Gealach leaned back in his chair, meshing his fingers behind his head. Coming in at one hundred eighty centimeters, he was of above average height. A long sleeved black shirt covered his torso and arms. Dark blue pants hid his legs. Long black feathers covered his head in place of hair, tied back with a black string. The lowest hanging quills brushed between his shoulder blades. Silver eyes swept over the myriad books and papers cluttering the desk in front of him. While otherwise tidy, a scar marred his face, going over his left eye before angling sharply to the right corner of his jaw. A Scroll served as a computer monitor behind the towers of paper, playing a recent news report.
"At exactly noon today, the community Dust and General store Dust and Echoes exploded," the reporter began. "Eyewitness reports state that fifteen armed assailants and one apparently armed individual entered the store ten minutes before the blast. The ringleader, this man here," A blurry picture of a pale man with red hair wearing a black blazer appeared on screen, "Delivered this ultimatum; 'Anyone who values their life would be wise to leave now.' Shortly after the patrons escaped the store, five loud reports were heard from within, then a sixth. Shortly after, witnesses claim that the building was looted, then detonated. Police reports state that there were two casualties; A young man, shot five times through the torso, and the shop's owner, shot once through the back of the head. No suspect has yet been identified, nor has any of the stolen merchandise been recovered. Law enforcement assumes the local gang, the Primals, to be responsible. Investigations are underway. This has been Emily Ivory, signing off."
The feed went to commercials. At the same time, the feather head turned off his Scroll.
"That's the third one in five months now?" Gealach muttered. His voice carried a thick Irish brogue. "Rather odd that they would only target Dust stores…"
The teen leaned forward to grab a book off his desk, revealing two silver wing patterns on the back of his shirt. His hand hovered between two tomes, one on Dust usage, the other on sword usage. Settling on the sword usage book, he settled back in his chair, already opening the text to a marked page. Diagrams and letters fought for the limited space offered by the paper. Gealach flicked from one page to the next, eyes barely flickering.
"Oi, Gealach!" a man called from beyond the door. "The rush is about to start, you coming down or what?"
"One moment!" Gealach called back, marking the page as he did so. He stood abruptly, jamming on a pair of white running shoes and picking up a violin case before turning to run out the door and into a long hall.
Running down the hall and nearly tripping down a flight of stairs brought the teen to the main room of a well kept tavern. A podium stood in the corner closest to the bar, score already set on the face. Patrons of various shapes, sizes, and species mingled amiably, content to nurse their drinks. Behind the bar stood a stout man, with thick limbs and torso, a shaven head, and kind green eyes. He wore a simple grey tee and blue jeans, his shoes hidden beneath the counter. A slender woman with long auburn hair and blue eyes flecked with red, green, and yellow ambled around the room, carrying food and drink to the patrons. Her blue shirt and lustrous yellow skirt matched well, complimented by black high heels.
"Hey Dad," Gealach greeted. He moved the musical score from the piano bench to above the keys before sitting down at the large instrument.
"Hey kiddo," the man behind the counter replied. "What book snagged you this time?"
"I was going over sword usage again," the feathered teen replied. "Did you hear what happened earlier today?"
Gealach's father cocked an eyebrow. "You mean the Dust store explosion?"
"Yeah. Who do you figure is doing it?"
"If I knew, the police would too, kiddo."
Gealach cracked open the case, pulling out a burnished brown fiddle and bow. Within moments, the humming cords created an upbeat melody that resounded throughout the hall, lifting the crowd's spirits, both inner and alcoholic. As he played, the tune wafted outside, attracting more patrons to fill the empty seats. The dull roar nigh drowned out the violin.
The score ended, forcing the young musician to play a new tune. The next song played slightly less energetically yet far more dramatically. Sudden fluctuations in pitch and tone were commonplace.
A short man wearing a red tee, white shorts, and white running shoes, the uniform of the courier service, stepped through the large door. In his hands he clutched a letter. He hurriedly scurried over to the counter, whispering something to Gealach's father. The burly looking man whispered something back before gesturing at Gealach, to whom the courier ran to next.
"I have a letter for you from Beacon," the small man explained. He extended the envelope towards the teenage raven faunus.
Gealach accepted the envelope almost warily. "Thank you very much." As the courier walked away, the fiddler grabbed a knife off the counter and opened the painstakingly sealed envelope. Inside lay a folded paper, which he pulled out immediately. The entire letter appeared to hold the same font throughout, a fine, flowing calligraphy.
"Gealach Sciathan
Thank you for applying for Beacon Academy. I have reviewed the video you attached outlining your combat abilities and believe that you will be able to meet the level of standards we maintain."
By this point it was all Gealach could do to not jump with joy. Instead, he continued reading.
"However, your lack of official training has left me skeptical. As such, you will be graded more harshly than your peers for the first term. If you meet the standard set, you will be fully accepted into Beacon. I trust that you will put you utmost effort into your training at my school.
Sincerely,
Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon"
"Uhh…" Gealach breathed.
One of the more intoxicated patrons ambled over. "Wha'sh th' matter birdie? You f'rget 'ow to talk? What's thi'sh?" The drunk man snatched the letter of acceptance from Gealach's hands. "Yer gettin' ac'shepted into a huntin' sh'chool? Well, good riddan'sh. Faunu'sh aren't good for nothing anywaysh."
Gealach reached to take the letter back, but the man held it out of reach. "How did ya' get a job here anyhow?" The feather head glared at the drunk without barrier. The drunk, oblivous to the optical daggers in his back, called to the waitress, "OY, PRETTY MISH'Y! HOW'D THE FREAK GET A JOB HERE?"
"Simple," she replied. "He's my son."
"What animal did you sh'leep with to have a Faunus a'sh a kid?" The intoxicated man demanded.
"My husband -the bartender- and I adopted him," the waitress replied. "We found him when he was just a babe, and took him in."
"Sh'tupid animal lover'sh."
As Gealach's mother attempted to placate the racist drunk, Gealach committed his face, hair length and colour, and body shape to memory. He then placed the image in the mental file "Hate" and went back to playing the fiddle, ignoring the man's further blathering. The bouncer and several irate faunus patrons came over and forcibly removed the man from the tavern. As they did so, the waitress snatched the letter from his hand.
Gealach's mother placed a hand on the boy's shoulder. "Sorry you had to deal with that. What was he saying about a hunting school?"
Taking the letter back, Gealach showed it to his mother. "I got accepted into Beacon!"
"Jasper, the next round's on the house," Gealach's mother called to the bartender. "Gealach got into Beacon!"
A cheer went up from the patrons, some to congratulate Gealach, others because of the imminent free booze, and a few because they had no clue what is going on. The crowd swarmed the bar. Gealach got more pats on the back in that one night than he had gotten over the last half year.
Post closing hour, after the bar finally shut down and the customers left, the teen helped his parents to tidy the hall. Putting chairs on tables, sweeping the floor, wiping down flat surfaces, and washing dishes. A more prominent spring showed in Gealach's step as he moved around from mess to mess.
"You would never know he wanted to be a hunter from the looks of him," Gealach's mother sighed.
Jasper grunted as he washed the dishes. "Well Opal, he has his path figured right out. No point in trying to stop him now. All we can hope is that he will be safe."
The raven faunus, oblivious to the couple's conversation, continued to wipe down table tops and put up chairs.
"How about that weapon he commissioned, what did he call it…" Opal muttered. "Clite Dubbed?"
"Cleiti Dubha," Gealach's father corrected. "One hell of a blade, it is."
Gealach wandered over to his parents, a massive smile on his face. "Well, I'm headed to bed," he grinned. "See you guys tomorrow!" With that, he nearly sprinted up the stairs and into his room.
"He's almost acting like he's leaving tomorrow, not a month from now," Jasper commented.
"I know," Opal agreed. "I know."
In his room, Gealach simply could not sleep. He had abandoned his day clothes for a pair of black slacks. Opting for no shirt revealed defined, but by no means large muscles. His feathers flared, unbound. Laying on his bed, or rather, tossing and turning on his bed, offered the teen no rest. The excitement of being accepted into Beacon would not allow it. Hundreds of thoughts crowded his head, centered around the prestigious academy.
"Who will I be on a team with," he mused. "Where will we go? What new things will I learn? What Grimm will I fight?"
As the hours bled away, the feathered faunus slowly drifted off to sleep. No dreams visited him that night. He awoke at twenty after eight to the sound of incessant beeping coming from his Scroll. Reaching out blindly with one hand, he slammed it down on the device, silencing it. Wobbling slightly, he climbed out of bed, collecting his day clothes before stumbling down to the bathroom.
The washroom consisted of a matched porcelain toilet and sink, as well as a glass walled stand-up shower in the corner. Towels hung from a bar next to the shower, and a knob controlled water temperature. Throwing his slacks to the side, Gealach stepped into the shower. Turning the knob slightly to the left caused warm water to cascade down.
Not wasting a moment, the feathered teen grabbed the bottle of soap and squirted a small amount into his hand. He scrubbed himself down, ignoring his feathers, before rinsing off and climbing out, snagging a towel off the rack on his way. Drying off as quickly as he could, Gealach dressed and popped his knuckles before tying his loose feathers back.
Ambling downstairs, he stepped in behind the counter and into the kitchen, where the hired cook, Cerise, a small girl with short brown pigtails and cherry red eyes, had his usual breakfast ready for him. Hashbrowns and toast crowded one side of a plate, with an omelette on the other.
"Thanks, Cerise," the feathered teen called. Lifting the plate of the ledge and towards the staff table, the teen eagerly prepared to dig in. He powered through the heaping plate, done eating as quickly as he started.
After letting his breakfast settle, Gealach wandered out into the main hall. He sat down with his fiddle, playing several musical scores until business died down. When the number of patrons dropped to it's mean lowest, he clambered upstairs and into his room.
The teen dropped to his hands and knees before reaching under his bed to pull out a large shield, Cleiti, the sides of which resembled black wings. The raven themed hilt of a sword poked out the top, displaying the shield's second function- to serve as a sheath. Drawing at the handle revealed Dubha, a four foot long falcata sword.
Gealach resheathed Basar and slung Tuiscint on his back. He walked towards a small training room he had set up four years prior. Inside, a bookshelf filled with combat tomes stood in the corner, where as the center of the room was dominated by a large empty space, a lone practice dummy standing in the center. Posters of various training and workout strategies lined the walls.
Fluidly transitioning Cleito from his back to right arm while drawing Dubha with his left, Gealach adopted a balanced stance. He slashed, blocked, and countered an imaginary opponent, often rolling or skittering to the sides.
After roughly an hour of practice, Gealach re sheathed Dubha, and returned Cleiti to under his bed. He then went downstairs to get lunch from Cerise, a simple sandwich with cheese, cucumber, lettuce, and other assorted vegetables. Once he wolfed down his sandwich, the silver eyed teen made his way out into the hall to play piano for a few hours.
Around five in the evening, he took a break to have dinner and relax his fingers. An hour and change later, he went back to playing the fiddle until the tavern closed down. After helping to clean up, he went to bed and crashed until the next morning. So went the next month of his life, with trips around Vale every few days to collect various supplies for when Gealach leaves for Beacon.
After a month both torturously long and absurdly short, the day finally came when Gealach would leave for Beacon Academy. As usual, he awoke at twenty after eight, took a morning shower, and ate a large breakfast in as little time as possible. Instead of reading or playing the fiddle as he normally would, Gealach began to cram a black duffel bag full of clothes, school supplies, and books. He jammed his Scroll into his pocket. Reaching under his bed, the teen pulled out Cleiti and Dubha, placing them beside the bag. He then reached under the bed again to pull out a pair of rounded pauldrons, a pair of greaves, two vambraces, and a pair of steel boots. These too were added to the growing duffel bag.
Gealach slung Cleiti over his shoulder and picked up the duffel bag. He strode into the hall, down the stairs, and to the door, where his parents waited.
"Good luck, sweetie," Opal offered.
"Thanks mom," Gealach returned as he wrapped her in a hug.
Japser flashed a grin. "Har! Go show 'em how it's done!" He then wrapped both Gealach and Opal in a bear hug. "You do us proud, kiddo."
"Will do, dad," the feathered teen replied wispily, suddenly tearing up.
Both parents detached themselves from Gealach, allowing him to walk out into Vale. He took one step, then another, then found he couldn't make a third. After several seconds, a rough push launched him forward, causing him to nearly collide with the door. The feathered teen turned around to see who pushed him. Jasper blatantly avoided making eye contact while Opal snickered. He offered a warm smile before taking the push for what it was, and walking out the door onto the streets of Vale.
Fifteen minutes of walking later brought Gealach to the airship terminal. Inside, clusters of people huddled around terminals, picking out flight plans. Gealach pulled out his Scroll, swiping open to a new message. A four-year airship pass downloaded onto his scroll, courtesy of the staff at Beacon Academy. A small disclaimer at the bottom mentioned that if he were to dis-enroll for any reason, the pass would be refunded.
Walking up to the student terminal, Gealach placed his scroll in the receiver with the pass open. The machine beeped and transferred an e-ticket onto the holographic omni-computer. Gealach made his way onto the airship, pausing only to verify with a second terminal that he had a ticket, and found a good spot near the window. Leaning Cleiti against the wall and placing the jam-packed duffle bag so as to prevent the shield from tipping over, Gealach sat down beside his weapon with his back to the wall, one leg pulled in closer. Pulling out a set of earbuds, he plugged into his scroll and tuned the rest of the world out.
After a dull wait, the length of which Gealach didn't bother to keep track of, the airship began to shift slightly as the enormous machine heaved itself off the ground. The feathered teen glanced at the other passengers. Most were non-descript, wearing generic clothing and carrying generic weapons, but three stood out. A little girl wearing a black and red dress with a red cloak, her weapon clipped to the small of her back and her red tinted brown hair messily cut short, a blonde girl with absurdly long hair, short shorts, and a brown leather jacket partially done up over a low-necked shirt with yellow bracelets, and a blonde boy wearing a hoodie, jeans, sneakers, and some basic upper-body armour, a sheathed sword with no apparent secondary function hanging from his belt. The first two appeared to be close. The last one didn't seem to be taking the trip too well, or at least his digestive tract wasn't.
Gealach leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and letting his music be the only marker of the passage of time. Roughly half an hour later, he felt the ship shift as it docked. The sudden deceleration caused Cleiti to tip over, nearly landing on Gealach.
"Yike!" Barely managing to skitter out from under the edge of the shield, the mercury eyed teen picked himself up off the floor. As he did, he also picked up his duffel and Cleiti, slinging the latter over his shoulder again.
Gealach wandered towards the hatch, as did many other students. Within moments, the stairs dropped, allowing the passengers to dismount from the flying apparatus. The feather head joined the milling masses, staring in awe at the sheer scale of Beacon academy. The towering spires and gothic architecture created a very imposing image.
Pulling out his letter of acceptance from his bag, Gealach did a double take. "Well, here I am," he murmured. "Beacon Academy."
Well, I did say that the chapters would be longer.
So anyways, here it is. The improved version of Twenty Four Hours. Bigger, better, the works. Huge changes from the original run have been made, centered around doing some proper research to develop the characters better. Be warned, the changes to the other characters are more staggering than Gealach.
I plan on setting up a regular update schedule, for this story and for Transition. I'll get back to you guys on that one in the next couple of chapters, my workload at school may not allow for it.
Now then, time to outline the changes. Gealach used to have the surname Solas, meaning light. Now his last name is Sciathan, meaning wing. In the first run, he wielded a Claymore capable of transforming into a railgun, named Mhean Oiche. Now he has a shield and falcata named Cleiti and Dubha. Gealach also used to be taller, and didn't have any real flaws. So now he should be a better character. Please call me out on it if I slip up on that.
Anyways, thank you for reading, and be sure to leave a review telling me what you think!
Until next time.
