RWBY: The Last Stand
W.T. Roberts
1
Cinder remembered falling, remembered the ice encasing her body. Even so, she was fully conscious. How? She took stock of her surroundings; Cinder seemed to be in a cave, a cave that was a residence. Archaic symbols and glyphs were painted on the cavern walls, and a fire pit nearby made them dance. Cinder forced herself up into a sitting position, finding that she was on a Grimm-pelt bedroll. The cave was set up like a home; chests lay stacked in one corner, the top one opened. An oaken door, salvaged from the bark of a tree, led to an adjacent room. Another pelt, this one hung from the grotto's roof, gave off the illusion of privacy. Cinder gazed over to the far corner of the cavern, and found a natural stream rushing through. She shot up, now realizing her parched throat, and knelt at the brook. Cinder cupped her hands to drink, then halted; her Grimified arm was wrapped in moist cloth. The most unnerving fact about the arm was that, under the swathing, it appeared human. Instinctively, Cinder's hands flew to her face, covering her left eye. But her right eye saw Cinder's reflection, and the girl slid her hand away. There was no hole where her left eye once was; in its place was a normal-looking replacement. To test her sight, Cinder clapped her hand over her right eye. The left one had no trouble seeing perfectly. Cinder shied back from her mirror image, apparently shocked at why someone had cured her maladies. Speaking of that someone; Cinder shot to her feet, eyes blazing. She amplified the cave fire, making it light up the entire premises. In the corner of the grotto, near the mouth, sat a wizened, cloaked form. Cinder glared it, and demanded, "Who are you?"
The cloaked form stood; it must have been hunched over, for it was much larger when standing erect. The figure's shoulders broadened, and its back straightened; an imposing sight. Cinder gazed into the cowl, attempting to gauge her captor's facial features, but there was only an empty hood. The figure shuffled forward on bare feet; the feet were tattooed in blue ink, and heavily scarred. Cinder stared in fascination; she knew those markings! "Do I know you?" she inquired genuinely.
The cloak about its wearer shifted, revealing an arm just as mutilated as the legs. But its face remained hidden. "Part of you does," the figure finally intoned. Cinder started at the sound of the hermit's voice; it was deep, gentle, yet resonant, which didn't correlate with the owner's appearance. Cinder snorted. "What's that supposed to mean?" The hermit fell silent, casting more wood chips into the fire. "It means," he went on. "That part of you knows me." "Which part?" Cinder retorted. "The dormant side of your mind."
Cinder shook her head, both aghast and annoyed. How could only one part of her know this… barbarian? She shifted to her feet, denying it all. As she prepared to leave, the hermit stopped her. "If you go, you will never know the truth." Cinder gazed into the blackness of the hood, only to find a flash of golden light ignite the cowl. For an instant, Cinder caught a glimpse of twisted, knotted blood red hair, and eyes of gold. A face, a memory, flashed through Cinder's conscience, only to retreat when she reached for it. That face, had blood red hair and golden eyes.