Metal rang through the training hall stronger than any bell. A burst of pure power. Weiss could feel it reverberating through her bones, the raw strength and brutality of the blow like lightning through her veins.
Gold and red, the spear shone in the light, gliding through the air with perfect guidance. It struck against a shield with a glancing blow. In an amateur's eyes, the blow would seem a failure. It slid across the surface of the shield seemingly effectless, and the shieldbearer recoiled but a step.
Weiss was no amateur, Pyrrha was even less. The blow let her continue a circular momentum and closed the gap between combatants. Crashing her back against the shield while she spun, Pyrrha raised her spear again, ready for a second, rapid strike.
Droplets burst from her hair, specks of sweat, as she crashed against the solidity of the shield. Weiss inhaled slowly. The battle's pace seemed to slow with her breathing, as though she percieved it faster than it happened.
Steady and slow, Pyrrha's spear wove around her body. Her hair, in that long crimson streak like a tail of blood to her head, wrapped around it briefly, coiling as if to give it strength.
Weiss exhaled, and with her breath Pyrrha struck. Slow and controlled, the spear slipped beneath the cover of slanted shield, just as breath slipped from Weiss' dry lips. She licked them idly as the battle ceased, watching with bated breath as Pyrrha stood triumphantly over her defeated foe.
Pyrrha's gaze washed across the crowd, settling upon Weiss' eyes. Her eyes, brighter than the lights in the room with such strength and grace, seemed to whisper.
Her spear fell to the ground, and the room fell into silence.
Pyrrha turned, facing Weiss full on from the stage of her finished battle. Her chest heaved with heavy breath, and sweat shone faintly on her collar with reflected light.
She strode forward, steps as powerful as any strike of her spear. Weiss could feel the thumping of her armoured boots upon the ground, beating in unison with her heart. They increased in tempo; Pyrrha's stride growing more intent as she pushed through the crowd. Weiss rose from her seat, her heart hammering in her chest as Pyrrha broke into a run.
Everything slowed when she reached her.
Weiss' heart caught in her throat. Pyrrha stopped just before her. Her breast heaved as she caught her breath from running. Gently, cautiously, Weiss stepped forward. She brushed a hair from Pyrrha's face, cupping her cheek as she did so.
Pyrrha stood far taller than her. Weiss wanted nothing more than to stand as tall as her, to lean close and feel her. Her lips felt dry again. She could see the soft shine, the gloss, on Pyrrha's.
Rough, strong hands grasped Weiss' arms, pulling her close. She could smell the gentle musk of sweat upon Pyrrha's skin. She felt a strong arm gliding around her lower back. Pyrrha's biceps brushed against Weiss' arm as the larger girl lifted her gently, making her strain to the tips of her toes.
A hand gently pressed against her cheek, wrapped behind her neck and pulled her gently closer.
She could feel the heat of Pyrrha's breath as it misted before her. Hot against her cheek. Their noses brushed together. Pyrrha tiled her head ever so slightly. Slowly, she lifted Weiss to her.
They kissed.
Pyrrha's lips were softer than clouds. They glided into place with Weiss'. Weiss felt the edge of Pyrrha's mouth curl as their lips came together. The kiss left Weiss' lips wet, mouth agape as she gasped for breath.
She looked at Pyrrha with wide eyes; shocked.
Weiss grabbed the girl's face with force, pulling her back to kiss her again. Pyrrha leaned into it this time, dipping Weiss gently. She felt her hand drop from her cheek, down across her shoulder, to her side, her hip, her thigh.
She felt her face grow hot, but she hid it within the kiss, letting Pyrrha's hand slowly trace along the underside of her leg, pushing her skirt aside. Weiss felt her breath catch in her throat. A soft, subtle spot of damp against the crook of her leg as she hooked it around Pyrrha's waist, pulling their hips together.
"Uhh, Weiss?"
Weiss opened her eyes. Her face flushed brighter than the hair of her lover. Her fantasised lover. Ruby squinted at her.
"I'm fine!" Weiss shouted. Her hands shot to her lap and she hung her head, attempting to avoid her teammates' stares.
"You were breathing really heavily… Are you asthmatic?" Yang asked with genuine concern.
Weiss stood. "I'm fine!" She repeated, striding quickly from the room before she drew more attention, with her hands held closely to the front of her skirt.
One thing had been true about her daydream. Pyrrha may not have dropped her spear. She may not have strode heroically through the crowd. She may not have kissed Weiss, her soft lips curling against her. She may not have held her as she longingly wished she might.
But Weiss did feel damp in the crook of her legs.