Blood. Pain. This is my birthright, which I live in. Blood. Pain. Proof of life, something I should not have after meeting the bladed end of that deadly scythe. Who is this girl? That is the question which floods my mind as I stitch my own flesh together with a vial of liquid dust I kept on me for such on occasion. I should have been cut in two, why do I live? A flying bolt of fire answers this question, as I see Steve the Ferret give hell to the cloaked figure of red and black. Ruby Rose, that is her name; accompanied by another girl named Weiss... Who's last name is foreign to my senses. But the train of glass though within and throughout me is shattered as the bolt of fire, my last bit of surviving friendship, is stricken by a glyph only to fall at my feet. Ash and dust, Steve's only remaining sigh of life are the last embers radiating from his soft belly. Rather than entirely healing myself, I pour the last of the liquid dust upon her, the fire ferret who had saved my life.

This action had not gone unnoticed, nor had the pain and anguish from watching the fire ferret join the stricken. The heiress and the scythe-wielder step back wisely, as flames, shards of ice and glass from shattered nearby windows, blades made from my own hardened blood, and my teardrops assemble into a ghost copy of my great sword which I had so foolishly left with my black traveler's cloak at home. Holding the massive hilt upright with two hands, I take a deep breath in. Everything catches fire, freezes, shatters or explodes within fifty meters, as I pull in the energy created by their destruction.

This time, the duelist steps in accompanied by another glyph with a well placed strike. Slash, parry, dodge, pointed kicks and the influence of dust are soon joined in by Ruby as the small creature I have grown close to finishes recovering. As Weiss's rapier cleaves a section of hair from my head, I throw my great sword at the two huntresses now that they once again stand side by side. In fear I stumble back as the massive blade explodes in their faces into a hailstorm of the weapon's makeup: the desperate formation of my weakness. Carrying in one hand the last friend on earth this broken creature possesses, I use my right hand to cover the small cat ear which I had so carefully groomed my black hair into hiding. This will be the last time they see me. Why they did not purse is unknown, but that day I ran into the streets, broken and exhausted. Is this a sign? An omen? Today... Yesterday... This is how it began. Limping home awoken a new reality: this discovery will destroy its finder should he choose to carry it alone. I will find allies, but only after that last bit of hair re-grows.


Injuries healed, ego re-established, coffee in hand and a plan formulated. It is time to build, walking through the streets with nothing more than a pair of hidden wrist blades will constitute my demise. Besides, there is no way by paths of heaven or earth that the leadership within the Schnee dust company will ever buy the refining process and knowledge behind liquid dust from me unless it can be proven useful. A white blueprint pen and sheathes of the appropriate paper litter the counter within the moderately lit workshop. As Steve picks through discarded bits of small metal bits, as Ferrets do, a design finally takes form after hours of coffee pots, pacing, and forced focus. With the dripping of the most concentrated liquid dust, or argentum (Latin for silver), for the sheen that the more stable variant of this liquid powerhouse seems to take. Before long, a practical exoskeleton is formed upon a blueprint sheet: designed to maximize physical strength, endurance, and the focus of aura while carrying 8 small cylinders of liquid dust, each connected to a flexible hose leading to the wearer's wrists.

While taking a walk outside in the sun, a well deserved break, I am confronted with an unusually reflective pool of water. The ear of a faunus challenges the identity possessed within, meeting the two faces I wear with a challenge. Hide or accept the reality of the cat ears? Within my small dwelling place, nothing more than a very large room with a bed, a closet, a washroom, small kitchen, all dominated by the full workshop within dedicated to metalworking, metallurgy, and the refining of dust and argentum has hid that question. Not yet though, appearances must be kept. What business would ever take a faunus chemist seriously? Over the next few weeks, only one task and thought may be permitted to endure: perfect the argentum process, and build the suit. Continuing the walk, thought collapses and centers, re-established onto the face of the rapier wielding girl in blue and silver. Did my choice to name this discovery become influenced, subconsciously by the thought of her? No, no time for distraction...

Perhaps a small amount of distraction, as Steve, who had stealthily followed this quest for solitude and answers reminds me of her existence as the sneaky creature climbs up the side of my leg up to my head. As the creature nips the tip of the cat ear, defying the near perfect cut style of thick long black hair, the lingering thought of the girl who was named Weiss is chased away by a playful fire ferret.


A quick shout out to those who have bothered to read along thus far. This is my first publication on this site, and first "published" story to make it past the scrutiny of the worst critic of any writer: one's self. Any suggestions to improve my ability to write is welcome, and to those who entertain my imagination by joining me within it, I will always have a next story or chapter ready.