It was over. Well...as over as it could be right now. Salem's forces were in full retreat. She was running, far, far away from Mistral, tail between her legs. Now was supposed to be a time for healing and catching up. Making up for lost time and getting to know friends that hadn't been seen in ages. At least, that's how Blake assumed it was supposed to go.
For the most part, that happened. Tearful reunions punctuated by gigantic hugs. Even Weiss got bleary-eyed when they finally found her in her stupid heels with a 20 feet tall ghost-grimm by her side. Everyone was joyful over a win, any win, in this stupid war, and they had one. So they hugged.
But Blake was...apprehensive. There was the reunion with one person which dampened even a victory of this magnitude.
She had dreamed about encountering her. Well, dreamed in the sense that she had dreams involving this particular encounter. Nightmares, really. She hadn't seen Yang in months, not since…Adam.
In her dreams, Yang would yell. Yang would scream abuse at her, cursing out the fact that she even met her, blaming Blake for everything that had happened to her, her arm, her sister leaving, her family breaking up. It didn't help her sleep that she wasn't wrong.
Other times, Yang wouldn't yell. Blake always considered herself a writer, and honestly, that seemed much more in character for her dream. It still hurt though. In it, Yang would hit her, show that fire that had burnt so many people, and attempt to break her for what she'd done. On bad nights she'd see Yang wielding Adam's sword, and show Blake what had been done to her. On the better nights, when she had more control over her mind, she'd block her. Run away. Do something to not get hurt. She hadn't had a lot of better nights recently.
She tried to put off the confrontation. She went to every other person first, to avoid her. She's fairly certain she actually embraced Nora twice, but eventually, every conceivable pair of people had hugged it out. All except for them. To Blake, it felt like everyone else was watching the two.
She had rehearsed the words a thousand times in her dreams, and a fair number of times in real life too. Her ears drooped under the weight of her emotions, and she steeled herself for repercussions.
"Hey...Yang."
The tone was flat in the blonde brawler's voice. Her eyes were emotionless behind mirrored sunglasses.
"Hey"
Yang turned around, and walked the other direction. Blake's ears dropped lower and lower as Yang walked away.
Blake was confused, and that showed on her face. At first, she thought that Yang was just tired after the battle. That she needed to recover. But Yang didn't react to her a day later, after everyone else had already bounced back. Then she thought that Yang was just...different. More mature. That had been shattered when Yang had gone out for drinks with Nora and came back drunk. It wasn't until she finally walked in on Yang ribbing Ruby about her crush(es, plural) that she realized what was wrong.
It was Yang's face that gave it away. She had Ruby in a headlock, with both of them sporting playful grins that disturbingly reminded her of birds for some reason. At least, Yang did until she walked in. The moment Yang saw her, her face changed, falling into a mask of indifference. Like a robot, she let go of Ruby, and walked out the door, not even running into Blake on the way out.
It wasn't Yang being different. It was Yang being different to her. Every time the two would come into contact, Yang would remain stone-faced until she could find some reason to leave. It wasn't aggressive, or territorial, it was just a quiet walk out of the room. Not a trace of anger, sadness, or grief, she just didn't care.
Somehow it hurt more than any of her worst nightmares.