Sorry about being a day late. I really wanted to get this out yesterday as well as the omake, but stuff came up. Anyway, I'll try to be more punctual in the future. Enjoy! (To any newcomers, this story is kinda dark. You have been warned.)
I do not own Roosterteeth
or the rights to RWBY
and may Monty Oum be forever unbound by death.
Drip
Drip
Drip
The sound of liquid dripping onto a stone floor echoed throughout the cell, whose walls were made of the same material. Moss lined the cracks between each piece of flooring, and a few mushrooms decorated the rooms corners.
Drip
Drip
Drip
A small window rested high above the cold floor, with a soft moonlight being filtered through the bars that covered the entrance. A metal door was in the corner on the other side of the room, and any method of opening it was only accessible from the other side.
Drip
Drip
Dri-
The constant dripping noise was interrupted by the wheezing of the room's sole inhabitant, and said interruption was soon followed by the gentle rattle of chains as their wearer's body shook from each cough. The chains ran into the wall, and were long enough to allow for their wearer to reach even the far wall. A gift from their jailer, the same jailer who is having them rot in this cobblestone cell.
Another round of heavy wheezing echoed throughout the cell, the sole resident shuffling until they finally stood and began to stretch their limbs, and a groan escaped their chapped lips as painful sounding pops bounced off the walls. They moved to where the liquid ran from the ceiling, cupping their calloused hands underneath until they were filled. They acted swiftly, drinking the cold water with a vigor found in only those who have been starved of it. Repeating this process until they were finally sated, they reached out once more to gather a last handful of the precious fluid. Carrying it as carefully as they could, they reached the center of the room before gently pouring the fluid over the stone cell's centerpiece.
A lone Evening Primrose.
Its soft, golden petals stood out from the dull surroundings, the beautiful yet hardy plant catching the soft moonlight almost perfectly. The figure watched with a shaky breath as the clear sustenance dripped slowly down its stem until their hands were finally devoid of any more water. They settled back onto the wall closest to where their chains were connected, the chains rattling slightly they did so.
They remained in this position for what could have been hours, watching the flora dance peacefully in the cold breeze that blew in from the window. The figures breath was visible, and soon enough the chattering of teeth, while quiet, still managed to drown out the sound of dripping water. It wasn't long after this had begun when the sound of heels clacking could be heard from beyond the metal door. The figure tensed, countless scars and marks seeming to ignite in a flare of silent agony from the very sound of the footsteps. The metal door swung open to reveal a curvaceous woman donning a lab coat stained red that reached her mid thigh. A name tag on her right breast read The Doctor in cursive writing, and a face mask did well to hide all but her eyes and hair. Said eyes gleamed a vicious violet as her brown hair swayed to and fro, a giggle tinged with no small amount of insanity escaping her lips.
"My my Jaune!" The figure stirred slightly, resting an arm on a bent knee as he stared dully into her eyes. Seemingly disappointed, she stepped forward and onto his bare foot, said appendage releasing a chilling crunch as they did so. A sharp intake of breath was the only response. The vile woman lowered her her mask to reveal a pout that would have been cute, if the situation wasn't what it was. She stomped once more, landing the heel of her shoe on his ankle, another sickening squelch echoing off the cobble walls.
Jaune leaned forward in pain, but The Doctor gave no quarter, grabbing his mop of blonde hair and using it to throw him onto the floor. His chains rattled loudly, and he ended with the tip of his nose less than an inch from the edge of his flower's golden petals. Grunting slightly as he began to force himself up, he felt the heel of her shoe digging into the back of his shoulder. She bent down slowly, her hand caressing his cheek gently. He couldn't see it, but he could feel the change in her body language as she slowly reached for the primrose. He began to squirm and struggle as best as he could.
"Ah ah ah. Careful now," she twisted the heel currently dug into his right shoulder a few times until a sickening pop sounded out. "Wouldn't want to cause any collateral damage~" she sang, her beautiful voice a stark contrast to the actions she was currently committing.
She spun on her heel before stepping off his back and in front of him. Bending low to meet his gaze as she began to caress the soft petals slowly. Jaune was on his knees, head hung as his breath shook. With a smirk, she began to pluck petal after petal, one after the other, and he could only shake in a quiet anger as tears drip down his pale face. Finally, she reached the last petal. Jaune could barely contain himself at this point, and her smirking face did little to ease his anger.
"Such a pitiful flower," She began to pace before him, every step just a single, tantalizing inch away from the poor, brutalized flower. He was shaking in rage, but he could feel his chains tightening, with them receding back into the wall through which they ran. No matter how much he wanted to, no matter how much she deserved to be the outlet for his rage, he couldn't bring himself to do anything. So with a sigh that released much more weight than any twelve year old should carry, he gazed back up with a much more empty look.
She returned the look by cupping his chin, gently forcing him to look into her crimson eyes as she bent forward to look into his own pair of ocean blue. She smiled softly, closing her eyes in a way that was supposed to bring comfort. The same smile that lured him and his sisters into her deadly embrace. What once promised comfort only reminded him of his lost sisters, of which only the eldest had ever managed to escape.
Saffron was never seen after that, both to his joy and dismay.
He was torn from his revelry as he heard a stomping noise, and he couldn't help but struggle as she viciously crushed the only thing he had cared about since his sister's deaths. He pulled at his chains, shook his head in an effort to escape the hold on it that had transformed from gentle to that of a vice. She started laughing in response as she twisted her foot, seeming to get a euphoric pleasure from the tearing sound that the stem released. Jaune couldn't tell if the tearing was of the flower or his own heart.
Finally she stopped, the plant no more than mulch on the cobble floor. With a wide smile and a glint in her eyes that only reflected madness, she slammed his head into her knee before kicking him back. He never bothered sitting up, even as she groaned in frustration and left the building. Even as a flash of white filled the room, and a sudden warmth flooded his system, he could not bring himself to respond. He closed his eyes as tears ran flowed down his cheeks and, for the first time in what felt like years, sobbed openly.
Little did he know that was the last time The Doctor ever got the chance to harm him again.
It took what felt like hours for Jaune's eyes to finally stop their waterworks, and when they did he finally noticed something different without even having to open his eyes. The ground was much colder than it once was, yet the incessant dripping had ceased. The ground also felt softer, yet wet. As if the ground had been replaced with... what was it? Foe? Something like that.
His eyes fluttered open, his arms coming up to rub some warmth back into his body. Or he would have, had moving his arm not brought an immense amount of pain to his left shoulder as it failed to heed his commands. He settled with using only his left arm, noticing the slack in the chains that ran from his fore arms.
Glancing around revealed that he had been lying on a bed of white, its softness turning to water under his touch to reveal brown earth beneath. His chains ran behind him, their full 10 meter length remaining limp on the white powder. Trees were a small ways away from where he sat, their deep green foliage reaching far above his own height. He scrambled upwards and spun around to get a better view of his surroundings, yet found nothing but more forest. He found that moving created a lot of noise, and so he quickly secured his chains around his forearms and biceps, with one loop going around his left hand so a closed fist would have more oompf to it. Or at least, he thought it would.
He had given up fighting too long ago to remember.
A noise to his right caused him to spin around, arms up in some sort of mock boxing stance with his only movable arm. Entering the clearing was a woman of shortish stature, though her form was mostly covered by the white cloak draped over her shoulders. Deep brown hair with red tips peeked through her hood, framing her silver eyes that were wide with shock. Two daggers rested at the small of her back, and Jaune needed no training to tell just how tense she was. With a mighty roar, or what he thought was a mighty roar, Jaune tore forwards.
He was not going to be caught again.
Summer Rose's day was interesting to say the least.
It started off as a patrol of Patch, which she had taken up to keep her from getting restless at home.
They still needed to patch up that wall.
She came across next to no Grimm for the entirety of her patrol until the very end, where she ran into a pack of Beowolves. Then, after killing them and tracking down those horrid imitations of wolves, low and behold, a group of Ursai appeared. Not a problem for someone of her skill level, but they had to be drawn to something. That something surprised her greatly.
Her eyes went wide as she looked over the child in front of her, whose chain wrapped arms were up in some poor imitation of a boxers stance. He was barefoot, favoring his right leg greatly and what clothes he wore were torn in multiple locations, revealing just how thin he really was. His pale skin was dirty, with blonde hair framing deep, ocean blue eyes that carried within them a sense of absolute fear.
Absolute fear, that quickly shifted to rage.
The boy tore forward, his left arm pumping to match his limping stride as his right arm hung loosely from its socket.
"Wait! I'm not here to hurt you!" She shouted, her arms coming before her in an effort to show her lack of intent to harm. The boy stumbled for a bit, but caught himself and stood straight once more. His bangs cast a shadow over his eyes as his panting breath was visible in the winter air.
"Liar." The boy started to shake in rage, his left hand clenching around his chains until his knuckles went white. He glared at her, his ragged breathing sounding more like wheezes than much else. She scarcely moved forward before he was off again, lunging at her fist first. It…
It was pathetic.
He was malnourished and exhausted, that much was obvious, but when a punch that would have had Tai in tears from it's weakness and lack of form was sent her way, she barely had to move to the side as he continued to stumble past. To his credit, he didn't give up. He regained his footing and spun around to try and backfist her in the stomach, though she only had to take a step back to avoid it. She felt awful as the cycle of weak attack followed by a dodge without effort happened again and again. Finally he collapsed onto the snow covered ground, panting and groaning in pain. It tugged at her heartstrings, especially since she was a mother.
Little Yang was probably this boy's age.
She approached slowly, though making sure to keep her footsteps loud in order to not startle the boy. She could hear his breathing quicken as she got closer, until finally they evened out. The blonde rolled onto his back, yet his eyes seemed empty now.
"Go on, do it," He spat, the chains on his arms going slack as the ends rested on the floor. "Take me back to her, my personal hell. To The Doctor." The venom in that title could have killed a Goliath. Even if his glare was perturbed by the wince that crossed his face when he shifted. Much to her shock, he reached across his body and with a sickening popping noise, set his right shoulder back into place. He laid back down with a sigh.
She couldn't take it anymore. Her motherly instincts would not allow him to go on like this. She knelt down beside him, internally crying as he flinched when she did so. His breathing sped up, until it stopped as he held it in, preparing for the worst. That is until he felt her arms softly wrap around him instead of striking him. Instead of driving her daggers into his shoulder blades to see if she could move his arms, she rubbed small circles on his back.
He slowly let out his bated breath as she murmured pleasantries into his ear. He felt his eyes water as he remembered when his older sister Saffron would do the same thing, before she left. He remembered when he did the same thing to his younger sisters when they were scared, before they too disappeared from his life. In wake of all these memories, of all these bittersweet times long past, he did something he hadn't since he awoke here.
He wept.
This is an Omake, though take it as canon. Treat it more as a… memory of Jaune's.
In memory of Monty Oum.
The graveyard is not a place where children tend to go, yet Jaune is here all the same. Kneeling before a gravestone as he dries a pair of wet eyes, the sapphire orbs having wept for the past hour.
This ritual is one he took every week since his parents death, and he had yet to miss one weekend. He slowly stood on legs that had long since fallen asleep, yet before he took his first step from the burial site he froze. His attention had been garnered by a figure in the distance, a straw hat on their head and a guitar in hand as they approached a headstone long since covered in plant growth.
Curiosity won out over his sense of common decency, and he approached the figure. As he got older, he realized that they were older than he first thought, their face being framed by ragged raven hair that peaked out from the straw hat atop their head. They had a leather vest atop a red shirt, and a pair of denim jeans tucked neatly into some scuffed boots.
They tipped their hat at his approach, smirking slightly as Jaune's gaze was attracted to the guitar. Sitting down in front of the plant ridden headstone, they pat the ground beside them with a gloved hand, and Jaune sat down beside them dutifully. Not much was said as the duo stared at the headstone, and before long the stranger shifted the guitar onto their lap. Then, they began to play.
Farewell my love
We'll be together soon
I'm resting with the angels
They'll carry me to you
Jaune had heard what some called southern music, and this fit the trope well enough, though he couldn't bring himself to dislike it as many others said they had. He'd have to have his sisters hear the stranger in the future
Relax my dear
We'll see each other soon
We'll meet up in the heavens
I'll wait alone for you
The lyrics started clicking in a lot of places for Jaune, and he found himself humming along to the tune, relating well to its message of loss. He didn't notice the stranger's smirk.
Oh! I hear them say
The angels are calling me back home
Good night, my dear
Bestill your worried heart
Keep me in your prayers
We'll never be apart!
Jaune was… a little confused, but figured the song was meant in tribute for the person who was buried beneath them. He leaned forward to clear the headstone of some of the plant life it had gathered.
Take heed, sweet love
You'll never be alone
I'm watching from the heavens
To keep you safe from harm
He could finally read the name, and it was a bit strange. It made him curious of the tie the stranger had to this person, but he would wait. Humming along was much more satisfying, given how well he could relate to the music.
Oh! I hear them say
The angels call to me!
And when their trumpets play
The angels will carry me back home!
Oh! I hear them say
The angels call to me!
And when their trumpets play
The angels will carry me back home!
Jaune had been singing along softly, tears that he could have sworn was spent before having resurfaced. The stranger wasn't much better, their voice had sounded close cracking, but never did. It kept it's strange mix of beauty and ruggedness throughout the songs entirety.
They're calling me back home
The final cord was struck, and a breeze accented the moment. They sat in silence for who knows how long, even as the stranger took out a drink from the inside of his vest and poured out two shots, one for him and one for the headstone.
The latter went untouched, and Jaune found his voice.
"Can you-," He cleared his throat, his voice rather rough from the crying he had been doing both before and during the song. "Can you teach me?"
The stranger glanced down at him, before letting out a low chuckle. They motioned for the boy to come closer and placed the guitar in his hands. Slowly, they began to teach Jaune, and every weekend they would meet at the graveyard and Jaune would learn the intricacies of the instrument. Finally, the last time they met, the stranger gifted Jaune their guitar, waving him off as he left the graveyard for the last time.
That last time they met in the graveyard, Jaune cast one last look at the headstone, whose once flora ridden face was now cleared of all obstructions proudly bore the name on its surface. He smiled, and only had one thought in front of that stone.
For you, Monty Oum.
So yeah, song belongs to Blues Saraceno, and yeah. This is the main reason I wanted to get this up yesterday, so I am pretty mad at myself that I didn't. Better late than never though. I'll see you guys in the next chapter!