Hey all, been a while, lot of creative outlets for me currently, this is but one. Will update when the mood takes me.
Unexpected Difficulties
Or
The Trouble With Rutts
Unexpected Slip of the Thumbs
"-the Loneli-iest... of..."
Weiss inhaled with the short musical break she had, filled from the top of her lungs to the bottom of her diaphragm, and steadily pushed out the ending note, nil vibrato;
"All."
She let it ring out as her accompanist finished the song with the long, augmented arpeggio, hand over hand, and a bass note, which he lets ring for a full four beats, then releases the sustain pedal.
As the sounds finish, Weiss pats Ren on the back, and he looks up, smiling, from the piano stool behind the Big, Black Grand, its' mouth agape to bare the strings, hammers, and dampeners within, coloured a rich brass, oiled, maintained and cleaned religiously by the staff.
"I heard you sing Mirror about a year ago, at the Vale Eisteddfod," Ren claims, turning back to sort out his sheet music, "but you sound a lot fuller now than what you were back then. Rounder, even."
She joins her hands in front of her waist. She was always taught to stand still, perfectly, while singing, to better tone the notes, but in a private practice, she found hand gestures had more physicality behind the notes, and helped her project not just her voice, but herself, as well. "The stadium does tend to dampen the edges."
He shakes his head, dropping his current book in a canvas bag by his feet. "Still, that was pitch perfect, even around the tenuto parts. Dropping from note to note smoothly without slurring it too much is tricky, I'm told."
She looks off to the corner of the room, thinking if it was. "I suppose." Then her eyes drop back to the pianist. "Don't think I missed that botched trill though. How can you play arpeggios and runs, one after the other, mixing them, back and forth forever, but you can't play two notes right next to each other, just twice, without missing a beat?" She gestures a flat hand to the sky in surrender, giving up figuring it out.
Ren smiles, as he had wondered something similar once. "Not everything about the piano is as intuitive as it seems. For instance," and he almost imitates his tutor here, "the first scale you are taught becomes the hardest one you will ever have to play."
She raises her eyebrows, amused, and places a hand on the bass edge of the keyboard. "How so?"
He turns back to his instrument. "It's all about the shape of the scale." As he speaks, Ren plays a few messy chords, demonstrating. "Once you hit a certain level, you can feel the shape of the raised and lowered keys for each scale. It makes chords easier to slide into, and you can play practically blindfolded." He closes his eyes, and riffs off a little light jazz. "But for C major..."
He finds middle C, and the next C an octave below, placing his right thumb and left pinkie upon them respectively. Naturally his fingers move into a position higher on the keyboard, and he pulls them back down, to have them just on the whites, but as he begins playing, his hands twitch towards the blacks, and as he controls himself, he loses both his timing and his place, and he stumbles over himself not ten steps into the scale.
"For the easiest scale, you lose the shape, as there are no black keys to feel on the way up, and you can trip over your own fingers going faster than your mind can follow."
Weiss has fixated on the wall, thinking. She speaks her mind, "It's like combat training against a dummy; you learn your strikes against it first, then you learn to spar. Once you don't have that resistance against you, from another person, you must adjust for follow through, balance, technique. You aren't restrained by timing, no need to block-"
Here, she chops her left hand with her right, and catches it.
"-and you find yourself stuck in a wooden mannequin, grasping to get your weapon back."
Ren thinks it over, nods. "Glad we don't have to face them out in the wilds."
Weiss grimaces. "Actually, I had a dream about that once."
The young lad crosses his left leg into his lap, and leans back from his friend. "Really?" he asks coyly.
Weiss shivers. "They had no faces, and I never saw them move, and-" She shakes the thought out of her head. "In any case, dreams are dreams."
Ren shrugs. From Nora, he knew that dreams were a shortcut to the worries of the subconscious, but that mightn't be very helpful to the Heiress. "True enough." He rubs stretches his fingers, pulling out a click of two from his knuckles. He looks at his sheet music, then back to Weiss. "What else were you thinking of doing?"
More collected, she taps her chin, watching the rafters; a few dusty stage lights were pinned to black poles overhead. "Well, so far we've stuck to songs I've already performed. How about something I've just come up with?"
The young man turns back to the keys, his hair whipping his eyes, "Sure, where is-" He turns back, shocked. "You wrote these?"
She stands up straight and proud, brushes imaginary dirt off her collarbone, and pronounces "The last three songs have been my creation, yes."
He smiles, applauds her accomplishment. "That's amazing, all by yourself?"
"Just me and Dwarf."
"He must be quite the talent, too, right?"
"He was." She brushes her hair back behind her, over her right shoulder. Eyes closed, never forgetting, but happy to change the conversation. "Anyway, he only ever did manuscripting."
Ren shrugs. "It's still amazing." He taps his music, halfway down the page. "The last two are really detailed, and finely composed."
"Well," she says, rubbing her nose. "This one is still in Beta. Oh, if I've missed any accidentals in the Manuscript, would you write them in for me?" She hands him a pencil and an eraser, from a pocket in her dress that Ren just couldn't find.
He turns back, takes the sheet music she gave to him, and quickly sight-reads the composition; mostly chordal, with a few notes for beat, more runs in the second half. He figures out some messy fingering, checks his key and time signatures, and starts, at around 80 Maezels Metronome.
Unbeknownst to the duet, Jaune has come to find the only other male member of JNPR. He turns the doorway, about to call out to his friend, but stops, sees the two together, notices the playing, and waits for to see how the Snow Angel can sing.
"Ooooooone Life..."
He leans against the door-frame, getting comfortable. Six bars on, he has to enter the room, and take a seat next to Blake, who had also entered, become enthralled, and escaped the pairs notice. They exchange looks, she pats a chair, and they both sit in awe.
"Don't be disappointed, don't let your heart, break.
"Don't spend another minute, in, this, way.
"It's.
"Oh.
"Kay."
(Silence. Beat. Beat. Beat.)
(Falling slide, ending in a low-end octave with a high bass-chord on top, with the effect of; fall-boom.)
"Dry your eyes, now, baby,
"Broken wings won't hold you down."
Of course, both Jaune and Blake interpreted the song to be aimed at them.
"Twelve hours..."
Blake was right, of course. But it didn't hurt Jaune's confidence.
And at the pieces' end, they both cheered, and the unwitting performers took a bow. They all went to tea, and lived happily for as long as anyone does.
Unexpected Push-Back
J: Hey, Pyrrha, can you get Nora to hold off on the movie 'till I get there? I need to talk to Blake about something.
P: I'm fairly certain not even I could keep her from the exploits of the Red Hood for long...
J: I've been saving some popcorn above the doorframe, if I'm not back within fifteen, go on without meeeee...
P: A noble sacrifice, we will remember you until the titles roll.
J: It's all I could hope for, really.
P: This business with Blake...
J: Oh, I was just going to ask her about Gambit Shrewd.
P: Gamble Shroud.
J: Gander Proud?
P: Gamble Shroouud, Gamble-
J: Sorry, gotta run, be there spoon!
P: Spoon? That's a new one...
...
J: Blake! Just the raven haired lady I was looking for! And can I say you look just wonderful today, your bow really squares off-
B: Thanks. What do you want?
J: Er, maybe we could take this somewhere private?
B: I'm spoken for, and aren't you-
J: What? No, I didn't-! I mean, you have this certain 'hot, in a deadly way' kinda vibe going on, moreso deadly now than at other times, but I'm not, I just-
B: Jaune.
J: What?
B: Succinct.
J: Sorry. I'm just looking for some info. You were in the Black Fang, right?
*Wha-BAM, Jaune is slammed against a wall in a secluded alcove, as classes are finished, and both students and teachers have long gone back to dorms and offices.*
B: What is your problem, out in the open like that, anyone could have heard us, don't you even think before you open your mouth?!
J: I've been told I have a problem with that!
B: Well, solve it!
J: Okay!
B: Good!
...
...
...Alright.
*She releases him.
Sorry. It's just... hard, having this secret hang over your head all the time; one that could be dangerous in the wrong hands. Especially when I never let you in on it.
J: ...I'm sorry about that.
B: Nothing we can do about it now. I just... whatever.
J: Makes things a bit unbalanced, I guess. I'm sorry about that. I mean, having something over you. I don't want it, I would never use it, but... having it is enough to make things weird, right?
B: Just ignore it. Pretend it's nothing.
J: But it's not right...
B: It is what it is. Just ask me what you wanted to know, and we can go our separate ways.
J: ...No.
B: No?
J: I don't want be just a potential blackmailer to you. We can do better than that. I want more.
B: Jaune, I don't like where this is heading-
J: We can be co-conspirators.
B: What?
J: If I tell you something about myself, something that could get me kicked out, then there wouldn't be so much of a, a power gap, right?
B: No... I guess we would be on even ground, but-
J: Ok, then. But, this is top-secret, ok? As in, you can't go and tell Weiss the second I turn my back, secret secret.
B: I swear.
J: What?
B: You have my confidence, Jaune, and I, yours. (Still, would telling Weiss count as revenge, or- [no, stop that].)
J: Ok then. Well. Ok. Secret confession. To you. Blake Belladonna. (Whew)
*She stares, with the most neutral, understanding expression she can hold, which is surprisingly good. Coming out with a powerful secret is a cautious, difficult thing, she knows*
J: I was never meant to be here. I forged my transcripts. I faked my way into Beacon, and now I have a team, and I still haven't mastered my semblance, and there are so many assignments, and I can't keep up with the fighting, let alone the aura-stuff, and Cardin found out, and... what?
B: Just thinking. Explains a lot, actually.
J: Don't be smug, this is huge, okay? I could be expelled in a heartbeat, thrown out the doors like-
(She removes her bow)
Oh.
B: Don't worry. We are fine, okay? What's a few secrets between friends?
J: Okay. Cool. So, do you have two sets of-
B: We have each others' back, right?
J: Yeah. Glad to be on board.
B: Does that make us a team?
J: Team Much Respect.
B: That's not official, I hope.
J: I could talk to the people in marketing, there's this guy, Jaune Risinger-
B: What did you want again?
J: Oh! Yeah, so, I've been researching Weiss, right? Wait, that sounds creepy.
B: Yes, it surely does.
J: I mean, I wanted to look up how she got the scar on her eye. The news reported it was from a White Fang attack?
B: That they did.
J: And they used a massive security android to assault her?
B: That's what I read.
J: But the White Fang don't use mechs? I mean, this is the one time they ever used an automa, automated, automatic, android.
B: That they don't.
J: So... it wasn't a robot?
B: It wasn't the White Fang.
J: But I thought-
B: Yes, the Schnees' Snowflake insignia has been like a bullseye to the protestor-turned-terrorist organisation, but we weren't the only ones to want to cause harm to the SDC and their backers.
J: And these other assailants are...
B: The SDC and their backers. Infighting, Jaune, has done almost as much damage to the Schnee Foundation and Associated Trusts as the White Fang itself.
J: Are you saying her own fathers' company wanted her... gone?
B: I'm not saying that.
J: Then...
"What I will tell you, however, is a story. This tale goes back to before Beacon, back when the White Fang weren't so... when we used protest signs, and not siege equipment. Back when I was much younger, the protest group I was with was calling out the inhumane treatment of workers at an open-cut dust and ore mine. There was a lot to protest.
"A few days before we were shut down by SDC security, a luxurious air-carrier arrived, and out stepped this girl, no older than I, but white and pure as the freshest snow, with not a cut, bruise, or rubbing of dirt on her. I was on the picket line for weeks, and you could see how much everyone here smelt, but she looked fresh. Like she was right out of the box."
"Weiss."
"Obvious now, but back then she was otherworldly. She watched us from afar, and we screamed our cause even louder; not often could we voice our concerns to a Schnee. But she just turned and headed towards an office building. She didn't seem like the Weiss I know now, more... careful, cautious. Shy, maybe?
"We were only there to protest, and to give a voice to the voiceless, but I had worked my way in and out a few times, doing little info-runs, supply dispersal, a bit of relief. So that day, even, I snuck back in. I was just another faunus to everyone there, just another faunus girl at the mine. Following Weiss was no problem; she had a bodyguard, but he was more concerned with keeping a path clear ahead of Ms Schnee, than for the tail she had grown.
"Weiss spent the day touring the camp and facilities; she kept a good distance, but even from where I was standing, I could see every little detail of the cramped quarters, the health and safety violations in the canteens alone, the underequipped and understaffed medical facilities. The injuries. The list of deaths, thirty years long, everything I had documented over my stay.
"And the product, churning out at a comfortable, steady pace."
"What did she do?"
"I wasn't sure at the time; I didn't know her like I do now. Back then, she didn't say a word, just sighted paperwork, and ran off to her transport. I couldn't see inside, because the windows were tinted black, but I know from her body language now, she was angry. Or sad... or, or hungry. Ok, so I'm not the best character study. Anyway.
"We held our breath. Waited. At this point in time, we weren't the violent anarchists that the world knows; we still had our conscience, and we wanted to see what would happen. What was this one going to do? There had been talks, that if she tried for some change, that we would try to... um. To remove her father from his position, and somehow encourage the young girl to take an appointment, but... well, you saw the papers. She was being treated for injuries in a White Fang assassination attempt, and then she sung at that concert, whatever it was. Nothing changed."
J: And you think it was the Schnees that did it? Wanted her out of the way?
B: That's the theory, at least. My guess is, she tried shaking things up, took some papers about Occupational Health and Safety to a board meeting, and bam; one reprogrammed security droid later, she wasn't as enthusiastic about helping our a roguish band of murderers and thieves.
J: But she blames the Fang?
B: Naturally. Doesn't everybody?
J: And because of that, they sent her to where there was no-one who could be hacked into killing her.
B: I'd have found it ironic, but no; I believe Weiss genuinely wants to be here. She wants to make her familys name an honourable one again, after what she saw, but she can't go about it from the inside. Otherwise, if she was here just for some security, she would be locked up right next to Ozpins' office, and she would never have to face any danger at all.
J: Did they ever catch the hacker?
B: That's the thing; the robot shouldn't have been hackable. It was a robot Weiss had built herself, a companion-droid of her own design. Rumours go she used her own coding language, and that to crack it, you would have to be highly proficient in it.
J: Have you asked her about any of this?
B: Do I look like a moron? The whole thing is a bad area, and we have to walk on eggshells around each other as it is. I'm not screwing this up just because of something that happened long ago.
J: But it sounds, in a twisted way, you're both almost the same, like... trying to... distance yourself from your past to make a better future. Or... the people you grew up with were... not nice, so you are trying to be nicer to make up for it, or...
B: Stop, before you hurt yourself.
J: Sorry.
B: You're reaching a bit, really, but you aren't... entirely off point. But, I guess that's between us, right?
J: Sure, secrets and all that. Oh, and one more thing.
B: What?
J: She had a companion-bot?
B: Made. Made an artificial intelligence construct three times her size, to act as her butler.
J: Rich people, hey?
B: You do know the popcorn is long gone by now, right?
J: What are you- Ah! Alright, nice-chat, gotta-go, see-ya-around, HaveAGoodNight!
B: Night.
...
What a dork. (Smiles)
Unexpected Rejection
"Damn it!" The shout rang out through the library. Weiss, standing to leave the room, did not excuse herself to the dozen people around her to deal with her emotions.
"Damn, damn, damn..." she continued, muttering as she left Ruby at the study desk alone. The younger girl seemed shell-shocked at the sudden change in mood her friend exhibited, and didn't figure to follow.
"Not as if they would need a carbon-weave asset on a twelve inch plate, no, the tank surely is replaceable..." says Weiss, rambling through the courtyard now, stomping her heels as she went.
"Heat could never be an issue for storage, and fracturing in the result of a crash is objectionable at best..." Her sarcastic tone pulled attention to her from all around, as she rounded the dock, and she shouted once more at the precipice to the world; "But damn them! Damn those arrogant, antagonistic, butt-head-..."
She was still cursing and carrying on as she passed the training hall, passed the kitchens, passed the dorms, passed Jaune-
"Hey, you ok, Snowy?" He pulled her forearm in a stopping gesture, and she wrenched it back.
"Not in the mood!" Her sharp gaze sliced at Jaunes resolve, and it was all he could do to keep up with her.
"I see..."
"And what does safety matter, anyway, when dealing with 'expendable assets', those sons of-"
"What is-"
"No, they would never think to redefine a system that is so extraordinarily cost efficient, especially with dependent contractors needing a to maintain their wrinkled teat-"
He cut in front of her. "Damn it, Weiss, what the hell are you talking about?"
"None of your business! Not that anyone should care what a lowly heiress should think to-" She tries to brush past him again, but he stands stiff in front of her again, and grabs her shoulder, firmly.
"WEISS!"
The hand, the voice, her hand of his breastplate which failed to move the young man, all snapped herself out of her anger. People were looking. They seemed shocked. She looked back up at him. "What? I'm calm. I'm fine."
He hasn't budged from his stance, except to duck his head towards her face. In a more hushed tone, he asserts; "What is going on?!"
She breaks eye contact, and looks over his shoulder to the eyes and eyes of Beacon. She hooks her fingers around the top of his armour and drags him around the corner, out of sight of most of the hallway.
Facing away from him, she lets go, and so does he. She thinks for a moment. She had been most rude, and Jaune was someone she gossiped with, so why not about herself? She sighs into her wrist, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose. She turns, using her hand for pointed expression. "Do you remember that envelope Blake passed me when Ren was in the hospital?"
He looks up to the ceiling, failing to dredge up the memory. "What?"
She twists her wrist. "The envelope, the-"
He clicks his fingers, nods. "Oh, yeah, gotcha, the post, and the-"
Her index and middle fingers rub her forehead. "Well, that was... a competition. Or... a test."
"Competing for what? Last I heard, you were richer than Scrooge McDuck?"
She rolls her eyes. "I stand to be richer that whoever that is. And it's more of... a licence." A certification of Trust, more-like, she thinks.
He asks gingerly. "So... you didn't pass?"
She rubs her forehead again, grits her teeth. " No."
Scratching his nose, he asks "Was it... important? The licence?"
"Extremely."
It was right now that Jaune made his biggest mistake. "Well, hey, no-one is perfect, right?"
(Not yet.)[Not ever] she thinks.
"I mean, who doesn't need help from time to time?"
(Not for this. This is The Opus, you shouldn't need-) [Help would be {nice} scorned-]
"So, if there is anything I can do to help you along-"
(Condescending clown) [Even he can look down on you]
He notices her tensing up, and acts on dumb instinct. "Hey, just relax, and-" He goes to nudge her upper arm.
She swats his hand again, hard. "No! I will not relax, I have work to do, I have to accomplish things you couldn't even begin to dream of, things that make imagination turn in on itself while holding a three-sided mirror, all because of" -she starts walking away, back on the path she began on- "damnable dis-functory committees making a mockery of hard work that would have been ok - more than ok - would it have been from anybody else, but nooooo, if I-"
Jaune slid down the wall, watching her figure move around the corner, quickly. He'd followed her from the library, obviously unnoticed, where he also had witnessed the beginning of her foul rant. He had been doing research of his own when her outburst began, and figured that his book was still open to where he had dropped it. Not that it would matter, as he could not find a reference to his target anywhere. All he had really been doing, in the end, was confirming missed shots.
Fifteen minutes later and he had pissed off the girl he most liked in the world. I messed that up, he thinks. I guess that means I have to really Impress her now. You dumb lunk-head. He starts back on his way to the library, for what will most definitely be a long night. This Sunlight Parasite better be the real deal.
She comes back round the corner, looking down, sullen, perhaps. Her crossed arms hide her hands in her elbow-pits, and she only glances with her eyes to see his expression, returning them to the floor quickly, as she starts talking.
"I'm sorry, you didn't need that. I just... This was important, but it's in the future. My present is here. I can't afford to spite my friends for the simple pleasure of venting. And you are (special)..."
What am I? He waits.
What is he? Infuriating, engaging, exciting, annoying, pitiful, charming...in the under-dog way... She says "...you're better to me than I, to you. Especially given my...temperament." She stresses the utterance, holding back the full vitriol she had for herself.
He sits, taken aback by her open appreciation of their dynamic. There were times where he thought he had in fact gone too far, that he should give up, that he doubted every interaction he had with Weiss, or any girl. Just a little acknowledgement like this was enough to ease his fears and inadequacies.
So he stands, pats the dust from the wall off his back, stretches, and says, "Forget it. That's just me, and how I am. And how you are is fine too. You're just stressed, and with good reason?" His nuance turns upwards, asking if he is correct.
"Yes. By the light of day, yes." She hangs her head, slouches. She feels like she could just cry. All her work, so many hours working and engineering and researching, for naught.
"And you're gonna have to try again?"
"Mrrrmmm..." she can't be bothered answering, as the thought of all those woman hours makes her tired on their own.
"Well, that can come next. This is your now, didn't you say?"
She looks up to him. "Just be here?"
"Just be here for now."
"You are so cheesy."
"What's wrong with that? People like cheese."
"They also like Reality TV and vertical stripes. Just goes to show."
"Whatever, you still want me."
A raised eyebrow is the response she deems appropriate, although she denies denial too.
He realised just what he had said. "On your spaghetti. Because I am cheese. And people like cheese."
"Which would make you Taleggio cheese." A smirk finds its' way to her lips, and she flicks her hair over her shoulder, all frustrations gone from her. She struts away, smiling, knowing she will have the last word in the encounter. "With an intense aroma."
Unexpected Whisps, Unexpected Resolve, Uninspected Eggs
Egg slouches off his fork as he gently prods his lips.
Pyrrha: Someone had a late night last night. Again.
Jaune: Hmm? Hmm. Mmmrph. No luck. Again. (The fork nearly lifts his lip the whole way up, his eyes closed, his mind not aware or caring.
Pyrrha: Jaune, I think it would be best we moved you to bed, yes?
Jaune: (Mumbles) You'd like that, wouldn't I? (He slips off the hand holding his head up, and his head comes down on the side of his plate. The plate in turn catapults various breakfast foods onto the back portion of his hair.)
Pyrrha: (Takes a strip of Bacon off his neck, lays it on her plate) You should really watch your hours, a full nights sleep would do wonders for you in class. Not to mention measuring your dietary intake.
Jaune: Diet, shmiet.
Pyrrha: (Pats his back) I would never dream of forcing it upon you. But, I must ask, this quest of yours, is it not becoming too... quixotic?
Jaune: Yeah... yeah...
Pyrrha: If there was something substantial to find, we would have found it by now.
Yang: That's right, you guys have been hitting the books hard lately. Oobleck on your back?
Nora: Oh, just trying to establish a safe world free of the horrors and pains of Grimm. No biggie.
Yang: ...Ren?
Ren: No kidding. We even searched police records and court transcripts.
Blake: What are you looking for?
Nora: SECRET! IT'S... a secret. No previews, spoilers or insider knowledge, we are in full embargo, people!
Ren: (Cough) {Jaune, look at me}
Jaune: Hmm? {What's up Ren?}
Ren: Uh... {Someone already knows.}
Jaune: Yeah? {How bad is it?}
Ren: Yeah. {Not really a secret anymore, but not that bad.}
Jaune: How? Who? {How? Who?}
Ren: Can't say. {They are here.}
Jaune: K. {Might as well get it out then.} Nora, you can tell them, they're cool.
Nora: It's a-
Weiss: I have returned, puny mortals.
Ruby: You're back! I saved you some Bacon, but it was getting cold, so...
Weiss: Never mind, satisfaction is sustenance enough.
Nora: Ooh, who satisfied you?
Blake: You got the permission, then?
Nora: Permission for what?
Weiss: I start tests tomorrow.
Nora: Testing for what?
Yang: Do you need a hand lugging the parts?
Nora: Parts?
Ruby: If we break them into pieces, we should just be able to use a trolley.
Blake: Why don't you just use a pallet jack?
Nora: Trolley? Pieces? Who is Jack?!
Weiss: That would work up to the stairs.
Yang: Just use the loading ramp around the back.
Nora: WHERE?!
Weiss: It's a secret.
Ruby: No spoilers!
Nora: Oh, come on!
Weiss: It's not too interesting, really. It's just-
Ruby: Secret swap?
Weiss: What are you-
Jaune: Ladies first.
Ruby: I don't know if I can swing that this time, Vomit Boy.
Yang and Nora: OOooooh!
Jaune: I guess you mustn't want to know that badly, Crater Face.
Nora and Yang: OOooooh!
Ruby: Why would we want to-
Weiss: I'm getting an area for experimenting with dust ores and processes under the training courts.
Nora: Oh. What kind of-
Weiss: On Dust. Mostly just processing and chemical. If I find anything interesting, I'll show you.
Nora: Oh... So, mad science and the sort?
Weiss: No, just science. It will be mostly a waiting game; waiting on cultures, waiting on formulas to cool, waiting for diffusions to settle.
Nora:... And the big equipment?
Weiss: Large chambers to do more tests. Larger quantities are sometimes required to see just what is happening to a solution, and lets an observer find how a mixtures dynamics-
Nora: So, not too crazy? Exciting? Fates and destinies unravelling and, and, just... Petri dishes?
Weiss: For the most part, it should be nice and quiet. But the ramifications could resound throughout the community of dust alchemistry and-
Nora: Yeah, that's greeaat. Pretty cool. Yeah.
Weiss: I thought so.
Nora: Yeah.
Blake: So what were you all looking for-
Nora stands up, half excited, half elated. "It's a really cool insect of legend that could solve Grimm altogether!"
The silence from team RWBY is telling. Weiss takes a seat, dumbstruck by her own ramblings about her own project, where JNPR were onto something else entirely, and something monumental in its' own right. Ruby nearly chokes on her morning meal, checks around the room, to see if she had drawn any attention to the conversation. The only indication she could have seen were the twitching ears behind her, and her eyes did not sweep so far. Blakes' eyes widened, looking for the evidence in the faces of the opposite team. Her eyes lingered longest on Jaune, whose bedraggled head seemed to want to fall back into the plate, but he, like his teammates, was grinning in earnest.
Yang, however, was sceptical, and her purposeful expression looked to pin down an answer. "You said you've been looking everywhere for it. Have you confirmed it is real?"
There is a wait. Ren replies first, but hesitantly, not making eye contact. "Maybe." Yang leans forward, ready with a response.
Pyrrha cuts in first. "We've found what are possibly... references, to this creature."
"What kinds of references?" Yang again, continuing her examination.
Pyrrha answers. "A few quotes, an ancient saying, a metaphor, and several short mentions in various reference materials."
Yang flicks her hair back behind herself, leans back. "Has anyone else gone looking for it?"
Ren rubs around the brim of his collar. "A few, yes, but none of them left much behind."
"No books, no references..?" Yang leaves the question hanging, and Ren replies quickly, sending a shiver up the sides and down the legs of the rest of the table.
"No bodies."
There is a silence. The blood-soaked lands that lay in the shadow of the kingdoms were an ever-present threat, a looming presence over the lives of every human in and out of the light, and besides, Yang needed to weigh up what she had heard.
Jaune breaks the reverie. "There was one."
Nora sighs. "We don't even have his name, or when he lived. He could be just a dream."
Another silence. Thought saturates the air, and not a one of the eight can look each other in the eye. Most simply curse themselves just for imagining there to be so simple a solution, so easily readied an anti-venom for a world poisoned since conception.
Jaunes' head once again hits the table, via his plate. Once again, the remains of his meal are flung onto his neck and hair. Once again, Pyrrha brushes them onto the plate.
The rest of the meal goes in silence, a commemoration for the end of their short-lived optimism, and the wasted hours spent in research and reading.
Ruby, the first to arrive, is the first to leave. She is followed by Yang, who pats her sisters head. Quickly after them is Pyrrha, then Ren, and seeing him stand is Nora, who finishes her meal in a flash. Blake excuses herself from Weiss and Jaune, who are still eating, the later with some weariness. Eventually, as he spins the spoon in his white coffee, he asks, "Hey, Weiss."
She swallows another mouthful of croissant. Wrapped up in her own thoughts among the rafters until the query, she looks down to him. He continues swirling the luke-warm water. "Yes?" She answers.
"Do you ever wonder why we're here?" Jaune asks. To her quizzical look, he clarifies; "We aren't the first hunters, huntresses, guardians of the world. We probably won't be the last, either. How many hunters came before us, that just couldn't change a thing? How many felt they could change the flow, make things different, just for us to end up where we are now?"
"What do you mean? The world is at peace, the Grimm-"
"The Grimm are still there though! So many people have gone looking for a damn Light Bug*, and not a single one came back, and they changed nothing. They left us their legacy, and who is to say we aren't going to leave the exact same things to our own kids? Nothing has changed, nothing is changing, so why are we here at all?"
(*A/N: The common way we say Chimera, a fantastic beast to us that doesn't exist, is not a phrase that Vytal has. The closest is the rare phrase 'Chasing Light Bugs', another oft-sought but non-existent creature. In fact, many creatures exist in Vytal, including the Chimera, which is horrible indeed.)
Weiss stares at the young man. It's not long before her full bent is brought before him.
"Why are we here? You know, Jaune, if you can't answer that, then you have to be blind as a bat."
His expression changes to shame. He doesn't respond, but faces his frown towards the table.
"Do you want to know what I fight for? Simple. What every huntsperson, soldier, farmer with an old, rusty scythe, what they fought for? Because I have seen it in my own heart, in the hearts of my team, in the eyes of every person with their backs to the wall, and as a people, that is what we are; we are a species with their backs to the wall, to the crooks and crannies of a hundred mountaintop castles.
"What I have seen, looking backwards, looking sidewards, at the written and visible souls of my brethren, are a people forging their own constantly. Forging weapons, homes, shields. We, Jaune, were born naked and squealing, and so we made everything that we would need to survive just a second more. We still do that. Simply, we are buying time. Every sword buys us a dozen seconds, every pellet and every shell buys us distance, which is just time against the speed of our enemies. These days, we are very good at buying time. We put up a wall, and buy a decade. We build an academy, and buy a century.
"And me? I am here because maybe, I can buy much more than that, by being here, more than being at my fathers company. I'm going to invest my life into buying as much time as I can for the rest of humanity."
Jaune, eyes still on the table, asks, "But what are we buying for? Why are we buying it if it could all just-"
"Last year, I might not have really been ready to answer you. But now, it's as clear as day."
"Yeah?"
"Look at me, Jaune."
He looks up. Weiss is smiling.
"Aren't I enough? Or are you still blind?"
His heart, like a bird swooping, drops, flutters, and leaves him stunned.
"I guess if not for me, you could do it for Pyrrha. Or Ren and Nora. Just look around. I hold Myrtenaster tight for Ruby and her dreams of fairytales, I swing it for Blakes' dreams of peaceful reconciliation, and I will take any blow so Yang can live one of her fantasies. That's why I fight. For the people in my sight." She locks eyes with him. There is a long moment where Jaune wonders where the princess became the powerful queen she was emulating now. He fights through his blush, and her stare, to asks her something else.
"So, if I were to fight for you, what would I be fighting for?"
She takes a moment, blinking at the reorientation of the question. "Well, there is my family's business, of course. I have to take over and-"
Jaune cuts her off. "No, I don't believe that. You may have plans for taking that over, but not dreams. If anything, I figure you would probably 'Buy More Time' with it. What is it you want, after you have all of that mess?"
Again, she is taken aback, and not just by how cliché the 'Time' line was on reflection. He always seemed to turn things around on her, to focus on her. Suddenly she knows she has to add him to her list of people she has to protect. Another moment to think about what her dream is, apart from her sister and the company, apart from Ruby and Blake and Yang, apart from Beacon and her continued residence. She really hadn't thought about this before, for herself at least. Eventually, it comes to her.
"I want a daughter. That's it." She smiles. "Or a puppy, maybe, like Zwei." She shakes her head after a moment. "No. I want a daughter. I want someone who I can love, teach, or just grow into someone as amazing as the girls here. I want to be there for her more than any of our own mothers. I know I could do it right, I just..." a tear forms in her right eye. " I could make time for us both, don't you think?" She wipes it away, inhales deeply, exhales slower and evenly.
"I know you can." The Dork Knights' smile is back, and there is a sharp look in his eyes like she hasn't seen in a while. That resolve that was always absent, she thinks. Maybe he found his own dream?
She chuckles, breaking the weird mood. "How about you? Any aspirations beyond keeping a hold of your room key?"
"I have it right here, thank you." He shuffles a hand into his pocket. Then his other pocket. Then his breastplate, his shoes, his-
She picks it up off the table. It had worked its' under his plate, after he had slammed into it the second time. He swipes it, shoves it in his pocket quickly, and looks up to Weiss, with a bashful look on his face. "Well, thanks. And... last night, the dream was to protect everyone, so we wouldn't have to be here anymore."
She crosses her arms, leans on the table. "And with what Light Bug would that be with?"
He smirks, eyes closed. "Not just any bug, but the Bug. The Sunlight Maggot. Parasitus Solem." He shrugs. "I guess that was a pipe dream, though."
The name rings a bell with her. "Where did you get the idea from, anyway?"
"Oh, just something Goodwitch mentioned. There was this bug in a book, the Black Grimoure, but there are no references to it anywhere, not directly. Anyway, it's suppose to drive Grimm away, I thought maybe we could do something with it, Glinda won't let me have the real one, says it is too dangerous to- Weiss, where are you going?"
She had stood up when the dots connected in her head; that night the Blonde Student had spent talking to the Blonde Teacher, there had been mention of a curious relic someone had been looking for, and it had sent him mad. Jaune had hit a roadblock, but just maybe...
"Just realised I left my own room card around somewhere, ask Blake to make some notes for me?" She says as she turns around, with an innocent grin. Which fades as she looks at him standing up. "And you have a bit of egg on your collar."
Thrown once and once again, he looks down, but the offending egg is out of sight. "Where?"
She points. "Just there." He dabs with a napkin. "Little higher." He misses again. "Kind of under your ear." He brushes his shoulder. "No, look." She says, moving around the table. "Just, let me-"
He protests, trying still to clean the spot. "It's alright, I have it-"
She swats his hand. "Just stay still, you'll smudge it-"
"I am perfectly-"
She licks at a handkerchief of hers, and starts wiping the mark. She focuses hard on the spot, hovering closer and closer.
"Capable." He says, into her hair. The reverberations moving from his mouth into her head wake her up to their proximity, and she sniffs. Cheap cologne and boy smell. She stays transfixed to the spot, rubbing the colour out of his collar.
"Uh, I have class." She says.
"Me too." He says.
They back off from one another, two synchronized and equal steps.
"Well, uh, better go." He says, still with the taste of vanilla on his tongue, from her hair.
"Yes. Let's." She says.
They leave, in opposite directions, without eye contacts, and purposes lost to the winds.
