"…have you ever met someone and thought to yourself, 'They are the personification of this word?'"
Over and over, the conversation plays out again in my mind as I stand here, alone, beneath an artificial cascade of water. The warm stream is comforting as it washes over my body, feeling almost like an embrace. Between the constant falling water and the heavy sensation of my hair, soaked and matted down all the way to the small of my back, I feel content… physically, at least.
"Uh…" Sun reached up and scratched the back of his head, looking a bit confused by my statement. It was at that moment that I decided to double down, and push forward- if I couldn't do it with words, what chance would I have with actions, later?
"Okay, well, I remember getting to know Ruby and thinking 'This girl is the embodiment of 'purity'. After a while, I saw Weiss was 'defiance', and Yang was 'strength.'"
"What am I?" he replied, without missing a beat.
I still don't know why my mind jumped to 'hot'. Or rather… I do know, but I'm still not ready to fully admit it to myself, just yet. I remember explaining to him how I came to realize that Adam was the personification of 'spite', and how Sun had sat across from me, listening with rapt attention, his entire body still as a statue bar the idle swishing of his tail. I had never noticed until then how much attention he pays to me, how he hangs off of my every word… but while he does it, he's always earnest. His deep, ocean-blue eyes never leave mine, and his lips never betray me.
He's so unlike some other men in my life.
"…and his way of thinking is dangerously contagious. That's what worries me about Ilia. She's not like Adam, not yet, at least, but I don't know how long that will last." I finished my monologue, my hand nervously stirring the green and yellow patterned umbrella in my drink.
Funny how he's never still, unless he's listening to me, and I never fidget, unless I'm talking to him.
As I looked up at Sun, my stomach turned to ice- I could feel the question coming. I knew it had to be coming, and had I been speaking to anyone else, the next words out of their mouth would have been '…so, what word are you?'
A small smile creeps across the corner of my mouth as I reach up and back, bundling my hair into a soggy pile over one shoulder. The staccato beat of the droplets hitting the wooden walls and tub surrounding me serves as a soundtrack for my thoughts, as I review that single moment again and again.
He could have asked after I'd crowned him with 'earnest'. He could have asked the second I was done breaking down my revelation regarding Adam. He could have… but he didn't. He wouldn't, because he knew I didn't want him to, and I never realized that fact until just now, standing in the shower on the upstairs floor of my parents' mansion and soaking for far longer than was reasonable.
There was a time when I'd been angry with Sun for following me. For assuming that I would go after the White Fang on my own, and for the simple fact that he didn't 'get' me. However, as the weeks dragged on, leading up to this day, and the events that would be set in motion tonight, I finally came to realize that he may just be the only one who does.
I guess it was a combination of things that pushed me to have that conversation with him. The same conversation that has been on repeat for the past week, now, starting a fresh loop again at this very moment. It was only after that conversation, and his reactions to my words, that I finally felt comfortable trusting him completely. It's a feeling that continues to linger inside of my body, warming it from within as the water does from without. Altogether, the two combine to give me a feeling almost like pins and needles, but in a positive sense. It's… odd. It's foreign to me. It's… intense.
I idly loop a few strands of jet black hair around my pointer finger, staring at the wooden wall before me as the water continues to rain down. Still smirking, still warm… and still lost in thought, as another memory floats through my mind, unbidden. A related memory, but through a connection I didn't make in my mind until very recently.
My lips and throat burned, the scorching tea leaving a trail of pain and regret after my stupid decision to drink it quickly. All I wanted was a distraction from my father, who was sat across from me, and I'd certainly found it. I set the cup down upon the table in front of myself, feeling rather foolish as the large faunus cleared his throat.
"So, is it… warm in Vale?"
"Huh?" I looked him in the eye, trying to find the intent behind his words. I didn't follow, and seconds later, I'd wished he'd never clarified.
"It just, seems like your outfit doesn't cover very much." he replied.
I immediately felt a perverse and all-encompassing sense of shame wash over my face, chased by a scarlet blush as I crossed my arms.
"It covers plenty."
Looking back now, I can't help but let out a chuckle as I finally decide to stop wasting time, and reach out to grab the pouf hanging from the showerhead by a simple plastic hook and rope. With my other hand, I lift the plastic bottle resting idly on the edge of the tub, and give it a squeeze to trail honey-colored, viscous liquid down into the puffy little ball. When he'd said that, I was pissed… but now, I feel almost thankful for that awkward moment.
My dad's words had gotten me thinking about why exactly I'd changed my outfit… and why for so long, I hadn't. All of that time at Beacon, I'd worn the same clothes that I preferred while working with the White Fang- the same clothes that Adam had so often remarked made me look like his 'little doll'.
A shiver ripples across my flesh as visions of fire rush through my mind, accompanied by goosebumps rising on my arms. My pool of memories, once pure and relaxing, becomes instantly poisoned by a single droplet of his echoing voice within my skull. All it takes is one thought to change everything about an otherwise pleasant moment.
"My love."
"Why must you hurt me?"
"My love."
I feel sick as I set the plastic bottle back down, my other hand keeping a death grip on the pouf as I grit my teeth. I will never let him finish those two words again, regardless of what I have to do to cut him off. Soap gurgles out of the pouf and trails down my hand, coating it with foam as my entire arm shakes. I close my eyes, my chest heaving slightly as I draw in deep breaths, focusing on the sensation of the water, of my hair, and of warmth. Internal warmth.
I can never let that warmth go. That warmth is reason enough to stop running and stand my ground, be it against Adam, against the White Fang, or against the entire world, if need be. I changed my outfit to strip away the feeling of ownership that Adam held over me, and standing here, naked and alone, I vow to burn it once he's gone.
Now that I have a resolution made, the shaking slowly comes to a stop, and I open my eyes. With my breathing once again under my control, I squeeze the pouf in my right hand, slick with body wash and covered in foamy bubbles, wringing out more of the cleansing tonic before I drag it across my chest. The same chest that my father complained was barely covered. The same chest from which Adam never made an effort to avert his eyes.
Angrily, I thrust my hand outward, punching the pouf into the wooden wall as I hang my head. How had I let such disgusting thoughts interrupt my happy memories and feeling of comfort? The shower was my haven, and now, it was tainted by thoughts of him. I close my eyes again, my calming breaths becoming fragmented with sobs instead of shivers, this time. Streams of water continue to fall both onto my head and back… and now, down my cheeks. The second stream is nothing like the first- it is cold, and unforgiving. Uncontrollable. Unwelcome. Desperate.
I feel as though I've hit my lowest low. I want to vomit. I want to throw this stupid pouf over the wall, kick through the glass door, and run. Run, as I always have. Run naked, crying, and screaming until I reach a place away from everyone. I've only ever felt this horrible twice in my life. Once, upon seeing Yang laying upon the ground, her arm cut off at the elbow, and once…
I stared down at the floor as he blinked awake. Sun was groggy, the blood-soaked bandage on his shoulder wrinkling and flexing as he tried to sit up from his prone position on the couch. When Ilia had managed to stab him with her extending whip, I remember my entire body going cold. A full day later, that crippling despair hadn't left me as I sat beside him. I didn't eat. I didn't sleep. I just waited, and prayed desperately to any god that I could dream up.
"Blake…?"
"This is why, Sun." I turned ever so slightly to look at him, on the verge of tears. The only reason I didn't cry was because I physically couldn't. All of my tears had been spent already. "This is why I left them all behind."
The rest blurs together, fogged by my brain perhaps intentionally, or perhaps through these fresh tears. I remember telling him to shut up, I remember telling him that I thought about them every single day… and I remember, that while I was sitting there, waiting for him to wake up, I settled upon the word that I personified. I had no purity, after what I'd done in the White Fang, and with the thoughts I'd been having lately. I was bereft of defiance, merely letting the currents of life carry me away from my own desires. Strength? The notion was laughable… at that time.
I was uselessness.
Near to the end of our conversation, after I'd nearly screamed at him, things become a bit more concrete. I can hear his voice clearly, and I can still feel the rush of guilt that his words brought me. The very words that caused me to rethink everything I've ever done, and all that I plan to do moving forward.
"You think you're being selfless… but you're not. Yeah, that chameleon friend of yours got me pretty good… but I'd do it all again if it meant protecting you. And I can promise, Yang would say the same."
My whole body tensed and my cat ears curled downward as he spoke her name. Sun paused briefly, perhaps in pain, as he managed to drag himself up into a sitting position despite the wound upon his shoulder. His next words had a twinge of effort in them as he rose, hunched over and resting his arms upon his legs.
"You can make your own choices, sure. But you don't get to make ours. When your friends fight for you, it's because we want to. So stop pushing us out. It hurts more than anything the bad guys could ever do to us."
Sun ended his speech as I'd begun the encounter- looking at the floor. I looked away. I felt I didn't deserve to look at him anymore.
A heaving sob wracks its way through my body as I pound my fist against the wood again, the impact lessened by the washing implement in my hand. I had been so stupid only to think of how my friends getting hurt had made me feel… while at the same time, ignoring how my avoidance made them feel, as well. His mention of Yang was targeted, but not malicious. He knew that bringing up my team was off limits, and it was an unspoken rule between us since our arrival in Menagerie. It was also the punch in the gut that I needed to get my head out of my ass. Thinking his words over again now, the impact is just as great. I remove my hand from the wall, and stand straight once again.
I'm done crying. I'm done running, and I'm done shutting people out… because of him. For every thought of Adam, or the White Fang, there's a line from Sun to balance it out. For every time Adam snaked his hand around my waist, there was another in which a gentle touch from Sun rested upon my shoulder, just when I needed it most. I do get to make my choices… and now, I'm choosing to pull myself together.
I may be a mess, but there's at least one person right here, right now, who doesn't mind.
It's incredible how my mouth can feel so dry while standing under running water. I mash my lips together in an attempt to bring some moisture back, and let out one last dramatic sigh before shaking my head. I'm going to go to him, and I'm going to let him know that I feel like shit. He's my rock in this storm, and one I need to cling to now more than ever. Of course, I want to look good, before I do so… and it probably won't be tonight.
Once again I try to wash, giving the pouf a squeeze before I brush it across my navel and curve it down my right thigh. How nice it feels to be in the process of cleaning, in both body and thought. With my mind racing through memories, regrets, and future plans, though, I can't help but think how nice it would be for someone else's hand to be guiding the mesh down and around my waist.
Or a tail.
My smirk returns, despite how ridiculous it feels to pinball back and forth between emotions like this. Mom would just say I'm being a teenage girl, and that it's all natural… and maybe she's right. Answers and inspiration seem to be coming from the most unexpected sources, lately. Not even lately, if I'm honest- just in general.
I lather some soap into my other hand, and trail it up and under my left breast, biting my lower lip as I do so. I make it a point to clean my chest with haste, though I can't help but continue my train of thought from earlier- how nice it would be, indeed…
I snap out of it rather quickly, a bit disgusted with myself for thinking such things with my parents only a few rooms over… and the object of my desires elsewhere in the house, waiting on me to finish. I knew I was taking too long to shower, and it brought me a bit of guilt. At the same time, though… I needed this.
I remove my hands from my chest, sparing myself a quick look downward- once again, my mind twists and turns to unexpected places, as my first thought is…
…well. I'm certainly no Yang… and Dad would have a fit looking at her, if he thinks I'm underdressed.
I giggle a bit to myself as I bend over, running the pouf along my legs and scrubbing away whatever dirt had been collected on my body today. If only it was just as easy to clean out my mind.
Yang.
There was a smile I missed… and another friend I'd hurt.
I pause, bent low and mulling over how I feel, what I'm going to do, and whether or not I'm going to go down this mental road again. After only a brief pause, I resume washing, confident in my choice.
I'll fix it. I'll run to her, as soon as we make our way to Haven and get things under control there.
It's been so long since our conversation in that classroom, when I'd been running myself ragged trying to find Torchwick. Looking back, Torchwick was such a little problem, in the grand scheme of things… but I was too focused on what his presence meant to me to realize that.
I don't remember most of what Yang said. I remember her story about trying to find her mother, and I remember being told to slow down. Sound advice, at the time, but… I've grown. I've changed. Slowing down now would be the death of me. Even so, I miss her. I miss all of them, and I'll find them and make it right. I thought I was being selfless by cutting myself out of their lives… but I'm not.
I rise and twist, doing the best I can to reach around to my back and finish scrubbing myself clean. It's always a bit awkward, getting your own dirt off your back. At least now, I have someone else to do it with me… in a metaphorical sense. Soon, though… maybe more than just that.
It can't be coincidence that my thoughts drift back to my current companion as I gingerly guide my hand down between my legs, lingering only for a moment as I let my mind wander where it may. Those thoughts can wait… and potentially never manifest, as I can't even believe I'm doing this right now. I blush hard as I make quick work of cleaning the area, and remove my hand so quickly that it was as though I'd been bitten by a snake.
Or a monkey.
The water slows to a trickle, and then nothingness as I turn off the showerhead, idling only slightly as I let out a steamy breath. Despite the cool night air filtering in from over the wooden wall and onto my flesh, I feel… warm. I feel good, after that emotional rollercoaster. I feel like once this situation with Ilia is resolved, I'm going to feel good for a long time.
The glass door of the shower slides back, guided by my hand as I gingerly step over the rim of the tub, and grab the waiting towel. My hands raise the fabric up into my hair, tousling it into a ragged mess that falls naturally down my back. I really should cut my hair… but then again, I probably should do a lot of things. I think I like the weight of it, really.
After rubbing down the rest of my body, I loop the towel back over the rack and use a palm to wipe the fog off the mirror. Fortunately, I can't see any tear trails in my reflection. I see a girl who is getting over her issues, one step at a time, and I think I like it. This new feeling of confidence, of having a plan is so alien, but so comforting that I feel as though I could take on the world, as I am now. I turn and walk the short distance to the wall, where Gambol Shroud leans, resting in its sheathe. I pick up the weapon to look over the bladed casing, and my muted reflection in the shiny black metal.
What If I just walked out there right now, naked, armed, and proud, and showed the world the new Blake Belladonna? Here I am. No backing down, no going back, and ready to lead a whole new revolution. My way.
What if I stopped being a goddamned idiot, instead, because my parents could very well be in the hallway and Sun would probably have an aneurysm if I strolled out in the nude and just casually walked downstairs?
At least Dad couldn't complain about my outfit again.
As I set my precious blade down across the basin of the sink, I get to work gearing up. I shuffle into my underwear and bra, followed by my pants and knee-high boots. Finally, I pull my top down over my head and hair, and drag the weighty mass of black fibers up through the back with what can only be described as a herculean effort.
Yeah, I'm definitely cutting this hair.
Maybe.
With my overcoat on and one final check in the mirror, I decide that I'm not putting on makeup tonight. After all- I'm likely going to end up being tackled to the ground while Ilia tries once again to justify her actions to me, and I don't need to look good for a dirt road. If that does happen, though… maybe I can come back here and shower again. I do love me a good, long shower.
I push the wooden door to the bathroom open and step out as I strap my weapon up and around my back, a blanket of steam creeping out from the hot shower and clinging to my ankles as I walk. My parents don't seem to be nearby, and no sounds come from anywhere inside the house.
I walk out with purpose, heading down a nearby staircase and into the living room, where I expect to find Sun. I do, and he's laying upon the couch, looking expectantly up the steps as I descend, weapon in hand as he lounges.
That couch threatens to bring up bad memories as I approach it. Memories of watching him lay there and bleed silently, occasionally changing his bandages as I wondered whether or not he was going to wake up.
Perhaps later tonight, he and I can make a different sort of memory on that couch to replace those dark thoughts.
I watch his lips as he sits up, thinking about what they could do to mine in the very near future. The warmth in my chest intensifies, and my breath hitches as he begins to speak.
"You ready to go?"
One last time, I pull out the note that Ilia had left upon the balcony. Things 'going too far' indeed. It took me a while to come to a decision, but I showed the note to Sun shortly after finding it. He didn't question what I wanted to do. I knew that whatever I decided, he would be there to back me up… and that's why I feel completely comfortable walking straight into this.
"Yeah. Are you?"
Sun stands, rolling his previously-injured arm and testing his range of motion as he looks me over. I know I'm still a bit damp. I also know that it's completely intentional.
"Born ready. I'll follow at a distance, and I won't act until you give me a signal. Learn whatever you can, and play up the damsel in distress if she has a trap set up. We've got this."
I roll my eyes, folding my arms beneath my chest. I try to push it up just a bit, for him. His eyes never leave mine… and I failed horribly, anyway. There isn't exactly much to push up.
Why can't he be like every other guy, and work off of obvious signals? I'm going to have to put myself out there later just to get a response, at this rate.
"Of course she has a trap set up. I'm not worried." I uncross my arms and begin to walk for the door to the outside, passing him as I go.
Sun shoots me a quizzical look, hiking a brow. "You're not?"
I stop my stride, and for once, it's my hand on his shoulder, and I initiate the eye contact. Welcome to the new Blake. I hope you enjoy it.
"No. I've got you."
A cheesy grin is my reward, and I meet it with my own… muted, toothless little smile. That's all I feel comfortable giving right now, but it's something. It's a step forward.
I turn, and take another step forward, toward the door. Those steps will soon become a jog, and then a run. I can't slow it down, and I certainly can't stop. I've been through so much that I know I can weather the storm. The harsh winds and cold rain of reality have tempered me, and the rays of light that work each day to clear it all away have given me hope for the future. The new Blake is still going to run… but she's going to run headlong into the problem, and figure it out while knee-deep in it, with her friend, and in time, her friends at her side. I've learned a lot from Sun and Yang, and I'm going to do both of them proud.
Before, I thought I couldn't do this anymore. Now, I've discovered that the truth is that I can't do this alone. The moon gets its light from the sun, and reflects it outward to shine a path through the darkness. Never have I felt more connected to the night than I do right now. Yang always used to tease me for brooding and embodying the 'B' in RWBY a little too well… but I'll show her what that notion really means to me, when I see her again.
As I make my way through the streets, and Sun breaks off to my left to take to the rooftops, my confident smile never fades. I know I'm walking into danger, and I know that while I may get hurt, he'll be there for me the whole way through. All of that optimism and the comfort he's given me, I'll reflect out into the world. I've changed. I've grown. I'll keep moving forward, no matter what comes my way.
Have you ever met someone and thought to yourself, 'they are the personification of this word?'
My name is Blake Belladonna, and I am endurance.
Author's Note: I haven't written anything in something like a decade, but it seems that, at least for now, RWBY will be my new muse. This story will be updated, though I don't have any schedule or chapter length in mind. There is no rhyme or reason as to who is up next or the tone of each chapter, and this may well never be marked as 'complete'. We'll just have to see what happens. I have ideas for at least four more chapters at the moment, and I'm sure that will balloon as time goes on. Any and all reviews are welcome, and I'll do my best to respond to any messages received. Hope you enjoy the ride, if you plan to come along.
-RD