate your life to the protection of the people."
Carissa had seen the shadow of responsibility among every adult figure she knew, especially her parents. And being the upholder of her family, a weight now settled onto her back.
"But I look amongst you, and all I see is wasted energy, in need of purpose, direction." Ozpin continued.
Within her radius, people bristled at his words. Whispers filled with confusion or anger. She examined his face in search of any sign he meant every syllable of it. "Why are you saying this…?"
"Wasted energy?' someone hissed behind her, and she nearly turned, only stopped by the cramped space. She shook her head. Deflected a thought. I came here…
"You assume knowledge will free you of this, but your time at this school will prove that only knowledge only can carry you so far. It is up to you to take the first step." He spoke matter-of-factly. Silence followed. It gave for Carissa space to ponder. His speech—if anyone considered it purposeful—neither encouraged or lowered them down. She wished she could ask his insight, anything, so she could interpret it better.
He's the headmaster, and for the years he taught, everyone would trust him. Considering that Beacon gave applications to those who seemed capable, held potential shown through tests. Take the first step, and it will all fall into place. Is that what he means? Anyone needs knowledge to feel clear.
The silence reigning sobered her fantasies stiff when the headmaster limped away from the microphone and left through a hidden door.
Miss Goodwitch stepped forward and replaced him seamlessly. "You will gather in the ballroom tonight. Tomorrow, your initiation begins." She instructed as brisk as Ozpin's speech. "Be ready. You are dismissed."
The woman exited the stage as well, abandoning the students to their confusion.
"Is that all?" A disembodied voice murmured, and Carissa avoided straining her ears.
"...I suppose." Another replied, quietly and an octave higher than her peer. "Well, we need to find the teachers, do we?—Uh, there's another."
The uncertainty ended there, when another face went up the stage, a staff member poking at the microphone. Shrill, strong pings ricocheted. "You will be escorted to the lockers, where you will lock your gear and any other equipment. Then attend dinner in the mess hall, all seats unassigned. All sleeping bags must be used—if you don't have one, we'll provide." The staff member said, sweeping his eyes across the crowd. "Does anyone have a question?" No one raised a hand.
"Then we'll start the escorts! We'll start right to left—my left, your right." His voice rose. Carissa watched on for a while, before she glanced right to left herself, still alert to catch sight of a friend. Yang's enthusiasm resembled an enthusiastic neon sign with a few sparks, and her wordplay tended a nice laugh often.
Keegan and Haley…
The former used his height best when reaching a particularly high bookshelf, and Haley, she knew, enforced a promise they would try a search, forcibly when she needed to, not that Carissa agreed to her tactic. Just that this crowd swam. Of course, neither of them suspected to rely on old connections in a new place. They had to adapt and accept they were shedding down to take flight.
Carissa loosened her fists and shifted her feet. A turbulence stirred her insides sharp. I'd like to—talk. Why? Should I shout? She glanced around. It'll be too little.
There's time to chat. I'm a Beacon student now.
So she tapped a shoulder. On her left. Belonging to a fit girl whose crimson ponytail hair almost reached her waist. Taller by a precise two inches. She was somewhat dressed in bronze-colored armor that adorned her legs, chest, neck, and an armband on her left.
Vivid green eyes brighter than her own fell onto her own darker ones, the scarf wrapped around her waist swishing.
But Carissa focused on the conversation at hand. She dipped her head slightly. "Hello there."
"Hello." The girl replied easily. "How are you?"
"I'm doing better, thank you." I'll try not to talk about weather.
"Do you…know anyone around these parts?"
"Yes, I know three people who graduated in my class. Why?"
The redhead pursed her lips, seeming thoughtful. "Beacon attracts many applicants from all of the four kingdoms."
"Yes." Carissa adjusted her messenger bag strap by a bit. So she was a foreigner. "How is your experience in Vale?"
"It's okay!" she smiled, "I'm of Mistral." Carissa nodded in respect. "But I have come here once in a while, for their tournaments."
Carissa nodded again, inwardly meek. "It was too judgmental for me to say that…I'm sorry, the line's long."
"Quite some time before we really do anything."
"Indeed."
"Am I making you uncomfortable?"
"You're friendly." She stated.
"Thank you!"
"You're welcome." Carissa clasped her hands in her front, drawing her right hand forward. "I never did ask your name a few minutes ago…my name is Carissa Aria."
"I'm Pyrrha Nikos." Her eyebrows knotted.
Carissa blinked, feeling their handshake. The redhead's hands were calloused in a way, suggesting a skilled close-combater. "It's an honor to be in your presence." then she corrected herself, noticing how a tired light overcame the redhead's eyes. "I've heard of the great things you accomplished. I'm only surprised that you're taking this role, too."
Pyrrha shook her head with a smile. "My reputation doesn't define me, Carissa. Yet…you do know things about me. Where are you from?"
"I graduated from Signal Academy, right in the city. As a Mistral native, you probably had a long trip."
"Yeah. You're not far from home! I was wondering," Pyrrha's eyes flickered somewhere, "are you ready for the initiation?"
Carissa clasped her hands before her. "Maybe I am, or not. It's still up for debate." Pyrrha laughed. "How would it work? When are we going into groups?"
"Well—"
Pyrrha and Carissa turned to the source of shouting. It came from the staff member, his hands moving like a traffic officer. "It seems we're up next." Pyrrha said.
Carissa smiled, tiny compared to her peer. "And this is the first night."
Its floor as wide as its high ceiling, the ballroom's designs left Carissa absorbing it all quietly with fascination. Chandeliers illuminated the floor, giving it a mystical feel. All students followed Miss Goodwitch to pour in. "Find a spot for your sleeping bags before the lights dim." She'd said.
Carissa waited until the ballroom filled, then followed right in. For tonight, she wore a loose purple shirt and black pajama pants. Tucked under her right arm was a black duffel bag.
Everyone fanned out, and thuds of sleeping bags and bedrolls came while friends, new and old, congregated. Others chose to have their personal best views of the night by settling near the windows. The day had been warm, but the evening was mildly cool, aided with the parted windows.
And somehow, I still can't find Keegan and—or—Haley. Carissa drifted through, socked feet soundless on the ballroom floor. Or Yang.
Certain the morning offered another attempt, she pursued sleep. She navigated between the gaps of a few sleepers, bags, and objects in search of the room's center. While she felt secure now, she had her doubts that the reputation of the school would discourage the villainous to knock on their door, if they were confident with their abilities.
Once she found a clear space, she knelt down and unrolled her sleeping bag. From her bag she took out a pillow and a black blanket. So many people in one room. But no one snored harsh here, or if they were—too distant to distract.
She sat down, knees hugged to her chest, watching the chandeliers dim to the point she could see figures of the rowdier students parading the ballroom and start small-talk above the slumber. Arranging her own bag so her head faced the entrance, she rolled down, eyes staring up at the chandeliers. She imagined they were starlight as she thought.
The initiation came in less than twenty-four hours.
What are the common rules in Beacon? If there are outings, when's the curfew? Fieldwork? Names turned to people? Excitement grew. She wasn't an exact stickler to rules, but she avoided trouble, accident or not. She shifted her hair and flourished the blanket over her legs. Through peripheral vision, she saw more forms move within her sight, until everyone but a few laid on the floor.
No doubt the initiation would be rigorous—thinking ahead, four years later I'll understand how it's a cakewalk—since she had heard news of injuries and almost-deaths of Beacon attendees. Before the course began, she wanted to refresh from the stress.
She shut her eyes, pulling the blanket to the tip of her chin. Drowsiness overtaking her, she dragged the pillow and tilted her chin to it. Minutes later, she went off.
A pitter-patter of noises nearby jarred Carissa awake.
Snapping open an eyelid, she raked it across the ballroom, shifted in the bag for a sign of movement. She caught sight of a girl, dressed in a baggy blue sweatshirt and shorts, kneeling on the floor a few bodies away, picking at the ground and dropping things inside a small bag, their clicks muffled through the pouch. Fortunately, no one else had awakened. Not even a teacher arrived, so she could investigate freely.
Flipping off the covers, Carissa sat up while rubbing her eyes, stuffed her feet into a pair of her slippers and stepped over bodies, the floor cool underneath, to reach the girl.
Carissa had a dozen thoughts running through her mind, taking time to place each foot out of the way of a stray limb or two, especially hair and bags. Feeling drained didn't excuse the intrigue tugging her through this.
She picked out the girl's indigo hair pulled up in a rough, shoulder-touching ponytail, a widow's peak, and two side bangs that reached her chin. A pair of wire-rimmed glasses shined, pushed on her light forehead. Her form hunched in her search, so she showed no notice of her approach.
Carissa swallowed, throat dry from sleep. "Hello?" she whispered.
The girl's head jerked up to meet her, dark eyes alert, looking guilty. "...G-good evening."
"What are you doing?" she asked, cautious.
The girl grimaced. "I'm picking up my, uh, marble collection." To prove her point, she plucked up a small orb, a ghostly white tinged blue with a black core. Carissa knelt down, scanning the little crescents outlined by the moonlight. Oh.
She watched the girl dropped it into her bag, a small pouch stamped with a dot over three rings of circles, as if it resembled the resonance of a dewdrop. "Has anyone else woken up?"
Carissa stilled her breath. The evening was pitch black outside and the moon hung overhead. It gave her a dim outline of the chandeliers, sensibly turned off by some energy-conscientious people. Not a sign there was anyone creeping around at the peak of midnight. "I doubt it." She said at last.
"That's good to know. Thanks." The dark-haired girl nodded.
Both of them fell silent, before the girl returned her attention to the remaining scattered marbles. Carissa kneeled beside her, collecting the rest carefully into the pouch. The girl handled them like shattering one was consequential.
"This is an awful moment, but…" the girl sounded tentative. "Can I ask you something?"
Carissa blinked. "At this time, I'm available for any question." And you seem restless.
"It's open-ended." The girl raised one of her marbles skywards to examine.
"And there will be an open-ended response." She replied.
"You've had me there. Well then…how do you suppose the initiation will begin?"
One by one, the marbles in Carissa's hands clicked at their short landing while she thought, watching the dark-haired girl tighten the pouch with the knots, dropping it into a duffel bag of her own. Somehow this was the piece that allowed her to vent. But to speak at dusk, she barely held her thoughts intact. Inwardly, she drew a breath. Why not? It must be the lack of sleep. Hours until challenges break loose.
"Beacon is one of the schools who develop Hunters to protect the people and world." She started, beginning to guess along. "Fighting is a facet. The initiation will test our performance." And cooperation, too, maybe. Another afterthought rose through her muddled mind, so she added, "Everything is going to be more on the field, the studies, theory, and whatnot." A summary of her years.
"And explosions."
Carissa blinked harder, either out of sleep or the comment, and then nodded. The dark-haired girl smiled slightly.
"There'll be always explosions, in such a school, I suppose." The girl admitted, seeming sheepish. "I might be responsible for several of those."
I've had my fair amount of experience.
"I'll keep that in mind." Carissa chose to say. "Why?"
In response, the girl had shuffled through another bag, containing more than a dozen bottled, translucent containers an arm's length long. Each contained what appeared to be blueprints. Carissa respectfully averted her gaze, leveling them on blue eyes instead.
"Inventor. Sort of—part time." The dark-haired girl replied, point-blank.
"Explosions. Usually?"
They exchanged mutual smiles of knowledge.
"With these arrangements, I think we're getting a puzzle. Everything will be answered tomorrow." The girl whispered, removing the glasses and putting it over her bag and releasing her hair to fall over her back. "Thank you for helping me."
"You're welcome." Carissa said. Maybe, before the big day, she could ask for the girl's name. But her plan dropped when both of them heard clicking heels, faraway, staccato and alert. "I'm going back."
"I see…good luck, then. About tomorrow."
Carissa turned back around. "Ditto." She managed idly. Then, quietly, she paced herself between gaps of sleeping bags. She was already draping the blanket over her just as the doors swung open.
By the time Miss Goodwitch set foot into the ballroom, silence had returned.
This is my second attempt at writing a story for OCs - my first was 'Miracles of Ancient Wonder'. RWBY gives a lot of ideas for what happens in the world, even outside the real plot! Fanfic appreciation for it all.
Writer's block can stack on another writer's block, from what I had last time -_-" but this is written with a better understanding in what will happen. I will do my best writing the story.
I'm following these rules: I will not interfere with the canon characters, but fill in the gaps between what could have happened outside the main characters. Most importantly, I will keep track of the main characters' progress throughout the story, so I won't confuse anyone!This story has no update pattern too, and I write bad, so apologies in advance.
Criticism and advice is appreciated!
Sincerely, Pianist707
8/2/14 - I edited and revised some parts.