1.
Though the airship didn't pitch and roll in the same way as its water-traversing predecessor, clearly nobody had explained the difference to Jaune's poor stomach—from the moment the young blonde had stepped aboard, the rebellious organ had obviously thrown its metaphorical hands up in surrender and left him to suffer alone, if not silently. To anyone who would come to know him, it would be a major surprise to know that the boy had actually lasted a good twenty minutes before losing the fated battle with his gag reflex.
Jaune stood in front of one of the windows that looked down upon the kingdom of Vale, resting his hands and forehead against the glass, and gave a pathetic-sounding groan. If he had known the kind of torture he'd have to go through before even being accepted into Beacon Academy, Jaune thought wretchedly, he might not have even bothered!
No, that certainly wasn't true and he knew it, but he at least would have made sure not to eat such a big breakfast…
"Stupid airship, with its stupid engines," he whimpered miserably, breathing through his mouth and trying to ignore the person eating some kind of snack farther down from him. The very thought of food—let alone the sight, smell, or sound of it—seemed to provoke the wrath of Jaune's stomach and its retribution, in the form of yet another wave of nausea, was so swift that he missed Miss Goodwitch's entire speech. He groaned again and prayed for a quick death, preferably before he actually puked.
It passed with relative speed, and after only a few minutes, the blonde teen felt up to pushing away from the view below and turning to leave. He had vague thoughts of finding a small, dark hole and curling up on the floor until they arrived at Beacon, but those were derailed before he'd even finished turning.
From his new position on his back, Jaune looked up at the solid mass of muscle that he'd crashed into—and up and up and up. Unfortunately, he only had time to register burnt-orange hair slicked back and cold indigo eyes before the hard-fought battle for domination over his own body's wishes was lost.
Scrabbling to his feet with uncharacteristic grace born of utter desperation, Jaune Arc rushed past the angry though unfamiliar form before him and sprinted away. Looking back, his two point of pride when it came to that horrendous trip were the facts that he didn't actually vomit on anyone, and that he managed to squeak out a mournful "Sorry!" to the person he'd run into.
A/N: ... I regret nothing!
I know this is short, the others probably will be as well, but there are still five more to go. I repeat: shame me all you want, tar-and-feather me for all I care, but I will never NOT like Jaune Arc/Cardin Winchester. Deal with it you RWBY-shipping snobs.