Weiss walked with Blake down the sparsely lighted walkway to the cafeteria. It was chilly out, and wispy clouds had blown in from the east to partially mask the broken moon hanging low in the sky
"Aren't the kitchens closed at this time of night?" Weiss grumbled, attempting to maintain her nerve for speaking to Yang.
"Normally, yes," Blake replied, tilting her head as she gazed through one of the huge floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked one of the school's many courtyards.
At first glance, it looked like the back doorway to the kitchens was wide open, but the moon overhead, shattered and obscured though it was, provided more than enough light for her Faunus eyes to see a sizable oak door lying in the grass nearby. Amber eyes flicked to Weiss, checking to make sure she hadn't seen. Hopefully it was too dark - the heiress was skittish enough as it was. As they neared the kitchens, Blake offered Weiss her most reassuring smile, doing her best to completely ignore the odd sounds coming from beyond the door.
Weiss, on the other hand, was immediately on guard. What sounded like a hurricane of crashing pots, pans, and who knows what else didn't bode particularly well for a quiet conversation. Noting the twisted remains of metal hinges clinging to the door frame, she hung back, suggesting primly, "Maybe we should wait till tomorrow."
Blake's eyes rolled. "Come on, Weiss," she grasped the hesitant heiress's hand and pulled her through the door, smiling back at her rather than looking at where she was going. "I'm sure everything is-"
SPLAT
"-...fine." Decadent red velvet cookie dough dripped from the side of Blake's face onto the floor, thrown full force by none other than the very brawler that they were here to see. The entire room was a warzone of baked goods - not a single surface left unmarred.
"Oh jeeze, sorry Blake!" Yang waved, hands stained blood-red with food coloring, looking very much like a crazed slasher that had just massacred her latest victim. She cringed when she realized her last projectile had nearly hit Weiss. Shining through the sticky sugary mess sliding down her face, Blake's bright amber eyes shot Yang a look that practically screamed you're not helping. Yang hid her hands behind her back. "Uh... hey there... Weiss..."
The heiress stood frozen for a second, taking in the sugar-sludge and dough-splattered surroundings.
Ruby popped her head up from behind a fortified pile of stockpots, her dark hair streaked with flour and red velvet.
Weiss turned on her heel and strode from the kitchen.
Blake paused in the middle of wiping the streaks of red from her face when she felt Weiss's fingers leave her grasp. "Weiss-"
"Weiss, wait!" Yang vaulted over the kitchen's island, upending bowls of half finished mixtures and sending basic ingredients flying every which way in her haste to stop the heiress from leaving. A poorly placed pile of ginger cookie dough that had been used as ammunition thwarted her landing, taking her feet right out from underneath her, dropping her into a wild slide right past Weiss and Blake, and sending her crashing into the wall. The brawler sprang back up to her feet, hair standing out at odd angles but otherwise unfazed. "You never told me what your favorite cookie is..."
Weiss was already out the door.
"I'm... not sure if her favorite cookie is really very important at this point," Ruby joined the others near the door, offering Blake an only slightly dirty kitchen towel to help with the mess on her face.
"Weiss wait!" Yang made to chase after the heiress, but a hand firmly gripped her arm, holding her in place. She whirled in place to find Blake leveling a stern gaze at her.
"Yang." Blake paused, waiting until she had the brawler's full attention to continue. "Right now," she lifted a hand high above her head, "you are here. You need to be..." she lowered her hand to chest level, "here."
Yang nodded, chest and shoulders expanding and contracting as she took a deep calming breath. "Right. Got it."
"Good," Blake smiled, releasing her partner's arm and giving her a light shove. "Go on then. We'll be right here if you need us."
"OK," Yang stumbled forward, throwing a thankful smile over her shoulder before turning and zeroing her focus in on the luminous shock of white.
The frustrated heiress had marched over to one of the lamp posts lining the sidewalk in back of the kitchens to stand, arms crossed. It had rained the day before, and the concrete was smeared with dirt and leaves. The pale burning Dust-powered light caught in Weiss's hair so it almost glowed.
The closer Yang got, the more her steps lightened and slowed. She came to a stop right beside Weiss and crossed her arms to match the heiress's stance. "... Hey again."
Weiss took several deliberate paces across the pool of light, positioning herself outside of Yang's reach before giving her any sort of acknowledgement. 'Acknowledgement' in this case being a toss of her hair and a stubborn silence.
Getting the cold shoulder yet again stung a bit, but Yang held her ground, shifting just enough to lean her back up against the cool metal of the lamp post. Amethyst eyes carefully studied Weiss's profile, watching, waiting for any sign of movement, but the dead silence was starting to get to her. She finally gave up waiting and took another deep breath, lifting her gaze to the sky. "So... last time didn't go so well... Can we start over? Whatever you want to say, I'm listening."
Weiss glanced at Yang, not fully convinced. A cold breeze stirred the leaves of the trees standing in the small yard near the path behind the kitchens. Standing around in the dark was stupid. She considered simply walking away, but teams at Beacon shared rooms without exception, so she'd have to deal with the fiery disaster every day no matter how things fell out. Steeling herself, Weiss lifted her chin a fraction of an inch, "I don't want you to touch me."
Yang couldn't help visibly flinching at the declaration, certain now that her carelessness had driven a permanent wedge between them. Still, she had promised to listen, so she was going to listen.
"...All right," she sighed, burning with the desire to ask why but dreading an answer along the lines of 'because I hate you'.
The silence following Yang's response got Weiss's attention. She turned her head a little to scour the other girl's face for any and all indications that she was being serious, "Don't try to give me things, and don't walk in on me in the shower."
Each stipulation drove the wedge deeper (reasonable though the latter demand may have been), causing a strange sense of coldness to creep up on the usually fiery brawler - almost as though she were taking icicles to the heart. Gaze still trained on the night sky, she idly wondered if the stars were dancing, refusing to acknowledge the water building in her eyes even as a crooked smile crossed her features. "I'm guessing this means... you don't want any cookies?"
Weiss maintained her distance, bitter at the tears gleaming in the other girl's eyes. It wasn't fair how terrible the sight of Yang's hurt made her feel. She drove the ice in harder, "Why would you think that I even liked cookies? Or flowers? Or for Dust's sake, massages? Honestly, do I seem like the type of person who enjoys having someone else's hands all over me?"
"Wait, so..." Yang finally met Weiss's gaze and squinted, as though she were puzzling out an incredibly complex equation. "You... don't like cookies? Like at all? Or flowers? Or massages? No matter who they're from?"
"No, I don't," She remembered Ruby's rose petals and hesitated, turning her head away from Yang, her white side-tail trailing the motion. "Well. I might accept flowers from certain individuals under specific circumstances, but in general no. And from you, no."
"Right... the flowers might not have been the best idea," Yang admitted, casting a quick accusatory glance over her shoulder to the kitchens where she knew Blake was lurking. "But - so with the massages... does this dislike apply to hugs too? Or even... touch in general? From anyone? Not just..." the brawler paused, visibly steeling herself for the worst, "not just me?"
Weiss remained silent a moment, processing Yang's words.
"... is that what this is about? You think that it's just you?" the heiress scowled at the brick path. That would explain the sudden rash of unwanted affection. Somehow, Weiss had managed to convince each of her teammates that she hated them in turn—she'd had talks with Ruby and Blake in the past. Now it was Yang's turn. How did this keep happening?
Stupid. Unacceptable. What kind of teammate made her partners feel so terrible. Not that it was all her fault. It wasn't all her fault. Still. She needed time to figure this out.
"Look, I just..." Weiss's voice broke and she had to clear her throat to regain her composure, "I'm finished talking about this."
Yang faltered, unsure of what to say. She really wanted to talk things through, but being too forward was what got them into this mess in the first place, so pushing didn't seem like a great idea... For lack of any better ideas, the brawler decided simply to speak her mind, fidgeting as her words tumbled out in a jumbled mess. "Weiss, right now you look really down and... I want to give you a hug - to make you feel better! - but that's... not going to help you feel better at all, is it?"
"No, it's not," the offer coming before the action was not lost on Weiss, however. The temperature had continued to drop as the night deepened. Weiss straightened her jacket, pretending to ignore the cold. "I'm going inside. You should fix that door."
Maybe that project would buy the heiress a little time to think.
Ruby peeked around the edge of the kitchen doorway, watching her partner and her sister out on the path. They didn't look happy, but they hadn't killed each other yet. She noted Blake's perked ears and whispered, "What are they saying? Should we help?"
Leaning against the other edge of the kitchen doorway, Blake turned her head just enough to glance over at Ruby out of the corner of her eye. Even with her bow muffling things a bit, her hearing was just strong enough to pick up the majority of her teammate's conversation when she really concentrated. "Sounds like they're finally getting somewhere..." a frown pulled at the edge of her lips, "But it also sounds like Weiss is running."
Blake peered around her own edge of the doorway, mirroring her team leader. Yang was already slowly headed their way, seemingly no worse for the wear. The brawler stopped less than a foot away, casting a curious glance back and forth between the two faces staring out at her from the very doorway she intended to fix. "... Hey guys," she smirked, "Have fun eavesdropping?"
Blake nodded. "Always."
"Is Weiss okay? Are you okay?" Ruby shuffled her boots on the tile as she looked up at her big sister, shoulders slumped with awkward uncertainty of how to help.
Yang's smirk slipped. "I don't know about Weiss," she reached over to ruffle Ruby's hair, half to comfort her little sister, and half to comfort herself. "She seemed... frustrated."
Bright amber eyes trailed after the heiress in question, currently stalking off into the night. Fully prepared to track down her icy teammate yet again if needed, Blake took care to note the direction Weiss was headed.
"I think I'm all right," Yang's brightened tone caught Blake's attention. The brawler's arms were up, flexing to show her fortitude, but they dropped to her sides shortly thereafter. "I might... need a hug though."
"Gotcha covered," Ruby ducked in close, hugging Yang super-hard around her middle. She jerked away, wiping at her face, "Oh, gross, is this raw egg? Ew, yuck!"
"Hey, you're the one who threw it at me," Yang playfully flicked Ruby's forehead. A hand tugged at her arm, and she glanced over to see Blake trying to pull her inside.
"Come on, let's get this place cleaned up and go find Weiss before she decides to go hide in another laundry room."
The dorm room door shut behind Weiss. The walk and the cold left her flushed, and the discussion with Yang had been... enlightening, to say the least. She strode to her desk, clicked on her reading lamp, and fetched up a paper and pen from her supplies. The idea she'd had to fix things- or at least attempt to mitigate the damages- reeked of idiocy, but, well, it was better than nothing.
The high quality writing instrument had a steadying weight to it, though; its silver clip reflected the lamplight as Weiss considered how to shape what she was going to say.
A/N: Just one more chapter guys. Drop us a review and stay tuned!
On a completely different note, HAPPY ONCE-A-CENTURY PI DAY! (3/14/15 9:26)
I am about to make so many muffin-pan pies.
Baking skills, don't fail me now.
-Fiercesomest