Nothing makes a person forget the warm of a summer evening than the sound of panicked screaming. Cries of fear and pain echoing throughout the dark chills even the most steeled of heart, making limbs quake and the brave run as far as their legs will carry them. What kind of horrible fool would search for the source?
Huntsmen and Huntresses, that's who, the guardians of the free peoples of Remnant from the ever present threat of the Grimm and danger of bandits and violent groups.
The terrified city was witness to the quartet walking towards the sounds of fearful people, pushing through the panicked crowd that ran any direction they could, so long as it was away. They did not need to explain their actions, nor did they stop anyone in the crowd to ask why they ran.
The White Fang was in town.
Smoke swirled higher into the night sky, the stars blotted out by a thick black cloud and even the light of the moon was muted by the light of a fire that raged on the edges of town. Silhouettes could be seen in the light of the fire if one looked hard enough, flitting from place to place. Whether or not these were victims or attackers was impossible to say, but it made no difference to the team that strode towards the danger. They were sure in their movements and certain in their purpose.
The town guard had set up a perimeter around the immediately affected area, hoping to contain the attackers. So far they had been successful, but a few terrified civilians had reported an impossibly large Faunus leading the attack. The guard commanders had written it off as civilian panic and ignored the warnings, but the rumor remained.
The team made their way to the perimeter, striding passed the appalled guards. One of the braver guards called out, "You can't do that! Who do you think you are?"
A young woman turned, tall and fair, blue streaked blonde hair twirling around her head as she did so. She put one hand on her hip and called back, "Team RAIN." Another woman turned, this one much shorter than the first, and winked through brown bangs. A male on the team smiled on side of his face and his blue eyes twinkled behind his glasses as he shifted the weight of the massive blade across his back. The last member of the quartet, a broad shouldered man with a black topknot and neatly trimmed goatee nodded curtly to the guards. The blonde woman turned away and continued to walk towards the fire. The guards were left in the wake of the quartet, wondering just who these people were. Some began to whisper that they were students at Shade Academy, but the school was located much too far away for that to be a viable option, the guards concluded. Certain that these were rogue Huntsmen and Huntresses, but too afraid to deal with both the White Fang and these guardians, they stayed put, content with letting their commanders know what had happened.
And so in Team RAIN went.
"I can't believe they just let us in." Ryvin muttered, throwing her blonde locks over one shoulder and securing them with a pin.
Arcon stroked his beard before replying, "Fear makes the most disciplined men forget the rule of law."
Shifting the weight of his blade once again, it was Immolen's turn to speak. "They were terrified. Some guards this side of Vacuo."
Nutmeg cooed lightly, making a circle of her hands around her mouth. "Scared like pigeons!" She cooed again. Ryvin sighed with a small grin, Arcon shook his head in despair, and Immolen laughed aloud. "If you say so Nutmeg."
She nodded matter of factly, responding "They have the same expression when you chase them."
Ryvin looked over, utterly lost in Nutmeg's logic. "Jus-what? Why do you know that?"
Nutmeg did not deign to answer, instead preferring to coo again.
Arcon looked on towards the fire instead of entering the murky waters of a conversation with the woman. Immolen had no such qualms and was about to speak, but they were cut off by the sounds of screams from ahead. So onwards they went.
The last of the civilians had long since run off into the untouched parts of the city, leaving the White Fang to their own devices. Houses burned, stores were looted, and anything valuable was taken and stored away in aircraft and trucks. Especially the Dust. The street of competing Dust shops now lay in ruins, front windows smashed in to let the attacking Faunus throw crates of Dust to waiting comrades. Huge quantities of the material had already been moved out of the city, leaving the remaining White Fang to clear out whatever was left. Some of the braver slipped a few crystals into their pockets, hardly enough to be noticed in the massive haul that had already been stolen.
One Faunus, a young man with a small pair of antlers coming out of his head, poked his sword into the ruins of a watch store. Some people, he knew, would pay handsomely for a nice timepiece. Finding a beautifully crafted piece with golden hands, he smiled and slipped it into his pocket. He might even keep this one for himself, but he knew it would fetch enough to feed him for a month at best. He turned to go, knowing that White Fang was moving out soon. And he would have made it away perfectly fine, had he not been knocked unconscious by the walking stick of the Hunter standing in his way. Arcon frowned lightly, reaching into the Faunus's pocket and removing the watch. He placed the timepiece back into its display case before he turned away to find more stragglers.
Elsewhere in the city, above the streets, Ryvin had finally found a good position to set up her rifle. Popping out the bipod, she rested the legs on the edge of the roof, cradling her weapon lightly in the crook of her shoulder. Looking through the scope, she kept track of the larger group of White Fang. Most were heading out with the crates of Dust, the rest staying behind to make sure the town was burned effectively and everything valuable taken. Taking a look down one of the alleys, she saw a pair of gloved hands lose their grip on the corner of a wall and disappear behind the building.
Immolen snarled at the man he had just dragged down the alley, and landed a solid punch in the man's throat, cutting off his scream before knocking him unconscious with a second punch. Peeking around the corner of the alley and seeing nothing, he snuck towards the street, taking cover behind a dumpster.
This was the strangest thing the dog-tailed White Fang member had ever seen. In the middle of all the chaos, a brown haired woman was leaning over a fountain, dragging her finger through the water and thoroughly enjoying the experience. The Faunus aimed her gun and called out,
"Hey! You!"
The woman paused, pulling her finger out of the water and turning slowly. The White Fang smiled cruelly, telling the woman to lay on the ground, and throw her weapons away.
Nutmeg cocked her head to the side and smiled. Before the woman could respond, Nutmeg had pulled out her pistol and fired once, knocking the gun out of the Faunus's hand. The sound was lost in the chaos of the night, and Nutmeg rushed forwards, wrapping the woman in a hug. She squeezed, and the woman awkwardly pat the Huntress on the back, utterly confused as to what was going on. Pulling away, Nutmeg smiled apologetically.
"Sorry." She said, and before the woman could put two and two together, Nutmeg had wrapped her in a headlock and the Faunus was unconscious within moments. Ryvin's voice crackled over the scroll Nutmeg kept on her hip,
"Are the stragglers gone?"
Nutmeg replied yes, putting her gun away and skipping happily down the street. Arcon and Immolen responded affirmative as well, and Ryvin said,
"Then let's do this thing."
The majority of the White Fang were not expecting an attack this far into the raid. The few that were on guard duty had already been defeated, being those unfortunate enough to find themselves on the outskirts of the raiding party and the first targets of Team RAIN.
Ryvin was to fire upon high value targets, anyone who could potentially pose a threat to the team as a whole. Arcon and Nutmeg would move up the center, while Immolen cut off any escape to the rear.
Taking aim at the largest White Fang she could find, Ryvin let out a slow breath, and squeezed the trigger.
The entire street full of White Fang froze. The giant Faunus with small tusks poking out of the edges of his jaw crumpled to the ground after the sound of a shot. The next moment bullets ripped through the group, sending them scattering to cover and into stores. A few of them fired back, but their shots hit nothing, fired in blind panic. Any of them who looked would have seen the huge wall of a man that was Arcon striding down the street, walking stick in hand, not a care in the world. Behind him flashed the muzzle of an assault rifle wielded by a small brunette woman, Nutmeg.
Figuring that the woman and the man were working together, a few of the braver White Fang ran out to attack him. The first swung wildly, missing as the man twisted his body away from the strike, the walking stick suddenly swinging upwards and catching the Faunus under the chin, knocking him unconscious. The second balked as he saw this, unfortunately frozen as a hail of bullets from down the street lifted him off his feet and threw him away. The third White Fang never got close to Arcon as another loud shot echoed up and down the street and she collapsed mid stride.
Some of the White Fang, thinking that this was not a fight they could win, began to run and found themselves closed in as Immolen rounded the corner. One of the Faunus swung at him, but the Huntsman's blade was faster, cutting into his opponent's belly before their strike could land.
Now that the White Fang was closed in, they had no choice but to attack. Bursting from their hiding places, they pushed forwards, hoping to break through either side of the street. Arcon deflected a sword swing, and refuted it with a smack across the head with his walking stick. Nutmeg fired on larger groups of attackers, keeping them pinned down and letting Ryvin pick off whom she pleased. Immolen sidestepped a strike, swinging his blade high and catching one of the White Fang at the base of the neck, slaying them instantly. The next two that approached him met similar fates, woefully unprepared to fight Huntresses and Huntsmen. Ryvin took three more as the fight went on. Nutmeg had long stopped firing as the combat wound to a close, advancing to reconvene with the rest of her Team. Another of the attackers took a look at Arcon before screaming and running in the opposite direction.
As more of the White Fang began to fall, the rest scattered into the town. The fight for the street was over.
Ryvin's voice came over the scrolls,
"Good job everybody. Meet me in the street."
The others replied they would, Immolen commenting as he approached,
"Where else does she think we'd be?"
Nutmeg offered a few helpful suggestions like the moon or Vale while Arcon shrugged and grunted softly, tidying up his topknot.
Everyone had their weapons away by the time Ryvin had arrived. She slung her rifle over her shoulder and smiled at her teammates.
"That was fantastic. Really. Now let's get rolling. Grimm won't be far behind."
Nutmeg smiled as wide as she could, then leaped at her team leader, enveloping Ryvin in a hug which Ryvin returned gracefully. Immolen nodded before looking upwards into the calm depths of space, while Arcon looked on with a small twinkle in his eye. You could almost miss it if you weren't looking hard enough.
The attack was not a common thing at all in the Kingdom of Vacuo, nor was a quartet of students doing what the police could not so familiar as to be normal. Nevertheless, it was the way of life that Team RAIN had adopted the year before, as time permitted. School kept them busy between exams and social callings, not to mention the upcoming Vytal Festival, held this year in Vale. Most of their time was made up of studying, practicing, and putting up with the habits of the other members of the team. Four people in one room can by trying on even the most patient of souls. Still, that room was theirs and therefore it was their home. They kept it clean and organized, each member personalizing their own bunk to suit themselves.
Of all the bunks, two stood out as the most organized and most messy, these being Arcon's and Nutmeg's respectively. Arcon kept his space curt and clean, with hospital corner bed making and a desk boasting the largest alphabetized collection of books outside of the Shade library. Nutmeg by comparison lived in a perpetual state of chaos, her bedsheets half off the mattress at all times, pillow buried underneath the covers, and with a desk cluttered to the rim with papers and books, half-finished essays and drawings scattered all across the floor in a rough perimeter of Nutmeg's space. The other two members of the team maintained their spaces to less extremes. Ryvin's bunk was moderately clean, her desk littered with stacks of plans and homework, everything in seemingly random order, but each pile keeping its own special place. Immolen kept all his things in drawers, and while the drawers were kept organized into categories, items were crammed inside and the drawers rarely closed.
Despite the radical differences in their own personal housekeeping, the group had made the room their own, each of them keeping their personal business up to date and helping out the rest of the team as needed. As was common with teams of Huntsmen and Huntresses the team knew each other as they knew their own minds, and it was this particular harmony of individuals that kept teams strong. So it was that the team existed in Shade academy, not the top of their class but certainly not the bottom.
It was well past midnight when they returned to their home, congratulating one another on a job well done. Such revelry would have gone on long into the night, had there not been exams the following day. Normally nothing would have shaken the team from a long evening of studying and a good night's sleep, but the White Fang required special attention. Apparently this was not a view shared by the head Prefect of their floor.
Fiula Tarrantine was, by nature, a human being of extraordinary punctuality and purpose, something that he hoped to pass on to the children under his care. His lessons were well learned throughout the school, with the exclusion of Team RAIN. No matter what he tried, he could not get them to stay within bounds of the academy. Not only were their academic careers in jeopardy, his reputation as a model student and dreams of becoming a professor were on the line too. This was something he let them know with great frequency.
"You ingrates!" he whispered as fiercely as he dared, fearful of waking someone of great importance or worse, somebody with a knack for rumor spreading, "How can you keep doing this? Don't you understand what's at risk? Our ancestor lay down the foundations of this school and you can't even be bothered to respect its rules? To your room immediately!"
The team trundled passed, thankful that they had not been punished and glad to get some rest. As they passed the prefect, Nutmeg asked,
"Same time this week Fiula?"
He nodded, responding,
"We're working on the history of Atlas now."
Nutmeg have him a salute and a wink before skipping off towards the room with the rest of Team RAIN.
The moment the team reached their room, they stripped off their weapons, put them away, and prepared for bed. Each member of the team had their own way of putting away their weapons, Arcon leaned his walking stick in the corner, Nutmeg put her pistol, and machete in a trunk, while Ryvin hung her rifle over the bedpost by its sling and Immolen placed his blade on a pair of pegs coming out from the wall. He stepped back to admire his work, gaining a comment from Nutmeg.
"If you took as good care of yourself as you did your sword you might make something of yourself."
Immolen snorted in laughter and replied, "If you put as much time on the range as you did in the garden you might hit something one day." Nutmeg glared at him for a moment before laughing away her moment of anger. Arcon rolled his eyes while Ryvin chided the two for being childish. They waved her comment away and continued to talk, Immolen taking his bottom bunk and Nutmeg leaping up to the top. They were old friends, Nutmeg and Immolen, growing up together long before they had been put on a team.
While they were undoubtedly close to the rest of their team, Immolen and Nutmeg were like peas in a pod. Indeed their families had been neighbors since before the two were born, and their bond was inevitable. Nutmeg was descended from a long line of Hunters, and it was she who had inspired Immolen to put aside the Dust shop of his parents and pursue the life of a warrior. He knew that he owned her everything he had now, and he never forgot it.
Arcon too had been part of a family of Hunters, and it was his life's work to become the most caring Huntsmen he could, though this was proving difficult as a compassionate warrior may be a contradiction of terms. Ryvin had been raised by a distant Uncle, whom she never mentioned. All the rest of the team knew that she had run away when she was young, sneaking in to the early years of Hunter training. She had been allowed to stay as it was bad form, not to mention embarrassing, for a school to expel the best in class.
The four had been pushed together after completing the ceremony of choosing teams, and were a group that few had anticipated doing as well as they did. The disparate members of Team RAIN seemed at first to be too different to work together effectively, but they proved such doubts wrong almost immediately. While they had trouble getting along on a more personal level for some time, in combat they were as effective as a well-tuned machine, quickly proving that they were a force to be reckoned with, if not one to be relied on for a timely essay. Still, in the life of a Hunter such things were expected and the professors let it go most times.
The strains of classic rock broke the early morning slumber of Team RAIN. Electric guitar and bass played in harmony while the drums kept a dancing beat and the singer began the words to a love song, until a rolled up pair of jeans smacked the radio off of Ryvin's desk. This act more than the alarm itself woke the leader of team RAIN up and she threw off her covers, leaping to the ground from her top bunk and picked up the alarm, checking it for cracks and scratches. The clock seemed to be in working order, and she set it back on her desk before checking to jeans to see who they belonged to. Reading the tag revealed them to be Immolen's, who opened his eyes fully at the ruckus and received a face full of denim.
"Do you know how much that clock cost?" Ryvin hissed, thoroughly annoyed that this was the start of her day.
Immolen shrugged, taking the time to remove the jeans and throw them into an ever growing pile of dirty laundry. "Ten?"
Ryvin narrowed her eyes before responding, "Five. But it was my money. Mine." They both looked over in surprise as Arcon cut into the conversation, the large man rarely saying anything before noon. "And so you feel more protective of it because of the rules of ownership."
The leader of Team RAIN nodded, thanking Arcon for understanding. Immolen responded with the fact that it was still a cheap clock, and therefore there was no reason to get upset, which Ryvin refuted by saying that the cost didn't matter, it was her property.
"Besides," She said, "You love that song." Immolen was forced to agree, prompting a laugh from Arcon as he stood and began to make his bed. Ryvin, after checking the clock once more, began to gather her things for a shower, while Immolen rolled out of bed and threw open his dresser to find something clean to wear. He was running short.
The whole team turned as their fourth member came crashing down from her position on the top bunk above Immolen, her head popping up like a startled squirrel as Nutmeg looked around bewildered for a moment. Suddenly realizing where she was she laughed it off and stood up to get ready, seeming no worse for wear due to her fall.
Luckily the team always awoke with more than enough time to get ready before classes began at eight. Breakfast was at seven, but most of the time they skipped it as they had a readily available supply of granola bars hidden under Arcon's bed. This was widely considered the best place to hid anything, and when Arcon had asked why Immolen responded,
"Well between you and I, who are they more likely to search? The straight and narrow, incredibly imposing giant or the troublemaking lunatic with anger issues?" a point to which Arcon had been forced to concede.
When posed the same question, Fiula had responded that he would rather not search either of them. Thankfully for him it was never his duty to search Team RAIN's room as he cleverly scheduled classes during potential room search times.
It was expressly against the rules at Shade Academy to have any kind of personal food or drink in your room, with the exception of water. Not many students listened to this rule, making it the most commonly punished offense in the entire school, with the close second of "out of practice combat". Team RAIN was no exception in this case, having been disciplined multiple times for getting into play fights with other students. All combat practice was to be conducted in official school arenas, to limit the potential for collateral damage and avoid disrupting the lives of the locals. Unfortunately there were only so many arenas and they were often booked through. On a good day, Ryvin could schedule an official practice after dinner at the latest.
Most days, this one being no exception, were spent in class and then onwards to practical usage of what the teams had been learning. This could be anything from practicing martial skill against other students or captured Grimm, or real-world tests of a team's response to a potential disaster. In Vacuo, Huntresses and Huntsmen were first responders as well as defenders. Whenever there was an emergency, one could be certain there would be Hunters around to help. Barring a full on invasion of the city, any kind of emergency could be simulated in the Shade Academy training centers. Despite the potential for real injuries that the students could face, which led to some controversy among the community, the scenarios prepared the generations of Huntsmen and Huntresses to a standard well respected by the rest of the Hunter academies.
First, Team RAIN went to history class, which had just covered the end of the last war and the forming of the current system of training Hunters. The class was interesting enough, and kept Arcon and Ryvin well enough entertained. For Immolen and Nutmeg this was information they had already learned in their previous school, and they therefore busied themselves with the important task of designing the most aerodynamic paper plane, with extra points added for real world inspiration. Nutmeg took an early lead with a scale model of an Atlas warship, which caused her competition to scowl as his own attempts at a transport ship from Vale falling apart in his hands. The professor, a mousy elderly woman who had seen too much bad behavior for her fair share of vacation days, glared at the pair but let them continue. They weren't disrupting the rest of the class, and if they failed it was their own fault. As far as she and indeed the rest of the professors were concerned, their students were adults now. They could make their own choices, come what may. The professor had no way of knowing of course that Nutmeg's father had been part of the Vacuo Historical Society, nor that Nutmeg had based all of her children's games around actual historical events. She and Immolen were more than prepared for the pop quiz that the professor had planned, acing the questions without so much as a flinch. The professor's glare only became more evident as she reviewed this. She could not argue with the evidence; the entire Team was incredibly well versed in Remnant's history.
Math came next, a subject in which Ryvin took the lead. She had a natural ability to calculate windage and gravity, and could even mark the turn of the earth down to a few inches. Most mathematics were simple to her, so she spent most of the class helping the rest of her team to keep up. More than one night had been lost tutoring Immolen, but she was proud of his progress. Their professor wasn't much help either, but they left that unsaid. Now they had entered the basics of trigonometry, causing Immolen to bury his head in his book. Ryvin gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, and told him they could work on it tonight.
After math came lunch, which was chicken with potatoes today and zucchinis for the vegetarians. Nutmeg and Arcon took heaps of food, while their teammates looked on over their much smaller portions.
Finally was Writing. While the arts had little to do with the practical training of a Hunter, the headmaster considered it a serious oversight to train his charges without an appreciation of culture and the finer points of art and music. Recently the class had moved on to poetry, and Arcon was the shining star of Shade Academy when it came to poetry. Described as "Moving," "Powerful," and "Simplicity at its most beautiful," his work was read and appreciated across the kingdom. Professor Magin fawned over him, calling the silent giant her greatest success. Arcon shrugged off the praise with a polite nod before going back to his work. Regardless of his seeming disinterest, he was quite proud of what he had accomplished.
Following writing was a two hour long period of practical combat and hunter on hunter training, all to prepare the students to make a good showing of themselves when the Vytal Festival finally rolled around. Team RAIN took fifth at the end of the day, which was not uncommon. After the fighting, the team stepped aside to shower and prepare for dinner, at which time they would discuss what had happened during the fighting and how to improve it. Ryvin started off the conversation,
"So we lost to TULP again. What happened?"
Immolen was the first to speak, "Uro got the better of me in the center. He's good with that spear." The rest of the team turned to him, and he poked at his food, muttering "So I'll get better." Ryvin did her best to keep from shaking her head in despair before she said,
"Or you could drag him out into the open. He knows I've got your back and he's scared." Immolen sat up straighter, indignant, but Ryvin kept speaking. "You can't beat him on your own. We've talked about this. If TULP loses him, they lose the fight." Now it was Arcon's turn to speak,
"He is the strongest member of their team." The team was silent for a long moment, Immolen gripping his fork a bit harder than was necessary. The dining hall was full of chatter, someone was dating someone else, there was a party tonight but it wouldn't be crazy, promise, the newest gossip. Team RAIN sat in a bubble of isolation, the entire air of the happy and functional team broken until Nutmeg forced herself to speak. "Laure and Taulanti went down easy though! And Arcon how was fighting Perseus?"
Arcon rumbled, "Even, as always."
Immolen sighed heavily and picked at his steak, appetite gone. "So I'll drag him next time. Sorry everyone." The rest of the team waved it away, and they went back to more cheerful banter.
That evening saw the team back in their room, each doing what they pleased. Ryvin studied team based strategy, pouring over every book she could find on the subject. She had gone through the academy's library twice, and had turned to the bookstores in town as of late. Arcon worked on more poetry, attempting to capture the visage of a rare purple flower he had found that day. Having conquered the petals and the smell, the trouble came from the stem. Having been ripped from the ground, the stem of the flower was broken and a sharp juxtaposition to the rest of itself, a contradiction he was struggling to express. Immolen was slaving over his math books, having finished his tutelage with Ryvin earlier that night. His progress was significantly sped up, but it would still take the majority of that night to master the subject. Nutmeg lay on her bed, twisting a string between her fingers. She would look at the rest of the team every now and then, alternating between sighing at their lack of exciting action or smiling contentedly. So far the string between her fingers had formed a star, an octopus, and an Ursa. She was working on a Deathstalker next.
She cast a glance at Arcon, his brows drawn close and his pencil to the side. One hand stroked his stubble, the other tried to frame the flowing in a way that would allow him to capture it correctly. Nutmeg rolled out of her bed, this time landing on her feet rather than crashing to the ground. She was surprisingly light in her landing, the sound not attracting the attention of any of her teammates. Walking up to Arcon, she leaned on his shoulder and studied the flower with him. If he was startled by her sudden appearance, he did not show it. The pair looked at their blooming subject for a few moments before Nutmeg asked,
"Why not put it in a vase?" Arcon had a lovely collection of small glass vases that he often kept full of flowers, though they had been empty for a while. He shrugged, and looked over at the vases that were still kept on the windowsill. Grabbing a smaller one, round and cleverly shaped to appear as though it had no flat bottom, he stood and went to the bathroom. Returning with the vase full of water, he placed the flower inside it, suspending in the glass orb. Now able to see the flower upright without his aid, his eyes widened for just a moment before going back to his poem reinvigorated.
As his companion turned to go, he said
"Nutmeg." She returned to his side and he gave her a hug with his other arm. She returned it happily, arms enveloping his head. He smiled, the stubble of his face scratching her arms and she giggled before she releasing him and turning to the next member of the team, Ryvin. The leader of Team RAIN looked up and smiled wearily at Nutmeg as she approached and plopped herself in Ryvin's lap, looking over what she was reading.
"Anything useful?"
Ryvin shook her head. "There's nothing that we haven't already used before. I've been trying to combine a few ideas into one, maybe make something original that we can do, but I'm coming up short. Any ideas?" Nutmeg paused for a moment, deep in thought before saying,
"Use our semblances."
Ryvin smiled gently, patting Nutmeg on the shoulder. "We already do. Besides, your semblance isn't combat based." Nutmeg seriously considered this for a few seconds before saying, "I know Immolen likes to fly."
Ryvin's leaned back in her chair, and stared at the ceiling as she thought. "That could work." She looked back at Nutmeg and smiled, saying, "Thanks". Nutmeg smiled back and tousled Ryvin's hair as she walked away. Ryvin took a moment to straighten herself up, playfully rolling her eyes.
Running up to Immolen, Nutmeg tackled her larger companion. The two rolled around on the floor for a moment before Nutmeg emerged victorious on top of the pile. Immolen was not amused and said,
"Excuse me." Nutmeg stared him down, her voice as level as his, and said,
"Show me how to make the Deathstalker again." Immolen smiled with one corner of his mouth and took the string once Nutmeg offered it. Demonstrating how to place her fingers he created the Deathstalker, much to her enjoyment. Handing it back, Immolen asked her to demonstrate. After a few tries, she succeeded and the two laughed, spending the rest of the night making creatures out of string. Fifteen minutes past midnight Nutmeg stretched and hopped off of Immolen, taking her string. He gave her a saddened look, but she stuck out her tongue and scrambled back up into her bed. He smirked and put away his work in favor of a game on his scroll before going to sleep. Ryvin and Arcon had long since begun to slumber, both of them happy with their progress. A new poem was safely weighed down by the vase containing its subject, and a new plan was hanging on the wall above Ryvin's desk. Waiting until she heard Immolen's light snores, Nutmeg smiled to herself, and slept.
The next morning was, thankfully, the weekend. The team woke up slower than usual, except for Arcon of course who was always awake at six. The rest of the team took their time, missing breakfast. Arcon, wondering quietly to himself how they could bear to be so lax in their schedules, took plates back for the rest of his companions. Immolen snapped up at the smell of bacon and threw off his blankets, nearly tripping over his own feet in his rush to grab a plate. With a bow in place of a thank you, his mouth already full, he took his plate back to bed and sat down to eat a bit slower. Arcon did not smile, but was amused all the same. Immolen put on his glasses, taking a moment to chew and savor the flavors that exploded into his mouth. It was rare that the school offered its students meat more than twice a week, and usually these special meals were reserved for Fridays. Meat on any other day, especially a weekend, meant that a new school event was coming up. Swallowing and contemplating the mixture of bacon, eggs, and apples, Immolen asked,
"So what's the occasion?"
Arcon too was chewing, cutting a piece off his pancakes and dipping them in syrup before answering,
"A dance to celebrate the Vytal Festival."
Immolen took another bite of bacon and smiled as he chewed the fatty meat, juices seeping into the deepest corners of his mouth, before wondering aloud,
"Isn't there a dance at the festival?"
Arcon shrugged and ate some his pancakes. He frowned as he tasted the syrup, which did not compare to the fresh syrup he had grown up with. Sighing at the lackluster taste of the factory made liquid, he resigned himself to eating the pancakes for sustenance alone before replying.
"It is custom, yes. I suspect this dance is preparation for the festival itself." Immolen nodded, going back to his food and muttering that he wouldn't mind the practice. Arcon nodded, amused again. There was a flurry of covers falling passed Immolen, thankfully missing his plate, and with a crash there was a pile of blankets on the floor. After a few moments of shuffling Nutmeg poked her head out of the heap. Gasping in joy, she leaped for a plate and disappeared back into her blankets.
"Why," Immolen asked, too puzzled to continue eating for the moment, "Do you insist on doing that every morning?"
Nutmeg took a bite of her apple slices before responding matter-of-factly, "It's too much trouble to untangle myself in the mornings." Immolen pondered her logic for a moment before shrugging it away and going back to his meal.
Ryvin woke up last, struggling to lift herself out of bed, and asking through sleep slurred lips,
"Izzat food?" Arcon nodded and brought her a plate. She thanked him and sat up fully to eat, her blond hair frizzy and chaotic in the morning sun. She did not notice as she began to eat her eggs. The team thanked Arcon again before the conversation turned to the upcoming dance. Who would dance with whom? What would everyone wear? What kind of music? After an hour of talk, the majority of the team decided they were still too tired to discuss it properly. Arcon's lips twitched in what could be considered a smile before he collected the plates and returned them to the dish room, leaving the rest of the team to get themselves ready for the rest of day.
Today would be spent relaxing. The next day they could practice Ryvin's new plan, but today was day of rest. Between fighting off the White Fang two days before and surviving classes every other, they felt it was a well-deserved respite. They played the Remnant: The Game for a while, Ryvin emerging victorious as head of Atlas, while Immolen muttered about the unfairness of card based games. Nutmeg, who had spent the majority of the game arranging her cards into a rather impressive house, still performed better than he. Next the team watched an historical documentary of the Great War, before splitting off to enjoy their time separately.
Ryvin went to the library to pick up a new novel or book about psychology, Arcon sat outside meditating, losing himself in the sounds of the natural world, and Immolen played a fighting game with Nutmeg. After the two fought to a stalemate, finding that best of seventy five was not a realistic number, they lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling. After a long moment's silence, Immolen said,
"It seemed more impressive when we were kids."
Nutmeg looked over, confused.
"The ceiling?"
Immolen laughed lightly before responding,
"No. Being a Hunter."
"Oh."
"I just thought," He began before cutting himself off, "Never mind."
Nutmeg slid over to him, and pinched him behind the ear. Immolen winced, but did not respond beyond that.
"Tell me." She whined. He sighed and nodded, silently relieved when her fingers were removed from his skin.
"You haven't done that in a long time." He said.
"You haven't kept a secret from me in a long time." She retorted. He snorted in laughter, nodding in agreement before continuing.
"I just thought that once we were Huntsmen and Huntresses that everything would make sense, you know? That it would all come naturally, be easy. But everything's more complicated now."
Nutmeg nodded slowly, taking her time to respond. "Why were we in a hurry to grow up?"
Immolen took a moment to consider this before saying, "I don't know. Only one of us did." Nutmeg clicked her tongue in annoyance and shoved her companion, who broke out laughing. She could not help but join in and soon the pair were rolling on the floor, collapsed in giggles. The laughter died down eventually, and Immolen said,
"I really am sorry."
Nutmeg's eyes flashed with fear, and she resisted the immediate urge to reel away like a startled animal.
"I know you are."
Immolen nodded and sighed heavily, but said nothing else. Nutmeg wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him close to herself. It took him a moment to return the motion, hugging his old friend as tightly as he could, and for a moment, just a moment, they felt safe.
The next day was planned to be much the same, with the added bonus of going down to the city gardens to see the plants in flower. The team would practice their new strategy that night, Ryvin had booked them an hour in the arena alone. It would have been a lovely way to spend the rest of their weekend, had Immolen not gotten a tip from one of his old friends about a camp that was suspiciously military and potentially White Fang. Not knowing if the camp was something to worry about, Team RAIN prepared for combat. They had taken it upon themselves long ago to spend every moment they could hunting down and eliminating the violent Faunus organization. The camp was not far outside the city limits, supposedly holding the remnants of the group they had driven off days previous. Hoping this was true the team snuck out of the academy, the prefects distracted by the business of searching incoming students for any kind of illicit material. They slipped away from Shade and began working their way out of the city. It would have taken most of a day to walk to the area in question, but fortunately Arcon knew people who knew people and the success of his latest poems had granted him enough capital to afford a small top of the line car. The team piled in, a bit squished but functional nonetheless. Arcon, hoping the new muffler he installed the previous week was up to snuff, started up the car and off they went.
The few hours it would take to get to their destination were spent by checking equipment and fastening armor as each member made sure that they were fully prepared for the coming fight. The White Fang were not known for giving up easily.
"Everyone ready?" Ryvin asked. Immolen nodded, adjusting his gloves. Nutmeg as well gave the affirmative, aiming down the sights of her pistol before smiling happily that the weapon was aligned properly. Arcon nodded, eyes on the road.
The car stopped a few miles outside the potential location of the camp. Immolen trusted his informant, but one couldn't be too careful.
"I hope we didn't come all this way for nothing." He muttered as he stepped out of the car and made sure that his sword was secure on his back. Nutmeg laughed loud and clear, before covering her mouth in embarrassment. She drew her pistol and machete, shifting into forms where they could be combined with one another to form her assault rifle. Ryvin slide her sniper rifle into her hands from its sling around her shoulder and took off into the dunes, disappearing into the dark like she was a shadow herself. Immolen frowned and took off after her. He didn't like it when she did that. Nutmeg grinned and ran into the forest, excited for the coming mission. Arcon's lips twitched. It was almost a smile, but not quite. It was a close as he got most of the time. He put one foot in front of the other, walking stick in hand, and he too strode into the dark.