Rain like freezing razors, sucking the life from her bones
Violent churning, tossed on a paper-thin lifeline over endless murky dark
Weathered hands, slick with frigid water yet still warm against her face
Her mother's lips were moving; she was smiling past the fear in her eyes
Weiss flinched at the first sip of still-steaming coffee. Try as she might, she could never quite acclimate to the sharp taste of drinking it black. A generous dollop of cream and two sugars brought things back into acceptable bounds, and she settled onto a plush couch with her scroll. The headlines were the same as they always were these days; networks run by the state or the SDC foretelling the downfall of Atlas now that the faunus had gotten their way, while independent networks emphasized how the other nations of Remnant were acclimating to their new neighbor, Asylum. Weiss felt the name was a bit melodramatic.
For her part, Weiss held that declaring war on an entire species had been foolhardy from the outset. Her personal views of the faunus aside, it was simply an impractical and ultimately costly move. Now Vale and Mistral were establishing trade agreements with the young nation, while Atlas was left scraping up the remains of its unmanned infantry and harassing what few faunus remained within its borders. Honestly; you didn't have to like the creatures to see the hubris in picking a fight with all of them at once.
The past few weeks had been a whirlwind around the Schnee Dust Company. Her father's incessant railing against the state's decision to enter peace talks with Asylum was expected, but no less aggravating for it. Following one particularly abrasive evening, Weiss had simply packed her things and left without a word for her family's vacation home on the western continent. The further from SDC headquarters, the better.
She was drawn from her rumination by the soft crunch of tires on snow and the chugging of an unsteady engine. Her brow furrowed as she rose, drawing her bathrobe a bit tighter. She had half-expected her father, or perhaps Winter, to come after her when she left, but neither would be likely to arrive in anything less than a personal airship. Even if they had merely sent some lackey to retrieve her, none in the employ of the Schnee Dust Company would arrive in a vehicle which sounded quite so… worn.
Weiss moved to the heavy exterior door of her home and eased it open slightly, her grip tight on the ornamented handle. An ancient-looking van was idling - well, sputtering - most of the way up her driveway. From the doorway Weiss's view of its interior was minimal, blocked by the poor angle and the harsh glare of morning sunlight off the windshield. Idling finally became too much for the battered vehicle to manage, and it choked fitfully to silence. Weiss tensed, ducked back inside to retrieve Myrtenaster from where it lay with her luggage. Her father had insisted she learn some form of self-defense, and she had chosen swordsmanship. Not as practical as a simple firearm, perhaps, but she had bodyguards for that, if the situation mandated it. She found guns distasteful, all artless violence and crude efficiency; Occam's razor taken all too enthusiastically to the art of combat.
Donning a pair of boots, she slipped out the door, silent as possible given the inches of snow coating the ground. A heavy storm had swept in from the north only a day ago, and left a fresh blanket of powder in its wake. She approached the silent vehicle trepidatiously, flinching at every ping from the cooling engine and peering up at the windshield as she crossed to the driver's side. Still no sign of any occupants. When she finally rounded the van, Weiss's breath caught in her throat. From front to back, a wide swath of the driver's side of the van was riddled with bullet holes. The back tire was a shredded mess, barely clinging to the wheel, and a portion of the rear bumper seemed to be missing entirely, the metal around it scorched and twisted. Her grip on Myrtenaster tightened, despite the biting cold.
She took a hesitant step towards the door of the van, only to jump back when it clicked open of its own accord. Weiss steeled herself as best she could, fighting to keep her tone level, if not quite commanding.
"Is… Who goes there?"
She jumped again at the muffled thump of a body dropping limply from the driver's seat into the blanket of snow. Driven by muscle memory, she fell into a defensive posture, blade at the ready. All for naught, it seemed, because whoever her mysterious visitor was, they had yet to budge in the slightest.
Weiss took a few unsteady steps closer, enough to swing the van's door shut. Lying facedown in the snow before her was what appeared to be a girl about her age, though likely several inches taller.
"H-hello?"
No reply. She moved closer still, close enough to notice the faint rise and fall of the stranger's back. Very faint, she noticed. Still, it meant she was alive, somehow. She knelt beside the girl, reached out to turn her over, and froze. Perched atop the girl's head were two small, black-furred, feline ears.
The proper thing to do would have been to go back inside, call SDC security, and have them come collect the mangy heap. The heiress to the Schnee Dust Company did not lend aid to faunus. Not any faunus, and certainly not mysterious, apparently wounded faunus arriving at her home in a bullet-riddled rust-heap of a van.
If there was one thing Weiss hated, it was the thought that she would never be anything more than her title.
With a soft grunt, she rolled the girl over, then hissed in sympathy. Her clothes were riddled with tears and scratches, several dark stains blotched her coat, and a colorful bruise ran down the side of her neck, disappearing under her clothes. Her brow was knitted tight; somehow, she seemed to be clinging to consciousness despite her condition. With no small amount of effort, Weiss managed to lift her, mindful as she could be of the more obvious wounds, and bring her inside. She layered several towels on the bathroom floor and set the girl on them, then fetched a first-aid kit from beneath the sink. In truth, she had no idea what she was doing, but she what she did know was what would happen if she were to call for help. Atlas was seldom kind to faunus these days.
She would just have to do what she could for the girl, and hope for the best. A pair of dark stains decorated her impromptu patient's left thigh and right shoulder; those would have to take priority. Weiss managed to ease off the stranger's coat without disturbing her overmuch, but was forced to cut her shirt and pants away with a pair of hastily located scissors, mumbling apologies.
Weiss hissed again at the mess beneath the clothes. Two ragged punctures in the meat of her right shoulder and one in her left thigh, plus a wide array of bruises and scrapes decorating her legs and torso. Still, there was some good news to be had. Each of the punctures had a matching exit wound, and she wasn't bleeding enough for them to have connected with any major arteries. Weiss might have considered her patient lucky, but a lucky person probably wouldn't be riddled with bullet wounds in the first place. She did her level best to clean the wounds and staunch the bleeding; from her lack of reaction to the disinfectant and gauze, it seemed the girl had finally lost consciousness entirely. It was probably for the best.
Once the worst of the wounds had been cleaned and bandaged, Weiss tracked down a robe - a few sizes larger than her own; Winter's, most likely - and wrapped it around her charge, gently as she could, before moving her to rest on a couch in the living room. Weiss settled into a chair opposite, and reality began to seep in.
There is a bleeding, unconscious, probably wanted faunus on my couch. On my couch. I put her there, on purpose. What the hell am I doing?
Saving a life, probably.
Minutes passed in tense silence before a thought struck her, and she headed back out to the van, bundled against the cold. She would prefer to know as much as possible about her visitor before she woke, and the unfortunate vehicle might contain some clues as to her identity. The van was empty, save for a small duffel bag on the passenger seat. Weiss retrieved it, brought it inside - a chill was already seeping through her clothes, the storm had left a bitterly cold stillness in its wake - and spread its contents on the living room coffee table. A spare set of clothes, three twenty-lien bills and change, a battered scroll - a years-old model, she noticed - and a small, matte black bag. Within that were simple toiletries - a toothbrush, toothpaste, razor, et cetera - and several bottles of pills with names Weiss didn't recognize; spironolactone and estradiol, among others. She assumed they were important, though, and tucked them back into the bag before zipping it shut.
Barely any money, only one change of clothes, a startling amount of medication, especially for a faunus around here... Who are you?
A soft groan caught her attention. On the couch across from her, the girl was beginning to wake. Judging by her expression, she wasn't too pleased about it. Her brow was knitted tight, but still she moved to sit up.
"I wouldn't. You're in no condition to be moving around."
The girl gasped, whipped her head to look at Weiss before hissing through clenched teeth and clutching her bandaged shoulder.
"Hey! I just bandaged that, I'll thank you to not to start it bleeding again." Weiss crossed her arms with a huff.
The girl seemed to be having trouble focusing her gaze, doubtless due to pain and fatigue, though it occurred to Weiss that nowhere in the girl's things had she found even a scrap of food. That… might be contributing to the delirium. Weiss had never been much of a cook, but she managed a quick roast beef sandwich - did faunus eat meat? The girl seemed to be part cat, or something, so it made sense, but it wasn't as though Weiss had ever bothered to learn the ins and outs of faunus nutrition - and a glass of water, which she brought over to the couch.
"Eat up, it should help you recover. You're… not in great shape." As gently as she could, she eased her guest to sit upright. In her state, she might not survive the Heimlich maneuver.
She was brimming with questions, but for the time being Weiss kept them to herself, content to watch the girl eviscerate her sandwich, then drain the glass of water at a much more even pace. She allowed herself a moment to look the stranger over; she hadn't taken the time before, and besides, the girl was conscious now. Her figure was lithe and toned, wiry muscle under weathered skin like burnished bronze. Wavy black hair fell to frame her jaw, and drew Weiss's gaze to her eyes. They were striking, almost intimidating. Golden amber, vivid enough that they seemed to glow of their own accord, split by vertical slits of black. It was a moment before Weiss could bring herself to look away.
She was rather surprised the girl hadn't recognized her, really. Weiss was something of a public figure in Atlas, given the SDC's close ties to the government and position of considerable power internationally. Weiss chalked it up to disorientation, though she imagined she looked much different in casual clothing and with her hair loose across her back.
The girl leaned back against the cushions, then tensed suddenly. She cleared her throat roughly, then attempted to speak. "Thank you for... taking care of me, not many humans would have. H-have any… other faunus come through here? Faunus like me?"
Weiss shook her head. "No it was just you. Considering the state of your van I would imagine any others are…" She trailed off. The girl across from her looked… heartbroken. Weiss could see how hard she fought to hide it, but her trembling lips and brow sabotaged her efforts. She scrubbed at her eyes with her uninjured arm, breathed deeply to steady herself as best she could.
"I-I'm sorry, I should introduce myself. My name is Blake. Blake Belladonna." There was still a subtle tremor to her voice, a shine of unshed tears in her eyes.
"I'm Weiss. Weiss... ah..." She caught herself a moment too late. She could only hope the girl wouldn't manage to put two and two together.
The girl - Blake, apparently - studied her face for a moment, mouthed her name as Weiss wracked her brain for some plausible alternative. Before she could manage one, though, Blake tensed, eyes gone wide and fearful.
"I-I should go, I can't - I sh-shouldn't be here." Before Weiss could speak she moved to stand, only to drop back into the couch with a sharp cry, clutching at her wounded thigh.
"I just told you not to-" Weiss caught herself. It wouldn't help anything to frighten Blake even more. She took a deep breath, and spoke softly. "I don't know what happened to you, Blake, but you're very badly injured. If I were planning to turn you in, I would have done it before I bandaged your wounds and made you a meal. I recognize that it might be... difficult to believe, but I do actually intend to help you."
Blake's shoulders relaxed by degrees, but her wary expression refused to budge, and she remained silent.
"I don't expect you to take me at my word, but for the time being you're stuck with me. That van you got here in isn't going anywhere any time soon, and you're… well… a mess. I brought your things inside, " Weiss gestured at the newly re-packed bag on the table, "and there's plenty of food here. If you decide you don't want to tell me what's going on, I can try to get you a ride to the nearest town without anyone finding out. If you decide you do… we can cross that bridge if we come to it."
Blake only nodded, finally breaking eye contact to gaze thoughtfully at her hands, chewing her lip in thought. A thought seemed to strike her and she glanced up, looking sheepish. "I… don't suppose my coat is around somewhere?"
Weiss nodded affirmatively and retrieved it from the bathroom. Blake dug around in the various pockets, looking increasingly worried as she did so, before withdrawing a plain-looking length of black ribbon from an interior pocket with a relieved sigh. She caught Weiss's rising eyebrow, and turned bashful.
"It… It's just… my mother gave it to me. Having it around is… comforting." She ran the cloth through her fingers as she spoke, over and over again in the same pattern.
Weiss nodded, though she didn't quite understand. All her father had ever given her was crushing responsibility and a scar across her eye, and she had never known her mother. Apparently satisfied, Blake wound the ribbon around her forearm, somehow folding it to hold itself in place.
"Thank you, Weiss. I... don't mean to seem ungrateful, this is just a lot to take in. Is it... is it alright if I take some time to think things over?"
Weiss nodded. "You'll need to stay here until you recover anyways. I've already done this much, letting you stay is hardly a huge jump."
She excused herself and retreated to her bedroom, allowing herself to drop heavily into the bed. Her thoughts raced as she stared blankly at the ceiling. How could Blake be so... normal? She was a faunus, they were supposed to be beasts, animalistic creatures who deserved to be treated as such. They weren't supposed to have feelings and prescriptions and lives, weren't supposed to panic at the thought of losing a simple memento from a loved one.
They weren't supposed to be so damnably real.
We can cross that bridge if we come to it.
Dust, what had she even meant by that? She was Weiss fucking Schnee; she had already gone far, far beyond what her station would permit, and she was freely offering to do more? Even as she attempted to dissuade herself, though, she couldn't deny that there was an appeal to her secret defiance. Weiss was well aware that her life was lived on a rail; the vast majority of what she did was dictated by her father's whims, and the trajectory of her life had been chosen for her, long before she was even born. In the face of such a life, every act of defiance sweet as honey on her lips.
Weiss lay thinking for a long while, letting the thoughts run circles in her mind like dogs chasing their tails. Her stomach roused her, eventually. Her morning had been interrupted, to say the least, and she had never eaten breakfast. She went to the kitchen, checking on Blake as she passed the living room. The girl had fallen asleep, no longer pained unconsciousness but true, restful sleep. Weiss settled on a bowl of cereal, and sat across from the faunus girl once more. She watched the steady rise and fall of Blake's chest as she ate in contemplative silence.
Blake woke just as Weiss finished her half-hearted meal, and sat up stiffly, cautiously avoiding the use of her injured arm and leg. She ran a hand down her face, trying and failing to stifle a huge yawn.
"So... have you thought things over?" It was perhaps too early to ask, but Weiss was impatient. Schnees were unused to waiting for answers.
Blake ghosted a hand along the bandages wrapping her shoulder. They still had not bled through; possibly due to the wound healing, and possibly because Weiss hadn't been entirely sure when to stop wrapping. "I… have, actually. I'm still not sure I actually… trust you, but… you've done a lot for me. The least I can do is explain myself."
"That would be appreciated, yes." Weiss smirked slightly. Yes, a bullet-riddled van and it's bullet-riddled passenger turning up half-dead in the driveway of one of the richest people on Remnant might, just maybe, warrant an explanation.
Blake opened her mouth, then closed it. She seemed to be having trouble making eye contact. Was she… embarrassed? "I-I'm sorry, again, I… where to start…" Blake took a moment to collect her thoughts, then began again, more confidently. "Until… very recently, I lived on the island north of here, with my mother. She ran a faunus health clinic, since… well, you know."
Weiss knew very well, given her father's involvement in the matter. Since the beginning of the movement to found Asylum, faunus citizens of Atlas had been steadily losing rights. Three months ago it had been made all but impossible for faunus to receive healthcare, and what little they could find was made to be exorbitantly expensive.
"I'm surprised you stayed. Most faunus began migrating months before the founding, didn't they?"
Blake nodded. "That's true, but… someone has to stay, or people get left behind." She spoke the words like a solemn prayer, and Weiss wondered how many times Blake had heard them from her mother's lips. "Not everyone could just pick up and go, and we did our best to take care of them. Until earlier this week, anyway. Things had been getting… tense, between us and the police. Clinics like ours aren't entirely legal; we can only operate safely as long as the law chooses to turn a blind eye. They… decided to stop doing that. More than a couple faunus in our area have been arrested lately, and… that's the last we ever hear of them. We don't know if they were transferred somewhere else without us knowing, or if…" Blake trailed off. She was twirling the ribbon through her fingers again.
"... I think I can imagine." That wasn't entirely true; she had considerable difficulty imagining the police being so cruel. They existed to serve and protect Atlesian citizens, and had always been quite courteous to her. Still, if Blake looked this distraught at the very idea of being arrested, then perhaps things were different for faunus.
Blake gave her a grateful look, and continued after a deep breath. "They came to our clinic a couple days ago. Way too many of them for just the two of us, I think they were hoping for a fight. We managed to slip out the back and get down to the docks, but they noticed us casting off and… there was the… storm…" Blake's voice caught. There was a faraway look in her eyes, and Weiss could see her hands begin to tremble. If she had been at sea in that storm…
"Blake? You don't need to tell me this part if it's too hard, okay?"
After a moment's dazed silence, Blake shook herself and nodded. "Th-thank you. At some point I hit my head, and when I woke up I was at the docks northwest of here. My… my mother was gone. I don't know… a-anyway, the police were combing the docks, so I had to run. I found an unlocked van with the key in the glove compartment, but it took a few tries to start it and they saw me. You… pretty much know the rest."
That kind of force for a runaway clinic assistant? It was like they were using her for target practice. "I… see. What do you plan to do now? The police will doubtless have a warrant out for your arrest, and we're nowhere near the Vacuo border."
A hint of steel entered Blake's golden gaze, and Weiss suppressed a shiver. Those eyes were certainly… intriguing. "Get to Asylum. When we were leaving, I promised my mother… if we got separated on the way, we'd meet again there. I… I have to get there. I have to."
"I figured that much, but how? Hundreds of miles of Atlas territory aren't going to just let you through, especially if there's a warrant out for your… arrest." She punctuated the last word with a pointed glance at Blake's wounded leg.
"A family friend runs a ferry between the coast south of here and the island below that. That's Vacuo territory; if I can get there it'll be… easier. Things aren't much better in Vacuo, but at least they don't have a warrant out on me."
Weiss hmmed in understanding. A valid plan, if risky. All it would take was one glance from an observant officer and… "Well, it sounds like you have something of a plan worked out. You're welcome to stay here a few days to recover, and if I receive word that anyone from my father's company is to be visiting, you'll be the first to know." Weiss stood, headed back to her room, when a hand caught her wrist.
"Weiss… thank you." Blake held her gaze, her expression earnest and grateful. "What you've done, what you're doing… you've saved my life." She gave Weiss's wrist a gentle squeeze, and let her hand slip away. "I hope you know that."
Warmth leapt to Weiss's cheeks and she stammered, suddenly off balance. "Y-yes, well… I-I couldn't just leave you to die."
Blake just smiled softly, and Weiss thought her heart might stop. She excused herself hastily, and took a long shower.
The next day Blake could stand. Unsteadily, yes, but enough to limp around the house when the need arose. As it happened, Blake was a much better chef than Weiss, and did her best to cook for them both, despite her injuries. She insisted it was only fair, given all Weiss had done for her.
Weiss wondered why she was so touched by the offer; it wasn't as though she had never eaten a meal prepared by someone else before.
Another two days passed in this fashion, with Blake's limp easing by degrees and her wariness steadily fading. As it did, she began to open up to Weiss somewhat. She explained what her life had been like, traveling often to avoid suspicion from law enforcement, constantly scraping bottom for supplies - but never turning anyone away, no matter the hour, no matter the patient, no matter the cost to themselves. Weiss seldom spoke during her talks with Blake, and then only to ask guiding questions. It seemed there was much about life as an Atlesian faunus that had been kept from her.
She asked about Blake's prescriptions, but dropped the subject when an edge of panic entered her expression. Some things would simply have to wait, if they were discussed at all.
On the evening of Blake's fourth day with her, as they sat together eating the salads Blake had prepared, Weiss's scroll chimed. Her eyes scanned the message briefly, then she excused herself, walking stiffly to her room. Blake ate in confused solitude for some time before she returned, dropping a loaded duffel bag to the floor with a soft thump.
Blake's brow furrowed. "Weiss? What's-"
"My father will be here tomorrow morning. We need to be as far away as possible by then."
Blake stiffened. "I… I don't have a car, how am I going to get away before-" She paused. "Wait, 'we'? Weiss, you don't mean-"
"I want to go with you." Heat crept to Weiss's face, she imagined her cheeks were all but scarlet. "I-I mean… if you'll have me. I don't mean to insist, but y-your chances would likely be much better if-"
"Weiss…" Blake looked… concerned. Deeply so. "If you do this… you're throwing away your entire life. I don't expect your father will be forgiving of something like this. I… I can't ask you to do that for me, you've risked enough as it is."
"You're not asking, Blake. I'm offering. And… the more I talk to you, the more I'm okay with throwing away this life. It… it's not mine, not really." Steel entered her gaze, turned it glacial. "It's my father's, and I think I'm done playing along. So, if you'll have me…"
Blake searched her face for a moment, before huffing out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. She shook her head with a rueful grin. "I doubt I'd have much luck convincing you otherwise if I wanted to. Together, then?"
Weiss nodded sharply. "Together, to Asylum."
Author's note: For those interested, a more complete explanation of the AU (complete with maps) is on my tumblr, under the tag 'asylum'