I

Curveballs

It's all fun and games until you're the one who ends up being the punchline.

Sterling liked to think that, by having lived twenty-two years in her past life and having lived another twenty-two in her new one, she had enough life experience to bulldoze through any problems she ended up encountering. She thought she had the can-do mentality for it. The confidence. The certainty.

So why, why was she devastatingly unprepared for the disaster that was the now-frozen washroom cubicle she found herself trapped in? The disaster which, as rotten luck would have it, happened to be her doing as she watched the last few traces of frost dissipate from her hands?

"No..." Sterling's voice was that of a shocked whisper as she moved as far back as she could inside the small space. She nearly stumbled over the toilet, which, after feeling the coldness bite harshly against her legs, turned out to be just as frozen as the door—and the lock—was. "No no no no no."

It just wasn't possible.

It shouldn't be possible.

But it was.

She, an Atlesian civilian whose Aura wasn't even unlocked, had just done magic. As in, magic of the absolutely, total impossible variety, not of the Dust one. A quick inspection of her shoulder bag even proved that; there were no Dust vials, crystals, nothing. Just her wallet, identification card, scroll, and lipstick.

(Darn it.)

Once upon a time, she might have thought the most unexpected thing to happen to her was her previous death on Earth, the proceeding reincarnation, and the gory, traumatic (and squishy… and bloody… and wet) event that was her birth into the world of Remnant. Which she somehow couldn't forget and dismiss as a nasty nightmare.

But after today, after having adapted to her new life and having lived it as normally and uneventfully as a girl like her could manage, she wanted to take that back.

Forget about her death. Forget about her reincarnation. This, right here, took first, second, and third place of the "Killer Surprise" award.

Especially when she had to remember that, at this very moment, a Schnee party was currently happening outside. A fancy party that she was invited to despite having only, like, ten percent of Schnee blood in her veins because she was practically at the very edges of that particular family tree itself. Not to mention she was also an employee at the Schnee Dust Company, more commonly known as the SDC.

Anyone could enter the washroom at any time.

A groan escaped Sterling's lips, which sounded a lot more reminiscent of a strangled cat than a panicked person. She tugged at her white hair. She could feel a migraine practically coming on. How on Remnant was she going to explain this?

Well, y'see, ma'am, sir, it all started this evening when I thought my ovaries had decided to wreak havoc a week earlier than the standard twenty-eight days. Haha… turns out I was actually about to erupt with magic instead of the, uh, you know, and if I hadn't rushed to the washroom I might have banned myself from any future Schnee party. I even glowed for a second before I froze an entire stall! Can you believe that? I know, it's a funny story. The kids'll love it—um, no. On second thought, maybe not.

She shook her head. There was absolutely no way she was going to get caught, not with that kind of explanation in mind.

There was no other choice then. Escape. She definitely had to slip out of here, unseen. Act a superspy, minus the high-tech gadgets, rejoin the party, and once again assume the role of the schmancy-fancy partygoer—she even had the right dress for the part. And a pair of glasses that might have made her look more mature and professional (though, the bow on her head might just be too much). Then, when the washroom finally received some attention, she'll be at the far side of the ballroom, sipping on a glass of wine or something. They'll blame someone other idiot, she'll go home scott-free, and then she'll figure out how to solve her problem without anyone finding out about it.

Presto, one hurdle successfully leaped across.

…If only it sounded as easy as it did in her mind. Sigh.

Well, either way, she had to give it a try before calling it quits and surrendering to fate. Grand escape it was—

She squeaked in surprise and jumped when the silence was suddenly broken by something… ringing? Hold on. She slapped a hand over her mouth, calmed herself down—though her her heart still thudded harshly against her chest—and fought off the urge to hit her head against the frozen door.

Turns out, the sound was familiar. In fact, the mix of guitar and percussion was definitely the instrumentals of a rock song: her scroll's ringtone.

Silly, silly, silly. For a moment, she was actually about to freak out over a ringing scroll. What would people say?

Sterling decided not think further on that and shoved her hand inside her bag, pulling out a sleek, black gadget that she could "unfurl" like its papery namesake. The profile picture of an amber-eyed, dark-haired man in a suit greeted her, informing her who the caller was.

And then she bit back a groan. Of all people… She touched the answer command on the screen.

"Hello, Noir, lovely evening we're having," Sterling said before the voice on the other end could say anything. "Did you know you nearly scared twenty years off my lifespan?"

"What?" For a moment, there was confusion. Genuine confusion. But just as soon as it appeared, it melted into amusement. She could easily imagine him smirking. "Oh, I see. I must say, you have to be that sick if a simple call was enough to send you jumping a foot in the air. I saw you leave earlier, before you ask. So I hope you don't die on me; cardiac arrest inside a washroom sounds quite undignified."

Noir Valentine, a man two years her senior, also known as her childhood friend-slash-enemy. She'd considered him a friend because he had her back when she really needed him (in fact, he might just be her only consistent friend as she grew up), but most of the time he was really pushing it with his incessant teasing. And the occasional arrogance that got on her nerves.

But he knew her the best, and she him, so honestly, she wouldn't have it any other way. Besides, she always had a healthy respect for anyone who looked good in a suit. The man rocked the style really well.

"Your concern is duly noted," Sterling answered. She peeked over the edge of the door; there was still no one deciding to answer the call of nature. Whew. Well, either there were plenty other washrooms here or she was just being lucky. For now. "I wouldn't want to destroy your dignity by having you scoop up my corpse before you dump it somewhere. Besides, your location choices are terrible."

"How you know me so well." A chuckle. "And it seems you seem to be recovering quite nicely if you managed to employ sarcasm just fine."

"It comes with being in the agony of each other's company. And sick or not, I'm only sarcastic with you," she said. She shook her head—or at least she would have if she had entirely forgotten she wouldn't be seen doing it. "Anyway, is there an emergency I should know about or is this purely a social call? Because if it's the latter, now is not the time."

"Oh dear. You've forgotten, haven't you?"

"…Forgotten what?"

"That you volunteered to stand in for the emcee while she deals with an issue that's suddenly sprung up. Something about dealing with, quote and unquote, a man who's had one drink too many this early in the evening," Noir informed her. She could have sworn she heard a sigh on the other line. "And in five minutes, a certain SDC heiress is going to be singing and you're meant to introduce her to the guests before she does. If I recall correctly, your exact words when your help was asked for was, 'Well, if it's just a simple introduction, I can totally do that! Easy peasy."

Okay, she had to admit, that was a nearly accurate imitation of her own voice. Nice. But the awe had only lasted for a second, because when the memory finally rushed back with a vengeance—

"Whaaaaat?"

She practically screamed out the very word, basically. Her high-pitched voice made a dull echo in the washroom.

In all this trouble about suddenly feeling some kind of power inside her that erupted like a volcano and wondering what she was going to do about it, she'd entirely forgotten about that. She'd even managed to talk with the currently sixteen-year-old Weiss Schnee about the slight change in plans beforehand.

"Never change, Sterling," Noir said. It wasn't too difficult to imagine him shaking his head while an amused smile stretched across his lips. A standard Noir reaction when it came to her… er, shortcomings. "In any case, whatever you've gotten yourself entangled with, I highly suggest dealing with it immediately. See you soon. You can thank me for the reminder over a glass of wine—or two—later."

The connection was cut, and Sterling, unable to fight off the urge any longer, stepped towards the frozen door, leaned forward, and smacked her forehead into the bone-chilling surface.

And then she promptly jerked back with a yelp because oh my gosh that's too cold. It almost reminded her of her past life's dry ice incident after some kind of science demonstration by a school guest. Let's say it involved a trip to the infirmary. And a nurse who almost died from laughter after finding out what happened.

Ugh, that's not exactly a memory I hoped to recall...

Abandoning that line of thought, she raised a hand, stared at it, and wondered if she could somehow make fire magic erupt from it to melt the ice and fix this dilemma. If she was suddenly a walking, talking magician—or something else entirely, her gut told her, but she couldn't remember what—then maybe such things wasn't too impossible now.

But after a minute of staring at her hand and lamely shooting it forward, expecting a ball of fire to erupt and destroy the door with an explosion like something out of a Michael Bay movie, absolutely nothing happened. She gave up and turned around, thinking of another way out. She didn't want to deal with the fire alarm and disrupt the whole event, anyway.

So...

There she had the frozen toilet that wouldn't be of any help at all. Then there was the trash bin on the right, full of… you know what, she didn't want to find out beyond the standard dirty tissues. And then there were the walls of the cubicle, encased in frost, and a large enough window at the upper part that was ajar and letting in a beam of moonlight and some stray snowflakes—

Wait.

Sterling brightened. That's it!

The window wasn't ridiculously small to the point that she'd have to be the size of a cat just to slip out without effort. With a little force, she could push the windows further open and, by using the toilet as some kind of stool, she could also elevate her height, reach for the edge, and with considerable effort, pull herself up and crawl out.

Of course, there was the problem of landing safely on the other side, but thank God for small mercies because the location where the event was happening was on the Schnee mansion's ground floor. The worst she'd get out of this was a couple days of suffering from a runny nose because cocktail dresses and snow were never a healthy mix. Especially without her coat.

…Well, fine, there was the risk of injury, too, thanks to her lack of an activated Aura. But, c'est la vie. Nothing came without a catch these days. And she was desperate enough to give this escape a try.

Sterling shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and exhaled. She opened them again.

Okay, here goes nothing.

Thank God she opted for a pair of wedges instead of stilettos. Clambering up the toilet seat would have been a challenge of balance and of trying not to shriek the moment she slipped. Thus, after having successfully maintained equilibrium, she reached up for the windows, pushed them open, and shut her eyes for a second as a gust of wind blew against her. Then, after silently saying goodbye to her soon-to-be-chipped nail polish, she gripped the edge of the window tightly, began pouring strength into her arms, and hoisted herself up.

Arrrrgh. She didn't realize how hard that was to do in reality after feeling all her muscles strain from the effort, hard. If she were a Huntress, this would have been cake, but at least she finally had the upper half of her body out of the window and now all she needed was a little more bending—

She froze. Not from the biting chill of the outdoors, but rather because some jerk finally decided to enter the washroom. She heard the door swing open with an annoying creak.

Sterling promptly decided she was not going to be caught dead in such a position.

So far, nobody had noticed her yet—or God forbid, her more embarrassing body parts because of what her dress could expose). That wouldn't last long, though. Therefore, right freaking now, she had to double her effort, pull herself out, and get away from that washroom before someone started screaming and assuming she was some kind of thief.

"So you're sure nobody will come here?"

"There's plenty other better washrooms than this one. Just lock the door."

"Gladly. Finally, some privacy."

Never mind. Make that triple the effort. She was pretty sure something M-rated would be happening soon, judging from the noises the couple were making as they started eating each other's faces. God, those moans…

With one last desperate attempt because it was a go big or go home moment, Sterling jerked her body forward with all her might, felt her balance shift, and finally, finally, watched her vision tilt as she started falling down to meet the neatly trimmed bushes that were apparently lining the walls.

Suffice to say, the twenty-two-year-old was feeling particularly nice and leafy the moment she extracted herself from the offending plants.

◦•●◉✿◉●•◦

One quick trip past the entrance and the main hallway later (what was up with the Schnee's obsession with snowflake designs?), she was back at the entrance of the ballroom.

And the place, just as she'd found it before, was extravagant, though lacking in color variety beyond white and different shades of blue.

On a normal day, this area would have been spotless, save for those two statues resembling armored knights stalwartly standing at the sides of the grand staircase on the opposite end of the room, gleaming under the moonlight that shone through the curtained windows directly behind them. The chandelier up above would have been shut off instead of shining brightly and accentuating the snowflake patterns on the high ceilings, and, of course, the place wouldn't be filled with many people in different dresses and suits, all moving and talking with a certain polish common with those from the upper crust of society.

It was just too bad that she could hardly pause and appreciate the atmosphere the party provided. All she could worry about right now was delivering a simple announcement without things going haywire. Please. So that she could go home and request for a sick leave the next day and figure herself out.

(It's not like the SDC had any shortages of employees who would be glad to take over her spot at the front desk and fake a smile for every person that decided to make a complaint, a request, or whatever.)

But the moment she emerged into the ballroom, Weiss Schnee, looking really pretty in her elegant, white dress, was busy captivating all the guests with the melancholic song that escaped her lips.

Mirror, tell me something… Tell me who's the loneliest of all?

Sterling paused, her jaw going slack. Wasn't she… But that's… Whaaaaat?

"There you are," said a voice from her left. Turning to face Noir Valentine in all his arrogant glory revealed that he had just extracted himself from a bunch of ladies who had clearly been enjoying his presence (though the man himself, not so much but was pretending to). Typical. His gray eyes were lit up in amusement, his smirk was a playful one, and he was readjusting his suit's collar as he walked over to her.

Sterling avoided the inquiring glances being sent her way by the women he'd left behind and disguised her bemusement with a quick adjustment of her glasses. "So I have."

Noir didn't say anything after that. He simply moved closer to her with a strange expression on his face.

For a moment, she started wondering what was up because the women's inquiring glances transformed into jealous ones. They resembled lions with the way they looked ready to pounce at her as their current, favorite person started paying more attention to her. But after he'd stepped close enough to invade her personal space—

"You've got something in your hair," he said. He raised a calloused hand—which had been from the constant handling of his weapons—to pluck a leaf from her head. He then smiled and waved the thing in front of her red, surprised pair of eyes before letting it go and drift down to the floor. "It appears someone has had quite the adventure from a simple trip to the washroom."

"I'll tell you all about it someday." Sterling gladly stepped away from the man and stuck a tongue out at him. Seriously, he was too close for comfort. "But I'm pretty sure you've had a lot more adventures than I ever will have, Mister Huntsman."

Because that was Noir was: a person who hunted Grimm day and night just to help keep every citizen in all the four kingdoms (Vale, Atlas, Mistral, Vacuo) safe from those monsters. The only reason why he was in this party was because his parents made him—parents whom were business partners with Jacques Schnee, the big cheese of the Schnee Dust Company, and had thought maybe their darling son would change his mind about his chosen career path once he had another taste of the life of luxury.

He didn't.

Sure, he could walk the walk and talk the talk like any other of the huffy, stuffy party guests right now, but Sterling knew he was just pretending. He always had. The man preferred being out and about. He'd even tried making her train alongside him, once, as he got ready for primary combat school. But she'd thought that kind of life just wasn't for her at all and gently rejected the offer.

"That surprisingly cute, but questionable look on your face is all I needed to know that you want to ask me something." Noir nodded, the corner of his lips quirked up from successfully making his shorter, white-haired friend roll her eyes from the word cute. "So to explain… yes, you've been ten minutes late and this part of the program couldn't be delayed any further else we face the wrath of a certain boss man. No one's willing to wait for you. Obviously."

"Ouch, and thanks for that," Sterling said with a grimace. Of course they'd find a replacement; she wasn't special. But that didn't mean good things for her reputation in the work field. "My head's going to roll for this tomorrow, isn't it? Me and my big mouth."

"I have it on good authority that it won't." A knowing smile.

She furrowed her brows and made a suspicious glare. "Whose authority?"

"Mine. Because I covered for you."

Sterling blinked. The words were having a difficult time registering themselves in her brain because the darned thing couldn't accept that statement with ease, either. "Oh."

Noir was never nice on a whim.

"Best we avoid a mental breakdown," Noir added with a smile. A genuine one. "You seem frazzled enough as it is, and we don't get to meet often anymore."

Because I'm too busy with my work and you with yours, Sterling added in her mind.

But no, seriously. She wasn't even asking for help this time. But he did so, anyway. That was something she never expected at all.

First, there was her sudden magic powers or whatever it was called. And now, this. What was up with today when the rest of her days had been nothing but normal for Remnant standards?

"…Noir Valentine, are you actually being kind to me?" Sterling raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. "Because if you are, those ladies behind you might just kill me in my sleep."

He chuckled and motioned for her to follow him to a more desirable spot in the ballroom where they'd have a better spot to talk without disturbing the audience and the singer's performance. And a better reach for the glasses ready to be filled with wine.

Sterling was quick to follow, but not after giving the women a jaunty wave that ended up being an awkward one. Now they looked downright murderous. Oops.

"And that's why I'm a Huntsman and you'll be fine the next day. Protecting those who couldn't protect themselves and all that," he said. And before Sterling could object about how she wasn't some damsel in distress, he added, "Though, admittedly, if not for my parents' insistence, I wouldn't be here. It's a small sacrifice to make to keep them nice and quiet for a short while."

Yep, he definitely loved his current job.

...On the other hand, was it really that bad if she wasn't a Huntress, as many other people of her situation would have most likely become? Like, sure, survival was the most important because blah blah blah Remnant was dangerous and that was very true and the local newspapers never failed to cover Grimm-related deaths. But it's not like she ventured out of the city's walls or sought out Grimm just to get herself munched on. Atlas had a freaking army to protect everyone, too, if the Huntsmen and Huntresses weren't enough.

And mountains. Lots and lots of them that no Grimm managed to get past them without trying their hardest.

Basically, she was as safe as she could get. And with no interference to what was "canon," things would happen the way they should and the happy ending would someday come.

"Please. You couldn't even protect yourself from the women who keep hounding you." She had her own smirk in play.

"Can't be helped if I'm that charming," was his quick and easy answer. He smiled as she frowned in an I-don't-believe-that sort of way. "Anyway, forgetting about our banter for a moment… someone was looking for you earlier."

Who on Remnant would even be looking for someone like her? Unless… no, that was stupid. Assuming something impossible would just inflate her ego. Sterling's expression shifted to a more serious, but curious one.

"Someone I know?"

"Not at all. Unless you know of a girl with straight, shoulder length brown hair, a light brown complexion—someone from down south, it seems—and a pair of brown eyes, about this tall,"—he gestured to the space far above her; Sterling was more on the shorter side—"then you definitely don't. I'm fairly certain the complexion's enough of a giveaway; very few Atlesians are remotely tan, let alone dark-skinned unless they've migrated from the southern kingdoms. She does have a nice voice, though. Shame I never got the name."

Curious and curiouser. "Did they tell you why?"

"Not at all. It seemed quite urgent, though. But after I saw you arrive and I tried looking for her, she was gone." He shrugged. "Well, it can't be helped. If she's indeed in need of you, she'll come to you before you can even think of coming to her. I'd suggest just waiting. Even if you hate surprises."

"I don't really have any choice but to do so," Sterling said. And after considering the lingering thought in her mind about her suddenly taking her leave in the middle of a conversation earlier, she sighed and gave in. "Anyway, I'm sorry for running out on you. I just felt terrible all of a sudden."

"That's alright. I believe I've tormented you enough that you deserve some leeway." He winked. "But rest assured, that continues the next time I'm back in the city. Let's just enjoy Miss Schnee's birthday celebration for now."

Thank goodness.

"Gladly."

"But, you also owe me an eventual explanation for earlier."

And confess that she had suddenly changed from being a girl who wanted to maintain a life of normalcy despite her… situation… to someone who might be forced to live the kind of life she thought wasn't for her? When she'd already been successful about her own Operation: Gone Native and expected a conflict-less life while the "main story events" happened in the background?

"…Not a chance." She paused. And considered. "Well, on second thought, maybe someday."

Of course, just as Sterling was about to completely forget what happened earlier and enjoy the rest of the evening, just as Weiss Schnee finished the last remaining lyrics of her song, she started overhearing a strange conversation topic from another couple nearby.

Something about a thick layer of frost spreading from one washroom stall until it froze the entire location itself. And that they managed to get away before things got too unbearably cold and they became human popsicles. Also, something about the fact that there was totally going to be a complaint about this because someone might have had too much fun with Dust.

A chill—pun so unintended—went down her spine and she was very certain her face had gone paler than it already was on a normal day.

Forget her original plan! It was time to skedaddle.

"On second thought," Sterling said, though she didn't feel too aware of the words coming out of her mouth. "I think I'll retire early for the night. I feel sick again."

"If it's really that terrible, you should have said so and I wouldn't have made light of it," Noir said, now concerned. "I'll walk you home—I still know the way."

Talk about a case of bad timing. She'd have gladly accepted the offer so she could reconnect with the guy, but right now...

Oh boy, was that the buzz of conversation starting to grow louder and louder? Sounds like there were more people starting to listen in to the couple's complaints and expressing their own thoughts... None that were positive.

Ahahahah… I'm screwed. Sterling swallowed.

"I'll be fine on my own." Sterling grinned. Awkwardly. She was trying to push down her rising panic. She was so absorbed in doing so, she didn't even give Noir a chance to say anything. She just turned away and, maybe too casually that it seemed nigh exaggerated, sauntered off until she was out of the room and en route to the great, relieving outdoors. And then she walked home. Briskly.

After reaching the comforts of her home, she'd made sure that all doors were locked and secure and all lights were shut off.

◦•●◉✿◉●•◦

During the week that passed after her request for a break from work was accepted, Sterling had pretty much reduced herself to a hermit by staying indoors as much as possible and minimizing contact with everyone else (except with Noir, the persistent jerk). She was glad that the whole incident hadn't made it to the papers—or worse—if the lack of any interesting news headline were of any indication, but she knew she wasn't completely out of the woods just yet.

Not until she'd figured out why, all of a sudden, she was suddenly filled with magical juice ready to be spilled at the most inopportune moments.

Sterling decided she'd done enough pretending as a "bedridden" patient and rolled out of bed, smoothing out the nightclothes she had yet to change out of. She reached for her pair of glasses on the bedside drawer, watched her blurry vision clear, and nodded to herself.

A plan. She needed a plan. Even a crappy one.

She hummed. Okay. So. She was due to return to work soon… or at least hint that she hadn't died yet. If she didn't fix this certain problem, stat, there was going to be trouble. So her next plan of attack was...

Damage control. Yes. She needed to do some damage control. It was bad enough that the other day she'd nearly made the book she was reading spontaneously burst into flames after one wild assumption too many. And she could have sworn she was floating for one second after she'd gotten tripped by her bag on the floor.

(She was certain now that she hadn't been bitten by a radioactive bug or something. Her poor, poor book, though.)

She navigated around the cluttered mess that was her bedroom, the result of an inability to focus on housework from being too busy with work (she could almost swear her SDC bosses were slave-drivers), made worse by that strong gust of wind coming from nowhere after waking from a nightmare two nights ago.

A plan, a plan, a plan…

Find a way to put a handle on these powers. Get help if someone's suffering from the same thing. Hope not to end up in a containment facility somewhere deep underground—if it existed. That didn't sound too bad.

Sterling sighed. On the other hand, she didn't even know how. Something told her that getting this discovery out in the open would lead to bad things. Very, very bad things.

She'd kill to remember right now everything she used to know about RWBY: The Show from her past life. For some reason she only remembered bits and pieces. Some names, a few blurry faces, and information that were oftentimes at the tip of her tongue, only to surface once it was staring at her in the face.

Fuzzy memories sucked, especially when so many things had happened to keep them that way.

"You were better off still alive in your past life, kiddo," she couldn't help but mutter to herself as she made her way to the living room. Which wasn't even that far because she owned a studio-type house and the only way it was distinguished from the small kitchen, bathroom, dining room, and bedroom was the long sofa, the small table, and the floor carpet decorating that part of her home.

If she hadn't died from food poisoning, she wouldn't be in this situation.

If she hadn't died, then she would have been living her life carelessly like everyone else. Not wondering if her every action resulted to a ripple-like effect to everything on Remnant. Maybe she might be slowly rotting from an office job and probably trying to get out of poverty, too, but it sure beat waiting day after day for that specific news when shit finally started hitting the fan.

Earth, in comparison, didn't even have any of this strange hybrid of sci-fi and fantasy either.

Gosh darn it. How on Remnant was this problem going to fix itself? She could definitely use some kind of deus ex machina right now—

Ding dong.

Sterling paused, her gaze falling on the shut door.

She wasn't expecting any visitors today.

Ding dong, went her doorbell again. This time, it somehow managed to sound more insistent. Sheesh.

Shrugging and deciding that she couldn't avoid everyone forever, she walked towards the door with a line prepared if the visitor so happened to be someone who thought she'd gone completely off the radar. Then there was a twist of the doorknob, and then a pull, revealing…

Revealing…

Huh. Sterling couldn't help but stare.

It was the woman that matched Noir's description. Straight, shoulder length brown hair, equally brown eyes, and a light brown complexion—with a beauty mark under her left eye, something Noir apparently decided wasn't important enough to take note of. Except this time she wore a green cloak on top of what was unmistakably an attire suited for traveling, not for daily city life.

A pang of familiarity. An image of a cloaked woman handing down an apple to a little girl before realizing it was all a deception.

"Hi, there. Can I help you?" Sterling decided to say before she blurted out anything that made her seem like a potential asylum patient. Soon, though, it was going to be difficult keeping her heart rate down and her face from sweating. Even on a chilly day.

There was just something about this situation that made her feel like nothing was going to be the same soon after.

...Wasn't that strange? All it took was one event to completely flip things over. Just one event, making not just ripples, but gigantic waves.

The woman smiled. "As a matter of fact, yes. You're Sterling Yin, right?"

Aaaaand, she knew her name. And last name, apparently. The look on her face must've told the woman of the oddity of that question, because then she sheepishly added, "I heard your name from that man last week. I'm sorry if that made me come off as a stalker!"

"You're being weird right now, but… okay, I think I'll just believe you." Just so this was completely dealt with. "So… care to, um, tell me all about this visit? Because I'm very certain I've never met you before and I don't remember being subscribed to anything that needs payment, either."

"Let me in first, and we'll talk." At the way Sterling's eyes narrowed in suspicion, the woman's widened as she realized the implication of her words. "Oh, no, I don't mean to start robbing you! Never. It's just that the words I have for you can't exactly be expressed out in the open."

"That's worsening your case, not making it better," Sterling pointed out.

"Yeah… I'm bad at this," the woman admitted. She sighed. "Well. Anyway. I promise I'm just here to talk. Let's just say... I know what you're going through."

Sterling stared at the woman.

The woman, confidently and readily, stared back.

If there was a good hook in existence, it was definitely this. Consider herself the fish that couldn't ignore the dangling bait.

She swung open the door wider, gesturing for the woman to enter. Apparently, she didn't need to say anything along the lines of make yourself at home, stranger. The woman was quick to walk past her and plop down the sofa to relax her tired feet.

Struck speechless from the woman's behavior, Sterling decided to just shut the door.

"Sorry. It's been a really tiring day and the sofa was just so very inviting. I'm Amber, by the way." Amber grinned. It actually made her look much more youthful, even though she wasn't really that old in the first place. "So, going back to this whole cloak-and-dagger stuff—sorry about that—you probably have a lot of questions about the sudden existence of your… uh, let's call it your powers."

"Powers. Right." After ensuring that no one was walking down this particular street through a moment of peeking behind shut curtains, Sterling moved to sit cross-legged on the carpet before belatedly realizing she was wearing a dress. That she hadn't changed out of. She opted for the nearby stool instead, after fighting off her sudden embarrassment while wondering where her manners had gone. "I don't even know how you just knew."

Amber shrugged. "Well, it's kind of like a sixth sense. Same way a faunus would knows his speaking buddy's just like him even if her animal parts are completely hidden." She grinned sheepishly. "And honestly, I wouldn't even have known if I wasn't in the vicinity, scouting. For, you know, the next person who inherited the powers you now have." She frowned for a second. "God, you have no idea how hard it was to snag an invite for that party. Especially when I didn't know whether that had been waste of time or not!"

She had half a mind to ask how Amber got into a private party, but you know what? She didn't want to know. "Inherited?"

"Well, yeah. That's how the cycle usually goes. The powers you now have? It passes from host to host upon death. In fact, it's been that way for thousands of years... Or so I've been told. Anyway. Under normal circumstances, the host, who is always a female, gets to choose who those powers go to by thinking of that person, right at that moment before she finally dies," Amber explained. "But sometimes, the person in her dying thoughts doesn't fit the set of standards required—like, if you're male, too old, or just plain ineligible—and the powers just go to someone random. The latter is exactly what happened to you."

"And how do you know all that? How should I know this isn't some elaborate scheme to make people think I'm crazy with a capital C?"

Amber smiled knowingly, opened a palm, and summoned a ball of fire.

Sterling's jaw dropped.

Okay, then. Consider herself a believer.

But at the same time, something occurred to her. Again—there was that pang of familiarity. More intense than before, giving her some major deja vu vibes. She wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what Amber was going to say next.

"A-and for me, this means?"

For a moment, Amber considered how she was going to break the news to her. She even gazed up at the ceiling, crossing her arms and tapping her chin with a finger. But then, seconds later, she gave up and just dropped the news like it was nobody's business.

"It means congratulations are in order. You are now the new Winter Maiden. And I'm Autumn, the welcoming committee," Amber said with the faintest hints of a smirk, arms crossed. But then that faded away, replaced by a more serious expression as she straightened up from her previous slouch. "But now, honey, you might want to start packing. And soon. We don't have a lot of time, we've got people to meet, and we've definitely got a lot of training to do if you don't want a disaster on your hands."

Because, her mind told her it finally hit her, being a Maiden means that not only have you gained a crapton of power levels, but you'll also have people willing to go through hell and back just to snatch them away from you.

Spring.

Summer.

Autumn.

And Winter.

The four Maidens of Remnant. A fairytale that turned out not to be a fairytale at all. And she was a part of one now.

"What?"

Sterling Yin promptly decided that she would very much prefer to have stayed dead, after all.

A/N: Okay, so. Plot bunny. What if I wrote about a self-insert who's "gone native?" Someone who's fully adapted to life in a different world with no intention of messing around, only to end up exactly where she didn't want to be? I thought of deviating from the whole 'starting from scratch' concept of reincarnation when it comes to SI's, and this is the result.

I swear, this is very experimental on my part, so I hope I do well. Especially when we know so little about the Maidens and we're just pretty early on in Volume 4 (also, that recent episode made me cry like a baby). Sterling probably sounds Mary Sue(ish) right now due to what's revealed in the chapter, but I hope she actually isn't because I tried my best not to make her come out as perfect.

(Also, I actually enjoyed writing Amber's lines. Nice to have some freedom in her characterization because she's technically only a plot device in the canon. So far. XD)

I hope to hear what your thoughts are about this story! I'm still learning to write better as I go on, so feedback's extremely welcome.