Darkness for Blake was something she'd been used to since she was a child. She's lived in it many times in her life, and at one point for a really long time, but never did she think she'd be consumed by it. At least physically, she had no idea what was going to happen now.

She felt the sludge going through the wound in her stomach. It was the strangest sensation: painful, but it felt like it was trying to heal her too. All she could hear was the sludge coursing over her, unable to hear anything else, not even her occasional yells for help. When ever she opened her mouth she would gag at the taste of the sludge as it fell through her teeth. What was strange was the sludge didn't feel wet, it was more like a rough clay, but whatever it was it didn't stop it from practically pushing its way through her capillaries.

It was hard to think about how long she was in this sludge. It felt like days, at least. There was no telling as she wasn't starving yet, that was how she'd gauge how long it's been if she couldn't tell time. But here, time might as well have been a joke—one long and painful joke.

She tried to think about Yang. Oh, how much she thought about Yang. Even through all this pain all she could think about was what Yang had been through because of her, and now she had to think of her dying in this horrible way. The image of Adam cutting off her arm, and then seeing Emerald impale her stomach, right in front of her, it was just unreal the amount torment she had been through. Now all she wanted to do was be with Yang, even if it were the two of them in the same...whatever she thought this was: a vessel, cocoon, a shell, whatever. All she wanted was to be with her no matter what happens now.

Her thoughts trailed onto other memories of Yang. Something in the back of her mind brought forth many for her to remember, all of them of Yang.

A sudden feeling welled inside her, a certain force that made her sick like she was going to throw up, though if she did it probably wouldn't get far. But no, this nauseating feeling wasn't sickness—she felt drowsy. So drowsy she felt like she was closing her eyes, ready to sleep through this hell. A hell that was as awful as it felt.

Darkness was something that she could never really escape. Like a shadow, it followed her. Sometimes it entrapped her and she had to fight to break out, but there was no fighting this, she found, and she gave up trying a long time ago.

After what felt like several hours she woke up to what seemed like a dream. It was unreal—she opened her eyes to the mess hall, but it was incredibly well decorated and everyone was wearing tuxes and dresses; she too was wearing a simple, but elegant, purple dress. Her mood suddenly shifted from concerned and horrified to that of happiness and joy, as mild as the positive emotions were, they were there. What she found strange was she didn't intentionally become happy, she just did.

She was in the middle of the dance floor, all alone. Everyone else had a partner but her, and that made her feel awkward. She looked around for Weiss and found she was dancing with Neptune. She heard that Jaune was on his own but seeing him with Pyrrha proved that theory wrong. Then she spotted Yang on the balcony next to Ruby. Yang looked so happy, like she always does, and Ruby looked distraught, maybe because she didn't like being in a setting like this. She couldn't blame the younger sister, she didn't want to be here either. She met eyes with Yang, who gave her a bright smile before telling Ruby something Blake couldn't hear; most likely telling her to hold on because the second after, she came walking down to stairwell.

Her heart started to flutter all of a sudden, and it would beat harder and harder as Yang approached her. It felt like her heart was going to burst, and it practically almost did once Yang took her hand in her own.

"Wanna dance?" she asked her, and she knew Blake would oblige.

And she did. Then, almost on cue, the DJ waved for everyone to slow down as he changed the track; now the music being played was pleasantly mellow—slow, and smooth.

"Purr-fect timing," Yang chimed. Blake let go a small laugh at the joke.

The two were the first to start dancing while the rest of the room followed shortly after. The rhythm was harmoniously relaxing and there were no interruptions of upbeats or any of the like. It was a tune that sat beautifully on the lines of peaceful and moving—something that didn't sound like a painful bass pounding at your ear and knocked you off your feet shaking the ground.

Truthfully, Blake had never danced like this before. In fact she'd never danced much at all. It's not that she never wanted to, just that she barely knew how. But Yang didn't seem to mind, because she was carefully guiding her into a rhythm she could follow.

Blake and Yang slowly swayed back and forth to the music. Yang's hand rest lazily over Blake's shoulder while Blake held her own around Yang's waist, both clasped each other's other hand just at their head—the traditional slow dancing form. They kept their heads bowed down for a long time, letting the music just take them into a trance of euphoric bliss that to them felt to last for several lifetimes. Each step they took seemed like one of many hundreds of countless steps into a spiral of eternal happiness. Even their breaths seemed to collide into a perfect rhythm with the music—warm, and deep, and slow. It was like no amount of force could possibly break the bond between them.

The slight blush in her cheeks persisted as Blake was led into a slow twirl by Yang, a gesture made gentle and led back into the pose they started in before, then Blake did the same to Yang. Then everyone did a slow twirl. Blake kept Yang's balance steady as she spun around, marveling at the way her white gown rose and flew with each rotation. It was such a wonderful sight to see: Yang's peaceful smile was truly a wonder to behold, quite unlike the one she'd have during a battle that was wild and blindingly bright, this smile was serene. Blake found herself matching the smile, which made her blush more, and Yang saw this.

But Yang didn't say anything. Neither said a word as she returned from her lengthy twirl and back to their stance, though this time they met each other's eyes and remained interlocked in a dreamy standoff of sight. Their eyes seemed to glow brighter the longer they remained in the others gaze.

Then the lights began to dim.

Blake took a look around and she found that she and Yang were the only ones on the floor, and the music reached its peak. The atmosphere had totally encompassed them and filled with the steady hum of the music—a symphony of violas and violins playing long and softly.

"It's...just the two of us now…" Blake said, trying to not show how much she was blushing, but Yang didn't seem to care. In fact she seemed to enjoy Blake's timid amusement.

Their dance would soon take them into long strides across the floor, gracefully, like a pair of birds gliding across a starlit, night sky. The rest of the students on the floor returned to their own dances, delicately maintaining the circle around the two. The dance itself became transcendent beyond the two dancers circling the center of the floor, they were practically one through the music. Then the violins had reached a point where they let out the longest wines of harmonic string tension to be heard from a piece so calm and smooth. Blake and Yang figured this would be the end of this dance, so Yang decided to make their last move count.

Blake had to think fast as she was sent into a quick spiral, such that she was spinning on her toes. But Yang managed to keep her steady. She spun, and spun, and spun around again, and again, and again until all sense of reality began to fade away. Then she was pulled back and when the two collide they both spun around a couple times before they stopped in a way that was totally unexpected.

Blake held Yang in her arms, holding her back from the floor, face to face with her smiling lips and bright lilac eyes. Blake's blush returned with a red fury and she stared Yang down with shell shocked, amber eyes dilated profusely. She couldn't tell if it was out of pure embarrassment or just being dizzy from all the spinning, but she couldn't deny that by the way Yang was looking at her, she didn't want this to end, and neither did she.

"Looks like you came out on top, Cat," Yang quipped. "So, how do you want to end this dance?"

The whole world seemed to grind to a haunt with that question. Blake tried to take it all in. So much happened so quickly, and all of it right here on this floor. A dance she had never danced before, with a partner she never thought would partake in such an activity. All of the emotion, all of the action, the euphoria, the pure endorphin rush, it was all a single collision that turned into a high of rail-lined confusion that lead one single direction, and that was staring her right in the eyes with soft eyes and a warm smile. Then she knew.

"I know how to end this." She slowly brought her head down, and lips met. Time again seemed to slow down in its totality as they remained in this unexpectedly pleasant gesture that could only be made by a pair who were more than friends. This was something she didn't want to end, and neither did Yang. Blake didn't realize it, but she stopped blushing once they performed the seal of the next step in their friendship; the first kiss.

After all of this, the presence that eluded her detection in this memory had gathered new knowledge about who it was dealing with, and it used the same memory on the blonde. It reasoned to continue using memories these two shared to see where they'd be vulnerable. That was all in due time. After all...it enjoyed lurking, and learning.

Midnight on the island of Menagerie was quiet. Always was it quiet on nights of the coming Fall season, the millions of Faunus people preparing themselves for the Winter months where their natural biological need for longer periods of sleep or preparation for traveling to warmer parts of the island or even the world.

But one house was practically dormant. Been, for several months, even during the day. The large, dark home made even darker as no light shown through any of the windows, save for one room which was still very dim. That room sat at the very top floor of the home, center to the main entrance. One person was still awake.

Ghira had been awake for several hours. He sat hunched over his desk, staring at the dark wood and doing nothing else. He needed sleep, he wanted to sleep, but he couldn't. There was just too much weight on his shoulders to bear, and he feared every moment he blinked his sleep deprived eyes would bring forth images of his daughter.

He knew he wasn't the only one with such weight.

In another part of the house, Kali laid awake on the large bed of the master bedroom. She lay uncovered, allowing the night climate to cool her to a slight shiver. She didn't care for the warmth of the bed, nor did she care for the cool air drafting through the slightly cracked windows.

She rolled onto her side, looking at an item she held in her hand: a small picture frame bearing the visage of a little girl with a faint grin on her face. Small tears formed in her eyes as she looked upon her daughters face, immortalized on a small piece of photograph paper and ink. Blake was only ten when this picture was taken, such a beautiful little girl even then. This photograph also featured here holding a small flag bearing the insignia of the old White Fang: the animal, passive, and tame, encircled in white—a symbol of unity, at least in some respect of the word. If it weren't for the activism, which turned to extremism, which boiled over to the attack months ago, maybe things could've been different. So much could've been different if the oppressed were patient enough to see past their aspirations. But there was only one truth now, and that was their daughter was gone, and as each day passed they slowly began to accept the fact that they may never see their daughter again.

Soft footsteps entered through the doorway, Ghira had finally stepped in to join Kali. His posture was weak, his head hung down and his steps were stiff. These past few months have been horrible on him.

Kali shifted to the side to give him room to lie down. He appeared visibly stiff as he brought his leg over the mattress, then he practically fell onto it with great force. She knew the toll Blake's disappearance has been taking on him, she could see it in his eyes as he rolled over facing her, his bright, amber eyes appeared terribly dim. Not unlike her own, which were almost on the verge of their own dull amber.

It had been a couple years since Blake left to join the White Fang, she'd been a participant before, but up until three years ago she became a full fledged member of the group—at least that's what they believed for a while. They were so proud to hear her name during the days of the Vytal Festival Tournament, seeing her face once again after so long, the way she's grown up. But that feeling of joy and relief was short lived, and they had only one person to blame.

"She was always so adamant about what she believed in," Kali started, but Ghira knew where this was going so he had to stop her.

"Don't, Kali," he said, "what is important is she left the group when she could, and she tried to go down a more honorable path."

Kali didn't argue, because he was right. She knew Blake had a good heart, and she only ever wanted to do the right thing. She would never have stayed in the White Fang in its current state, especially not after the attack on Beacon. None of that mattered now but the fact that Ghira was right, and that Blake chose to be above the White Fang—sadly, it dragged her down...and possibly to the grave.

Ghira reached to take the picture of Blake into his hand, Kali graciously handed it to him knowing he wanted to see it too. She could see the wear on his face, wrinkles that weren't there months ago had formed on his forehead and beneath his eyes, the stress of loss panging at him seemingly every waking moment now.

"An honorable path," Ghira repeated, quietly to himself. Slight tears began to water his eyes, one trailing down the side of his head. The memory of his daughter played vibrantly in his head. Such a quiet but happy girl who'd get lost in the words of every book she could get her hands on. He hoped one day she would walk through their door again after so long, but now she never will.

*ding, dong*

The two would look to one another confused, wondering who would possibly be ringing the doorbell at midnight. Without anything else to really do they both got up from the bed and slowly trudged their way down to the foyer of the home.

There were no guards on the property grounds, they were dismissed months ago. All of the staff: servants, maids, chefs, and groundskeepers-they were all dismissed. It was not only a shock to the staff, it was a shock to all of the island, but it was not completely surprising once the news got around. The whole house practically died in a week.

Ghira opened the large door, looking down to see a pair of men in matching, orange hoods. One had large fox ears and the other with a big tail. He knew them as Corsac and Fennec.

"Why have you come at this hour, Priests?" Ghira asked.

The taller of the two, Corsac, stepped slightly forward and answered. "We apologize, sincerely, for coming at such a late hour…" Then the shorter, Fennec, spoke.

"After months of contemplation, we finally thought it right to tell you we are deeply sorry for your loss," he said. Then Corsac added:

"We wished to inform you we have taken it upon ourselves to perform an investigation into our former brother, Adam Taurus…" Before either could continue, Ghira raised his hand up in front of them, silently telling them to stop. Which they did.

"My wife and I have been through too much these past months, Priests," he said, Kali took his side, "we appreciate your kindness in offering to help us, but I'm afraid there is not much you can do." His voice, once strong as Kali remembered it, sounded broken. Coarse like chalk on stone. "Have a good night." Before he could close the door, Corsac lodged his heel behind it keeping the door from closing. Ghira looked at him with mild shock, which didn't fade as the taller priest removed his foot shortly after.

"We only wish to see that justice is served for the good of your family, and the White Fang," said Corsac, noticeably more firmly than before.

"At more reasonable hours, we will come by every other day to give you any updates we may have in our investigation," Fennec added. "You can rest assured we will bring Adam to justice."

Ghira nodded, firmly so they could see as he abrasively said, "As I said: thank you, and good night." With that, he shut the door.

The brothers looked at eachother, unphased by the predictable behavior of the mourning father. They both turned around and walked along the pathway back off of the property grounds, walking like that of a pair of monks praying.

"He did not seem as...receptive about our offer as Brother Adam said he would," commented Fennec.

Corsac nodded in agreement. "He did lose a daughter," he reminded him, "but it is no matter, as long as we stick to the plan, all will be well."

Then Fennec nodded. "Agreed."

The two finally made it through the gate of the grounds, making the second long trek back towards the town. Thankfully they had an escort waiting for them.

One person heard the exchange, however. Her skin matched almost perfectly with the brush she hid in. But that didn't hide the large, white mask she wore.

"What are you two up to?" she asked, not liking what she heard.