She's... lost? She's in a city.
But it's not one she recognises, she's never been here. The air is thick and hot.
Clouds of sand and dust float through the empty streets, but the air is deafeningly still, no sound besides the clicks and clacks of her heels on beige floor stones.
Where is she?
Where are her friends?
Where is anyone in this place?
Ruby? Blake? Yang?
Long corridors of nothing, buildings looming on both sides. No windows, no doors. Only walls and a floor. But one wall is different. There's a dent.
She presses her hand against the wall. But the hand is strange. It doesn't look like hers. And the building sparks and melts away from her touch, orange flames spilling out around her fingertips.
She calls out, her voice but a whisper to the roaring fire. What did she say? Did she say anything? What is this world?
The flames lick up the building, others around it catching alight and spreading further. Structures melt as she sprints past. When did she start running? Where did this inferno come from?
She turned a corner. A wall of flame blocked one path. She took the other. She's out to open desert now. But still on an elevated stone floor. Stone railings surround the edge. She charges forward, sliding on her knees through the gap in the railing.
And she plummets to the desert floor. Only four to five feet. Cushioned by the burning sand. She immediately gets up and continues her march.
Dunes of powdered rock flow like an ocean as she walks. She dips down and cups the water in her hand. When did she find an oasis? Why does she feel unsafe here? ...Why isn't her reflection her own?
Who is this older woman in her hands? Why is she telling her to escape this place while she still can? She blinks. Another figure is beside the lady. She screams at the figure, and jumps into the lake from her hands. And the sun fizzles out.
But it's back. And she's stood in front of a ruined office building. When did she arrive in Atlas? How did she arrive in Atlas? How did the lady in her hands get in that cage?
The lady is screaming in the office. But her noises don't reach Weiss' ears. A strange figure is sat in the corner of the room by the broken window next to her.
But she can't see it's face or its body. The sun glares off the glass just right. Only one clawed arm and part of its torso is visible.
"What will happen to the lady?" She calls. The creature doesn't respond.
She approaches slowly. The grass below is soft on her feet.
"She will be fine," comes a whisper to her ear.
"What will you do to her?" She asks.
"Nothing," the whisper responds.
"Who is she?"
Silence.
The clawed arm stretches out and rests against her cheek. She leans into it. Why did she lean into it? What is this creature? Why does she feel safe?
"Come, young one," it breathes. Its voice is smooth and calm. She's drawn forward. Her body feels warm. Her head rests against the shoulder of the being. The lady is screaming still. But she can hear her now. It's unintelligible and is slurred. What is she saying? Is she saying anything? "This is my favourite part."
"What's that?" She casts her gaze once more to the woman; only to see herself in the cage.
The voice gets louder in her ear, a cold breath breezing against her neck, "when I can make them into my slaves," followed by a sickening crunch.
An intense pain hits Weiss in the neck, making her leap up from her bed as she yelps. The muscles in her neck are spasming wildly.
"Weiss? What's wrong?" A sudden but familiar voice calls out from the darkness.
"B-Blake? Is that you?" Her voice came out as a whimper, frantically looking around in the blackness of the room but unable to see anything; only causing her to panic more.
"Yes, it's me, what happened? Did you have a bad dream?" The faunus' voice gets louder but stays soft. Her amber eyes glowed in the darkness, approaching the heiress.
"I-I don't know, my- my neck f-feels weird," the heiress' voice was panicked as she rubs her neck.
"Weiss? Blake? What's going on...?" Their leader's sleepy voice calls out.
"Weiss had a-" Blake is cut off as Weiss hugs her tightly, whimpering quietly. "Had a bad dream," she continues. Blake hums gently, holding the heiress' head to her bosom and stroking her hair.
(A/N: So, this is based on a dream that I actually had. I tried to remember it as best I could and if the writing seems like it's discordant and doesn't make much sense, that's because that's how I felt in the dream.