Hey all. This was inspired by Bach Do/Dishwasher1910's Grimmverse RWBY series of artworks, in particular the one titled The Same Smile over on his deviantart account (I'd link but the site is being an arse about it again.) Go check his work out, it's really good! Though do watch out for spoilers for those of you watching/catching up with the new volume.

All I'll say about this fic in particular is the idea snagged me and wouldn't let me go, so I wrote it in one sitting. Blake's Grimm design seems to be based off the Japanese ghost Kuchisake-onna, or 'slit-mouth woman', who usually asks a particular question. The rest you'll see as you read! Hope you enjoy, or... at least appreciate since this is a dark one.

WARNINGS: For blood, gore, body horror, the whole shebang.

This was the fifth one this month. The biggest wound was in the stomach; viscera gleamed in the early morning light. The liver was easy to see, though its colour had already started to fade. The wound had nearly severed it in half. The intestines were a mess, slashed open and stinking. That had drawn them to the tent in the first place.

The second wound was the throat. White bone and cartilage stood out against the red-black of drying blood and dead muscle.

The mouth injury seemed small in comparison. The mouth had been extended out, almost all the way to the ears. The teeth showed through the gaping lines, blood and spittle tracked down the sides of the face.

Three horizontal slashes, opening the body from side to side, nearly bisecting it. Or trisecting, or...

Adam stepped outside, taking slow, deep breaths of the cool mist to settle his stomach. The Faunus who'd first found the body had staggered off to the nearest clump of bushes and was still hurling up their breakfast. The sounds made his gut clench, bile threatening to rise.

No.

He forced it down, forced himself to breathe the clear air. The others needed him to be strong. They'd lose what little bravery they had left if they saw their leader puking his guts up with the rest of them.

The fifth one. After three camp relocations. Whoever, whatever this was, it was following them. Two of things all of the victims had in common was that they were men, and they had been on sentry duty the night they died. The only thing any of them had mentioned to their replacements before turning in for the night was that a strange woman had stepped out of the trees, and asked if she was pretty. She was a Faunus; she had cat ears, but she kept her hands hidden inside the sleeves of her kimono. They all said her eyes were unnerving, Grimm-like, and she'd worn a mask over her mouth.

One, the previous one to die who had been with them for years, had said she'd looked like Blake. He'd only been on sentry duty because the newbie they'd put on the roster was ill.

But Blake wouldn't do this. She'd objected to all the harm and death that came from their missions; she'd left because of it. Her, the daughter of the old High Leader. She'd left because she didn't have the stomach for what needed to be done.

Because of you.

Because she was a coward, just like her parents. And a coward couldn't eviscerate five men with no signs of hesitation marks on any of the bodies.

Am I pretty? It was an odd question. All of them had said no; her eyes and eeriness too much to make up for the rest of the beauty they could see. That was the third and final thing they all had in common.

'Sir?'

Bane had joined him. Even he looked sickly pale beneath his tan. 'What are we going to do?'

Adam took another breath. 'We will do nothing. I will take sentry duty tonight; and every night until our murderer shows herself. I'll put an end to this.'

'Sir-'

'If need be, move the cell back to Mistral. I'd like to see her follow you across continents.'

Bane wanted to argue; he could hear it in the tension in the air. Neither could see the others eyes behind the masks, but he stared him down and soon Bane folded like he knew he would. He didn't like it, but he didn't have to. 'Yes sir.'

'Good. Now make sure the new recruits are ready to head to Mountain Glenn. If we're lucky that human will blow himself up with his stolen dust so we can get our people out of there.' He'd sooner slit the man's throat himself, watch the blood stain that pristine white coat of his, but that would bring Cinder back, with the fire she could summon at a whim. Like magic.

He would have scoffed at that when he was younger, before he'd realised his own magic was no concussion-induced hallucination. Now he had his suspicions about her, what she was and what she could do. He knew his own limitations, both physically and what little he'd been able to find out about his eyes beyond them killing Grimm. If he was right, he didn't stand a chance against her.

But this woman murdering his people, she didn't sound like one of the fabled Maidens. She crept into camp, admittedly skilled enough to dodge their sentries, and murdered whoever had seen her earlier in the night. Violently, messily, and without alerting a soul until they found the body in the morning.

He gave the other sentries strict orders not to go to sleep after their shift ended until after sun-up, and to stay together until then. She couldn't get the element of surprise on all six of them. Either they'd get her, or he would.

Am I pretty?

If saying no ended up in brutal murder, then what happened if you said yes?

He intended to find out.

It took three nights for her to appear, but when she did it was to him.

The first signs of someone nearby were the stereotypical snapping of twigs. In the middle of the forest, it could have easily been an animal or Grimm, drawn in by the heightening fear and negativity.

He stared out into the trees, tense, waiting.

The movement was subtle in the dark, even to Faunus eyes. It was a shape in the darkness, human or Faunus-sized.

Her eyes glowed like a Grimm's.

She stepped closer, close enough to see clearly, and his chest seized.

'Adam? You're here.'

She sounded happy, but there was something wrong with her voice. It hissed and there was...not a lisp, nothing as defined as that, but... it was like she couldn't control the air forming her breaths as she spoke.

She didn't sound like Blake anymore, and Blake had never worn anything that short in public, but it was her. He'd know her anywhere.

'Blake,' he said; his voice too loud in the quiet. There were no animal noises, he realised. The only sound was the slight breeze in the trees.

'Yes,' she said, like he was answering all of her dreams at once. She stepped closer, her long legs bare to the mid-thigh despite the cold night. They were smooth, the skin hadn't pebbled to try and keep her warm. A year ago he'd have adored seeing her in this kimono get-up, minus the mask hiding her mouth, but now his head was screaming at him to run.

He stood his ground as she came within striking distance.

'You remember me,' she said, delighted, like it was possible for him to forget. 'You came to see me. I hoped you would. You always had time for me, didn't you?'

Time, and love, and confusion, and anger. 'Yes. Why are you here, Blake? You left, remember?'

'I-' For the first time she hesitated. 'I was... sad. You were doing things I didn't like, but... I don't remember. It can't have been important if I can't remember. And I'm here now anyway. I'm back. You do want me back, don't you? You still think I'm pretty right? You always thought I was pretty.'

The hair rose on the back of his neck. There it was.

He stepped closer, focusing on her thick hair. The front was down, the rest pulled back into two long braids. Her ears were bigger; bigger than her mother's now. Her body hadn't changed; he knew every inch of it even now.

That was all he could give her. Her skin was bone-white. Her eyes were those of a Grimm; orange-red and black sclera, the skin around them split and cracked. So was the skin on her neck; he wondered if the damage tracked all the way from her eyes down to her throat. The mask hid that. The sleeves hid her arms.

Gods, what happened to you?

'Yes Blake,' he said quietly. 'You've always been pretty.'

Her eyes smiled. Those strange eyes, a mockery of her deep amber. 'Oh, my love,' she said, too breathy, but the words hurt all the same.

But her face was falling; doubt creeping back into her eyes. Her hands lifted up to her mask, still hidden by the length of her sleeves. 'What about...'

There were snakes in her sleeves. They were finally sliding back, but he couldn't see her arms, just two long, black and red sinuous bodies-

They weren't snakes.

Gods. Oh, gods, what happened-

Blake's arms were gone. In their place were long black tendrils, almost flesh, almost hair. Each had a gap in them in a sick parody of a radius and ulna, and they ended in red sickles.

He stared, transfixed, as what used to be her right arm rose to her face and the sickle curved and tensed against her mask, gripping it. She pulled the mask down.

Each sentry's mouth had been slashed open ear-to-ear. Blake's was worse because whole slivers of flesh had been removed on each side, and it had healed. These weren't thin lines in her cheeks like you'd see on people in the rough bars across the world. The scar tissue was red raw, the flesh stretched, her teeth sharp points and exposed all the way to her molars, her lips peeled away so they were always bared.

The mouth opened, struggling to form the words without proper lips. '...Now? Am I still pretty?'

Help. He wanted help, he wanted someone else to deal with this, anyone else, this couldn't be happening-

Her arms locked around him, holding him close. Not crushing, he realised – hugging him. Gods, she was still Blake somewhere deep in there and she was hugging him with Grimm tentacles and a ruined face. 'Adam?' she asked, pleading.

'Yes,' he whispered, chest too tight for anything louder. Let me go, please just let me go-

Use your eyes.

It's Blake.

She was staring up at him, so hopeful, so vulnerable. If he said what she wanted to hear, she'd let him go, wouldn't she? 'Yes, you're still pretty. You're beautiful, Blake.'

She somehow smiled with that mouth, the skin stretching even wider. 'Don't worry, love,' she said, her arms tightening around him.

He tensed against her, just slightly. Those arms were as solid as a King Taijitu's flank. She was so much stronger than him that he didn't stand a chance of overpowering her anymore.

He was trapped. And he was a fool.

She rested her head against his chest, eyes closed in bliss. 'I'll help you. I'll make you beautiful too.'

She'll-

He didn't have time to make a sound before the darkness swallowed them.

He didn't know where he was. All he knew was the sparse grass around was black and dead, the sky was permanently red, except when it was night. Then he could barely see a few feet around him. The glowing eyes of Grimm bobbed in the shadows. His head pounded constantly from overusing his powers to wipe out wave after wave of them. If only the silver eyes power could heal his broken legs. Blake had done that the first time he'd tried to run. Not that he'd known what direction to run in, but any had to have been better than staying put.

He wished he'd held his nerve and his patience and waited for a better chance.

His cheeks burned. The corners of his mouth screamed whenever his mouth moved, even just to swallow.

'I'll do it nice and slow,' she had said, wrapping him in her arms so he couldn't move. 'I'm going to do them perfectly; you can't rush perfection. I wouldn't want to make a mistake and ruin your face.'

She had been slow. And shallow. The insides of his cheeks were still intact; she'd only sliced the surface. But she was coming back.

He hadn't used his eyes on her. Not yet. Not when he didn't know what they would do to someone half-Grimm, half Faunus. Not when he didn't know how much of her was Grimm.

Not when it was Blake.

That didn't stop him trying to crawl away when she appeared out of the shadows a few feet away. His legs had long since gone numb, but the motion sent a bolt of agony through both legs and up into his spine that paralysed him, holding him frozen and contorted on the ground every tendon standing out as he fought the pain, waited, pleaded silently for it to fade.

'Adam, what happened? Here, let me help you.'

Strong limbs wrapped around him and pulled him up to a kneeling position, the bones in his legs grinding against each other. He choked on a guttural groan of pain. Please, just clip the femoral artery, sever it, let me bleed out-

'There, that's better. Are you ready to continue my darling?'

His mouth had split open; he could feel the fresh sting and blood trickling down his cheeks. Everything already hurt and it was about to get worse. There was no reason not to speak.

'What happened, Blake? Why are you doing this?'

She tilted her head at him, pondering. She'd pinned her braids up into a woven crown on the back of her head. She liked pulling them back out of the way while she 'worked'.

'I... I got lost. I think. I don't remember; it hurts to remember. I didn't always have my smile, but she gave it to me. She gave us all things. But she didn't tell me not to find you, so I did. I wanted to see you again. I knew you'd still find me pretty, even with my smile. You're not scared like the others were. So you need one too. You say I'm pretty, but I'm not pretty enough for the both of us.' She faltered, face falling. 'Why? Don't you like it? Don't you think it's pretty, like me?'

'It hurts, Blake. Didn't it hurt you?'

She hummed, unconcerned. 'Yes. But all things worth having do. You did. My parents did, my team-' she paused, then shook her head. 'Well, we all hurt then. But we don't anymore. We're better than we've ever been, humanity just can't see it.' A small frown creased her brow. 'I thought the Faunus would. I thought they'd be different. But change is scary. It's why the White Fang made so little progress. We can stop the fear by making the change more common. And they all respect you, Adam. If I give you a smile too, they won't be so scared.' Her tentacles tightened around him, her left sickle gently sliding his mask off before a coil of her right limb looped around his head and dropped in place over his eyes. She didn't like them being uncovered; because she was used to the mask or because the Grimm part of her knew deep down that his eyes were dangerous he didn't know.

'Blake-'

'Ah-ah,' she chided. He could feel her leaning in close. Her left sickle brushed the right corner of his mouth. 'Don't talk. You'll make me make a mistake.'

The blade caught the corner of his mouth, her grip tightened, and she started to slice.

Her sickles are scalpel sharp. The actual cut is so shallow as to almost be painless – it's like she's going through a single layer of skin at a time. What's worse is the way it pulls; he can feel the corner of his mouth being pulled up, lop-sided. That makes the older injury hurt. His mouth widens as he pants for breath, a cold sweat breaking out. His body knows something is wrong, even if the pain isn't high.

'Another few sessions and we'll be done,' she crooned. 'Then you'll have the same smile as me. I'm so happy you're here, Adam. Now...' she pauses, and her blade bites a little deeper, 'we can be together my love.'

His head was still throbbing. He could feel the power building behind his eyes.

She could crush his skull in a second.

At least it would be over.

Her blade reached the end of the cut and slipped free.

He licked at the fresh wound, blood hot and coppery on his tongue. The flap of severed skin stings. 'Goodbye my love,' he whispered.

'Adam?'

The light behind his eyelids builds, and builds, and bursts.