A More Flawed Gem
Spat out by Eric d'Orléans & Jojo Salatcia
Summary: All Beacon proved to be for Pyrrha Nikos was training for her shiny new career in the illustrious field of idiot wrangling. When life forces her to lead a team of anti-social weirdos, morally deplorable thieves, and manic depressive losers, she's got to balance her increasingly fragile sanity against a team hell-bent on becoming the clear and present danger to the future of Remnant through their own sheer incompetence. With the White Fang and Grimm both smarter, tougher, and better lead than ever, it's starting to dawn on her that some divine being has it specifically out for her. Yay.
Welcome to team PINA, Pyrrha. The first drink's free.
Teams: PINA, RWWJ, BYRN
Volume 1: If You Like PIÑA Coladas
Chapter 1: I'm the Narrator and This is just the Prologue
"Oh God, it's happening again!"
— 1 —
Looking back on it, when Cielo imagined himself going back to school, he figured it would only have been after a quarter of a lifetime of failed marriages, heavy drinking, and numerous other poor life choices. Choices that'd culminate in him waking up next to a very frustrated pair of dwarves in a tall person suit with no memory at all of the previous night. Yet there he sat—chin propped against his knee as he leaned against the frame of the window, forehead lazily smushed against the window as he massaged the scar across the bridge of his nose—isolated from most of the other passengers as he watched the castle-like Beacon Academy fade in through a haze of white clouds.
Now that he thought about it, this was his first time flying. Though he was Mistrali by birth, Cielo had only arrived on Sanus by way of sneaking onto a luxury cruise ship after being pursued for weeks by a gang of disgruntled thieves and killers. The Mistrali took their board games very seriously, you understand?
Regardless, he was fairing a lot better than he would've expected. The queasiness and nausea that'd he'd so often heard being attributed to flying didn't seemed to really bother him any. If anything, the novelty of flying kind of wore off after the first couple of hours. Though given the nature of his semblance and name, maybe it was how it was just supposed to be? He wondered how easier his life would've been if his folks had just named him 'Luck' or something. Based on that alone, he surmised that they must've been the fashion over functionality type.
There was choked grunt, followed by a sound a lot like wet, shredded meat splattering onto the floor next to him. Huffing a sigh, Cielo pulled back from the window—his medium-length and disheveled black hair matted itself against his forehead—and caught sight of a lanky blonde kid. Green in the face, hunched over a puddle of vomit, and with an absolutely horrific sense of fashion with very little functionality to offset how undapper his whole outfit was.
"Skinny jeans with a hoodie and plate armor is so last season," Cielo chided. "Also, do you mind? I'm monologuing," he added, throwing his hair back with an almost unnecessary degree of dramatic flare. Mistral did have a thriving thespian community, after all.
"Sorry," Skinny Jeans wheezed, making a noticeable effort to look anywhere but up. "I'm not so good with flying."
"This much is exceedingly obvious," Cielo replied. "Girls are watching, by the way."
He pointed off towards a pair of young women a few feet away—a fairly busty blonde with lean, but well-defined muscle that made him want to drop to the floor and do push-ups, and a shorter girl with black hair and a seeming partiality for red and black gothic lolita fashion. They waved at him.
"What?" Skinny Jeans looked up for a second before immediately deciding that it was a terrible idea. "Oh—crap! Are they still looking this way?"
Cielo's blue eyes continued to stare ahead. Seemed that Skinny Jeans was so hopeless that even the gods were catching secondhand embarrassment. So much so that they sent another blond kid. Only taller with more muscle mass, indigo eyes, and a slightly better taste in clothes to distract them from having to look at Jeans.
Attempted pickpocketing seemed to be Better Blondie's way of getting good with the ladies. It was the classic 'please-make-way' sort of maneuver. Despite the indigo-eyed man having been pushed back before he could nab anything, he seemed almost confident he'd get away with it. Not that Cielo could blame the guy—neither of the gals seemed all that bothered by it either. Maybe they just hadn't noticed? Weird. Seemed pretty obvious to Cielo's eyes, but he reckoned it was none of his business nevertheless. Now that he was paying attention, no one else seemed to notice what Better Blondie was doing, either. Stuff like this was exactly why he recommended children did at least two years of petty crime.
At the very least, he knew Better Blondie was someone he'd be a watchful keeping an eye on.
"No. Looks like they're talking to another blonde kid. Really manly-looking guy, you know?"
Jeans seemed almost torn between relief and disappointment. "H-how manly-looking?"
Cielo sucked in a breath. "Dude looks like his name's probably something like 'Manlius Maximus'. Maybe even manlier. Like, the kinda guy whose morning workout routine involves bench-pressing the hotties he banged last night as his way of kicking them out of his house."
"Damn, that's pretty manly," Jeans hissed.
Cielo shrugged. "I wouldn't worry too much about it, Skinny Jeans. I'm sure he won't be able to bang every girl on campus; guys like that usually petter out after giving half of them chlamydia. I'm sure maybe one of 'em will settle for you after getting herself treated."
For the first time, Cielo caught a full glimpse of Jeans' face. It wasn't very impressed—something that made itself evident even through his nauseous and choked tears. "Gee, thanks. That's very... reassuring?"
"Actually, that was very backhanded of me. I owe you an apology, Jeans."
For several seconds the blonde-haired teenager could only just stare at Cielo, waiting for an apology that never came.
Cielo met the blonde's light blues eyes with a pair of sharper, darker blues framed by an unmoved expression.
"You know, I'm not really sure how I'm supposed to hold a conversation with you. That said, I like to think I'm doing a semi-okay job. Also, my name's Jaune. Jaune Arc."
"You're doing a better job than most, Jeans Arc," Cielo replied.
"No, it's—"
"Fancy-talk," he interrupted. Only he wasn't really bothering with the accent. "But I'm just a poor townie boy who can't speak him any of that there fancy tongue. The true depths of how to say your fancy-talk name eludes me."
Jaune remained unimpressed. "You're spelling it wrong."
For the first time, Cielo's face went from unshakeable stoicism to curious befuddlement. "How'd you know that?"
"I can hear the spelling. It comes with having a name like mine."
Oh yeah? But can you juggle, Jeans?
The black-haired teen hummed. "Quirky."
Jaune just gave a half-conscious shrug. "I suppose." There was a drawn out awkward silence as the two just stared at each other once more. "I, uh, I guess this is the part where you tell me your name?"
"Oh, yeah I probably should." He shrugged. "My folks decided to call me Cielo Noel, I guess."
Jaune gave a friendly smile, offering Cielo his hand. "Well, it's nice to meet you, Cielo."
Cielo looked down and decided against shaking the blonde teen's—the puddle of vomit reminding him of how they'd met. His eyes met Jaune's and his expression shifted in a bad way, like someone had suggested he try jerking off with lighter fluid.
"O-oh. Right, sorry," Jaune said, face flushed with shame. Soon red turned to green as he seemed to suddenly remember they were on an airship. Holding a finger out in a 'be-right-back' sort of gesture, Jaune disappeared towards the back of the terminal.
Once Jaune was out of sight, Cielo stood to his full height, massaging the underside of his jaw, fingers bristling against the very faintest of facial hairs that only existed in his imagination, before adjusting the long sword and scabbard hanging off the back of his waist. Noticing the gathering crowd near the front of the terminal, Cielo grabbed his things and meandered towards the group. Looked like they'd be landing soon, and he was eager to see what his new home would be for the next four years.
He'd definitely have to get used to calling a place 'home' again.
— 2 —
As far as bon voyage parties went, Jack reckons he'd had a good one last night. Now, granted, his only experience with something like that had been when his father had joined the Service and shipped off too... Wait, no. That's just one of the lies Jack's fond of telling. He tells so many of those that sometimes it's hard to remember the truth. After all, the key to any good lie is to wholeheartedly believe what you're saying in the moment.
Point is, Jack still reeled from a mild tetrameth hangover, he was pretty sure that wasn't his blood on the motel bathroom floor, and he has no freakin' idea whose cat he's got in this carry-on but screw you it was his now.
The caged domestic shorthair did not agree with him on that, but that was okay. Ownership was a naturally fluid concept the true depths of which only Jack understood. Like this here five-hundred Lien bill he'd knicked from that lady's purse. Witness how a handy dandy vending machine transformed her money into his orange juice!
"What do you think, Toby?" Jack asked, sitting on a bench and watching the crowds of the airship terminal. "That's your new name now, by the way. It's Toby."
Toby hissed and swapped at the bars of its carry-on cage.
"Right on, little buddy."
Jack waited until he saw a determined pair of fellow teens both armed to the teeth casually strolling through the terminal. If he hadn't lost his flight ticket, he'd probably know which gate he was shipping off from. But in lieu of that, just following them two girls was his best bet.
He finished his orange juice and chucked Toby at the first little girl he found who responded "yes" when asked if she'd like a new pet kitty. Jack was a boy on a mission with no more time to look after a beloved feline companion.
The closer the two girls got to a terminal, the more heavily armed children he found himself brushing shoulders with. All the better for him. He snagged an airpass from some redhead who didn't understand body armor was supposed to cover your arms and shoulder and used it to get on the ship.
"Pyrrha Nikos?" the lady at the check-in counter said skeptically, looking from the pass to Jack.
"Yeah, puberty sure hit me hard," Jack said with his best smile for the occasion. He has one hell of a smile. More than one, really. Jack had him a vast, well-honed arsenal of smiles to use in every conceivable situation he might need.
"And gained some five inches?" she said.
"Oof, growing pains. Don't remind me!"
After a long hesitation, the woman slowly, even cautiously said, "Hold on, I'm gonna call my manager."
As she was looking away and dialing security, Jack casually just walked past the counter, joined the thin line of students entering Beacon's airship, and vanished He was going to steal him one hell of a window seat and enjoy the ride.
It wasn't like Jack didn't belong at Beacon or its airship. The Right Man from the government had shown Jack how all the paperwork was in order personally. Jack wouldn't have it any other way. The Right Man had been returning a favor to Jack, paying back a debt to this seventeen-year-old gangster with a remarkable ability to make himself all the right enemies. Jack hadn't even really had to go out of his way to uphold his end of the bargain.
Like all slithering creatures of power, the Right Man and a certain recent corpse were never human to begin with. Guilt and morality never factored into their lives. Least a boy can do is return them the favor.
In the meanwhile, Jack spreads his arms over the back of a very comfy set of seats and watches student stream onto the airship and find places to sit or stand. With them came a whole lot of eye-candy, too, which suited Jack just fine. After everyone settled in and the ship took to the skies, he tugged on the collar of his oh-so-stylish black denim jacket and went to make some friends with people who had names like "twenty-five-fifty Lien," "unguarded wallet," and "purity ring with neat gemstones."
Innocently giving a friendly, please-make-way push on some blonde bombshell ended in the chick reflexively pushing back before Jack could nab anything. "Whoa there, big guy," she said.
His eyes go from her face to her—wow. "Dig the style. More girls should dress to impress like that."
She snorted. "Eyes up here, dude."
"I've made my choice," he said with a helpless shrug. The motion helps him naturally distance his hands from any suspicious positions.
The blonde rolled her eyes. "Then lemme give you a hand."
She reached up sharply to grab Jack's chin and point his head away. In a practiced motion he snapped his hand out and something clicked. He set his hand around her wrist as the shotgun-fist around the hand slip off and into his other hand beneath.
"Why stop at a hand?" he asked. "After all, I just got your heart."
The blonde made a face, and then broke out laughing. "Okay. Wow. That's gotta be both the lamest and boldest opening move ever. Neat trick with the disarming."
Jack had something clever and charming to say, the most charming thing in fact, but the words drowned in his throat. Glancing to the side to feign cheekiness, the green eyes of a redhead on the other side of the airship arrested his attention. The same armored girl he'd stolen the airpass from. How'd she still get on the ship? He saw her, and she saw him, and their eyes locked.
It took all of a second before he knew she'd made the connection and no amount of bullshitting was going to get him out of that with the quiet, measured intensity of a karakuri den mother whose nest had been raided. Had the girl at the front counter given Jack's description? The redhead slide from her seat and stalked towards Jack.
He made to pull away from the two girls, only to remember he was still holding the blonde's wrist. He couldn't just adios on them; Jack had to make a good impression on them if for no other reason that to use them as character witnesses. But he still needed to scram. He didn't like the look on the redhead's face.
Jack tossed the blonde's strange weapon back at her. "You'd be surprised how many practical applications being able to undo a bra with one hand has." Not what he'd been intending to say, but it worked.
The short, raven-hair girl beside her to whom she'd been showing off the weapon snorted. "You really don't know when to stop, huh?"
"I prefer thinking of myself as bold and brash," he said, shrugging. He idly glanced to the side. The redhead was getting close. He could see the discerningly unpleasant look on her face. She was going to drag Jack through the mud in front of witnesses, and you never wanted your first introductions at a place to be someone accusing you of things. That kind of stuff would stick out in peoples' memories for a long time and make Jack's life at Beacon difficult.
The blonde folded her arms as she settled her laughter down. "That's one way, yeah. I'm Yang. This here's my kid sister, Ruby."
Ruby shot the blonde a skeptical look. "Yeah. Hi."
"Indigo Jack," Jack says with a little mock bow. "Just your average boy who's gonna be the best Huntsman Beacon's ever produced."
Unless redhead over there kills him first.
She wouldn't have been a problem anywhere but here. Problem was, Jack had been specifically instructed to be on his best (public) behavior at Beacon. Which meant he couldn't follow his instincts and lead the girl down a dark alley to piano-wire her out cold and leave her to wake up later dazed and confused. Unlike out there in the real world, he'd probably run into this girl again. And while he reckoned he could probably get into a fight with her and hold his own, that once again ran into the problem of leaving a bad first impression. "Dude who beats on hot girls when they accuse him of things." He didn't want people to think him a brute, either.
Keeping up appearances was of paramount import to all aspects of Jack's life, now more so than ever.
Yang put hands on hip. "Bold talk."
"Can't help myself. I gotta be on top."
Ruby pantomimed digging a hole with a shovel. She apparently hit a fake rock and was trying to excavate her way around it.
"At least you're consistent," Yang said.
Jack winked. "See, we get each other. This is some soulmate stuff."
Redhead was just outside non-awkward talking distance.
Yang half-laughed, half-sighed. She pushed on Jack's chest. "And we'd get each other so much better from the other side of the airship, Jackie boy. Ya feeling me?"
"Mm, with any luck I will soon," he said, feeling himself mere inches away from giving a thanks to On High.
He did his best to turn about face and casually make his escape into the crowds around the airship. He knew where to go. Jack's always passively scanning for avenues of escape, things to give him some edge. No way she'll get him when he has any head start on her at all.
Pyrrha Nikos would eventually catch Indigo Jack anyways.
a/n: And so it begins. Originally from SpaceBattle, now you're favorite driving-Pyrrha-to-drink fic is available on this very website! Please read as responsibly as you drink.