Chapter 8
Quietly, Blake enjoys her tea. Her fingers travel slowly up the length of the paper cup between her palms, appreciating with a little smile the short bustle of people that weave between the rows of bookcases. Moments before, they'd come bounding down the stairs, talking among themselves about the lesson they'd just had with Yang as well as schooling. Yang had been true to her word – her students certainly did do something to help increase her business. She observes them, a small, shy smile adorning her face.
Not one among them is plump. Each person that passes by is rigidly built with muscle, and Blake wonders if the conditioning Yang puts all of her students through is to thank for that.
Maybe I should give it a shot, she thinks, taking the last sip of her tea. A little wistful sigh puffing from her lips. She rests her chin in her palm, her elbow supporting her as she follows a couple down the stairs with her golden gaze.
A red-headed Amazonian with green eyes travels alongside a tall, lankier blonde man. They're both built well, but the woman is by far more impressive. She holds herself with confidence and pride, her posture straight as a board. Her loose bronze tank top accentuates the powerful muscles of her long, elegant neck and the sharp points of her collar bones – all helped by the neat up-do of her long hair. Her smile is subdued but genuine as she approaches Blake, the blonde in tow.
Blake analyzes him next. Her heart warms upon the kindness of his blue eyes, the softness of his expression as he beholds her. He's a gentle soul despite the fact he trains at a dojo. His wily blonde mop of hair doing well to give him as powerful an aura as that of a puppy, but even as she thinks this, she notices the cautious way he analyzes her in return.
"Hello," the red-head says. There's a softness in her voice that surprises Blake. "I'm Pyrrha, I work with Yang upstairs. She said that you might be looking for an employee?"
Blake's eyebrow sky rockets at that. Her tone is questioning when she responds, "Did she, now?"
The way she speaks makes them both falter, with the red-head's – Pyrrha's – mouth opening long before words find her tongue.
To Blake's surprise, the blond jumps in, "I was looking for a job and I was wondering if you had any openings. Yang said you might want an assistant."
As he talks, Blake notices that both of them are wearing a dark cords about their necks when he speaks, her eyes trailing over both of the necklaces to a painted grey, wooden fang.
They match, the half-breed realizes, struck by the sweetness of the gesture.
"Business gets quick in the afternoons sometimes, especially on Fridays," Blake finally says, fixing the blonde with her gaze. Truth be told, if Yang hadn't pointed him in her direction, she would've denied him. She was too proud to admit her need for help to a stranger. "I just took over this place two or so weeks ago now, so I do need to warn you that I'm still not quite sure what I'm doing."
The blonde smiles at that. "I think we can all relate to that."
"We close on weekends," Blake tells him, appreciating his understanding. "I'd have you work in the afternoons on our busiest days – Wednesday, Thursday and Friday."
His eyes go wide. "Wait, w-what?"
She continues on, "And maybe some mornings, as I could use some extra time to work on my thesis. I can't pay you too much, maybe a dollar or two over minimum wage… Is that acceptable?"
The man's expression is one of shock.
Pyrrha turns to him with a grin.
He looks between the woman beside him and Blake several times before he exclaims, "O-Of course! That's perfect! D…Did you want to see my resume? References?"
"Nah," she replies, a sheepish smile on her face. "I, uh… I'm not exactly formal."
"No, you pay more." The new voice comes from the height of the stairs. Blake's eyes lift to see Yang sitting at the top step, smiling down at them. Her lavender eyes sparkle at her, thankful and affectionate, as she continues, "Maybe you could even have him in on weekends. Get a little Saturday-Sunday business."
That's an idea, Blake agrees silently, pursing her lips in thought. Being busy throughout the week with the store and with her thesis, and now with Yang, she didn't really have the energy to work another two days. She'd finish her week desperate to work on her novel, to kick back and relax. Additionally, as of last week, she wants now more than ever to spend it in the company of someone else. Not to mention being open another two days would help pay for a new employee.
When she realizes that the two standing in front of her were looking at her, she blinks out of her reverie.
"I'm sorry, did you say something?"
They both smile kindly, and the man repeats, "Would you like me to start tomorrow?"
Thursday? She purses her lips before shrugging. "Sure, if you like. We'll see how it goes for the weekend."
"Thank you very much," he breathes, and he shoots a hand out to her. "I'm Jaune, by the way. Jaune Arc."
Blake accepts his handshake with a nod. "Blake."
"We should probably go look for that book you needed," Pyrrha suggests before a lull could happen. "Do you have any Plato?"
"In the back," Blake answers, gesturing with her chin to the middle row. She watches them leave, feeling a tiny bit pleased with what had just happened.
Turning her gaze up to look at Yang, she's about to say something when a few students come up to her desk. The woman, in turn, smiles understandingly as Blake proceeds instead to be a good customer server. Ever the useful one, the woman comes down to mingle and aide her students, picking out some books and directing them as they need.
The afternoon's hours' worth of business sets her well above budget. At the end of it all, Blake sits back with a huff, sighing tiredly. The average student's budget for books has increased since her post-grad days, she realizes sympathetically. Every year of difference between herself and her students seemed to resemble the amount of books more that they had to buy to appease their classes' requirements. Some of the books, Blake recollects with a roll of her eyes, were authored by some of the professors at the local university.
How arrogant.
Whenever she'd had a professor ask her to use a book that they'd written for her class, she would obstinately choose not to do so. There was a stagnation in knowledge, a lull in the pursuit for intelligence, when a teacher would ask their students not to seek their own answers. This especially in the arts, where beauty and enlightenment was reached only when one could think for themselves.
"You seem thoughtful," Yang comments as she pushes herself off of one of the bookcases, approaching her. The blonde's presence drives the weariness from her, though her smile is lazy when it drags across her face.
"Thank you for helping me," Blake tells her, reaching out to her as the blonde bends. They share a light, short kiss. Now, the gesture is a common greeting between them. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
"At least now you've got Jaune to give you a hand when it gets busy," she remarks, sitting lightly on the desk.
Blake appreciates Yang with a soft, golden gaze. The days since the night at Yang's loft had passed quickly and easily, with little commotion or trouble. They'd agreed to take things slowly, as neither woman had been in any serious commitment for quite some time. For Blake, it had been year since she'd even bothered with a one night stand, let alone a relationship. She had been grateful when Yang suggested it, stopping their kissing before it could become too passionate to pose the idea to her. That was how she'd truly known Yang was serious with her, smiling at the memory.
Yang's touch on her cheek surprises her. She startles, heat rushing to her cheeks. The blonde looks down at her apologetically as her thumb trails lightly across her cheekbone, and the dark-haired woman turns to kiss her palm.
"What's wrong?" Blake asks softly, resting her palm over the woman's hand.
"You get lost in thought sometimes," Yang informs her as their eyes meet. "It's one of the things I like about you. Seeing you thinking and wondering, you look so beautiful. But, I've got to admit, sometimes it feels like you're not gunna come back to me."
"I do it often, don't I?" she acknowledges, her fingers curling around Yang's hand to hold it. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be silly," Yang says, squeezing her fingers. "Just, y'know… don't mind me if I end up getting touchy."
"I'm sure I can find some way to deal with it."
She chuckles.
Silence falls between them where the two just look into one another's eyes; the same tender, caring expression in both of their gazes. Blake sits back a little bit, and it's then that she notices four or five books lightly resting in the woman's lap.
"Stealing merchandise?"
"Hardly," Yang scoffs at her. "I was going to ask if it'd be okay to buy these."
There was quite a selection in her hands, from Charlotte Bronte to Joseph Heller, with Virginia Woolf and George Orwell in between. She raises an eyebrow at the blonde, curious. "Why all those? I thought you had read some of these."
"Building a library," the blonde admits with a wink. "I figure, the more books I have in my loft, the more you'll come by."
Blake smirks at that. "You're going to need some recent stuff, if that's the case."
"I'll remember that for next time," she replies, holding up the books a little. "Is it okay?"
"Take them."
"Oh no, I'm buying them."
The half-breed raises an eyebrow. "No, you're not."
"Yes."
"No."
"Please?"
"No."
"Come on," Yang pleads, setting the books down on the desk. "These can be expensive, most of all if you keep giving them for free."
Blake recalls Weiss's kindness the first day they'd met, shrugging a little. "It's not a big deal. Besides, I think I still owe your sister in-law."
Making a face, the blonde grumbles, "I'm not her, though."
"Let me do something nice for you, for a change," the half-faunus mutters, glaring at her. "You saved me last week, I should be allowed to give you a couple of books."
Lavender eyes narrow at her. "Only if you'll go out to dinner with me tonight."
She's so suave and charming. The way she speaks, she comes across as argumentative, but that lopsided grin finds its way on the blonde's face as Blake stares at her. It was a playful and pleasant way to be asked out, firmly ending a would-be squabble had the argument continued. The half-breed's heart skips while her face blushes. She dips her head to avoid the woman's devilish expression. Shaking her head, Blake wonders how she'll ever manage these feelings. Specialness, intrigue, the excitement that came when Yang changes the tone and the pace with nothing but a single sentence or look. With a sigh, she glances back towards the blonde's smug face, earning a waggle of eyebrows in response.
"I'm going to get fat if you keep feeding me," Blake states, adoring the little excited shimmy of the woman's shoulders. "What weird thing are you going to subject me to tonight?"
"Something… French."
Blake looks at her disbelievingly. "There's not a good French restaurant anywhere near here."
"Who said anything about a restaurant?"
"You're cooking again?"
The disdain in her face elicits a furrowing of the brow from Yang and a swift, "Hey, I'm a good cook!"
She laughs. "I'm just teasing you."
"Good," Yang growls, looming over her, eyes playful. Sitting up quickly, Blake catches her with a kiss before she can continue. The blonde's lips are slightly chapped from the dryness of the store, but Blake doesn't care. She presses up with gentle vigor, her hand finding itself at the base of the blonde's neck, drawing her closer. Her girlfriend sighs into her and the half-breed's heart flutters, enjoying the soft, breathless moan that vibrates across her lips.
When they part, it's slow and reluctant. Yang's forehead comes to rest upon her own and golden eyes flutter closed as Blake breathes in her scent. She notices with interest the change of her fragrance; it's sweet and burnt, reminiscent of roasted almonds.
"You're good at that," the blonde murmurs, her hand sliding across the desk to touch her neck. Tingles make flight up and down her neck and shoulders from the point of contact. Blake shivers as goosebumps explode across her skin. Slow as molasses, Yang's fingers brush down the length of tendon to her collar, exposed just so by her dark v-neck t-shirt. She hums a deep, rolling purr as her touch travels back up, respectfully going no further. Cupping the nape of her neck, she softly questions, "So, will you?"
"Of course I will," Blake breathes, opening her eyes. "Do you really have to ask?"
Yang's were already open, and she smiles when they make eye contact once more. "I don't like to make assumptions."
The door opening causes them to jump back from one another, Yang with a grin and Blake with a ferocious blush. In came Weiss, who doesn't skip a beat despite the show of affection she walks in on. Purposefully, she strides behind Blake's desk and takes control of her PC-POS system. The senator skillfully manages to tab out of the POS program – a feat which Blake would have to ask how to achieve later – and opens her internet browser.
"So, uh…" Yang clears her throat. "Hi, Weiss."
Weiss was a common enough occurrence that Blake was beginning to open up to her, keeping Blake company by way of engaging conversation. In fact, Weiss had actually come Monday morning to drop something off to Yang, bringing a coffee for both of them and a tea for her.
"Yang said you'd like this," Weiss, shyly and quietly, told her. Handing her a cup, Blake had gotten an intense whiff of tart plumminess. "It's Korean plum tea. I prefer mine without sugar, but she said you'd like it with."
It had been a kind gesture, and of course, Blake had enjoyed the tea.
Now, as Weiss's fingers dance across her keyboard, her visit feels far more urgent than last time. She navigates to a government website, throwing up a video of a recent opening of the Senate.
"This happened earlier today," Weiss informs them, her icy blue eyes never once meeting theirs. On her face is shame, a furrowing brow of anger that alarms both the women beside her. The muscles in her jaw pop. Clicking play and then reeling away from the desk, she crosses her arms tightly around herself.
Yang sits closer to Blake so she wouldn't have to turn the screen, and the two watch as a woman with silver hair and glinting red eyes opens the Senate with, "Today we assemble to discuss the proposal of Bill C-22. In our last voting, we ended with a near perfect tie, failing to meet the sixty percent necessary. We will open our discussion with Senator Fall."
"Thank you," a black-haired woman replies, standing in response. "Many of you seem to still have questions about whether or not faunus and humankind should be further separated. This isn't the first time we've experienced this resistance in our numbers, and I suspect that if you're allowed to stay…we can always rest assured you will fight this. But there are those among our people, including faunus, who would rather see the two races separate. There's an outcry of the people that is currently being ignored."
"Hardly an outcry if we're the ones spreading the message," a man with dark hair quips, his dull maroon eyes fixing on Senator Fall. "Propaganda is a dirty way to control the people because it works. Wonderfully. Peoples brains shut off when you tell them a professional, an expert, is handling something."
There's a little hum of agreement.
"Nonetheless, Senator Branwen," the black-haired woman continues, unfazed by the interruptions. "There is an outcry. People are offended by one another and it is our duty, is it not, to rectify that?"
Senator Branwen grunts, "You could hardly call it offense when people haven't been allowed to think for themselves about what actually bothers them. You are offended by the unity of our species."
"That's out of turn," the red-eyed woman booms, earning a glare from the scruffy maroon-eyed Senator. "Making implications such as that is nearly libel, Senator. I suggest you hold your tongue."
"Case in point," he utters, but falls quiet for the moment.
Blake's ears fall back against her head as she listens to Senator Fall continue to speak, her heart plummeting into her stomach like a lead weight as her words gain speed among the other Senators. Noticing her reaction, Yang's arm falls around her, holding her lightly against her waist. Swallowing thickly, Blake watches an argument explode.
"Apartheid will do us no good!" Weiss's voice explodes, the woman slamming her hands down on the table as she rises, not so far away from Senator Branwen. "There are still so many faunus and humans who want to be together. What about faunus-human families? What about the hybrids? They're perfectly happy with one another, living in solidarity."
"And yet fighting explodes among us," Fall retorts.
"Fighting happens because the SJP militarizes against those that disagree!"
"A baseless comment," someone else pipes up. "There's no proof of that."
"It's the truth," Weiss snaps, sending her glare in the direction of the voice. "Cities don't just blow themselves up, Senator."
Branwen is the one to stop the fighting, bringing the conversation back around. "Regardless of Senator Black's education, it's absolutely intolerable that we are having these discussions in the twenty-first century. We accepted and bargained for peace, eighty years ago, remember? Peace in unity. Now everyone's so bloody sensitive about anything. Wasn't it just ten years ago that you all vied for uniqueness and originality?"
The man scoffs as he ruthlessly continues, "I can remember when some of you would come to Senate with shaved, pink heads and – what's it? – henna, on your faces. Now you're all afraid of offending one another by expressing yourselves, and you wear yourselves like you're from the goddamn eighteenth century. Except now you can dye your hair black to blend in more."
"The world is changing, Senator Branwen," Fall says with a smug grin when the Senate doesn't respond to his speech. "It's up to you whether or not you will rise to meet or fall short of it."
"This is absolutely illogical," Weiss says, her voice thinly-veiling her rage. "If you won't see it from a humanitarian point of view, then see it from an economical one. Our dollar has never been more powerful than when it was when humankind and faunuskind were united. When they started leaving, we lost thousands of workers and businesses that were contributing to the country. Now we're looking to completely eradicate them? One cannot exist without the other, Senator Fall – our country won't have enough back bone to hold itself up in the global community. This isn't even mentioning the costs of mobilizing forces, space and, for godsake, all other resources to move them."
"Not to mention it'd be an outright declaration of war with the Grey Fang," Branwen adds, his arms crossing over his chest.
Blake's ears twitch at that, her back straightening a little. They're still active?
"The Grey Fang is not a threat and they never will be," Fall argues. "Why should we fear a couple of traitors? They're just attention seekers seeking to dismantle the pursuit of peace. Nothing more"
The arm around her suddenly becomes steel. Momentarily, Blake's attention diverts to the blonde, and she's stunned to see the fury on her face. The woman's lavender eyes blaze, the reds never brighter or powerful than in that moment. The muscles of her neck and shoulders bulge as she struggles to contain herself.
The conversation goes on, and every moment that passes, Weiss is arguing vehemently for the nullification of the bill. She has slim support, with Branwen making up the majority of it, the other voices too quiet to add much weight to the discussion. In the end, the Senator with the red eyes silences her when she becomes too impassioned and, moments later, calls a vote.
"That's 67 to 53," the ashen-haired woman's voice is loud as an explosion. "Fifty six percent in favour of yes, and forty four…not. We will meet again in two months' time to discuss the Bill once more."
"A four percent increase from last time," Weiss tells them softly. She finally glances towards them, but Blake's too stunned to look back at her.
Her heart roars in her ears. So close. To think, four percent more and the Bill would've been passed. She swallows, her eyes wide as she considers the implications of an increase. More people were backing this motion. Somehow, this was gaining speed. They would tear everything apart. She could lose her home. Everything she was building for herself would be torn down. She'd have nothing. And if she resists, they'd…they'd…
"I'm so sorry, Yang, Blake," Weiss whispers.
