I've written On Wings Of White and On My Way To You for Ruby finding Weiss and volume3, and I've written The Last Sunflower for Blake finding Yang. Now, after the vol4 outfit designs were released, I couldn't help but want to write for Blake and Weiss.
Tried out a different tense this time! It's much more interesting this way!
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Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.
Arms Of Refuge
It's been months.
Over half a year.
Nearly two seasons have come and gone.
And still, Blake is running.
It is what she does best. It always has been.
And perhaps, that is the one thing about her that hasn't changed, even after all this time.
Only now, it isn't just her past she is running from.
It is her future as well.
Because she is scared.
She doesn't know what it will entail.
She doesn't know what tomorrow will bring, what the next hour or even the next minute will bring.
It's all shrouded in uncertainty, and she's had enough of that.
She wants answers.
But it's taken her six months to finally realize that she won't find them on her own.
Like the shadow of a curse, she steals through the frigid winter night, unobstructed and unnoticed. She hasn't slept in weeks, not for longer than a few hours at a time, at least.
The town is quiet, almost eerily so. There is a howling of wind that cuts through the outer walls of the buildings, makes even the metal streetlights rattle. The snow already covering the ground sends a numbing chill up through her boots.
She passes by the deserted buildings, ones that had been abandoned half a year ago and never returned to.
She passes the empty homes of residents who prayed they might find safety elsewhere.
Even the alleyways are vacant at this hour, and she hardly sees tracks of even they stray cats that once roamed freely there.
She just keeps running. She leaves no evidence behind herself that might suggest she's ever been here in the first place. The speed at which she moves at is enough to stir up the snow behind herself and disrupt the footprints, marring them into undecipherable marks.
She's been running for so long, she barely remembers where she is anymore.
Six months ago, she'd traveled as far away from Beacon as possible. She'd left everything and everyone behind, because she knew she didn't deserve them.
And even now, she feels she still doesn't.
But she's had enough of solitude.
Initially, her intentions had been to distance herself by means of punishment and repentance for what had happened - for what she'd let happen. What had happened to Yang had been her fault, and she couldn't think of it any other way.
She still can't.
Which is why she's made sure to avoid Patch all this time. Because even though there is a horrible, hollow abyss in the pit of her stomach, she can't face Yang.
Just thinking about it still hurts.
Every day, the pain in her chest expands a little wider, swallows up another part of herself. It is all she can do now to prevent it from consuming her heart entirely, because she feels it is already halfway finished.
She needs to see them again.
This is the sole thought that drives her, motivates her to keep running, to take another step in this frozen, forsaken town.
The interactions she's had with others in the past several months had collectively amounted to no longer than one entire day's worth of speech. She'd spent her time in seclusion, concealing her presence and saving her voice only for the most crucial of instances.
At one point, she'd almost forgotten what she'd sounded like.
She'd gathered her intel, arranged her information, and made her decision to move.
But she can't face Yang. Not yet. Not after what she'd done.
Consequently, Blake knows that means she can't face Ruby either, since she is still with Yang in Patch.
That left only one other person.
She'd been struggling for weeks to get to Atlas, avoiding any form of transportation other than her own two feet to carry her. She avoided trains, boats, and airships, because those spaces were far too confined, and her main objective was to move in such a manner where no one else would be able to recognize her.
She'd changed her clothes and fallen into the habit of mainly traveling under cover of darkness.
And now, after arduous months of forsaken isolation, she's finally here.
Atlas.
The word runs through her mind as she pauses at last, a white breath streaming from between her lips as she makes a brief effort to pull some air into her aching lungs.
The smaller towns she's traveled through already could never compare to the massive, militant community of Atlas.
Even at this obscure hour of night, the kingdom's largest city gives off a powerful, intimidating presence. It is still, silent, looming in the distance, like some kind of predator waiting to pounce on unsuspecting prey.
Blake stands at the edge of a small forest, gazing out over the stretch of snowy earth between herself and the strictest of all kingdoms. Even the air here seems sharper, the earth seems firmer. Everything was stern and unforgiving.
She doesn't know where to go, where to even start in her search. It's dark, but there are clearly guards posted around the city, and Blake doesn't fancy the idea of attempting to slip past them and getting caught in the process. She'll appear far too suspicious, sneaking around in the middle of the night.
So she has no choice but to wait, to lay low and plan her next course of action.
She treads through the snow, much more slowly now, searching for something, anything.
At long last, she finds it – a small, abandoned shed at the corner of the woods. She's found recourse in much more deplorable places. It'll do for tonight.
She slips inside, leans back against the creaking wall, and slumps to the cold hard ground, disturbing a family of mice in the process.
Her gaze travels upward, to a tear in the dilapidated roof, which is allowing moonlight to stream through. Tiny particles of snow dust the air, creating an almost hypnotizing image.
Her body is aching. She can barely keep her eyes open.
But she does, for just a little longer, peering up through the hole in the roof and past the barren branches of the trees.
Far beyond Remnant, the fractured moon glows, surrounded by stars.
She feels so empty, and yet the sky is so, so full.
She wishes she could venture there.
Days have passed, and she's finally figured out a way to get to where she needs to be.
Using her semblance to get past the guards during one of the busiest hours had been simple enough, and she's spent the last several days intermingling with the crowds of locals in their city.
Beneath her bow, her sharp ears had picked up on everything she'd ever needed to know about Atlas.
Now, she makes her way to the designated area, the place where the largest, wealthiest mansion stands.
She is scared.
She hasn't heard much about the Schnee family in the past few months, but the few things she has heard haven't been all that encouraging.
The head of the household still hasn't relented in his discriminatory ways, nor has he lightened his burdensome load of demands on his daughters.
To Blake, it seems he is still the way she's always known him to be – an authoritative, power-hungry tyrant. The impending conflict between kingdoms has only served to make him even harsher, and to drain his patience further.
Blake doesn't know how much time she's got left. And that goes both for herself and for the person she is seeking.
How much longer will it be until Blake herself breaks down? Or until she is so inarguably robbed of her freedom that she succumbs to her father's wishes?
Blake isn't willing to waste any more time to find out.
So she runs, and keeps running, only when the moon is out.
Even tonight, when the sky is sprinkling down snowfall, she is running.
She runs and runs...
...until she finds what she is looking for...
. . .
The mansion is all she's ever envisioned it would be.
Massive. Important. Prestigious. Extravagant.
But as she continues to run towards it, there is only one part of the structure she is focusing on.
A small balcony rests on the highest level, barred in like the walls of a white prison.
A figure stirs there in the stillness of the cold winter night.
Blake runs.
Runs until she's scaled the wall in three seconds flat. She grabs those white prison bars and hauls herself up and over, jumping high enough until she makes it onto solid ground three floors up.
Panting and sweating despite the cold, she comes to a stop at long last. Her ears naturally flick at the sharp sound of a gasp.
The girl before her turns, and for the first time in over six months, Blake feels something warm curl up in her stomach.
Her shoes are pristine and expensive, the straps digging faintly into her white ankles to leave uncomfortable marks behind.
Her dress is softer, but just as tight, revealing just how little she's been able to bring herself to eat these past several months. The materials are long and flowing, and resemble the evening sky. Dark blue blending into lighter shades in some areas, sprinkled with white.
The snowflakes that fall all around her give off the image of glitter, shimmering, catching the moonlight.
Her arms are protected by nothing more than a thin layer of cloth, stretched tightly over her shoulders and back. Sapphires dangle subtly, accenting her importance and wealth, one at each ear, and one over her heart.
Silken white hair cascades, the same as ever, all down her back, swaying slightly in the pull of the night winds, a slight curl bouncing at the ends.
Her skin is paler than Blake remembers-
-but the vibrant blue of her eyes puts those sapphires to shame.
Time, which has been their prison guard for half a year now, comes to a halt.
Both are immobilized by the sight of the other.
Both believe they are dreaming.
Both believe it's too good to be true.
Blake is still locked in her crouch, frozen in the position in which she'd landed moments earlier. Standing seems too big a risk, as though she might dispel whatever brilliant magics have come into play here.
But with the dangers of eventual sunrise approaching by the second, she finds she has no other choice.
She moves, slowly, as though quicker motions might startle her away, like some evasive white deer.
But it is also disbelief that causes her to move so slowly.
Blake is still scared. She's more scared than she's ever been before. She's scared that she'll be rejected, unwelcome. The very thought uneases her to the point of nausea.
She stands to her full height, straightening her back, her eyes never once having left those pools of blue. It feels like a crime to blink, to miss even a second of gazing at her, after so long of missing her.
All this time, she's missed her.
But she's never forgotten.
Suddenly, it feels as though her body is coated with an intangible blanket of steel. Everything feels heavy, and it's harder than ever to breathe.
It requires all her strength to simply take one step forward, advancing toward the girl before her, who lingers like a dream.
Aimlessly, she reaches out her shivering hands, unsure of whether or not such an action is permissible and will pass without consequence.
Blake can't remember how to speak. She hasn't spoken in so long. When she tries now, only a scratching rasp works its way up her throat, gets tangled, and needs to be swallowed back down. But the lump tightening in her neck makes it impossible to do even that.
Her legs hurt.
Her stomach hurts.
Her chest hurts.
And now, her eyes hurt, too.
Something poignant and painful is rising up behind them, hot and stinging in contrast to the biting cold that surrounds her.
Again, she tries to speak, but no sound is produced.
The tears start falling, and she can't stop them.
They blur her vision, force her to close her eyes, no matter how badly she wants to keep looking at her...
"Blake..."
Like a prayer, her name is spoken.
It is a whisper, but a powerful one, one laden with emotion.
No one has ever spoken her name quite like this before, like it actually means something.
Her name has never sounded as wonderful as it does right now, in her breath, on her lips...
There is a soft patter of footsteps, heels stirring up the snow, sending tiny clouds of cold white dust pluming up around her ankles like a trail of magic in her wake. She throws herself perfectly into Blake's outstretched arms, and wraps her own around Blake's shuddering back.
Her grip is tight, desperate, and so wonderfully warm. Nothing at all like the rumors Blake had always heard the touch of an "ice queen" would be.
She has taken the pressure away from speaking, and from moving, so Blake may now find it easier to do so.
And like a miracle, she finds her voice, and puts it to good use.
"Weiss..."
She presses her arms tightly around the small of her back, and around her shoulders.
Weiss is much thinner than Blake remembers her to be. She's lost a lot of muscle due to the months upon months of being shut away and unable to fight or train herself.
Blake knows her father has sought to make her frail and fragile, so that boys from important families will feel obliged to protect her.
But Blake can tell that Weiss has been protecting herself all this time.
Even though Blake is crying now, huddled up in Weiss' arms, she can't help but almost smile at the thought of the heiress snapping at anyone who's made an attempt to flatter her these past six months.
Blake had forgotten what it felt like to smile. She truly had.
But now, she could feel the beginnings of one.
If she hadn't been crying so hard right now, she might've let it show.
But for now, it feels all right to cry.
In fact, it had never felt so good before.
She is still shaking. So is Weiss. But Blake can tell it is less from the cold now, and more from the relief of it all.
So many months of wondering if tomorrow would be the day they break, or even if it would be tonight.
So many months of uncertainty and fear.
So many months of dealing with it all alone, never truly knowing if the people she cared about were safe.
They never should have been separated in the first place.
But if all those months of loneliness had led up to this moment of reunion, they felt it was almost worth it.
Blake sobs her name, over and over, chanting it into the crook of Weiss' neck. The fabrics of her fancy clothes are already damp with Blake's tears, and she can feel Weiss' tears on her own shoulder.
Their embrace is hard and unrelenting. There is a furious pulse beating between their chests, and for a while, Blake can't discern whose it is.
Not until the shivering overwhelms them, to the point where their knees buckle and they collapse gently into the powered snow.
The new position forces their contact to loosen, just a bit.
And now, Blake can feel herself beginning to calm down.
Weiss hasn't rejected her. She's welcomed her with open arms. Arms that are nothing short of a refuge for a cold, weary traveler.
And that is more than enough to ease a large fraction of her pain and her fears. She hopes that Weiss can find solace in her arms as well.
As she tucks her face into Weiss' shoulder and weeps, Blake's hands shift in position. One remains at the small of her back, drawing the heiress as close as physically possible, the cold air and months of separation begging for the warmth of her proximity. Her other hand slips over Weiss' tightly-pulled sash at her waist, then rests at her side.
And Blake can feel her heart.
It is thundering, hammering, throbbing.
Weiss is so scared. She's so scared...
She doesn't want anything bad to happen now that Blake has found her.
She's scared for Blake much more so than for herself.
And Blake knows this. She knows Weiss all too well.
So she bites her lip, and pulls her closer, covering the frantic beat of Weiss' pulse with her palm. She curls her other arm around her shoulders now, feeling the strands of silken hair spilling over her elbow.
"It's okay..." she promises her. "It's okay now."
She doesn't know what Weiss has been through all this time, what kinds of intangible, mental, and emotional torment she's been subjected to.
Before she'd come to Beacon, it had been bad enough. But tasting that freedom in the life of a huntress had likely only succeeded in making the pain of capture that much worse.
Weiss really was like a deer, one that had spent the first part of her life in harsh captivity, only to be released under false pretenses. Then, she was trapped and dragged back into the very same prison in which she'd been born.
The cycle was cruel. To Weiss, it must've felt inescapable.
Blake pulls her in again, as close as she can manage, and covers her, shields her from the cold.
She won't let it happen again. She knows Yang and Ruby won't either, once they find them again. Because she knows they will.
Weiss cries, and Blake waits.
Waits until the violent tumult beneath her palm begins to slow.
Waits until the jolting shivers are quelled by their shared warmth.
All this time, Weiss has wanted to get away. She's wanted to leave.
But Blake knew it would've been far too difficult for her to do so on her own.
Everyone knew who Weiss was. There was nowhere she could go, nowhere she could hide.
Until now.
After all, Blake is an expert in hiding. She knows she is the only person on Remnant who can make Weiss Schnee disappear without a trace.
And it soon becomes clear that is exactly what Weiss wants.
After a time, the heiress lifts her face. Tears are still dripping down her cheeks, but she wipes them away, smearing the marks of her weakness until they are no more.
Blake moves back, once again locking her eyes with Weiss', and there is a mutual determination there.
They can do this. They will do this.
They'll escape.
They'll find Ruby and Yang.
And they'll find answers.
Blake has been so focused on Weiss that she's failed to realize there are still tears streaming down her own face. She only notices their presence when Weiss reaches out to stroke gentle fingers over her cheeks. Blake can't help but lean into her touch.
She closes her eyes, just for a moment, and savors the contact. She's been deprived of it for so long, even something as minor as this is major to her. Especially coming from one of her long-lost teammates.
A moment passes, and Blake keeps her eyes closed. She listens to Weiss' clipped breathing as it gradually begins to slow. The sounds she is making contain small portions of her voice, familiar sounds that Blake has lived far too long without hearing.
She wants to hear Ruby's. She wants to hear Yang's. But she knows that will be a while yet.
For now, Weiss is all she needs.
Upon reopening her eyes, it isn't long before Weiss moves forward into another embrace. Blake gladly wraps her in her arms again, and holds her until the shivering stops. She waits until Weiss' pulse falls into a decrescendo.
At the same time, she can feel the gaping hole in her own chest finally being filled, bit by bit. There is still a lot more to go, but having Weiss back mends a great portion of the wound.
Flurries are still falling when they finally help each other back to their feet. Weiss wipes tears off of Blake's face while Blake wipes snow off of Weiss' head.
They could see it in each other's eyes. There was so much they wanted to say.
Most things had been communicated silently in their embrace, in the desperation and relief of their sobs.
Even still, some things needed to be said. But they came to the silent agreement that they would address those things later, only once they were safely away from here.
They'd waited this long already. Now that they were together, they could stand to wait just a little longer.
Blake hasn't realized that her hand has fallen into Weiss' at her side.
She looks her over one more time, knowing it would be best if Weiss could change her clothes into something more appropriate for travel.
But she feels there isn't enough time for that. They've been here for too long already. They need to go.
She meets Weiss' eyes fully, and wonders if that's even possible, if it's something feasible. It could be too dangerous for Weiss right now. It might be in their best interest for Blake to come back some other time.
No matter how strongly she wants to stay. No matter how badly she doesn't want to lose her again, she needs to consider what is best for Weiss.
Which is why her anxieties creep into her voice and cause it to crack when she makes the three-word offer.
"Come with me."
Her eyes say the rest.
Please. I need you.
And that is when Weiss provides her with the greatest relief of all.
She doesn't hesitate. Not even for a heartbeat.
"Wait."
She dips her head and slips away, hurrying back across the balcony to the sliding glass door that leads to her room.
Only now, as Blake feels the warmth in her hand fading away, does she realize how badly she wants it back.
She waits as Weiss has asked her to, senses on high alert for anything amiss. She watches the flow of Weiss' hair and dress for as long as she can until she's disappeared behind the curtains.
Part of Blake is overwhelmed with trepidation, because there is something innate within her, borne there during her time with the White Fang, that makes her believe Weiss won't be coming back.
But she soon feels guilty for ever having doubted her.
Weiss emerges a moment later, Myrtenaster now sheathed at her hip, and her message is clear.
She's going to fight for what she desires, and she's not afraid to do so.
And for the first time in six months, Blake smiles.
She extends her hand, and Weiss accepts it.
They start running, together now, and keep running until they reach the bars of the balcony. They make the jump simultaneously.
Weiss casts a trail of glyphs to ease them down into the snow, and Blake keeps her close.
They land, they breathe, and they run.
Blake isn't so scared of the future anymore.
Because Weiss will be in it now.
And soon, the rest of her team will be, too.
A/N: I tried not to make this any longer than it needed to be. I have mixed feelings about what I want to see in volume 4, but the one thing I'm 110% sure I want to see is the girls reuniting early on so they can have the majority of the volume together. But I'll keep my expectations low.
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