I wanted to apologize, a lot has come up in my life that kept me from updating this, but, safe to say, I'm not letting this die. Honestly, I've been busy with college classes and haven't had time between my classes and my job, but I've been brainstorming ideas and fine tuned my outline and everything.

Regarding this chapter, I've included the morning after the enrolling students sleep in the ballroom as well as the students eating before the Initiation. Personally, I feel that describing everyone's battle gear was the hardest part. Or, at least those the parts that could have been better. Also, just to be clear, my OC Niveos Nemesia is autistic/neurodivergent. I'm adding that in as a note, because autistic/neurodivergent characters are not cookie-cut; they do not act as if they're checking off a checklist.

I'm going to be really blunt here, but I suck at summarizing. I'm going to include a chapter note at the end to clear things up, but I'm not going to lay everything out on the table.

Thank you for reading and for your patience-
- Viridian_Fox

Shadows danced their way throughout the hall, mingling in corners and behind sleeping bodies. All around, sleeping bags and mats were splayed out, awaiting the return of their occupants for the night. Bags and suitcases stood as sentries, marking the hall as their temporary abode. Miscellaneous conversations drifted through the air on murmurs, quiet enough to let the slumbering students to sleep. The glow from the arranged chandeliers hanging above from the ceiling channeled an ambience of warmth and comfort.

I sat in my sleeping bag; green in color matching my vibrant bangs. In my hands were a pen and paper, the beginnings of a letter to our parents back home. The CCT towers in each of the four kingdoms allow communication between the kingdoms. On the other hand, though, Menagerie has no CCT towers, which only left handwritten letters and paid messengers to work with.

Beside me Echium laid in her own cyan sleeping bag because that was her favorite color. She watched the other students avidly, flicking her eyes to and fro as she raked in all she could from being in Vale; being at Beacon no less.

It was all so new, especially where we'd never been outside of Menagerie except to the few surrounding islands. Yet here we were, enrolled into Vale's most prestigious school for upcoming Huntsman and Huntresses.

Dear Mom and Dad,

I just wanted to let you know that we made it to Beacon safely. Finding Beacon Academy wasn't that hard, the place is huge, and everyone knows where it is. The students are nice too. Well... the ones we met are. And we even met cousin Hellebore while we're here. Did you guys know anything about his enrollment into Beacon? He didn't tell us what he's doing here, and not in the Atlas military. I have a bad feeling about what made him enroll into Beacon...

Whatever it is... You should ask his mom She's still designing technology up in Atlas, right? -I know so many questions, but I've always been naturally inquisitive and curious. Sue me. –

We also met a girl, a student here. Or, well, at least I think she is. I mean... she's here in the hall, so she must be. Her name's Niveos Nemesia. At least, I think that's how she'd spell it; I'll have to ask her. She seems nice enough. I think you'd like her. We talked about the string of robberies that some guy's been committing. Don't worry, we're safe.

Echium is having the time of her life. She thinks everything is so "new and different" -I think that's how she put it-. She's here with me, chin in her hands as she watches the other students. It's pretty amusing.

I miss you guys. I'm sorry. But I have to do this.

Your loving son,

Viridian Foxglove

"Is that Blake? Viridian, is that Blake?" Echium chimed in, startling me out of my sealing the envelope. Looking up, she was right. The once familiar head of black hair, now adorned with a bow, walked past candelabra in one hand and a book in the other. "She looks like Blake, right?"

Recognition blossomed in my mind, at the very forefront of my cranium. She looked like Blake, but that was years ago, and she'd taken to wearing a bow, for some reason. We'd briefly met when her father had become the Chieftain of Menagerie. The majority of Menagerie population were there, including my sister and I and our parents. While her parents had stayed in Menagerie, Blake had seemingly disappeared. And while Blake was gone, her parents had almost doubled-down on taking care of the people in Menagerie. We never found out exactly why Blake was gone, or why her parent's may have been the best leaders we'd known in the time we lived in Menagerie.

Her footsteps were swift and deliberate as she continued to her destination: a table by the wall. Match in hand, a far too perfect poker face screwed itself to her face. She lit her candelabra and waved out the matchstick, before taking a seat to read. With one last gaze in our direction, she tuned out the physical world.

I looked back down at the letter gripped in my hand. I quickly and discreetly picked up my pen again, before adding to the letter.

P.S. Blake Belladonna is here, too.

I put it down in favor for the filled-out envelope beside me on the sleeping bag. Licking the seal and placing the stamp, I sealed it closed to be delivered the coming morning. Looking to Echium, I see her give me a half shrug accompanied by a sad look.

He doesn't remember falling asleep. Then again, he doesn't suppose you're supposed to.

But he does remember the snippets of the dreams that plagued his sleep. Claws... Hair turning green... Exhaustion... Pain... Training. Exhaustion makes it hard to move, like he tossed and turned all night.

Silently, he's grateful to Echium when he felt her hand jostles his shoulder until he was coherently awake. Looking around, they were the first ones who were awake. -Of course, they were-. It wasn't unlike Echium to wake up extra early, like it was the most normal thing in the world. Getting up, the hard wood floors are sturdy under his feet and cold enough to wake him up further. Without paying mind to it, He noted the slumbering figures that littered the floor. Some of whom were beginning to stir but remained no closer to reaching the waking world. Just as he thought, they were the first awake. Halfway across the hall, Hellebore lay casually sprawled out in a pine green sleeping bag. And by the corner, Niveos lay curled up in her ivory white sleeping bag as if it were a cocoon, tightly wound up within.

Moving back to their bags, they both took out their individual battle gear, their bath towels, hair products, then their weapons. They'd kept their weapons even though they'd been assigned lockers the evening before. They just didn't really feel like parting with them just yet.

They parted ways for the respective locker rooms to get changed and ready for the day. Professor Goodwitch had said the women's locker room was to the right, right?

Clean white tiles pressed themselves up against his feet as he padded back to the mirrors and sinks lining the wall. Towel around his waist, and towel drying his hair he inspected his reflection.

Taut, itchy flesh paved its way across his countenance. The five clear and deliberate claw marks still scar his face. It's not a new sight to behold, yet he never gets over the shock of seeing it. As if one day when he wakes up, the mirror won't have the current reflection it shows. He knows it's a wild fantasy to hope for such a thing, but the hope is still tangible. He hates it. If beauty is in the eye of the beholder, then he is not the beholder, he muses. Ugh, he hates when he starts thinking like that, thinking so abstractly.

A sigh of defeat passes unhindered through his lips as he resigns to pat his drying hair into its usual position. To hide them, he reasons. Too many people have deemed his face uncomfortable to look at, even scary in some cases. And that's not even counting the rare pitiful glances to the treads that mar his face from the right upper corner of his forehead and across his nose to his left cheek. The lines running at their sharp angle always burn when he first wakes up. But he knows as the day goes on, the tingling will cease and at least feel like regular skin. He doesn't remember exactly what happened, no matter how hard he tries; but, rather, parts of the day he got them. The doctors called it retrograde amnesia. He remembers the emotions, some things from the day before. But nothing from what had happened to him. They said he was lucky. Lucky? Just how lucky was he if he couldn't remember what landed him in the hospital for four days? He hated not knowing; hated the looks everyone back in Menagerie had for him.

He moves for the bottles of medication he brought in with him, plops a pill from each into his open palm then pops them dry. One's an anti-anxiety prescription, the other is an antidepressant. 'To help' rolls around in his head, and he can't help but roll his eyes at the memory of his therapist writing out the prescriptions. He huffs out a breath as he looks back at the mirror.

His unnaturally green bangs hang level with his eyes. That's something else entirely. He was once a natural brunet, until... No. Can't think about that now, he chastises himself, toothbrush in his mouth with foam truly making him look rabid. That train of thought will only leave him yearning for the past. He shimmies into his underwear as he brushes his teeth. He pulls his tail through the hole in the back. He wagered that the other kingdoms didn't have as many brands of clothing suited to Faunus.

Toothpaste in the sink and mouthwash in his mouth, he reaches for his hairbrush to brush the tangles out of his fox tail. Sleep often does that: misshapes the transitioning brown to orange to white fur. The tangles pull free and the fur looks better than it had. One last look in the mirror and expelled mouthwash in the sink, he turns to the pile of battle gear behind him.

The meadow green sleeveless vest hugs his torso snugly, leaving his bare chest visible- a little way to make his self-esteem return through confidence in his physically fit and defined body. The pair of brown leather belts loop around his waist forming an X where the silver belt buckle holds his gray pants up. Attached to the two belts are three bigger-than-a-fist pouches. The left pouch is empty for now, the right is for Dust, and the center one holds his wallet and scroll. The light blue accents on his pants add a pleasant flair to his athletic legs in a trio on each pant leg moving from his upper outer thigh to his lower inner thigh. The boots resemble a fox's paw in pattern and color. And forest green ribbon-like arm wraps crisscross his forearms from his wrist to elbow.

Emblazoned on the lower back of the vest is Viridian's symbol: a tribalistic fox, fox tail, and foxglove flower. He'd had a friend back in Menagerie design it for him. Technically, it counted as a commission for both him and his sister seeing as how they'd both gotten their own emblems. Maybe he should write back to her, tell her they made it in?

A weight draped itself across his upper back and he liked it, it was comforting: his sai, "Dolor" and "Voluptas" forged by his own father in his forge back home. They rested in the crisscrossed holster on his back sewn into the vest. Both Echium and him had designed their weapons themselves, but their father had helped them forge them. Etched sharp designs run down the monouchi. They were a parting gift.

His eyes cloud over with the beginning of tears when he remembered seeing their father cry when they had said goodbye. His chest began to feel tight, constricted even, when he thought back to his parent's reaction to his departure. He didn't have the time to break down over what he'd left behind; maybe later, but not now. Not when he had to prepare for the Initiation. With a deep breath that flew from his body in a drawn-out puff he reached for the vials of Dust he'd grabbed along with everything else.

The glass vials were smooth in his hands, and the same size as the tsuka of his sai. The pastel yellow dust inside the one he held barely shifted as he passed it between his fingers. Counting the one he had in his hand he had six altogether: two filled with green Dust, two filled with snow blue Dust, and one other filled with pastel yellow Dust. The pastel yellow and green dust weren't conventional- far from it actually- but it's what they had in Menagerie. It actually made sense once one took into account the fact that the Schnee Dust Company didn't export to Menagerie. That coupled with the fact that there were countless types of Dust left him with his current options. The pastel yellow Dust was Wind Dust. The green Dust was Earth Dust. And the snow blue Dust was Ice Dust.

When all's said and done, he looks to the mirror one last time -making to avoid his face- before he grabs his stuff and leaves the way he came.

Finished with blow drying and brushing her hair, and putting her dangle earrings in, Echium slips on her outfit. It's like a dive suit but thinner and hugs her silhouette. Camouflage patterned with all shades of blue, the suit matches an ocean. She secures the velcro that connects the wraps connected to the outfit's detached left leg that circle her leg several times. The outfit cuts off at the upper left hip exposing most of her leg. The outfit's design also has a hole in the back to fit her turtle shell back. Slipping on a pair of matching beige elbow gloves, she moves to finish getting ready.

The finishing touch is tying the matching beige sash with an ocean plait mat leaving the ends loose. The way the sash is cut lets it cover her fashionably and modestly. Embellishing the sash is Echium's emblem: a tribal sea turtle accentuated by the flowers that make her name.

The whole thing was designed by their tailor mother. And even though Echium had added her input and opinions, she couldn't deny their mother had a certain taste that bled into her work. Their mother designed clothes for a lot of people back in Menagerie, so it wasn't far off that she'd design her own children's battle gear. The gear, too, was a parting gift in a way.

With her outfit out of the way, she grips her pair of fans, opening them with a flourish. She tests her grip on both one after the other making sure all seems well. Adorning the fan's taut fabric is her emblem and a floral pattern. Engraved filigree drapes itself across the expanse of the outer spines.

Like her brother she named her fans too, "Fluctus" and "Altum". Viridian had been relentless in making sure they had all the makings of Hunstmen. Whether it be having personalized weapons and having full-fledged names for them, he pursued it. Weapons are an extension of ourselves, of course we need them!' She couldn't help but roll her eyes at the memory as she folded her fans and sheathed them in the dual sheaths sewn into the lower back of the outfit.

Beside her lies her quiver, plated in gold and cyan metal plating. Instead of having a quiver strap, it has a pair of extensions that grip the rim of her turtle shell. It holds a complete set of twenty-four arrows divided into three groups of eight: they range from Ice Dust, to Mist Dust, to Water Dust: snow blue, barely visible blue, and primary blue in color, in that order. She ran a finger across the fletchings of one at random, before pulling the arrow free. In her hand rested a Mist arrow, Judo tipped with straight fletchings.

Replacing the arrow and fixing the quiver to her back, she strides out of the locker room, taking her stuff with her.

Walking back to the hall from the locker room he sees the majority of the students beginning to wake up. Some rub their eyes, some stretch, others yawn. It is as cliché as it sounds. Carefully, he makes a path through the many students only stopping at his bag. He stows his stuff back in his bags, and finds Hellebore waving at him from the wrap of sleep. He takes a turn, through double doors that lead to the cafeteria, as they'd been instructed by Professor Goodwitch the day before.

The smell of breakfast permeates the air with pleasantry. He recognizes the aroma of pancake batter and sizzling bacon. Other scents drift around but those are the ones he recognizes. He's never liked bacon, but he enjoys pancakes. Echium sits at an empty table, one of the several that run lengthwise down the cafeteria.

The staff who're cooking are nice. Smile on her face, the woman at the window bids him good morning as he stacks his plate with some food from one of the many buffet trays laid out with options for their breakfast. He grabs one of the bottles of water nearby and heads to sit with Echium, but not without wishing the staff a good morning as well.

He has a mouth full of pancakes when Echium asks if he's ready for what the day has to offer. He doesn't hesitate to nod his head, yes.

Across from the table Hellebore takes a seat with his own plate of food. He's dressed in the same gear as the day before, but his forearms are bare. It seems he decided to use the locker he was assigned. He sits for several moments just taking in the expansive dining hall. The sunrise filters in through the giant glass windows painting the dining hall a palette of warm colors. A small smile fits itself onto his face before turning to Echium and Viridian.

"Any reason you guys are up so early? Only early birds or the Atlas Military wake up at sunrise. 'Least, that's how it was in Atlas," he said eyeing the both of them with a growing smile.

"Blame her," Viridian joked, poking a thumb at his sister who'd just taken a bite out of her own plate of pancakes, "she couldn't sleep in to save her life," he joked further. Echium stopped chewing to level him with a glare that quickly lost its lethality before she rolled her eyes.

"We've always done this: I get up early on the weekends and she gets up on the weekdays. Don't ask me why, 'cause I don't know." He added on as he took another bite. Across from them Hellebore laughed quietly to himself at their not knowing themselves before eating himself.

"Hey, you guys mind if I sit with you?" someone called out from the buffet tables as Hellebore was going to say something else.

Looking over, Niveos slowly came walking to where they sat, waiting for their answer. Her fingers drummed against the underside of her tray with audible consecutive clacks. She must've used the assigned lockers, too, as her weapon was nowhere to be seen. Around her other students were starting to pile in; most of which didn't really bat an eye in their direction, only heading for the buffet tables.

"Yeah, we don't mind! Come join our insanity-" Viridian called back, waving his arm spontaneously until she sat down beside Hellebore who scooted over so she could talk with them more easily.

"Sorry, you guys are the only people I know, so far." The clacking started to slow down but didn't die.

"Eh, it's alright we only know three other people here. And two of them are sitting at this table." Echium eased her worry with a genuine smile. "Early bird or woke up and couldn't sleep anymore?" Echium asked, curious.

"Bit of both, I like to watch the sunrise. That, and I can never stay asleep when someone else wakes up. You three weren't the only ones up," she said after sitting down. "Any new ideas on the Initiation? All I know is what those upperclassmen told me, and I already told you what they told me, and that wasn't much," she said with a final huff and small frown.

"Well, it can't be that bad. It's not like they're launching us off a cliff," Viridian said casually.

Both Viridian and Echium's weapons are named in Latin.
"Dolor" and "Voluptas" translates to "Pain" and "Pleasure"; "Fluctus" and "Altum" roughly translates to "Wave" and "Crest".

Niveos Nemesia uses tapping and licking her lips as a form of stimulation, or stimming herself. Additionally, she doesn't like it when her hair isn't centered or isn't as good as she'd like it. To be clear, Niveos Nemesia is autistic/neurodivergent.

And since I'm American, I used feet and inches Hellebore's wrist-blades. But to be clear, they're 0.4572 meters (45.72 cm). I'm sorry that America uses the imperial system rather than the metric system. That said, I'm also sorry that I honestly can not comprehend the metric system, but that's because I never grew up with it, not the metric system itself.