Trying my hand to create a new/unique RWBY story. Though I'm not quite sure just how "unique" it will be, given the now 9.5K fanfictions for the show, I myself only having read roughly 100 of them, I'm giving it my best, damn it. Seeing as this is my first story, I very immensely doubt this'll get up to the level of fame that the people I look up to (e.g. Coeur Al'Aran, College Fool, Super Saiyan Cyndaquil, etc.) are at, that doesn't mean I'd mind it doing so, and still, even if I don't, that won't stop me from writing this, since I have every intent to finish it.

Any and all constructive criticism will always be appreciated.

Chapter One: Conscious

Song: Panic Prone, by Chevelle

I suppose the first thing I saw whenever I came to was, well, the lack of things.

In that, I mean the first thing I opened my eyes to was a searingly bright white, flooding my brain and sending jabs of pain throughout my nerves, and my immediate response was closing them once more, gritting my teeth together, to voice my disapproval with a significantly muted grunt as it had trouble reaching past my locked jaw. Though didn't really stop it from giving a good attempt.

As I gathered myself together, and preparing my body for the wracking pain I'm going to give it once more, I slowly opened my eyes, delidding them little by little to let the pain settle before continuing the hellish process and have it act up again. Then only for the pain settle back down as time crept slowly along. At this pace, seconds crawled along like minutes, but since I was focusing, before I knew it, they were open wide. The painful white now a deep orange, leaking through a canopy of rustling leaves, swaying easily to the soft wind, only to stop occasionally as the wind died, just to act up again shortly thereafter. Peaceful, this world around me using the wind to make a noise that the leaves, but only helped to fill the otherwise dead quiet marginally. With a motion, and a bit of effort, I started to sit up, and reached out to press my hand against a tree, hoisting my upper body up, and dragging myself back to lean onto it. Once that was all over, I unlocked my fixation on what was above, and looked around.

I was in a forest. Given by the sound resonating from the leaves around, and the ankle-high grass, this forest had to stretch far. Very far. Without moving my head, I looked straight, then from side to side, nothing to note, and, seeing my objective to get an observation completed, I just rested my head back and took it in. I felt, in my gut, that it must have been dusk, beams of light streaking through any holes the leaves above didn't fill, coloring the world a bright orange, the grass and leaves billowing as gusts of winds seemed to make the earth ripple as it streaked across. It was...beautiful, one could say. But looking at it, with the dead quiet only seemed to give me a feeling of sadness. Of emptiness, per se. A feeling that one could relate to as bittersweet. I'm...not sure why I feel this, but it still just left me with that lingering feeling. So, I just sat there, not moving a muscle. Closing my eyes again, feeling my hair sway along with the movement of the world, and just breathed.

I don't know how long I did it. Time felt strange. Not in a supernatural sense, or like it was being affected, but more like it was just...me, I guess. In a way that's opposite of when time passed slowly, like when I woke up. Now, it felt, though if I only closed my eyes for minutes, I opened them to see the light fading, the world around me getting smaller as the trees, the leaves, the grass, all at the very background of the image my eyes portrayed were replaced by black, and closing in quickly. As mixed an emotion between solace and downcast I got from sitting here, I had a feeling that staying in this spot for the night wouldn't turn out well. With more effort than I expected, I got up, my body's joints cracking as it took on the weight of myself almost like my body was rusty, and was promptly met with a sense of vertigo as I stumbled a bit, falling some and pressing all of mass I can against the tree, legs giving way as my vision faded, if only for a moment. As fast as it happened, I recovered even faster.

I exhaled, a deep sigh somewhere between quiet and loud that sounded strangely like the nature around me, like the wind's breath, and stood up once more, this time without complications.

I looked down, taking note of my conditions. Torn gloves, with a piece of metal guard just under the edging, jeans ripped in patches, sneakers, and...a sword at my waist? Was it mine? I...don't recall owning one. I continued my observation, noting two crossed belts, a chest place, light and meant for less protection and more maneuverability, and a black hoodie, orange on the inside. I suppose it's all mine. Just before I mentally shrugged, I felt something stick out very pointedly at me.

Who am I? I thought.

xXxXx

AN: In case that little bit of self-inspection didn't spell it out, yes, it is indeed Jaune.

Disclaimer: I am not, under any circumstance doing this for profit, and do not own RWBY, it's original ideas and it's affiliations.

Though I'm absolutely sure you knew that already, it's apparently a thing to just toss that out there anyways, just to make sure I'm not somehow getting sued for whatever reason someone can throw at me for writing this.

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I don't own the song either.