Conditional Terms
AKA Terms and Conditions
So this time I'm writing action. Feel free to abuse me to your hearts content, and I will apologize in advance for the messiness of the combat.
On another note, does anyone else get a weird feeling when you write irreverently about a character that has died?
Discretion of Use
"No," said Glinda, the light from her table lamp defeating the natural illumination that the window to her office brought. "I will not hand the Grimoure to one of my students."
"But-" said Weiss, cut short by a wave of a hand. She had spent the morning arguing with her professor: over her Opus; over what she required; over what her family donated annually to the school; over who the book was really for; over responsibility; over every single point Weiss could make, and then some. Surprising, she lost on most of the considered points, as Glinda was firm and level in all her assessments. It looked like the younger woman had failed completely.
"The Black Grimoure is dangerous, not just for those who search for its' contents, or try to recreate its' failures. It can, and has, driven many a young examiner to madness, despair, and obsession. It is a concentration of evil, a study of our enemy beyond the investigative norms, beyond every rule of nature, beyond the razor edge of reason." She pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. "It is also a derivative work."
It took her a second to understand, but Weiss was taken aback. "You mean, it's not the first?"
Glinda picked up her coffee, swishing the half-cup of brown, warm mix in circles. "I mean that many of the passages it contains are merely an attempt to explain and understand another work."
The girl stood confused. "So, what does that mean for-"
"There once was a man, a great man, with a Dark Aura." The professor turned to the window of her well lit room, and with a flick of her wrist, she dimmed the lights. The shadow that fell over her seemed appropriate for her now solemn tone. "His identity has never been fully verified. Some say his travels caused his soul to blacken, whereas others say his Aura was born different, or that he was under a curse, and he was fated to travel the lands, fighting challenges much beyond his measure, simply in hopes of breaking a spells' hold on him. Or simply he had a dark fascination." Her tone darkens further, her voice almost a murmur. "What is clear, is that, at the end of his travels, he built himself a funeral pyre, and burned himself to ash outside a small town not too far from this academy. They found at the foot of the fire a pile of books, covered in ash. These, Miss Schnee, are the true origin of the Black Grimoure; the Travelling Diary, through the darkest lands and evilest times, of the self-styled Roland the Wanderer."
Weiss sat down, captivated. Of course the boy and his team wouldn't find what they were looking for; they were looking for the wrong book altogether. And would they have even liked what they could have found? The description she gave of it, the hushed and sombre words spoken, her Professor sounded afraid of the damned thing. "Are you trying to steer me away from it?"
"Of course." Glinda replied. "But that has stopped no-one from pursuing the novels. So, I will make you a deal, with conditions." She stands, and walks towards her bookshelf, her back to Weiss. She slides a finger along the grain of a lower shelf, and Weiss can clearly see some kind of magical symbol illuminate, in a pattern she realises was already a part of the wood, and she had not seen until the magic touch of her professor. The glow slowly dims, and Weiss imagines she can hear the slightest sound of breaking glass.
With a small 'Ding', a hidden compartment in the shelf slides outwards. Glinda closes it, and returns to the table. On the table, she places a ragged, leather bound, thick book, the size of Pyrrhas' shield at least.
"I will allow you one of the only copies of a transcription of the journal, should you follow the conditions. If I learn that the rules I state here are broken in any form, I will take the book back, and consider as many drastic options as necessary." She takes her glasses off, to look Weiss straight in the eyes, then puts them back on. "And this book if for your eyes only. This is not to be relayed to Jaune, or Ruby, not even your own father. I will have a custom storage container brought to you and teach you ways to lock and safeguard it against intrusion."
"I understand, Professor."
"Good. Now, this first condition is more of a task. You will be given a month, and all the resources that you and your team leader may deem necessary..."
1. "Force Jaune to Discover his Semblance"
"Look, Ren, you can't just say that about a group of people. And anyway, the most they would be is polygamic-"
"Are we walking into an ambush?"
The calm question from Jaune seemed to heighten the senses of his team. It hadn't seemed obvious to them before, but on their way back from classes, all the other students had turned separate ways, leaving them on their usual path alone, which was also odd, as they often passed many other students on the way. Today, however, even the courtyard was silent, and from the centre where the four stood, Jaune couldn't make out a word, a footfall, a single sound apart from that of his team. It struck him now that they were completely vulnerable to attack, with little more than grass to cover them, and if they were surrounded without their-
Four rocket-propelled lockers smashed into the corners of the courtyard, drilling into cement and soil alike. The covers blew off, revealing their combat uniforms and equipment.
-weapons.
"I don't like the feel of this." Shuddered Nora.
"Feels like a test." Pyrrha asserted. She had seen this before. "Someone wants us well equipped for what comes next."
"Wait." Jaune stops his team taking their first steps towards their lockers. "Can you see anything out of place? Anything wrong with your lockers? It could be trapped."
After a few moments, and half-steps towards their gear, there is an uneasy acceptance that there was no choice but to take a closer look.
Jaune signalled his team to stop. He made the first move, going for his shield. He slowly eased it off the sword, checked the back, and, with some reluctance, expanded it. Nothing unusual happened, so he checked his sword, then his clothes. He signalled an 'all-clear' to the rest. They took their clothes and weapons, and backed towards each other.
Jaune asked, in a whisper, "How's your gear?"
Ren hefted his guns. "No ammo." Pyrrha and Nora checked their clips, and found it to be much the same situation. Nora was prepared, partially; she dived into her duffle bag, and pulled out two halves of a stocky cylinder, one with a heart-shaped insignia. Jaune patted her on the back as she re-united the detonator with the explosive, and loaded it into her gun.
"Alright, so back to back, we'll get changed, one at a time, in the centre. Who wants first?" Jaune asks, and Ren answers. They give him a bit of room, and keep an equilateral triangle around him, eyes wide, and weapons ready.
It's ten minutes before JNPR has become fully clothed, and they touch backs again. They stepped away, giving themselves just enough room to swing their weapons "Any idea what this is about?" Asks Pyrrha.
"It's gotta be the government. Who else could clear out the whole school in secret without alerting us? Or maybe ninjas? Or government ninjas in suits. That's my bet. Yep. Suit ninja."
"Nora, that's... could this be a test? They also had access to our lockers, would that make them school administrators?"
"Jaune, should we make our way inside? We are way too easily picked off by ranged units here."
"That's not the game, otherwise they would have taken their shots already. A sniper doesn't need this much time. They wanted us ready, in this courtyard, and-"
"And the doors are booby trapped."
"Thank you, Nora, the doors are booby trapped. Why are you whispering?"
"It wasn't me- NINJAS!"
It was at that moment that Jaune turned around. There was, in fact, a person in a fully black set of clothes, their hair, mouth and nose hidden in a face-mask, casually standing between the four of them. Her eyes smiled as much as they could, as much as her deceptive entrance had freaked out the rest of them. They jumped back instinctively; except for Nora, who swung.
The figure then seemed to split. The black figure jumped high into the air, avoiding the blow, leaving behind a marvelous white after-image. As the hammer struck the glowing figure, it exploded into a brilliant light, which destroyed the vision of all but Jaune, whose shield was covering his eyes, in case of explosion.
The first thing he saw was a black cord spring up from the earth under their feet, catch Pyrrha by the stomach, and slingshot her out of the courtyard, high and away, towards the library. She was still airbourne as he saw another black figure drop in, hook a red implement under Magnhild and press it into her waist. There is a high-calibre gunshot, and she too is carried off. He senses the pattern, and looks to Ren, who is blindly feeling around for his friends. Jaune hears a gunshot, and instinctively grabs his friends hand. There is a black and gold blur, which moves past his vision in a blink. He looks to his friends chest, and sees a kind of harness was wrapped around him. Another small explosion, and the boy is ripped dramatically from his hands.
Within ten seconds, JNPR had been reduced to the leader.
He stands there, defeated.
In the gentle breeze.
As if nothing had happened.
His heart pounds. Saliva starts to compile in his mouth. He moves not a muscle.
He waits for a hand, or claw, or hook, to drag him off.
He waits.
Ten seconds.
A minute.
He moves.
He runs to a door. The door opens at his approach.
He had seen Pyrrha taken off to the library. This is the shortest route, through a building.
The door opened at his approach. This was not an automatic door.
He looks to his right. A rock. He picks it up. Hefts it.
Ditches it through the doorway, hard as possible.
Clack! It splits in two as it hits the far wall.
It splits in more than that when the ball of energy hits it. In fact, it disappears.
He decides to turn around.
Which is when she sees it.
Another figure.
Or was it the same one?
No. This one stood upon a flat cloud of light and mist.
It wields a thin splinter of metal in her hand. It glows red.
It slashes . The courtyard is engulfed in fire.
Indoors it is, Jaune.
He runs, taking cover when he can, and makes it through the precipice of the doorway.
He looks back for the figure, over his right shoulder.
Mistake.
He feels a sudden pressure bash his shield, and turns about to see another bolt of light slowly arcing towards him. He intercepts it with his sword, cleaving it in two needle-thin darts, one of which spins lazily off behind him.
The other hits his shoulder, and digs in.
For a moment, there is stunning pain, throwing him off balance. He spins onto his back, hits the floor.
The floor glows.
He rolls. Not quick enough.
Spinning and turning, he hits the roof.
Stays there. One, two, three. Looks like you're stuck there, Jaune.
He stands up. Stands down, he contemplates? He stands.
He has a sudden fear of heights. Or depths.
He looks behind him.
The figure approaches at a saunter, on the ground.
He makes for a sprint, vaulting the archways of the roof.
Keeps his shield ready.
Smart.
A chandelier, normally not even there, explodes into millions of glass fragments. He screams.
And jumps, tucking his legs up and under him, covering himself with his shield, fast as fear.
His shoes catch glass. His feet survive.
His sword is knocked away in a hail of glass.
The sounds is immense. The shattering is like a waterfall, continuous, drowning out all else.
His eyes are closed tight.
His aura would have protected him, though.
He hits the ground. Eyes open. Rolls onto his shield. There is a no crunch of glass. It has fallen to the floor. He is on the roof.
Like his sword.
And his blood.
It runs along his arm, drips from the underside of his hand.
The light dart from before had broken through his aura. He now feels the pain.
It's more like a sharp ache, but he feels it tighten as he picks up his sword, the weight pulling on his muscles.
He maybe suspected his teachers, or another team.
The figures kind of fit the profile of team RWBY, if he thought about it.
But they wouldn't hurt him, would they?
The danger was real, in any case.
His team - he- was in danger.
He started running again.
That was when gravity reasserted itself. "I am gravity," it said. "I go down, not up," it said.
Metaphorically.
Two figures, mostly black and a mix of pink and white, dance in the night...
In the light of the mess hall, their arms twirl, spinning weapons just as tall as them. The heads of the implements of war-
-a large, red scythe, also a gun-
-a long, heavy hammer, also a gun-
-pass each other by, either missing by millimetres, or touching like cogs in a deadly wheel, churning quicker and quicker, faster and faster.
A determined smile is on the face of both dancers, shifting their footing, switching angles, moving back, daring to lean forward, stretch their range, test the boundaries of safety, see what they can get away with-
-the one in the white, pink and blue pushes too far, and the scythe-wielder can hook her blade around the head of the hammer, draws it back hard, forces a stumble by the hammer-holder, clocks her with the handle of the scythe, and catches the other figure with the blade (which, upon examination, is flat and blunt steel.
"Bang", she calls, and releases her catch gingerly. Nora snorts, springs to her feet, high-fives Ruby, and drops back to the ground.
"Bleugh, guts everywhere, evil wins, 'oh no, think of the children...'" She chuckles, and is joined in the laugh by Ruby, who hops out of her makeshift arena - a ring of tables, with a clearing about thirty feet from side to side - to grab water for the pair
"Now my ninja army shall rule the world, without interference from the fierce and mighty warriors of Juniper!" She cackles. "Good match, though. Why don't we do this more often?"
"Oh, it's just 'coz you're so li'il and cute, they give you the easy match-ups." She pats Rubys' head, who doesn't much appreciate it. She then remembers the situation. "Oh, yeah, and what exactly are we doing?"
Ruby winks. "Tonight, we're helping Jaune discover his Semblance."
Nora throws her hands up towards the lights. "Finally! So, why aren't you there? And why don't I get to watch?"
"We can't have you guys stopping us. It's kinda why we had to split you all up."
The older girl thinks. "Why would we stop you? It's not like-" She blinks in realisation. "Oh, you're doing it the hard way."
"Yeah," Ruby confirms. "That's not a problem, is it?"
Another snort from the elder. "Not with me. I've been wanting to do that for months. It's Miss Cereal Box you have to worry about."
Ruby smiles. "We have a plan for that." She frowns. "Had a plan."
"What happened, did Team Juniper mess up poor Team Rubies' plans?" Nora mocks.
The younger makes a face. "No. We just had to... improvise, last second and all." She combs her hair with her fingers, sheepishly. "It's been a great fight and all, and I like you and everything...You wouldn't be too offended if we kind of lined up someone else for you?"
Nora yawns. "Nope, just curious to who you thought could take me on?" She examines her nails.
"Blake."
Nora sits up suddenly. "BLAKE?! I could totally take on Blake!"
"Nope." Replies the smaller girl. "Without ammo, your hammer is a lot slower, and Blake is all Ninja-y, and cat-like, like, woh-chaaaaaa~"
"Yeah, but why can't I use my totally awesome electricity channeling? Don't I get that?"
"Well, uh, no." And with that, Ruby presses a button on her phone, and the lights go out. "I just kinda cut power from the room. If I have my semblance and ammo, I can corral you inside, keep you from getting to a mains. So should have Blake."
Nora pouts. "Well, why didn't you stay at range, then? Awfully risky, sitting right here with me now."
The redhead grins evilly. "Not so risky; there's a powerful sleeping agent in the water I just gave to you."
Nora balks. "You what? I guess you really did think of everything..." She sits up, stands up, starts jogging on the spot. "I can beat this!"
Ruby coos. "No use fighting, Nora. Just let it take you."
Nora starts to slump. "Oh, what a world, what a world." She crashes to the ground, tired, and her eyes start to close. "How could you be so cruel?"
Ruby flicks her nose, waking her right up. "I wasn't. It's just water. Gotcha."
Wide-eyed and wondering, Nora takes a few seconds to process. "Very funny." She sticks out her tongue. "Ha, ha-... uh, actually Ruby," she says, sitting up, and rolling onto her hands and knees, "I think I'm going to need- BLEUGH!"
Face down, from her mouth comes a stream of horrible, light brown, slightly foamy vomit, which continues to pour in large streams.
"Oh, no, the Ipecac! I forgot we had the-"
"BLEUGH!" She gasps for breaths, not noticing she has covered her gloves and knees in the foam-ish liquid. "Ruby how could you- arghbleugh!"
"I'm gonna grab you a bucket, stay right there!"
"Are you kidding- Blg. Me. Bmmg. Oh, please let it end, let it BLEUGHLEGER!"
-Block, block, kick, roll, dodge, shoot-
A golden haired girl and a black-haired boy stand, weave, and fight in the middle of an arena; the training grounds Ms Goodwitch would usually adjudicate were bereft of an audience, a class, a single person, apart from the two youths in the centre of the lights.
-break, circle, watch, dodge, reverse, push, kick kick, look out-
The fight seemed fairly balanced, with both parties holding their own, and for three minutes, only two blows had really landed, from the young man against the girl, and she had taken them in her stride. In fact, she had smiled as she had rolled with the attacks, and was getting more aggressive in her style. The boys style shifted too, being extremely evasive, giving ground for added movement. He stepped back out of a haymaker lunge, and brought up a knee.
-push, she trips, run, door? Where is the- Door! Turn and shoot at- where did she-?!
BRRRT!
A metal baton hits the door that the young man was running towards. It bounces, ricochets, and showers the area in front of the boy in sparks. The electrical flash stuns Ren for a moment, a little light bounces in front of his eyes, and he backs away from the door slowly.
Yang smiles, flexes her shoulders. "If you think you are getting out of here so easily, then you should be prepared for about fifty-thousand volts of resistance."
He grits his teeth. She smiles. He retakes his stance. She pops the last shell in the chamber out. As it hits the floor...
Ren asks "Isn't resistance measured in Ohms, not Volts?"
"What?"
"Resistance is Ohms, not Volts." His shoulders relax, as her face pinches into a confused look.
She waves a hand, opening her solid stance, explaining. "Well, yeah, but the resistance would be coming from your body, not the battery I have hooked up." She pauses and flicks her hair, pushing a few stray locks over her shoulder. "So, yeah, volts are the things causing you to resist."
"I dunno, I was a bit... 'shocked', myself." Ren winks, an unfamiliar gesture, one that he is simply mirroring from his current opponent, probable friend.
"Overused." She sighs. She had forgotten to come up with a quip during their week of preparation, and her mind had gotten hooked upon the clichés she really tried to fight. She looks to the floor, masking her embarrassment. "Too easy, even. Look, are we gonna fight or-"
The magazine that Ren had ejected from his gun - empty as it were - hit Yang square in the forehead, surprising her and pushing her onto her back foot, off-balanced. She was found flat-footed as Rens' foot found her gut, knocking her back onto the stage. She blasted her gauntlets once, shooting herself away from another follow-up attack, and rolled backwards onto her feet, leant forward hard on her ankles, and blew forward-
And rolled out of the other incoming clip, killing her momentum, and simply chose to run in to meet her friend centre-stage yet again. She lead with a leap, staying balanced, keeping her fists in close to fend off an incoming blade, ready to spring-kick off of her opponent when her shoes met his chest-
The boy slid under her, dual blades swinging upwards-
Meeting her gauntlets, and sliding on, as she flips forwards, lands, and turns.
They both stand again, at either sides of the stage.
He speaks. "Why are we here?"
She speaks. "That's a really interesting question. See, hunters and huntresses have been guarding our borders for centuries, but who was there before that? How did they survive? Where did we come from? Is there a god watching over us, or are we-" She throws a shot at his chest, but he sidesteps, keeping his footing. "-dodging the real questions?"
Ren smirks. "I think you are doing as much dodging as I am."
Yang smiles, that he had caught her joke. "Weiss is going to activate Jaunes' semblance."
Rens' smile disappears. "That's our job."
Yang. "Do it better."
Rens' eyes focus in on her. "That's not fair."
Yang nods. "Probably not, but it has to be done soon."
Ren cocks his head. "Why?"
The blonde scratches her head. Takes a breath. She was only supposed to keep Ren busy, so chatting should be ok. "Half-time, take a seat." She herself steps off the back of the stage, and opens a small refrigerator hidden out of the light. "You ever get into a bad habit?"
Ren continues standing, patiently, watching for a hidden weapon, a chance to attack, some form of subterfuge. "What kind?"
She opens a bottle of water, and he can hear the plastic seal breaking. "Just a habit. Nothing major." She takes a sip, and puts the lid back on. "Just something that could come back to bite you in the rump. Like, over-complicating your footwork?"
He smiles at her jab. "Or leading with a flying punch?"
She cracks her own grin. "Everyone's a critic. But, still," she tosses him the bottle she drank from, and grabs another, "the habits we form in combat are ones we follow for decades. So, Jaune is going to have to start forming good ones, techniques that use his semblance. Maybe even strategies and stuff. Like, with you guys, as a semblance team of badassery." She takes a long drink, letting Ren think. "That's the reasoning I heard anyway."
He sits, keeping his eyes on her. "But fundamentals are the building blocks of all good combatants. Shouldn't he have those down first?"
Yang splashes water on her face, rubs it into her brow. "Sure, but they aren't the only blocks. Far as I'm concerned, he's only playing with half a set." She runs water down her arms, wetting her jacket. "Why not give him the rest?"
"Because he won't be ready?" He takes a sip. The water is cool on his parched lips, and chills him as it runs down his throat.
Yang shrugs. "Who is?" She stands, stretching her arms. "To be honest, I'm just excited to see what it looks like. I've got bets on something sword-based, just out of symmetry."
Ren takes another moment on the combat-room floor to stretch his legs. "So, what is your plan?"
Yang stretches her fingers, leaning forward, pushing her arms further forward and her rear back, feeling the arch burn right through her body. "Pretty simple. We push him, keep you lot out of it."
Ren hops up, with just a flash of concern on his face. He mimics her pose, and comes out of it, flicking his wrist, shaking out a knot. "Who is 'pushing' him?"
The girl takes a deep breath, blows most of it out through her nose. Breath in, right to the pit of her stomach, and push out. "Well, Ruby probably wouldn't know when to stop, and Blake... well, to be honest, she was supposed to be the one taking on Jaune, because she's done it herself a few times. But, uh, past experiences... you know..." She mumbles off, and Ren understands. Blakes' past with the White Fang was not a nice one, and so it was fairly taboo to talk about. "We decided she should sit this one out."
"Which leaves... Weiss." Ren stands there for a moment, weighing the possibilities.
They both smile, and nod. "No-one safer, really."
Yang leaps, with her classic punch. Ren takes a stance to receive it; he leans forward, getting ready to lean back and kick high, taking his head out of arms reach, and place his foot squarely on her forehead.
Yang cancels out, shooting her gauntlet just soon enough for Rens' leg to be up-
-his under-knee finds her back as she turns slowly, moving too fast for herself-
-her momentum into his leg pairs the two, and they shoot off the stage in the most awkward tackle-
-they roll-
As Pyrrha had to deal with the ribbon that had her waist tied already, had lodged Milo inside a rare first edition of the Grimm Adventures of William and Amanda, and the rock-clone standing on her shield, it would appear Blake was a tactical match for her.
No matter, she had dealt with opponents like her before. The trick would be to draw her in close, outclass her head on, while avoiding her traps and trickery. But that was deconstructing a problem, figuring out how to deal with an enemy. What did that make Blake?
"Why are you doing this, Blake? What is this?"
The figure in black removes her facial coverings. "Only what is necessary."
"And that is?" She edges closer to her weapon, to break the statue and snatch it up.
"Do you love Jaune?"
The question catches her off guard, out of her comfort zone. "What does that have to do with anything?" She steps towards Blake.
"I think we all do, in some respects." Pyrrhas' eyes narrow at the Faunus, and she tore the ribbon up and over her head. "As a leader, as a friend, as a brother. Or whatever else there may be."
Pyrrha stays quiet. The cogs turn. "You have an odd way of showing it."
Blake frowns. "I was about to say the same thing." She pulls at a cord from behind a bookshelf. A tarp on the roof of the library splits, dropping blank pieces of paper all over their makeshift arena. Blake disappears between sheets.
Her voice calls out from the speakers. "To be at the elite school for Hunters and Huntresses, there is a certain level of competence expected." Pyrrha spins, searching for the voice. "Tactics. History. Skills. An understanding of the world." Pyrrha spins, searching for the black clad figure, obscured by the white sheets. She goes for her weapons. They have already disappeared. She can just barely feel them-. "Not for grades, but for safety. To protect. To grow. To be a guardian." Pyrrha spins, watching for movement in the dim lighting.
"How much have you trained with him, night after night after night? It's no secret, we all know your love for him beats all of ours." Pyrrha spins, searching.
"It beats mine and Yangs', anyway. I'm pretty sure Ruby sees him as a brother as well." Pyrrha can practically hear the smirk, the mocking, and she knows the absence of one character was very intentional.
"Enough with the games!" She calls, forcing a calmness over herself. "You won't infuriate me this easily!" She listens, intently, and imagines she can hear footsteps, light footfalls, to her left, through the ruffling off the paper.
"But I must have been wrong. You can't have loved him at all!" Her voice bellows over the speaker system. It then quiets, partially, to mock Pyrrha outright. "'It's fine, Jaune, you will earn your semblance in time, don't worry, nothing bad will happen, it's not like you could die!" Her parody falters at the last few words, and is replaced by outrage.
Pyrrha is shocked. "We tried to activate it, we did, time and time again! It not something so easily..." And here she herself falters.
"Bullshit! With that much aura, it should be easy to bring it out! He should have figured it out weeks ago." The footfalls increase, and Pyrrha can hear them all over. "I earned my semblance years ago, on the streets, running from angry security guards with guns. Yang figured hers out after she nearly died in a Beowolf attack. Weiss found hers through force of will, during an extreme experience with her father pushing her for weeks. And Ruby ran away from home, faster than anyone could follow, because she was grieving a mother he barely knew."
Pyrrha shouts back. "So what? You are going to hurt him?!"
Blake replies. "No! That's just the start! We are going to kill him!"
The girl in red stiffens. Her eyes widen. Her heart stops flat for longer than she realises. "You... you what?" He voice breaks. A cold sweat breaks across her skin.
"The difference between a soldier and a huntsman is that one thing; a semblance. We, as those specialised guardians, have to work with partners on equal grounds, or be held back protecting not just the innocent, but our teammates, making us much less than we could be as a unit." Her cold logic sends chills up Pyrrhas' back. "If Jaune does not learn his special gift, then potentially, all of Juniper could be lost."
"That's not true!" Her voice rings out, determined against the voice she thought was a friend. "Jaune is a great leader, and we would be less without him!"
"He grounds you! You can't see it, from the inside, but every other team can! It's sad, and dangerous!"
"No! He's a good man-"
"But a poor huntsman!" The snarl in Blakes voice is almost tangible, like a dog with a mad bite ready for the hand that approaches. "And you! YOUUU! Of all people! You know what he has to face!"
She stops, and Pyrrha shivers. "He doesn't have to-"
"I thought more of you. I thought, if anyone could, it would be Pyrrha Nikos. But you coddled him! You trained aura, yes, and you trained into him habits that save his life even now. But now he is just the best soldier he can be. He won't grow anymore, because YOU wanted to PLAY HOUSE!"
"No, I... I only did what I need to-"
"But not what he needed! And now?" The voice pauses, and a faint click can be heard. The voice she hears next is entirely Blakes own, with no amplification. "You face a choice." The papers stop falling. Lights come on.
Blake sees Pyrrha, and Pyrrha sees Blake. Pyrrha, sitting at the centre of a pile of papers, kneeling, head bowed. Hands covering her knees, she cries, contemplating her personal failure, her true weakness, her heart. Blake stands maybe twenty feet in front of her, and from her hands, a million ribbons stretch out around the room in a thousand directions, like a mad-mans' geometric line-art. They centred on a single point, leaving a clear circle just wide enough to step into, just a few steps in front of the redhead. Pyrrha could trace the cords to a large stone statue of Professor Port, wrapping around him and knotted in a large bow, giving the appearance of a stomach sash.
Blake speaks softly. "He is going to face a crucible tonight. I think he is up for it, but for this to work, the danger must be real. The stakes must be high. Please," and with this, she closes her eyes. Something gentle and pleading is there when she opens them. "If you trust me, and if you trust him, give us more room. Be what is on the line for the game. Not his life... but your own."
She stands. Her mind is a race, and a jumble. So many directions, so many emotions, and yet, clearly, one stood above all.
Regret.
She stepped forward into the circle.
Blake let her ribbons go. The statue fell. The ropes pull tight.
"Weiss you crazy-!"
ZZZZZZZ-BOOOM
He ducked around the corner just in time; the air rushing past his face turns hot, and the hair on his neck stands on end. The electicity from Myrtenaster had detonated the gas-can Weiss had taped to the wall of the large common room, but even as the corner had saved him from the blast, it had also doomed him. The way forward was blocked by a pile of desks and chairs, stacked to the roof. An open door into a lecture hall was his obvious saviour. Weiss had been leaving doors open for him all night for him, all of them leading straight back to her advantage. He knew he had to break the pattern, but if he stayed to dismantle the blockage, the girl all in black would round the corner and have an easy shot at him.
Looking back at the almost-empty lounge area, populated only by a coffee table, and far window, a plan forms.
He calls back around the corner. "Does that count as a miss?" He darts to the pile, and rips a desk from the stack, returning to the corner. Adrenalin gives him strength enough to hold it almost weightless.
A lick of flame kisses his cheek, and his chest, arms and legs tighten further. He ducks back, listens. A few seconds pass, and just as he is about to check around the corner, a white glyph forms in front of him, at an angle.
He throws the table at the glyph.
Weiss connects with the glyph.
The table splits in two, revealing the girl crouched upon the glyph.
Revealing to her the boy leaping high at her, sword raised.
She cancels the glyph, dropping below him, and points two fingers at him.
A dart of light shoots from her waist, on which there are a bandolier of assorted triggers and toys.
It hits his shield as he soars over.
He rolls to his feet, skids for a second unbalanced, and looks back.
She has already prepared three more darts which hover in the air over her head. She points her hand, and small purple glyphs form around the darts, and they spin.
He readies his shield.
Grits his teeth.
He blocks two with his shield, and his sword cuts the third. The first bolt shatters the glass behind him.
The second again pierces his aura, and scratches his cheek. He grits, not exactly feeling the pain, but the sensation is of a shaving accident.
He backs up slowly, eyes just over his shield. Myrtenasters chamber spins freely.
Weiss and Jaune lock eyes, using their peripheral feel to sense for a shift in stance.
Jaune and Weiss lock eyes, as he angles his sword towards her, signalling slowly. A challenge.
She frowns. This was not according to plan. As long as he is aware of the traps, he won't make headway towards the library, and whoever will meet them there. She points her sword slowly, aiming along her arm.
Jaune speaks. "You ever just have one of those days?"
She grits her teeth. "This is nothing to joke about."
He glances over his shoulder. The breeze of the night air greets his face, cooling his cut. "Have to disagree. See, my life just got all turned upside down." He remembers the sudden turn, the drop of his stomach as gravity came back to him half an hour ago. "Kinda seeing as my best friends have been kidnapped, and this whole situation is-"
She interrupts him. "The situation is survival. No quarters held. To live past tonight, you will activate your semblance. Failure is a possibility. A lethal possibility." And with that, she decides the break is up. She spins Myrtenaster to-
Jaune backs up and jumps out the second story window.
He twists and turns, prepares his foot to channel his momentum, curls into a ball, to roll out of the drop-
His mind races, and his aura pulses, and he maybe can feel himself slowing-
His foot lands in a bush. He tumbles for barely a tenth of a second, and rolls like a dizzy idiot onto the grass. He spreads his arms and legs, stopping himself, looking up.
The stars are bright.
Is this how people usually get their semblance? Pyrrha said it would just come with time, but what if-
A glyph appears. He continues thinking as he rolls to his feet. Makes a dash for the next corner. Makes it.
It's a dark pathway, between two buildings, a quasi-alley. His shoes echo on the cement.
Her shoes echo on the cement, once, twice.
Glyphs appear on every surface of the two opposite walls. Suddenly the walls feel like they are closing in.
He turns back. She is there, calculation on her face. She takes off her bandolier, empty of darts and full of useless triggers, and drops it to the ground. She takes a stance, as if ready for a sprint. The walls around him glow.
This would be a really good time to have something up your sleeve, Jaune Just... give it a try. He wills all his aura into his chest, lets it pulse through him, and for a moment, he can feel the form of... something. Not a form, but the memory of a motion that you have swept through a million times before leaving home, which follows you throughout your life.
It forms, and Weiss stares. But it is too elusive in his mind, and as he watches her face, he loses it, the fleeting feeling flown away. Of course it wouldn't be so easy. I guess it's time to run.
He jumps at the wall to the right, kicking at the centre of a glyph on the wall, and there is a resistance in his leg, which grows and grows. He remembers it from a past training session, and tenses. Let the semblance do the work, don't push against it. He springs from the wall, to the opposite wall, and halfway up it. With another leap, he reaches the other wall again.
But he can hear the glyphs behind him activating. With a spin he spots Weiss. She sails right toward him, mid-air, and it is all he can do to raise his weapon-
The length of Myrtenaster runs across Jaunes back, sawing away at his aura. Still in mid-air, he falls towards the next Glyph, and she is already shooting back at him. He leaps backwards, halfway down the alley, to dodge out of the confrontation, but she finds another Glyph, and springs at him again, hitting him across the back twice more.
He leaps forward, as far as he can, using her Semblance only once more - it was a misgiven thought to believe he could use her semblance better than she could - and it is just as he is about to land that she catches him once more. Her steel runs along the back of his leg, cutting his aura away-
- cutting his pant leg away-
- and suddenly he can feel the steel. Time slows for him, and he wonders at the deadly intent of the girl he thought he might-
He lands, drops, skids out the end of the alley. His heart races, threatening to explode of stress and fear. He breaths short, shallow and tired breaths, and his hands shake in his gloves. He pushes himself to his feet, gingerly treating his left leg. The pain is greater than the injury, he figures, and tests his leg. He faulters, but rises full, ignoring the wet on his pants, or his shoulder, or his face.
Weiss stands atop a dazzling white circle of light, perfect in the night air. "A semblance is the characterisation of the soul. It is the manifestation of our personalities, atop our aura, to grant us the power to be that without limits, to shine greater than stars, to build insurmountable relics, to die gladly, knowing that the world will not blink out."
Her feet touch the ground, and the circle disappears, and her under lighting fades away. "Where is yours, Jaune?" She queries him. He stares at her. "It comes straight from personality, forged in fire, trained with time. It is the projection of our souls onto the cold world that would end us. We hunters shape the world with our souls, and we bare them outwards with every combat we face. Jaune, if you want to stand beside us, then you cannot be simply a man, or you will have no effect. Your team bares your soul, and they will be drained of their will. You, Jaune, are worth what? Don't you trust us with your soul?" No answer. He stares at her, grit teeth and lidded eyes.
The swords chamber spins on its' own, and a line of white runs up the blade. "For it is in passing that we achieve immortality, yet is it not enough to be a martyr of virtue. Should we be simply a measure then infinity is simply a distance, and to be unbound to death is worth naught for those who can only choose to die. Your soul is formless, and if remains that way, by my hand, I shall strike at thee."
The chamber in her weapon locks, and glows a tangible white which blossoms off and peels away from the sword, although it is her verse that has the greater effect on the boy. The words Pyrrha said to him were simply a rhyme, a poem constructed to lull his aura out of him, he thought, but... he could see it now. And it came back to him that the whole reason that he was here in the first place was that he wanted to make his parents proud. Useless, shallow... His eyes turned to the girl. As he was, 'soulless', he would never be enough for anyone, let alone her.
She formed a stance, and started running with the sword. The white dust dripped from the blade, and magnesium filled her nostrils. With this strike, she would blow his shield or sword away from him, launch him-
Just as she approached him, swung the blade behind her, the young blonde man spread his arms open.
She switched to a lunge.
-Ruby brought a blanket for Nora, who was shivering on a bench, bucket in hand, just in case-
-Yang wrenched Rens' arm up, pinning his legs with her own, and letting his other arm flail about. The tackle had brought them to the closest of quarters, when Yang would win from sheer strength-
-Blake pulled on a cord, and the makeshift harness of rope tightened on Pyrrhas' frame, squeezing her through her ribbon bondage, especially around the bust, and the crotch. Blake was already extremely embarrassed about having to work the rope between the ribbons of her legs, and around her breasts, but for the noises that the redhead was making, tied up, mummified nearly...
"Ahhh! I-it's tight..." With her legs tied together and her arms bound behind her back, and the rest of her body wrapped in ribbons, Pyrrha had rolled onto her front, trying to sit up. However, her balance was gone, and all she could do was struggle, wiggling her hidden rump in the air, chin to the ground. After a few seconds, where Blake recognised Blake was drooling, Pyrrha sat up, and Blake saw she was not quite entirely covered up.
"D-do you think I would make good bait for Jaune?" She struggles, wiggling her shoulders, and her revealed bust to the Faunus.
"Haptapahapa, well, um, I think yes, but let's just make you more comfortable, ok?" She wraps more loose ribbon around her friends' mostly revealed boobs, and wished that they could go back to the teary confessions of negligence.
Pyrrha looked down, realising Blakes' intent, and leans back, extending her neck fully, and looks at the back wall. "Does this help?"
Blake, without a chaperone, and with an attractive female prisoner in a delicate situation, with a fully exposed neck, completely bound and tied, helpless to the whims and touches of the faunus girl... blushes. She pulls a few times on the harness, making sure it is tight and safe. She really should have not read up on Secret Ninja Love Rope Techniques the night before. It was taking her mind to the worst places.
"Aaaaah~"
"Stop that!"-
Tink
The blade lightly touched his chest-plate, right on the seam. There her blade hums, glows, fades. Her arms stay tense, pushing the tip against his armour. She pushes. She draws a light scratch on his armour.
They stay there, neither daring to move.
They stay there, barely daring to breath.
They stay there, her face in line with the tip of her sword, barely a few inches from his chest.
He speaks first. "Could you really do it, Weiss?"
They stay there. She leans into the weapon, and imagines she can see the armour denting-
"I think I found it, you know? My dream. That one thing..."
The tension in her arms abates, and she waits.
"It wasn't a part of me when I arrived, and it was never really apparent to me, but I want it, all the same."
She waits, imagining putting her sword away. Imagines putting her sword down.
"I want to be a huntsman. Plain as day, simple as sand. I want to be a huntsman because there is nothing else in this world I would rather be.
"I'm going to save people, Weiss. I'm going to be a hero. I can feel it, inside of me. It's not really what I imagined it to be, this... destiny, this... swirling force. But I'm going to grab hold of it. I'm going to be powerful. I'm going to do it all, and not be stopped. It's... momentum, and music combined, a flow, a run... it's what I will be."
There are a few seconds of silence between the two. Jaune stared at the top of Weiss's head, which is bowed into the boys chest.
She shouts. "You idiot!"
The sword turns down, and she sweeps it up. It connects with his hand, and the line of blood it draws, the pain it creates, and the force in the blow, causes the shield in his hand to fly away.
She steps back, as does he, but she follows him, striking, forcing him to deflect and parry with just his sword in his uninjured right hand. "We all know you! We trust you! And yet, we shouldn't!"
She points a finger at him, and he expects some kind of glyph to form on him, but there is none.
"You have abused that trust! You promise us safety, yet there is no substance to it!"
With just a single hand, she unleashes a flurry of thrusts, many of which find soft targets, and it is all Jaune can do to deflect the lethal ones.
"Not only is your semblance non-existent, but your words have no weight!"
Their blades lock, but she quickly loosens the tension, and brings a knee up into his gut. As he bows over, she pushes him back into the line of mid-air glyphs she was lining up behind him. He shoots through, gaining speed with each one, until he slams into the distant wall of the library. He hits his shoulder hard, and a loud crunch is heard as he flattens out against the surface, and a pained moan is heard as he curls up on the ground.
She grabs his shield from where it fell, and passes it through her gylphic-accelerator-cannon. It hits the wall, and bops him on his head.
She takes a second to breath. So much spell weaving was making her tired. She had thrown hundreds of attacks of varying efforts and effectiveness, just to break his aura, so he would be at the Pure-Regen zone, and, it was true, her composure had broken, and she really had tried to harm him, because she was pissed. She had earned her semblance for much lesser reasons than 'Saving the World'. And yet he espoused such high values without being able to bring out his inner self? Pure lip service was what it was, devaluing the journeys of all the individuals she chose to stand beside.
She was here to earn a book, to help him. But now she was considering killing him.
-'Jaune, are you there?'
'I am, although I'm not quite here at the moment.'
'You have to fight, Jaune. That is the only way.'
'To do what?'
'To win her affections!'
'Aren't I fighting for survival?'
'Forget survival! Forget your semblance! Fight for the fight itself! You don't just have to win, you want to win! Then you will be an island, independant, one man as a nation, of will and power, of stone and guts, unbound and infinite! Forget all else, and fight!'
'Why are you telling me this, Weiss?'
'Silly boy, I'm not Weiss; you are concussed!'
'Oh, that makes sense.'
'We'll talk in a dream, ok? I promise I'll wear something nice!'
'As long as you don't kill me first.'-
She walks over. From the hundred feet from the library that she is, she can see him stand, leaning against the wall. Blood runs down his face from a wound at the top of his hairline, passing around his left eye and running over his mouth.
It's at seventy feet he leans forward, and his feet push him forward, like a child learning to walk, but then strength fills his form, his arms pick up, his head lifts, and Weiss finds herself fearing for him, but there is a tinge of excitement inside it, as he barrels towards her.
At forty feet they are both running, Weiss with her sword trailing behind, Jaune with his sword and shield ready at the front.
At ten feet, he leaps through the air, and swings his sword.
She rolls under the attack, and sends a lick of flame at him, barely telegraphing it at all.
He vaults over it with his sword stuck in the earth, splitting the flame around the feet that hadn't quite left the ground yet. He flips forward, and with the momentum flings Crocea Mors at her. It glows as it spins on an axis, like an electric lawn-trimmer, and she blocks it, noting how long it takes to stop spinning, how many times it strikes her blade.
He charges her, without his weapon, shield in front of his face, sprinting low to the ground, a bulls charge.
She rolls right, to his left, to strike at him, but a trail of light from the shield takes the brunt of the blow, and the strike at his side feels more like a pat to her hand. She grins, thinking that their fight will only grow more interesting.
He stumbles with the blow, recognising the hit and reacting more than he should. He rights himself as she follows, spins around to grab his sword that she had left behind, readies it just in time to deflect an ice-shard, which grabs the sword with its' freezing adhesion, and pulls back with its' momentum. It spins him back around, but he uses the momentum full circle, bringing it back to bear.
The turning attack takes Weiss of guard, and as she is preparing another red slice, it takes her across the head, knocking her over sideways. She hits the ground, head-first, and rolls away from a follow up attack which doesn't come. She stands, and eyes the boy.
"Don't stop!" The red of her blade, percolating for several seconds now, is ready for him as he comes. "Feel the flow of it!" She blocks his attack, and he holds the sword as the small explosion from her knocks him off balance, and back towards the library. She runs along the side of him, shooting purple light at him with the minimum of effort. "Raw power is good, but the best of us-" he leaps over one bolt, blocks another and straight up smacks one back at her with the blunt of his blade "-are more than brutes!"
She herself has to duck under the reflected attack, leading him forward still. She slides on her knees, sends an ice wall to block his way. He leans into his shield, and as he charges through, she imagines a glow that carried through the wall ahead of him, shattering the wall for him to break through. "Give it form, stay in motion, let it suit you!"
He rounds the corner on momentum alone. There, at the back of the library, were a variety of materials. Broken glass, an open flame, buckets of water, a broken power line, a pile of sand, several other weapons, dust of all kinds. But he hears a voice, distressed, calling his name, from the library itself.
The back doors and windows to the library were open for him to see inside, but instead of the study area he knew full well, it was instead a stage. A large caldron, steaming and bubbling with glowing green liquid, and above it, a complex system of pulleys and ropes, like a spider web with a single catch.
Pyrrha calls out. "Jaune, are you ok?! You're bleeding."
He stands there, watching her, snapped out of the fight. The danger was real again, but the stakes were more than he could comprehend. To see it so clearly, that not only his life, but his best friends life too hung in the balance, causes his beating heart to pound in his head.
And that was when the needle-like blade of Myrtenaster pierced his back.
He looked down.
The blade was protruding from his gut.
Covered in blood.
There is a breath that falls on his neck.
The pain comes.
His heart races.
He tried not to move.
The blade disappears. He grabs at his gut, holding in the blood.
The blood is on his hands now.
Did Pyrrha just call to him?
He looks up. There are tears in her eyes, an anger and a sadness at once.
He can make out a razor working on the ropes. Her shield flies about in the background, but a shadow takes it.
He has to save her.
Is he going to die?
He falls to his knees. His breath is hot, and he smells copper. His shins hurt on the floor.
When did he drop Crocea Mors?
A voice.
"For it is in our vital stand we perfect our unique being. Before this, we must become pillars of strength and submission, protectors of all. Each one of us an infinity, our lives persist beyond temporal bounds; as equals we validate one another and, with my whole being, I stand with thee, always."
Hands turn him. The array of materials lay before him. How will you save her? The question comes from somewhere, within or without, he cannot tell.
His shield calls for his hand. He turns back to it. It lay there, expanded, waiting for his touch.
It is in his hand. He can feel its' shape inside his palm, beyond the grip.
He looks to Pyrrha. She will fall. He has to stop that. Maybe she could stand on his shield? It makes sense to his fuzzy, pained head. His heart is slowing, calming, the pumping dims.
He can't move. He needs his shield over there, but he is here. Maybe he can make like Pyrrha, throw the shield?
He turns back to the arrangement of dust. He sprinkles a handful of the yellow stuff on his shield. That ought to balance it, Jaune.
The ropes around her move, and she starts falling.
Visualise, Jaune. Place the shield before you release it.
And there it is. Good job Jaune.
And then he falls asleep.
Pyrrha opened her eyes.
She had been suspended over the 'cauldron' for ten minutes, and her precarious position was starting to take its' toll on her muscles and skin, when Jaune came into view. And then Weiss had stabbed him through the back, but she couldn't feel the blade with her magnetism. And Blake stood to the side, with her shield, waiting on a signal from Weiss.
Weiss gave the signal. Blake lowered her catch slowly, foot by foot as Pyrrha screamed for the boy, as Weiss whispered into his ear. Jaune was moving, slowly, and there looked to be so much pain, and so much blood.
And then he aimed his shield between her and the illuminated Jello beneath her. And then, from the shield, shot out a projection of his grandfathers equipment. It slotted between Pyrrha and the offending semi-solid, and Blake slowly lowed Pyrrha onto the platform, in case it was dangerous. Pyrrha found herself kneeling on a bridge of light.
She looked at the contended smile on Jaunes' face. Weiss was basically shaking in delight behind him, and both her and Blake were shouting affirmatives; "Yes!" "He did it!" "You did it, Jaune! Jaune?!"
And the boy fell down. Weiss just caught his head before it hit the cement.
Pyrrha hit the Jello. And started sinking, knees first.
"Blake! Pull me out, eww, eww-!"
"Oh, yeah, the- the rope is undone!"
"It's up past- Is Jaune alright? Did he-"
Weiss calls to the pair, fingers on his neck. "He's fine, I just have to plug a couple holes, he's alright!"
"See, Pyrrha, he'll be fine! Now, just, um, don't struggle too much-"
"Just tip it over, Blake! It's too slimy-"
"I can't, it's a rental!"
"But I'm going to drown! In green, slimy, bleh-"
"Don't worry, I can just, just..."
"BLAKE!"
"Ah, screw it. Hyah!"
She swings with Gamble Shroud, taking a good chunk from the metal container. The jello slowly oozes out. Then stops, with barely a foot of the dessert squirmed out, like green toothpaste from a broken tube.
She swings again. And again. Another three strikes, and the entire prop-cauldron, with added tubes to let out smoke and to be used by the Beacon Acadamy Dramatic Club And Training Squad, simply falls away from the jello, which lands with a good bounce and jiggle, wiggling the girl trapped inside lower. She extends her neck, and with a voice under strain, calls to Blake once again.
The Faunus swipes at the dessert, and withdraws two fingers wet and sticky. She grabs a broom, and inserts the handle. "Grab hold!"
No-one has yet seen the combination of fear and fury on Pyrrhas' face, a look she shoots at Blake. "My hands are currently not available for free use." She motions as much as she can with her hands still tied behind her back.
"Oh." With hesitation, Blake reaches her arm in. Just out of reach of Pyrrhas shoulder. She withdraws it. Shakes it. Wipes slime and goo off of her arm.
Pyrrha rolls her eyes. She leans back, takes a deep breath, and pulls her knees back behind her further, letting her slide into the jello. She closes her eyes, and waits. It's barely a second before she can feel Blakes' hands drag her sideways. Once the pressure of the dessert if off of her, she exhales sharply from her nose, and takes a deep breath.
Blake unties her arms, and pulls a knot from her legs, setting them free as well. After she observes both breath and movement from the girl lying sideways on the ground, she starts wringing the slime from her hair.
"So, uh... no hard feelings?"
"Well..." starts Pyrrha, tenuously, "Seeing as the Vytal Festival is coming up, just expect an extra special amount of... focus, from me at least." An evil grin turns to something a little more innocent. "That said... I think the harness is still holding my arms bound. Do you mind...?"
Blake looked down at the lewd figure before her; the jello glistens off of her every curve-
"Blake! How do you treat a concussion?!"
"Just gimme a minute!" And admiration time was over.
In the centre of the training stage, Yang lays her head on what she considers her comfortable pillow and trophy; Rens' stomach. Still sweating and panting, the two rest spread almost entirely out, empty water bottles in hand.
Yang, smiling, says "Do you think it feels this good after sex? The afterglow, I mean." She was the final victor of the two, and had enjoyed their bout immensely.
Ren, with a small groan, and a bit of abdominal exertion, answers. "I hope not." He fared well, for a while at least. For now, he was content to wait with Goldie pinning him only with her hair.
Yangs' phone buzzes a victory tune.
"Congrats," she sighs. "You have a brand spanking new semblance on the team."
Ren smiles. "When do we go see him?"
Yang waves a hand, rolls onto her side, facing away from his face. "Go check my scroll."
Ren stares at the roof. "In a minute."
Ruby springs up to her feet at the sound of the cheerful beeping of her phone.
"He did it, Nora!" She runs from her seat near the fridge to the ladies restroom facilities. Inside, in the first cubicle, is her elder friend, hugging a toilet bowl. Ruby shakes her head. "No time for porcelain romance, we have to go and congratulate Jaune!"
"Sure, sure, I just need some slippers." Nora lets go of the toilet, and hoists herself up by the paper dispenser. "And some ice-cream." She grabs on to Ruby, who is all too happy to support her shaky friend.
"Hey, I had a camera hooked up, it's just sent me a video. I think it should be right on the money, because I had a motion tracker activate it, record for ten minutes, then send it here. Wanna see?"
Noras' eyes go wide. "Play it, sister! No, wait!" She grabs her friends hand. "Let's leave it to watch with Jaune, ok?"
Ruby nods. "We could throw it up on a cinema screen, or something, have popcorn, just the eight of us!" She hoists her arm up in the air, celebrating the idea. This sudden imbalance almost bucks Nora, still groggy.
"Let's just go find Jaune, ok?"
The stars spin, come into focus, give light to the world of Jaune Arc. The light is his greeting. Then comes the ache.
"Arg, my back." Jaune sits up. He is outside the library, covered in dirt and bandages. He realises he is shirtless, bound in medical wrap. He pats his stomach, looking for the hole where a certain sword had protruded from him earlier. There is a cold burn to his touch, but a rectangular bandage covers it, hiding the wound. A wrap of bandage also covers his palm.
He finally realises he is surrounded, so very closely.
Ren and Yang sit back to back, watching the stars. Nora scratches Rubys' hair in her lap; the redhead had fallen asleep only a short while ago on the cold ground, but since she slept heavily, Nora easily pulled her in to a more restful and warm position, taking equally good care of her as she had taken care of Nora earlier.
Pyrrha sat behind Blake, combing the mess of hair that had recently been gelled with gelatinous food. Blakes' ears twitched, and she sent a sidelong glance at the boy, and what was maybe a wink.
Weiss sat straight on to him, dressed not in stealth attire, but in her white combat skirt. Her legs sidelong to the ground, her shoulders square to him, and with an arm supporting her, she watches him for a second more. She smiles that unbearable smile. "The Dork Nit rises."
He smiles. "That's Dork Knight, Snow Angel." His voice is gruffer than he remembers it being, and there is a small scratch in his throat. How long had he been out?
The rest of the faces around him turn to him. Ren and Nora immediately go in for a hug, Ren around the shoulders, and Nora hits his waist, shooting a shocking reminder of his injuries up his spine. He endures it without comment.
Ren comments first, pulling out of the embrace, keeping a hand on his shoulder. "I heard you had a rough night."
The girl at his waist pulls at the medical tape holding his bandages on his gut, peeking at his injuries, checking for any issues or continued bleeding due to his sitting up. Her medical training gives him a partial all clear. "You seem to be all in one piece, though."
Yang winks at him. "I was sure Weiss was gonna tear you a new hole or two. I guess, technically, I was right!"
Ruby taps her bottom lip with a finger. "You know, our plans didn't exactly turn out properly." She pulls her hood off, revealing her own simple smile. "You outperformed us, to put it simply."
Blake smiles, scratching her head, looking away. "Some of us may have been a bit concerned." She looks to Pyrrha, who, Jaune has only just noticed, has had a hand on his ankle the entire time he has been awake.
Pyrrha smiles shyly. "Only because we care. And, I believe I need to thank you for the rescue, by the way." She blushes just a little, somewhat at the length he had gone to save her. All part of Team RWBYs plan, but still quite something to the girl. "My herooo."
"Just for the record," Weiss interjects fact-fully, with a closed eyes and a raised finger, "I never had any doubts that you had it inside you. Remember, you were," she doubles down on Pyrrhas' silly tone, "'My Herooooo', first, right back in the forest." Several disbelieving looks aim at her, a few shaking their heads, but all in good manner. She shifts into a sitting position, eyes on Nora.
"Nurse Valkyrie, would you say your patient is in repair good enough to move?" She asks, with just a hint of a smirk on her lips.
Nora jabs Jaunes' gut. He flinches, coughs twice. She pulls his eyelids apart, shining the torch from her scroll into his pupils, which he swats away. She gives a thumbs up to the group. "Yep. El Capitano is moi excellente."
"Good." Weiss looks around the group. "Would you all kindly step back for just a moment?" They begrudgingly, slowly step up, weak from their continued posture for several hours. She stays on the ground, motioning for him to stay.
She crosses her legs in front of her, and forms a glyph beneath her. "Jaune, you should try doing this." Slowly, she lifts herself off the ground, until she barely floats a foot off of it, the lights' surface like an invisible street curb which she hangs her feet off of.
He watches her. His immediate thought is, How? Then the last nights events clear to him, even in the light of the stars and moon and glyph. He can feel it inside himself, again, the power. He reaches to it.
Nothing. Nora yawns.
"Uh," he starts, "How do I... do the thing?" He finishes lamely.
Weiss scoffs. Ruby explains before Weiss can. "Your special gift is projection. You can use your semblance to create a solid light version of an item you either hold, or can see. You can make it large, small, or imbue it into an object you are already using, letting you have a little more control over it." She beams at her audience.
Nora answers their question. "Ruby caught Jaune on Candid Camera. You look totally boss, Boss-man." She gasps, covering her mouth. "Sorry, we couldn't wait to share it with the rest of you."
Pyrrha walks over. She hands him her shield. "I think it would be best you use mine, just for certainty." She walks off, almost skipping.
Jaune focuses again. He looks to Weiss, levitating easily on her cloud of air.
He looks at the shield, getting a clear picture of it in his mind. He pictures a larger shield underneath himself.
He opens his eyes as the light pushes him upwards.
He lifts himself to the appraisal and applause of his peers. He gives a cocky smile to Weiss, and lifts himself an extra foot off the ground. She smiles back, and just sits there, letting him have his small, small victory.
He'd gone so far in one night, what is a little humility to sacrifice to the Dork Knight in the night?
The night was less dark than it would have been otherwise.
Rule 1: Consider Your Past;
It is imperative you understand where you came from, and who you are. With this evaluation, you can make certain dramatic personality changes over time. I expect you to keep me informed if anything changes.
{From the hand of Weiss Schnee}
Dear DwarF
It was our anniversary today. Today, eight years ago, I declared you alpha build 0.1. Your were so small back then. I had you running about with just a small exoskeleton, you were so cute. I didn't think you would turn out to be as big as you did. Looking back, you were the size of the helmet I now hold in my hands. All that I have left of you now.
I decided to polish the helmet. Ruby asked me what it was, and I couldn't tell her, not really. That would probably freak her out. I mean, you, of all things, were my first kill.
I'm looking at your helmet right now. It's shining, only semi-reflective. I still don't understand why you wouldn't let me go full silver.
You know, it wasn't until that day I knew really how imposing you were. You scared me, DwarF. I'm sorry again. I still daren't trust your back-ups and save-states. I don't know what you would do if I turned the drivers on. Maybe they were infected as well?
I miss you. The real you. Things are getting bleak, and I don't know what to do. I wish I could trust you, because I would rebuild you in a second. I need my guardian. I need my DwarF.
I was thinking about Jaune and his semblance. Speaking the other day of protecting everybody. He has come so far as a person, a huntsman, as a leader. I almost believe him. I do believe him. I think I believed him already. Maybe it was that catch, that dumb, unplanned catch. For just an instant, I was safe. And anyway with his semblance now, he could be as much of his dreams as he could handle... but maybe just enough. Not more.
It was funny, his first actual test of it. There we were, the others standing around as he lifted himself off the ground, where he decides to 'outshine' me, and go just a little higher, like the limpest version of Icarus. Of course, Icarus could never achieve full flight, and came crashing down.
And so did Jaune. See, Pyrrhas' shield is not completely flat. He pushed a little fast, keeping eye contact with me. And shush yourself, I have no say in the direction he chooses to look, and so I have to look back into his eyes myself. Because it is polite. And anyway, he broke the glance we shared by sliding off the back of the shield, and I got to witness his face fall as he realised what was happening.
Everyone else rushed over to him, but I simply had to drop the glyph and laugh, I was practically in stitches! Ruby didn't approve, but it was my right. I gave him that damn semblance, and so it is my right to laugh when he
Wait. What about my semblance? My families aura, with enough concentration and determination, allows us to summon our opponents to our sides. The ones who push us to the limits. You pushed me on so many levels that day. And I know you, not just as an enemy, but as my closest friend. I designed every joint on you, I had your blade made special. I know you, after all these years still. I know you.
It may be difficult. I never have been able to summon. It has been the star I cannot reach. But I will try, and try, until I can form you, perfect as you were in life. Your giants' armour by my side, and you made of dust, incorruptible. We can do it, DwarF!
My new purpose, parallel to my Opus. I will recreate you!
{Read by Blake, taken from the Helm of the Great Knight AI, DwarF.}