Correlation: Can't Stand Your Smile
Alternate Title: Erosion and Rubber Chickens.
Pre:Summary: I suck at summaries, so I'm just gonna throw up some BS. Basically, this is an attempt to write some interaction between Jaune and Weiss, mostly positive, Jaune/Weiss, plus others (not shippy), comedy/romance, slightest mature language, some older themes later on, maybe. Skip to the bold text, and ignore the A/Ns.
Summary: Weiss and Jaune have a rocky relationship, if you could call it that. But immediately, there was something between them. Something unrequited. Something Spectacular. Something Sensational.
Something sending Weiss nuts. And not in a good way. In a very, bad, way.
And, of course, it is all his fault.
This is my own version of the 'Melting Ice Queen', which evolved into something else, and then something else again. Arg, the momentum of ideas and crap.
These are some of the scenes that would take place if I was writing the show. And the series had more time that freakin' 3 minutes a week. More like meak. Or weak. Should have went with weak first. Anywho.
But I love Monty, and Miles, and Kerry, and the guys and gals of RT. I am not one of them. No credit to me, or monies, or... copywrite-ed things.
Just so you know, these start off unevenly, personal-power-wise, but that's for reasons. And, for the hell of it, let's start with something different from the norm.
Edit: Context Upgrade Purchased!
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
Finding Ground
.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.,.
A letter under the pillow of Weiss Schnee.
'Dear Dwarf,
Today was good. Am most decidedly glad to have made the journey to Beacon. Starting to get less annoyed by many of the cretins here. Must be something in the water affecting my mind. Will test drinking water tomorrow.
I had a wonderful morning. The girls woke me gently for a change, which I appreciate more than they can know. My morning shower was uninterrupted, and I even practiced some of my Estedford pieces in the warm water. Even breakfast went smoothly, with Nora sadly too tired to recite her most recent figments of her imagination. Class was full of useful information, most of which I was unaware. The library was quiet. My work was completed. My study schedule was prepared, and colour-coded. I was able to read for pleasure. For pleasure, damn it.
And when I returned to the dorm, I didn't have to coach Yang through homework, I didn't need to make coffee for Ruby, and Blake gave me a hug. I'm uncertain why she did so, but with Blake, I tread carefully, for previously stated reasons. But I'm glad our terms are good enough for whatever that was. She seemed almost sad while doing it, however. Was that a pity-hug? Did I look sad? I thought I was happy enough. Maybe it was that I was smiling? Perhaps I was-
The worst thing I could do right now is speculate. Which, I suppose, must bring us to the low-light of the day.
Jaune, leader of Team JNPR, womaniser, and executor of the worst saving catch in history, ever, is starting to be almost likable, for a t-r-o-u-b-l-e-s-o-m-e- d/e/g/e/n/a/r/a/t/e/ teenage boy with over- and under-confidence issues. Even writing this makes my skin crawl, as he has shown himself to be either chauvinistic or at least patronizing, but he seems to be equally incompetent as compassionate. And if you have had the opportunity to watch him fight, then, equally, he might be an inspirational figure to many here, -a-n-d-h-e-a-l-m-o-s-t-i-s-. Apparently, when he is not trying too hard to be what he thinks he is suppose to be (I believe he thinks he is 'macho', and thinks his flirting is not horrible), he is very personable. If only he would be less of an idiot.
He did have a laugh at me as we crossed paths on our way to the library. While crossing the Quad, over the bridge in the Humanities Garden, a sparrow perched on my shoulder. I wish they would stop doing that. I walked with it right up to the library. He was surprised, and then silent, which I took for comfortable, not amused. He really could have said something. Not to worry. The same bird decided to -d-e-f-e-c-a-t-e- leave a present for him from up high. On his shoulder. I've never believed in karma, but there you have it.
The walk was nice enough, though, and he didn't ruin my nice day.
Possibly more than simple commoner, hard to judge. Will require slight increase in attention. Will probably resolve itself, but my initial impressions of the characters that attend Beacon have been extremely poor, and judgement might need fine tuning.
I miss you more and more every day. I/f/ /o/n/l/y/ I'm sorry that my proximity to you made you a casualty. I promise, to your memory, that I will never put anyone in the position that my protection and their own safety are two competing positions.
Yours, with love,
Weiss Vinter Schnee.'
'Addendum; The worst has happened. Our History class has received an update from the Professor; he has assigned his own set of partners, looking for 'complementary skill sets'. For the assignment regarding the political treatise between the four Havens, I have been paired with Jaune Arc. Words cannot begin to describe my excitement. Woo. Hoo.
Might have woken Ruby with a Hiss (an aborted scream.)
No, she seems fine.
If he thinks he is just going to sit on his lazy ass and let me do all the heavy lifting, well, this blonde lunk-head has another thing coming.
Should probably talk to him about the workload before assuming to shout at him, though. Best to not count the chickens before they hatch. An idiom I'm sure he can relate to.
It is going to be a long week.'
It's early in the year at Beacon. A few weeks into the semester, and already the sounds of combat can be heard from outside the training hall. Just from listening, you can tell the sparring is intense, as the sharp sounds of metal-sparking-against-metal repeat constantly, punctuated by the staccato of weapons-fire. There is applause, the muffled voice of the current instructor through the large double-doors, a short pause, and the clash begins anew.
However, one such battle is short, with just a few scraping sounds before surrender is called. Not long after the next bout has begun, Jaune Arc, leader of Team JNPR, blonde bombshell, and all-round nice guy, pushes the doors apart. A brief glimpse could be caught of two young feminine fighters dancing closely about each other, clashing twice before the doors close.
Arc takes a deep breath, and knots his fingers behind his neck, closes his eyes, and leans back against the pillar just outside the room. Just as he is clearing his mind, the doors are flung open, slamming against the walls. Weiss Schnee, heiress, artist, and current ball of fury, passes through the doorway, and the doors daren't touch her as they bounce back. By the time they close, she has already started shouting, poking a finger into the chest-plate of the young man.
"WHAT WAS THAT?!"
"It was nothing!"
"I know that you aren't the most experienced combatant, but you didn't swing your sword once!"
"What was I suppose to do?"
"Fight me! I was coming at you with a very sharp, very real blade, what did you think is going to happen if you don't-"
"But I'm not allow to fight girls!"
"...What. The. F-"
"It's my dads' rule! You don't hit girls, ok? It's just... wrong! You just don't do it!"
"The next time we meet, you are going to pay me the respect I deserve, the respect I've earnt, and you are going to swing that useless piece of steel at me, because, Jaune, I am most certainly going to do the same for you."
"Yes, Weiss."
"And the next time you don't even try, when you forget out of your simple-mindedness to defend yourself? I will make sure to show you what I can REALLY do, you pathetic, little boy. Now. Get out of. My sight. Before I teach you a lesson. You won't soon forget."
"...See you in Grimm Biology?"
"..."
"S-see you, Weiss."
Belle's Milkbar; an on-campus hang-out for many of the students, on first glance it appears to be a throwback to the older days of Barbershop Quartets, slick-back hair, and Gender Inequality. The curved seats of the booths, the dim lighting, and the smooth tunes all give the impression of a 'Jive Place To Hang'.
By the Milkbar itself are a set of deep red, backless stools. From behind, you can see our hero, Jaune, move his hands animatedly, and the girls he is expressing himself to, one whose outline shows bunny ears, and another whose are more akin to wolves, giggle. Their drinks arrive, and the two girls leave to sit in a booth.
Jaune leans, with his elbows, back against the bar, and watches them leave. He smiles. He turns back to the milk-barkeep, who is cleaning a cup. Jaune turns in surprise as Weiss starts talking to him. She had approached him quietly, and her high-heeled boots hadn't clicked as they normally would to announce her presence. She was sat next to him, where Velvet Scarlatina had just left.
He smiles.
"You are legitimately the most ineffectual, incorrigible flirt I have ever seen."
"You know what they say; 'If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. Then get a better Wingman.' "
"Wingman? Where is-"
"Fly solo, I do. Can't have someone watering down the Arcsperience."
"Oh, please do. The taste might actually become bearable."
"Not everyone can handle The Jaune, I understand. But I refuse to be less of a...a-"
"Irrational, idiotic, illogical, irresponsible, irksome... irate individual?"
"Don't think I didn't notice the 'I' thing. That was cute. You are so smart, Mizz Schnee. I was just thinking that-"
"If you think that transparent attempt at flattery will get you anywhere, I take it back. You are the most incorrigible optimist that ever lived."
"Uh... Well, my Mojo is busted. Thanks, Weiss. Good to see you haven't melted any, Snow Angel."
"It's what I'm here for. I see it as my duty to keep people grounded. You were in danger of flying straight into a wall."
"So you shot me down?"
"I'm just keeping you realistic."
"Well, nothing shall drench my heart-flame! I will burn with a fiery passion, and all will bear witness to the-... hot... things. Coals of love? Embers of desire? Melting... melting hearts? Damn it. Help me out with a metaphor?"
"As I said. Hopelessly optimistic."
"Hey, I have to try, right?"
"Does your approach have to be so... unsavory?"
"It's the cordial of my flame! Never watered down! Banzai!"
"Oh, geez."
"...Ah, I was done here anyway. Wanna head back together?"
"You really think that-"
"This-is-not-a-pass! Just a friendly, co-habitual, live across the hall from you, walk home together thing. Nothing weird."
"...I suppose company would be...nice."
"Cool. So, Oobleck, right?"
"Y-yes?"
"Is it just me, or is he... a bit odd?"
"Really? Odd? I hadn't noticed."
"Are you serious? You just called me out for 'inconguitable-ity-ous-ness', and the guy with green hair, the conspiracy board, who zips around the class as if he was attempting to be everywhere at once, is normal?"
"I had a lot of tutors growing up, and most of them have more idiosyncrasies than Oobleck could dream of having. In fact, if any of the teachers here approached normalcy in anyway, I would be completely thrown."
"No, really? Aren't you suppose to be the realistic one here? Give me one example of a crazy teacher you had that could out-do Oobleck."
"When I first started training with Myrtenaster, I had a master-Swordsman who would use three swords at once; one in each hand."
"And the other sword? How did he hold it?"
"As I said, one in each hand."
"Oookay."
"Not as bad as my advanced teacher, who wielded one in his teeth-"
Close By, at the booth where Velvet and her friend Sheila sit.
"Strewth! Hey Velvet, you know that boy that was crackin' onto us a few minutes ago?"
"Jaune? Hah, yeah, he's kinda funny."
"Really? Funny?"
"Don't take him too seriously. Flirting's not his strong suit. He's a dag, but he's actually a nice-"
"Well, he must have some game about 'im; he's leaving with the freakin' Princess!"
"No way, Weiss Schnee? Serious?"
"Bloody oath I am! Over there!"
"Well, stone the bloody Nevermore."
"COOIE, JAUN-IE-BOY!"
"What are you-"
"YOU BEWDIFUL BUGGER- YOU! GOOD ON YA, CHAMP! FUCKIN' RIPPER! TOTALLY BONZA, MATE-"
"Stop it! This is a milkbar, not a pub!"
"Ha, sorry, had to put it up 'em."
"Anyway, no-one understands us when we speak Occaran. They probably thought we were going to chase after them."
"Well, by the way they buggered off, that's not far from the truth."
"Dammit, Sheila."
:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:;:
The view of the seminal school for those who will one day battle the forces of dark, is two-sided. One the one hand, the Graduates are paragons of Humanity/Faunus Kind. Whether it is their strength, skill, intellect, or something unique to the individual defender of life, there is no debate; they are the best of the best of the best.
The other view is that of the School Itself; while the graduates are a thing of great regard, the students are seen as stupid, brash, uncultured brutes and children. The school is a mixing pot of violent individuals with deadly weaponry and harrowing physical and psychological challenges. It has one purpose, and one purpose only; to train young adults to kill.
But no-one who has been to their frequent student-arranged concerts can say that the Huntsmen and Huntresses of Beacon don't know their Performing Arts.
From Dance, to Music, to Comedy Routines (mostly just impersonations of the Faculty), to Acting, the youth always seemed to fill the stage for the full hour they had been allocated. The empty space of the Great Hall would be cut in half by black curtain, sound equipment and overhead floodlights. Bleachers from the oval would be transported and dragged in. A solidary spotlight would sweep back and forth excitedly from the seperate music and dance floors, awaiting the first act.
The first of the many shows this year starts tonight; right now, in fact. On the stage, beginning the show, is a young woman in a maroon, sleeveless, loose dress. She stands in First Position, facing away from the audience, attentive and rigid, the ribbons tied to her wrists flicking gently in the breeze from an unseen fan, tickling her ballet flats. Her red hair is taught, pulled back in a bun.
Her hand twitches, waiting for the music to begin, and a bead of sweat trickles down her face in the burning spotlight, now full focused on the lone girl. She takes a calming breath, and the music begins a second later. She stretches, turns...
Seated four rows back into the auditorium are the only two members of RWBY and JNPR not performing; Jaune, whose talent with any musical instrument matched his talent with a bra-clasp (untested, actually), and whose singing voice terrorised the shower rooms in the mornings. And Weiss Schnee, who swears she is never singing an Aria ever again. Too many bad associations. Even sitting this close to the stage gives her the sickly feeling of eyes watching her.
It is less than a minute in, and Weiss scoffs, mumbles something quietly. Jaune catches it.
"What are you talking about? She's an amazing dancer."
"To the uncultured, maybe, but look how rigid she is. Pyrrha has fallen into a habit of her combat training. See how she's not committing fully to those leaps? She's keeping herself ready to defend against an attack, but it doesn't match up to Romanovs' and Artemis's natural grace-"
"Weiss, stop talking and just watch."
"But-"
"Bup-bup-bup! No speaking. Enjoy the show."
"You clearly know nothing about-"
"Sure don't, but I'm seeing Pyrrha, my friend - someone who has great difficulty expressing herself - doing just that; expressing herself. Nicely. I think that's beautiful, don't you, Queenie?"
"...I'm just saying that-."
"Now is shush time, Ice Princess."
"Fine, just stop with the names."
"Never, Snow Ang- oof!"
"Quiet."
"..."
"..."
They sat in silence. They both enjoyed the show.
Even Nora's impressive impersonation of Goodwitch, who sat directly behind Weiss.
These are in chronological order so far. This may change eventually, depending on what I want to do narratively. But, I've got a large portion sorted out, so we should be cool. Or I should be cool. Or not uncool.
Wow, the extent of how this fic has evolved over time. Originally, it was suppose to be a Nora fic, but I loved just a few key phrases, that I had to turn those phrases into phics, and those need more, and it kept on exploding, and I couldn't stop, and I'm considering making another fic for another spin off idea, but none of this has been posted at the time of writing. Hell, I might have posted all of this as one crazy ass fic by the time I've got my shit together. Who the hell knows.
All I know so far is that it is set in the one universe, which is no-longer canonical, with great deals of OOC moments and speculation where I can jam it in. And, seeing as it started as In Character as possible, with as much supporting evidence for stuff as possible, I kinda made a big fanfic-y mess. How the hell am I going to break this up into chapters? God damn.