Alright, here goes my first foray into fanfiction. I hope it is pleasing to you, whoever you are, to read this OC fic.

(Usual) Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY. Not awesome enough for that.

ASHEN COUPLE DIES IN GRIMM-CAUSED CAR CRASH

While driving home from an afternoon showing at the movies, a single Grimm rammed into the side of the family car of the Ashens, which carried Rey and Maria Ashen, both aged 30, along with their son Pius, age 7. The monster, now suspected to be either a Boarbatusk or a Bulwark, caused a triple-car accident and knocked over the Ashen's van before fleeing the scene. Both parents died in the fire that consumed the car, but their son survived and is recovering in Vale Central Hospital. He will be adopted by the Ashens' friends, better known as Aurum and Regina Nobel of the Aurum Dust Company.

"We're adopting him so that he can still have a family and a childhood. He can move on from this tragedy if he has both." said the Nobels.

The late Ashens worked as Dust refiners along with the Nobels in their youth before working as managers of Aurum Dust. Their bodies are to be cremated as previously arranged and their ashes scattered at a private location.

- Obituary about ten years prior, Vale Today.

In the northern coast of the city of Vale, there is a private clearing at the cliffs there. A forest, green with life, separated this clearing from the busy human world on the other side, and the noise from the city's hustle-and-bustle was calmed by the breeze that seemed to be attracted to the area.

Some yards from the edge of the cliffs was a circular stone slab. It had been placed there a couple of years ago by the clearing's most frequent, "most frequent" oftentimes meaning "only," visitor, who did not want to burn the verdant grass every time he arrived. A bench made its claim to fame as the only seat in the area for several miles, standing only a few yards away from the cliff's edge, which was marked by a small fence. The fence could do little from preventing visitors from falling into the water and rocks below, but it did its job as the marker of the cliff's natural threshold.

A hum filled the air as Dust-fueled rocket fire scorched the air as its user made his way towards the clearing. He wore a complex set of machinery on his body: a pair of gauntlets that also covered his forearm, boots that went up to his knees for protection, and a chestplate that carried spools of strong metal wire on its back. All the components of this armor, collectively named Dies Irae, had glowing lines running across each piece, and the color of the glow indicated the power of the Dust expended by the machines within the armor. While he was airborne, all five parts of the armor glowed a light orange to represent the element of fire, which propelled him across the sky and towards the clearing.

The young man halted his progress once his body hovered directly over the stone slab he had arranged to be laid there. Slowing ebbing the power released by his armor, he descended from the air until his armor stopped glowing altogether, then he landed soundly on the cold rock below without a dent to either the metal or the stone. After taking a moment to absorb the scene, the visitor removed his armor. The components of Dies Irae merged and folded together until a metal suitcase manifested as the compact version of the armor.

The melancholy visitor of this clearing was Pius Ashen-Nobel, orphan of the Ashen family and the first of four adopted children of the Nobel family. He was only a few months older than seventeen years of age, a young man aspiring to become a Huntsman. He bore the same brown hair as his father, as well as most of his face, but he had his mother's ash-gray eyes, those eyes that burned their gaze into everything they looked upon, whether for analysis, affection, or annihilation. He had a light tan over his fair skin; his siblings made sure that he went outside often, as did his visits to the clearing. His form was healthy, for his siblings and his mission made sure that he exercised often.

Pius had grown into his wealth well, with little of the spoiling that could be expected from one of his upbringing. He did have a taste for the finer things in life, such as the clothes he wore, the food he ate, and the books he read, but the presence of three extroverted siblings kept Pius grounded to the world around him. He enjoyed tinkering with machines, as Dies Irae would gladly prove; he never disdained anyone of lower status than himself, for he'd always seen such notions as superficial; and he kept some love in his life that many feared had been lost in the fire that claimed his parents: the love he shared with his new parents and his siblings was a bond neither party could break.

His outfit was formal compared to the clothing most people his age would wear. If someone was watching the clearing when Pius arrived and removed Dies Irae from his body, then he or she would see the young Nobel wearing his signature glasses, with a gray waistcoat over a white long-sleeved, button-up shirt, with gray suit pants and black dress shoes to complete his outfit. The lack of a jacket and tie indicated that Pius wasn't fully comfortable with the formal ensemble he was given, but he still had style preferences that leaned towards the more formal side of clothing.

The youth sighed as he breathed the free air of the clearing before making his way towards the lonely bench that beckoned his company. The gray-eyed brunette took his seat on the left end of the the bench and placed Dies Irae on the grass. These visits to the clearing were part of his monthly routine. At the last day of each month, Pius would "visit his parents," as he told everyone who asked where he disappeared to on these days, and he would just tell the coast and the grass and clouds and the sky all about the significant and interesting things from that month. He had already been hard at work preparing his things and getting his siblings to do their own preparations, but even the stoic leader of the Nobel siblings needed time away from his family. It would be a week before the Nobels would be shipped off to Beacon Academy, and Pius wanted to take this day off from his preparations for his first year to report to his parents.

"Hey, Mom. Hey, Dad." Pius began, looking up at the pristine white clouds overhead. When he spoke in this clearing, the tone of his voice took on a feeling of relaxation, affection, and sincerity that no one outside of his family even knew could be uttered from his mouth. His curt and frank voice spoke with a tenderness and respect that no one could expect from the sarcastic and bitter mask he put on in public, as if he believed in the best for everyone.

"So I had a dream this month. Don't worry, it wasn't about the crash again." The Ashens' son then adopted an expression of curiosity and worry at this revelation.

"Though that might be why it's bothering me so much."

He closed his eyes as an imperfect memory returned a half-remembered dream, and the world around him faded away.

"The first thing I remember is being in the city. I'm looking down, and I can see the crash again."

Pius stood on the roof of a building, Dies Irae glowing quietly with its default gray light. Orange and yellow danced in his eyes as he stared at the wreckage below. A flash of black had fled the scene, and once again he could not make out what it really was. He'd always hoped that maybe, deep in the dark corners of his memory that let the light of dreams shine on them, he had remembered, maybe even seen, the monster that took his parents away from him.

He watched as police and firemen arrived at the scene and began pulling a young boy out of the most damaged car. The aforementioned vehicle had fallen over on its side, and fire had begun eating at it. The child stank of smoke and smelled of blood, and a part of him had been touched by the flames. Pius couldn't take his eyes off of the boy; after all, he too was Pius Ashen. They shared the same mark from that day, marring his side and mocking his loss. It had been ten years, and yet the young man and the boy could never forget what happened that day. Why couldn't they remember what they wanted to? All that Pius could remember was the screaming, and that the cacophony came from his own throat.

"NO! NO! MOM! DAD! LET ME GO!" He closed his eyes, hoping in vain that his ears would do the same. A burst of flame gave its reply as it clawed at the sky, consuming the car and sealing the boy's fate as survivor and orphan.

"But don't worry. That wasn't what the dream was about. Not this time."

He opened his eyes again, and stood on white. Confused, his gray eyes searched the area. He was standing at his parents' clearing, which was covered in winter snow. The shattered moon of Remnant hung over the sky like some broken eye, vainly trying to comprehend the affairs of the mortals below as it provided a light that paled before the Sun's.

"I'm here, and it's wintertime. But I'm not alone this time. She's here too."

Pius saw her standing there on the slab where he would land. The snow there was melted in the center, so Pius concluded that he had come here of his own will. The question as to where the girl came from was the new source of puzzlement for the Nobel. He walked toward her, hoping to say something before she disappeared. He did not realize he was dreaming.

"I can't remember what she looked like, or what her name was. She just...existed. It was like a blanket of snow had laid itself over my memory, erasing the details but leaving the outline intact. We were there-or here, as it were-by our own choosing, it seemed."

She ran into the woods, away from his extended hand. Pius realized that he was still wearing Dies Irae, glowing orange with heat, but perhaps that was because it was cold that night. He was wearing his longcoat; he had removed it from Dies Irae's suitcase form when he had arrived. Like Pius, it too was gray, covering his body like sackcloth for penance and mourning.

"I don't know why she's running. Maybe I scared her-and I know what you're thinking, Dad. "Nothing new." Haha, funny, get over that joke. M-maybe we were arguing, or she didn't think that I would discover her. But it doesn't matter. At that moment, I just knew that I had to reach her. I felt like I was going to lose something important if I didn't. Geez, I wish I could remember her. When I think of her, all I see is white and I don't know why."

He ran after the girl, shouting after her footsteps over the snow. Maybe he was calling her name, or maybe he was saying something to her, trying to explain himself to solve an argument Pius couldn't remember. The trees were silent witnesses to the scene, watching without comment as the two mortals passed by, leaving behind footprints that would fade with the wind and the sun.

"We're running and running until we come into another clearing in the forest. But I've checked the forest; this clearing doesn't exist in real life. And that doesn't matter, because I can see why we've stopped."

Grimm. Those filthy monsters that stole Pius' parents, and the parents of many children like him, surrounded the pair as they stood in the center of the clearing. They were many of many kinds: Beowolves, Boarbatusks, Ursa, King Tajitus, and Deathstalkers were only a sample of the species that made their way towards the couple as more Grimm circled overhead.

"There was nowhere to go, and I couldn't leave her behind. She and I...had some sort of bond, I guess. And I wouldn't leave her to those beasts even if we didn't have one. Never."

The chaos and din of battle erupted as the two fought for their lives. Pius remembered releasing his blades, cutting through the Grimm's bodies like the trash they were. His claws flew out to attach themselves onto the animals and bring them closer, and then he could finish them off with his own hands. Dies Irae changed colors as its master destroyed the monsters; the sky was pierced with Pius' signals of nature's wrath.

Orange followed fire, burning an Ursa into ashes. Spikes of ice shot out of the snow into another's belly when his armor glowed blue. A young Nevermore was plucked out of the sky and thrown to the ground by a pillar of water as indigo shone. A Deathstalker's armor and flesh melted away when violet light flashed from Pius' chestplate and corrosive fluids covered the beast. A King Tajitu was cut into pieces by a blade of wind as the Nobel's armor lights matched his gray eyes. Lightning jumped its way through a dozen Beowolves and fried each one when those gauntlets shone yellow. Boarbatusks were torn to pieces when thorny vines appeared from the ground to pull them apart as green light flared into the night, mocking the trees with what they had lost. Pillars of earth threw a Kiungo, that mockery of proper primates, into the air and became spikes when it returned to the ground, as an unusual brown glow pierced through the air to match Pius' hair. A Bulwark was blinded by light as one gauntlet glowed white, before its vulnerable neck failed to keep its head on its shoulders when confronted by a metal edge. Animal instinct gave the Grimm warning when the Nobel sent them flying with punches and kicks as his armor's color matched their blood-red eyes. A mass of Grimm was forcibly conglomerated into a small singularity as gravity changed at Pius' will when he raised a vengeful hand, its glow matching the blackness of space. His silver blades flew through the air, cutting veins and amputating at will before returning to their mounts on the gauntlets, whose lights matched their color.

"We were doing everything we could to keep them back, but there were so many. She was strong, too. I remember that she had a weapon of her, one that worked like my armor, but I don't remember how she fought or what she fought with. She was powerful and graceful at the same time, not like me. Graceful has never been my thing."

He heard a scream. She had been disarmed by a Boarbatusk's charge, and now Beowolves were dragging her back into the woods, where its brethren awaited their meal. Every attempt at resistance was met with more beasts replacing their fallen brethren, like a black wave dragging her into the sea.

"I forgot about the Grimm, and I just ran for her. Nothing else mattered at that moment; I needed her."

He knocks aside an Ursa with a red right gauntlet, flips over a Boarbatusk, and shoves through another pack of Beowolves with a rocky plow raised before him. But it is not enough.

He too is screaming.

"I'm cutting, punching, kicking, doing everything I can to get to her. But they're all getting in my way, and she's getting closer to the forest."

Claws and fangs dent his armor and cut through clothes-blood is drawn-

"By the time I've realized it, that we couldn't both get out of the woods alive, there's nothing I can do to make sure she's the survivor."

He has no more Dust-nature's wrath is nothing against the sea of monsters drowning him-yet he is still fighting, reaching for her-

"They're holding me back, dragging me into their own little horde to be eaten."

Her shrieking is unbearable-so is his crying-

"I can barely see her through the mass of Grimm. They're everywhere, breaking my armor, making my blades and claws useless."

He can see it-an Ursa opening its maw to receive her-and he can smell the Beowolves' breath as they prepare to do the same for him.

"It's horrifying, loud, and maddening, all at the same time. All the work, all the effort I've put into killing Grimm, avenging you two, protecting her, and it falls short that night."

The Ursa's mouth begins to fall on her neck-the Beowolves' fangs are about to sink into his body, his armor useless-

"And then-"

Blackness. Then shapes reappeared as Pius opened his eyes and sat up on his bed.

"I wake up."

There is no snow, and the warmth of the blankets fails to comfort him. The light of the moon is dim, and the eye it makes appears to mock him for his weakness. And she is not there; as far as Pius is concerned, she never existed. But the dream stays with him; it is too real to forget. And so is she.

An hour passed in deathlike silence before he slept once more, as the fragments and shapes and colors haunted and floated in the recesses of his memory.

The heir of two families became silent once more. He sat on the bench, absentmindedly wiping tears he didn't realize were there as they slid down his face and settled on his cheeks, uncaring of their creator's distress. The wind blew over the green grass, and little waves crashed into the cliff bottom below as he tried to listen for his parents' voices.

As usual, they never come. They had left him long ago, like ashes scattered in the wind.

Reviews are appreciated. Thank you for reading this far!