Kyra
A long time ago, not long after man was born from Dust, there lived a group of faunus who feared the Grimm. This was before dust weaponry existed, so man had no truly reliable way to fight the dark. These faunus banded together, outside of the oppression of the "normal" humans, under the rule of an elite group. For the first times in their lives, these faunus felt powerful. They weren't being controlled by the dark, they were controlling their brethren. As this slowly seeped in, they demanded more and more from those who were too scared and weak to fight for themselves. The elite turned their brothers into slaves, allowing them no rest in the fight against the Grimm. The weak were slowly and systematically slaughtered by the Grimm, sacrifices for the "good of the group," yet no one with any connection to the elite were ever chosen to fight. Eventually, dust weapons were created and humanity stood a chance against the dark. As less and less "slaves" died, the elite's rules became more and more restrictive. Curfew came earlier, meals were cut, and sleeping hours were halved. Exhaustion and starvation wrecked the few who survived the constant battles with the Grimm. The future was bleak.
But then, a beaten and bloody faunus returned from battle. Alone. His body shook with exhaustion and his sunken eyes stared deep into empty space. He couldn't have been older than fifteen. He was a widely-known faunus who was generally regarded as a coward and a weakling, but no one had ever seen him like this. The crowd was watching intently as this wounded creature trudged through the encampment, never saying a single word, until he stopped in the center, just outside of the elitists' tent. Unnerved by the silence outside, they came, one by one, to stand in front of this boy until all ten of them filled the small camp center. The boy drew his weapon, and the elite all laughed. What had they to fear? This boy was the least skilled fighter in their land, he had no friends or family to back him up, and he'd never even found his aura. The leader stepped forward and drew his own weapon, towering over the boy. A cocky insult roared from deep within the elite's throat as he pushed the boy over. His friends laughed and shouted insults of their own as the boy's shaking grew more and more intense. Angry, the boy's once wheezing breath grew to a harsh gasping as a growling sounded from deep inside of him. The hoarse sound grew as the boy stood and stepped back to the giant that pushed him down. The man spit taunts and laughed insults, his friends howling with laughter behind him, until a loud snap came from the man and his laughter was abruptly cut short.
His body fell to its knees and collapsed onto the ground, its head limply hanging from its broken support until it slammed into the ground. Stunned, everyone stared at the boy. His fists were clenched and held at his sides, the shaking surprisingly absent, and his eyes were hidden under his unkempt hair. Something new, though, was the living nightmare that surrounded his body. An abyss formlessly emanated from his body, appearing almost as an aura, but how could that be? Aura's were proof that humanity was righteous, that they had a soul. No human's soul could be this broken and tainted, yet there it was. The elite, who once prided themselves on never being afraid, cowered in fear. The boy stepped forward, raising his arms not for the dull katana that hung loosely from his waist, but towards the men who ruled him with an iron fist. One by one their bodies crumpled as the darkness slithered from the boy and crushed their windpipes. The ruthless elite that had tormented the weak for so long had dropped instantly before the newfound power of the boy. As the sight sunk into the crowd, the boy wordlessly turned and left the camp.
Whether for atonement or for fear of living without being led, those that bullied the boy most, wolves just like him, followed him out into the world. Completely accepting of them, he started his own clan, vowing he wouldn't become what had previously ruled him. Regarded as an amazing leader, only the death of his wife caused him grief in his rule. The "Dire Wolf," as he was nicknamed, led his people against the Grimm until his eventual and inevitable passing. His descendants, though, did not share his fortune. The "Legacy of the Wolf" cursed every child who shared the name of the Dire Wolf, whether succumbing to madness, anger, grief, or any combination thereof, causing them to strikeout against the clan. It's this reason and this reason alone that those who share the name are tormented by their own. Looked at with disgust and fear for the future deaths they'll cause, the Dire Wolves are shunned from their people as children; shunned from the only family they could ever know. Legend has it, though, that one Wolf won't succumb to the power and will instead save the the rest of those he loves.
With this knowledge, a young Fenrir vowed that he'd be the one to break the cycle. So he had no friends. So everyone but his mother and sister thought he would doom them all. So everyone hated his very existence. He would prove them wrong. At least, that's what he thought until his fifth birthday. On that day, everything he loved was burned, murdered, raped and pillaged before his eyes. His home was destroyed, he was wounded, and the only person who ever loved him was cut down. He fell unconscious from blood loss, and woke up hours later far away. His wound was stitched and his father and sister sat opposite him. When he asked about the clan, his father only shook his head. This was the first and last time his father ever let him show weakness and cry. His father refused to show compassion, as always, and Fen slowly began adjusting to his new life.
Ten years. He spent ten years living in a forest, only entering civilization when absolutely necessary, with only his father and sister for company. One night during a full moon, while his father and sister were out hunting, he found his father's old journal and began reading the last entry, sharing the same date as the night he lost his family. As he read, waves of emotions flowed throughout his body. Had he read that right? He couldn't have. His father wouldn't- No, this couldn't be right. It wasn't possible. He waited until his father returned and confronted him. Nonchalantly, his father told him what he was dreading: He was the reason the village was destroyed. Fen grabbed his weapons and stabbed his father before running off into the forest, not even telling his sister goodbye, eventually beginning to help people he came across until eventually it won him a ticket to Beacon academy.
The wolf in front of me told his story, never once making eye contact or even looking in my direction. His voice was somber and his eyes were shut as he remembered the old tale as well as his own life. He recounted the tale of the Dire Wolf's origins without pause, starting and stopping without so much as changing his position. Only once did he stop talking, and that was after he finished the Dire Wolf's tale and started his. His voice cracked on his first attempt, and he laid back, resting his head in my lap. I welcomed the gesture, going so far as to brush his hair to help him relax. He started again, but his voice was different. Gone was the gloomy, dull tone he took with the previous story, he had taken on one of a cheery yet pained remembrance. His childhood was one of determination to prove everyone wrong, but he lost his purpose with the death of his family. When he reached his father's betrayal, the anger became increasingly evident in his voice, but his voiced did not waver.
I listened to his story patiently, sitting almost completely still for its entirety. He finally opened his eyes when he finished and looked up at me. A small smile grew on his face and he gave a small shrug. "Sorry it isn't the happiest of tales, but you asked." I smiled back, trying to think of how to process all of this. I thought he was a runaway or maybe an orphan (I guess I was partly right in that regard), but I never expected any of this. I thought about my own parents, the support they gave me when I was growing up, when I decided I wanted to be a huntress. I couldn't have made it without them, and here Fen was, living without both and still being able to sit here and smile.
"Could I just take a moment and tell you how absolutely badass you are?" I told him. He laughed, but shook his head. "Enjoying the ears?" he asked, changing the subject. I looked down and noticed I'd been gently rubbing his ears without noticing. I pulled my hands back and apologized, getting another laugh from him, and I could feel my cheeks heat up. He smiled and reached up, cupping my face in his hand and said in a soft voice, "I wouldn't mind it if this happened more often." I was a little confused by what he meant. Petting? I could pet him more, sure, but why the hand? It wasn't that touching of a moment for him, was it? Wait, he lived without friends for his entire life, maybe it was to him. Maybe I was his first friend and this was just his weird way of asking to continue being his friend? I looked at his expecting look and thought, and thought, and thought. Then it hit me, and I felt my face grow hotter than it already was.
"Uh, Fen?" I stammered, "You just shared something about yourself, so could I share something with you?" I was a little nervous, but I didn't really know how else to tell him. He took his hand away slowly and looked at me a little confused, but he nodded anyways. "I, um, I haven't told this to anyone before, okay? I just. Um. It's not that I don't like you, because I do, I just don't like you. No! That's not what I mean! I mean that if circumstances were different I would totally consider dating you but I can't because of reasons and things and-" "Kyra!" he interrupted me, "Just slow down, take a moment to collect your thoughts and tell me when you're ready."
I nodded and took several deep breaths. I hadn't even told my parents before, let alone some guy I'd known for only a few weeks. But Fenrir had told me his entire life story just because I was curious. I could tell him this when he asked a very legitimate question. My heart was racing in my chest, but Fen's soft gray eyes were strangely relaxing. A few more deep breaths and I managed to finally stammer out my secret. "I'm... I like girls, Fen."
Only a moment of silence passed by, but it felt like an eternity. I could hear my heart hammering harder and harder in my chest and tears began welling in my eyes. What if he didn't like me now? What if I was a freak to him? I'd only known a few other people like me, and the kids at school had always picked on them. Would Fen leave too? The thought of losing my best friend, even if we didn't always get a long, felt like a knife had been driven into my heart and twisted. I wanted to pull my hair. I wanted to bite my lip. I wanted to pace. I was so nervous and scared my body felt like it was ripping itself apart with worry. I looked back down at him, afraid he'd be angry. He gave a small sigh and clicked his tongue.
"Damn." He gave me a small smile and stood up, offering me his hand. "Ah, well. Got anyone in mind?" I locked eyes with him, and he just continued flashing his smile. He... Wasn't mad. He didn't hate me. Wiping my eyes, I took his hand and stood up, walking back to the edge of the forest with him. "No... No one in particular just yet." He gave a knowing nod and we walked in silence through the forest. We hadn't let go of each others' hands, and I was glad for that. It was the only thing keeping me from shaking and doing my usual habits. So much adrenaline had entered my bloodstream, I just knew I wasn't going to sleep for a week. That had never been a problem in the past, but I usually wasn't this worked up.
He gave my hand a squeeze, pulling me back from my thoughts. I smiled and gave one back. "...Hey, Fen?" I asked softly. He cocked his head towards me, not saying a word. "Thank you." He pulled his head back, chuckled to himself and shook his head. "Don't mention it, Blondie." I felt a slight tinge of blush brush along my cheeks at the nickname. He'd given it to me weeks ago, back when we weren't so close, but it'd grown on me since then, and hearing it coupled with his laugh told me that we both belonged here, and we belonged together; As students, as hunters, as partners, as best friends. We belonged.
