Embers of Autumn

Chapter Ten

A hunter is made up of a roiling mass of several things; courage, raw strength, insurmountable drive and a certain violent lust. The great ones make the time and effort to hone that hot mess and temper it into something controllable. The great ones learn to unleash it in disciplined and lethal bursts instead of allowing it to run rabid over anything and everything. They learn to condense and focus it, able to balance it all on the head of pin if necessary.

Ruby has all of these traits in spades, but not the maturity to wield them all. However now, under the influence of wayward magic, she has a taste of what it feels like to do just that. It's lightning and howling winds, it's the slamming cadence of her heart battering behind her sternum and pushing white hot blood through her veins. A mind whitewashed by pure instinct and flawless movement. It's every muscle clenching whip-cord tight and an immeasurable surge of aura, all of her strength centralized in her shoulders, neck, and jaw.

But there is no conscious control, Ruby feels detached, in a way only watching as the Manticore twists against the powerful grip of a muzzle full of teeth. Her head is full of growling and snarling that sounds distant, not realizing she's the one making these wild noises. Everything feels second hand, even the dry snap of bone plates giving under driving fangs and digging claws is surreal. The only thing that is here and now, the only thing tangible, is a hunter's primary instinct to slay Grimm.

Weiss watches, stunned, in some way terrified and disbelieving. "What...how did-"

"More often than not the magic will do whatever it takes to protect its host." Tag unwinds the bullwhip from around her waist, letting the end hit the ice, the obsidian barbs rattling against it. "You must have been convinced Ruby could save you, so the magic sought her out."

Weiss winces as she sees the massive wolf give the Grimm a particularly hard jerk, the sickening and unmistakeable crack of bone audible above a pained, keening cry from the creature. One of its arms hangs limp, taloned fingers dragging across the ice, the other hooks the wolf's neck and pulls desperately. Weiss reflexively draws Myrtenaster, her posture fumbling as her thoughts war with themselves. What do I do? I can't leave her like that. But we have the advantage. If I get too close, that thing could just turn my sword against me...or worse, but I doubt it'll let Ruby...manhandle it like that for much longer.

"There's a thread between you now," Tag continues, "the magic has you tethered together. It's no different than what I did with the whales. I bet Ruby would follow your command if you tried."

There are no words to describe how such a prospect makes her feel. For a moment she can only look at the faunus, expression unreadable but wide-eyed before her attention is snatched up by a high-pitched yelp. The Grimm is on its back, now free from Ruby's jaws and quickly scrambling to stand, the wolf recoiling as smoke rises from the large patch of charred fur on its neck. Another white hot burst of flame from Manitcore's mouth has the animal jumping back and snarling.

Weiss means to speak, her jaw working though the words die in her throat. But her thoughts travel along their connection, the magic tether vibrating with a commingling of their aura's. Big silver eyes meet hers, the skin-deep buzzing pitching hard for a split second before the wolf quickly bounds away from the Grimm and to Weiss' side. Ruby curls around her body just so, half-crouching, putting herself between her partner and the Grimm, fangs bared and claws flexing. Without thinking Weiss puts a palm to Ruby's shoulder, finding the fur plush with a strange tingle of static against her skin, recognizing the sensation as her own magic.

"Amazing," Tag laughs a little, her wrist winding to start the whip into a spiral. "Now let's show this thing what we can do."

Manticore is upright, rolling one shoulder until it snaps back together. Its green eyes flash and settle on the Maidens, brow lowering with a vicious slant as smoke coils out of its mouth in a growling exhale. Its hands open at its sides, black mist coalescing and writhing between its fingers. With a flux of energy and a hiss of air its lance and shield materialize, and it wastes no time in putting them to use.

Jaune, Nora, and Ren stay close to Captain Erikson and her crew, so far successful in maintaining themselves against a steady surge of Grimm. They had tried to convince Yang to stay with them, to stay where it's safer, but the brawler would hear none of it. All they can do is push back against the skittering horde and hope those ships arrive.

Sweat is rolling across her entire body, blood running from the cut at her hairline and a busted lip. Yang's semblance roils like a wild solar flare, her aura flashing white hot and bringing steam up from the ice wherever her feet touch. Her body tucks to take another hit from one of those awful, clicking crustaceans, a little flicker of light sparking as the solid bone hammer smacks against her, the soles of her shoes skidding over the frozen surface towards the edge. The blow hurts so good, her body vibrating with an eager, excited growl.

There's a ripple of warning from behind, forcing her to turn in an instant towards the water as a column of it blasts upward. The Grimm shark launches itself from below, jaws open and widening to make room for the girl it means to swallow whole. With a wicked smirk and smoldering crimson eyes she balls her fist, tucking it to her hip as the monster reaches the peak of its ascent and begins to fall at an angle towards her. Once close enough her body unwinds, springing like a steel trap, her knuckles colliding with the solid bone plating on its face and collapsing whatever skeletal structure that is holding its shape in on itself. Bits of bone and black ichor splatter outwards, its stomach splits open, and the body slumps to the ice before dissolving into black mist and slime that disappears after a second or two.

Yang means to turn and find another Grimm to crush but has to pause, the ice moving under her feet with enough force to nearly put her on her ass. With arm and stump flailing to maintain her balance she twists around, looking for anything out of place that could be causing it. Waves pitch against the rim of the frozen platform, steadily growing taller and splashing louder, until finally the open water mere feet away bubbles and swells upward.

The saurian Grimm breaks the surface with the uproar of a peel of thunder, a torrent of white water rushing down its slick and pitch scaled belly in a heavy torrent. Its length and girth are akin to some buildings, its great breaching barely enough to pull its entire body into view. Its incredible jaws fall open, countless teeth glistening in the morning light alongside the sputtering black muck gargling out of its throat and into the air. It twists its body, bending in the middle and leaning towards the ice. When Yang realizes its shadow has fallen over her she runs, doing her damnedest to ignore the urge to stand her ground and find out just how hard she could hit this thing.

The awesome impact of the Grimm's body snaps the ice in half, both ends lifted away from the water as it falls between and disappears beneath the fragments. Grimm and humans are flung into the air, some crashing together in the middle. Yang will soar right passed Weiss, scarlet eyes widening at the massive animal she is latched onto.

"That better not be Ruby!"

"I can explain!" Weiss cries as the two fly by each other in opposing directions, withering under Yang's burning gaze even as the distance between them yawns wider.

Yang would have responded with a threat of some kind had she not needed to direct her attention to not becoming a red smear on the ice below.

Jaune feels the jarring impact of three distinct smacks to the back of his head as he rolls across the ice towards the break in the middle. When the ice crashes down, level again, he feels the brief sensation of falling before winding up flat on his back. He opens his eyes to a spinning sky full of dark shapes, blurred outlines of bodies crashing back to earth. The roaring in his ears that he thinks is from the fall steadily clarifies as everything settles, sounding less like it's echoing in his head and more like it's coming from elsewhere. As his vision centers and focuses he makes out the great blackness of a Nevermore overhead, just barely able to comprehend as it wails and recoils against the flash and bang that collides with its side. The Nevermore flaps its wings once in hard retreat, disappearing from his field of view only to be chased by something smaller. An Atlesian fighter craft.

He forces himself to his feet, swallowing hard against the way his stomach flops over at the same time his back straightens. Looking to the southeast, towards Vale's coastline that sits thin and black on the horizon, Jaune can just make out more ships, five more fighters and one more that is much larger -large enough that he can make out the cannons mounted beneath the wings. But the comfort he feels is short lived, the relieved shrug quickly snuffed out by the mounting clicking of a fresh surge of Grimm. He raises his sword and shield in an instant as three of them crawl towards him, a horde of expletives racing through his mind at the the thick and burning pain in his shoulder at the first blow.

Before being catapulted into the air, Tag had managed to snatch Manticore by the ankle, the end of her whip looping and twisting to tighten in place. The otter kept hold of her weapon, knuckles white even as she did her best to roll out the impact of her awkward landing, her aura shuddering as she only half succeeds. Once stable on her feet again Tag does her best to keep her distance, keep the tightness on the whip secure so all she need do is pull just so to put the Grimm knight off balance. Manticore scrambles to do the exact opposite, lunging and leaping to keep their quarters close but not so close as to take away from the reach of its lance.

Tag braces herself with her tail as she bends backwards, her guts flinching at just how close the edge of the Grimm's weapon passes above her face, the air moving against her cheeks and bone just scraping the tip of her nose. She straightens, her taught waist bending like a hinge in the same instant Manticore pushes off with one leg while tucking the other, forcing its bone-clad knee into Tag's ribs. The heavy blow puts the Maiden on her back, breathless, but she still won't let go of the whip. Even as the Grimm knight moves over her and starts pounding away with the edge of its shield she won't loosen her grip, bright green sparks igniting the air with each collision as her aura reacts. When the frantic succession of strikes suddenly stops, Tag having only a split second to watch Manticore take a deep breath, she crosses her arms over her face and bolsters her aura to fend off the cascade of flames that spills over her.

Then the suffocating heat is gone almost as quickly as it appears, Tag forcing herself to look and find Manticore being pulled away. She sees Weiss and the big red wolf with the Grimm's barbed tail in its mouth, dragging it in insistent jerks until Tag's whip pulls tight again. The Grimm is trapped, seemingly unable to decide who to go after first. Tag twists to her feet and draws on the whip, ripping Manticore's legs out from under it and holding fast, taking one large step back. The two of them pull and pull, ignoring the steadily increasing intensity of the Grimm's snarling, until something gives.

The creature's tail thins and then snaps near the base, bits of bone and whole vertebrae flying outward as shrapnel. Nothing comes from the empty socket, no blood or black grime, but the creature writhes on its stomach with a shriek of pain as if its soul -had it anything resembling one- had just been ripped out. It tries to stand up, feet barely catching purchase on the ice only for Tag to tear its traction away. Manticore retaliates reflexively through the pain, hurling its lance at the faunus with what leverage it can muster, but appears not to care that Tag simply swats it away with the edge of her smaller shield. All the Grimm wants is the brief seconds it needs to unwind the leather from its leg and find stable footing again -it's deadly enough without its weapon.

The Grimm feels a flux of energy, the cold shock of Winter, and catches the crimson blur in its peripherals. The wolf is moving around it, trying to outflank it, but it keeps its eyes trained on the Maiden, half expecting what she's about to do. Sure enough the girl sets her stance and readies her saber before pushing off into a long-distance lunge with a surge of aura. A seemingly reactionary, half-baked strategy that the human should have known far better than to attempt. Manticore raises its empty hand, fingers splayed, the air buzzing with manipulated polarity.

Weiss regrets her decisions before she consciously realizes what she's done. Her heart drops into her stomach as the distance between her and the Grimm shrinks at break-neck speed and she feels its powers latching onto Myrtenaster. She can't react fast enough, can't stop herself as magnetism pulls her, and years of drilled conditioning won't allow her to let go of her weapon -not that it would have made much difference if she could. Panic lances through her when she sees the Manticore roll aside, the fine edge of her saber now angled at Ruby, who looks to be in the middle of an attack of her own with half her monstrous body in the air and with claws out and jaws open.

Weiss tries -god she tries- reaching for that powerful, swelling something deeper than her aura, to snatch hold of even a little bit of it as her off hand works in a wayward and outward swiping gesture with a flicker of white light gathering around her fingers. She feels something, a pulse of energy, and watches as the wolf's form is obscured by the same light that covers her hand just before she passes through it as one passes through fog.

Ruby never loses sight of the Grimm as the change comes over her, the light she had briefly become coalescing back into a definite human shape before dissipating. She emerges from it with Crescent Rose in hand, like she had before the magic struck her in the first place, still wholly intending to cut the Grimm down -all of her senses and instincts settling on dispatching it. She misses by millimeters, the edge of the blade whistling through empty air. Ruby lands solidly on both feet, bringing the scythe down to anchor it in the ice as she feels the Grimm starting to pull on it. But it isn't pulling hard enough to keep her from pulling the bolt and trigger. Maybe the Grimm isn't expecting it as it raises its shield to catch the rounds that bark from the barrel, but the advantage is short lived. What it does expect is the other hunters moving it, and it sends one of the bullets off its intended course with a swat of its hand.

But, strangely, Ruby doesn't care. It doesn't matter that one of her own rounds almost hits Weiss. Doesn't matter that the next shot veers off at such an extreme angle that it hits Tag, clipping through her aura and tearing through her arm. All that matters is slaying the Grimm. The magic still lingering in her blood has reduced her entire world to nothing but her and Manticore and the near ravenous urge to kill it.

She takes her hand from the bolt lever and her finger off the trigger, tearing Crescent Rose out of the ice -somehow having the strength to- and letting the magnetism pull her towards the Grimm. She twists her body, spinning like a top and at an angle, and feels the heavy jarring of several impacts in quick succession as the scythe hits Manticore's shield. The last blow shatters it, splits it down the middle and tears into the Grimm knight's forearm. Ruby's feet touch solid ground but her momentum continues, the muscles in her abdomen tensing with all the power she can muster to deliver one last heavy swing.

Manticore jumps back just quick enough to save itself from being cut in half, though the blade sings with the chime of steel to bone as it splits the armor across its chest, drawing blood. It scrambles on all fours, looking from one hunter to the other but lingering longest on Ruby, the two looking at each other with equally fierce eyes and mouths cut into snarling grimaces. In the same instant that Ruby moves to start another assault, Manticore leaps away and bounds for the edge of the ice to dive into the water. Ruby actually means to pursue, tucking Crescent Rose to her chest and sprinting after it.

"Ruby, the ships are here, we have to go!" Weiss cries. She recoils slightly at the look her partner gives her, an expression the heiress can't even give a name to that's full of teeth and a heavily knitted brow. She can't blink as Ruby collapses her scythe and slides it into its harness and almost too quickly moves towards her. Ruby curls an arm about her waist, wordless as she then tears across the ice with a flurry of rose petals.

Tag has a terrible feeling, lingering only a moment longer to process it, to worry. Nothing about this seems right. That couldn't have been it. Grimm don't quit when they feel outnumbered, they only fight that much harder. Grimm mindlessly pummel their way to either death of victory, that is their nature. But this one...

Now isn't the time. With a shake of her head she gathers her whip and runs towards the waiting airship.

The Atlesian fighters keep the Nevermore at bay as the carrier moves into position. It's much too large to land on the ice so it's forced to hover mere feet above it, a wide hatch on its starboard side pulling open. Captain Erikson starts corralling her crew onto the carrier, counting heads as they go, still counting the one dead officer as they're carried on another's shoulder. Then she calls out to the young hunters still fending off the Grimm, demanding they "haul ass or get left behind!" Ren is the first to withdraw, his endurance sputtering and threadbare as the captain helps him aboard. Ruby appears and encourages Weiss to go next, Tag following close behind, and then she boards as well.

Jaune, Nora, and Yang are steadily drawing back, controlled bursts of gunfire matching their steps. Nora turns Magnhild in her hands, allowing it to open up into the massive hammer before giving it one heavy overhead swing. It smacks the ice with a flash of pink, spiderwebs of light cutting through the ice and breaking it apart. Most of the Grimm fall through, giving the three hunters plenty of breathing room to retreat in earnest and make a mad dash for the ship.

Jaune knows he can run faster than this, but he stays a few steps back. He has to be sure everyone makes it out. He has to be sure no one is left behind. The weight on his shoulders, the straining tension and worry in his chest starts to ease as he watches Nora jump aboard, disappearing. His team is safe now. When Yang steps off the ice he's all but calm. They can make it out of this. He'll sheath his sword but keep his shield open, freeing up one hand to grip the threshold of the hatch and pull himself up. The ship is beginning its ascent just as he straightens, finding his balance. His eyes adjust to the darkness within the ship and he starts counting heads, his heart jerking when he comes up one short.

"Where's Billy?"

They all look at each other and then to him. No one gets the chance to answer.

The saurian Grimm breaches again, coming up through the split in the ice. It shoots up from the water at an angle, as if it's trying to snatch the ship out of the air with its gaping maw, but instead smacks belly first down onto the ice. It doesn't break apart as before, instead its weight pushes the far end straight up, smacking the underside of the ship. The tip of the burg breaks away and the airship pitches.

Inside, Jaune's stomach lurches at the feeling of his feet leaving solid ground, his hand gripping the doorway tight enough to whiten his knuckles as the ship rolls. He can see the others being tossed around, some of them falling towards him as their side of the craft suddenly drops. Gravity snatches him and tears him down, his palm burning at the sharp friction before his feet are pulled behind him and his chest smacks metal. Jaune braces himself with both arms, making himself too wide to fit completely through the door, a task that only becomes more difficult as he takes a pair of pink sneakers to the face.

Something in his mind is screaming for him not to look down, but the quickest way to make sure you do something stupid is to tell yourself not to do it. With Nora's heels digging into his jaw and cheekbone he doesn't much have a choice but to look over his shoulder when he opens his eyes, zeroing in on the gaping jaws of the colossal Grimm below. It's beached on the ice, webbed and taloned forepaws keeping it from slipping back into the water. Jaune swears he sees something jump from the end of its conical snout and start scrambling frantically up the frozen incline towards the ship, something with a wild mane of bright red hair. Jaune feels his heart shudder within the cage of his ribs and he struggles to pull himself up.

Below, Manticore claws its way closer to the ship. The craft is much too large for it to pull down like before, but it will still reach out with an invisible tether of polarity to latch onto it as it reaches the end of solid ground and leaps into the air. In mere seconds Manticore has closed the gap and hooked its claws into the pair of denim-clad legs hanging out of the open hatch. The Grimm pulls itself up along his body, carelessly tearing through cloth and into his flesh until it has a foothold on his backpack. One last push vaults Manticore inside the ship while simultaneously forcing Jaune's arms to bend and shoving him out into empty air.

Jaune's head fills with static, whitewashing away the realization of falling. His lungs fill to the brim with a single sharp gasp that he can't push out again and a dull paralysis tingles through his limbs. The wind roars and whips around him...then there's nothing.

Manticore won't get very far. As the airship finally stabilizes the Grimm is violently ejected, punched out of the opening it had come through by a brief, shattering flash of silver light. It drops back into the sea, leaving a trail of smoke behind as the ships regroup and start northward for Atlas.

It's wounded, the Grimm as well as its host and the pain is terrible. For a long time it had forgotten what pain was like, unable to physically react to it as its body drifts face-up and spreadeagled on the surface. The dark creature trapped inside a human frame recoils, its influence weakened and pulling back like a shroud in order to recover. It tries not to focus on the crimson tinted memories of silver-eyed hunters and Witches, of being sealed and reduced to a shapeless and writhing black mass only to be shoved into a body much too small. Its only thoughts are to be still, to surrender its control over the other Grimm that have started to drift away and let the currents carry its vessel until it is fit to move again. Manticore turns in on itself, making itself as small as possible and dropping into something like hibernation.

And for just a moment, before the mounting pain swamps her consciousness and snuffs it out again, Pyrrha can see the sky.

(II)

It's raining in Vale, the light of morning smudged by heavy gray clouds. The wind is still and there's no thunder or flashes of violent light. Autumn-chilled droplets patter rhythmically against the windows of Glynda's manor, the only sound echoing mutely among the countless books of the Witch's study. Blake has spent a great deal of time here over the last few days, taking full advantage of the quiet isolation to help get her thoughts and feelings back into working order. There's a certain, deep seated comfort to be found surrounded by the stuffed old bookshelves, the scent of aged paper and leather so soothing. If it weren't for such pesky needs as food and sleep she likely would never leave. And while Blake has an almost instinctive itch to sit down and read, she has yet to touch a single book. Instead she occupies herself with an aged but well cared for chessboard and its roughly hewn ruby and malachite pieces, playing her most challenging opponent yet: herself.

With Glynda's help Blake discovered how the Summer Maiden's magic has -thus far- affected her semblance. Her shadow clones are no longer semi-corporeal and stationary afterimages of herself, they are solid and potentially independently behaving copies. Potentially being because so far all she has managed to make them do is mimic her movements, though numerous games of chess are helping expand on this initial progress. She looks across the board into her own amber and crimson eyes, seeing a reflection of her hunched posture and even the rhythmic expansion and contraction of her chest with each easy breath. They blink at the same time, ears flitting in the same direction in unison, but with a bit of effort Blake manages to reach for one of her pieces without the clone doing the same. A little smile curls the corner of her mouth as she picks up and moves the piece.

Like a plucked string, a thought vibrates between Blake and her copy and she waits to see if her clone will react. There's a small clench of uncertainty as she feels her own felid ears fold back and the mimic across from her does the same, but it eases as she she sits perfectly still while the other's hand moves towards the board. It picks up one of the knights, just as she wills it, and carefully angles the token two spaces to the left, pausing. A little exhale pushes through her when it moves it one more space forward, letting it rest where a pawn had once been.

That had taken more effort than she would have liked, but it was still better than yesterday.

The clone fluxes, becomes semi-transparent as Blake's focus is disrupted by a gentle tapping on the study door. She silently wills it to hold its shape before responding softly, not at all surprised to see Glynda as she leans through the door behind the creaking of its hinges.

The older woman pauses momentarily, blinking to be sure she's seeing double before speaking. "Sorry to interrupt,"

A little shake of her head, the gesture mimicked by the copy along with her reply of "Is everything all right?"

"Can we talk?"

The lack of a yes or no makes her hesitant. "Of course."

Glynda steps fully into the room, one hand on the door to close it only after a second body move across the threshold, a man Blake almost immediately recognizes. His name and the recollection of him perches on the tip of her tongue, pushed there by the unmistakeable reek of alcohol that prickles her keen sense of smell. His eyes meet hers briefly, his ashen brows knitting as his eyes move from her to her copy and back again, a strange mixture of malcontent and curiosity flickering across his stubble splotched face. He wordlessly leans on his front leg, drawing closer to her and giving Blake's face an uncomfortably close study, the faunus remaining stock still though her instincts are resisting. His nearness amplifies the unpleasant odor and her eyes threaten to water with a sudden, sharp burn.

Thankfully he leans away again, pushing one hand through his hair and stepping towards one of the bookshelves, putting distance between himself and the women.

"Miss Belladonna, have you met Qrow?"

"I think so, in passing."

"He's Miss Xialong's uncle."

"Oh, yes, now I remember." she nods, her clone doing to same as well as mimicking when she turns in her chair and crosses her legs. "...Can I ask why he's here?"

"You can say I'm kinda in the business of the Maidens," his voice is so rough, drawing Blake's attention like steel grinding over concrete, "especially since my sister was one of them."

The clone disappears in a ripple of darkness as Blake's feline ears snap back against her head and her expression stretches to coincide with her sinking heart. She swallows, "Raven was...?"

He nods, one slow dip of his chin. "But that isn't what this is about, not entirely anyway."

"So what were you able to find?" Glynda steps in, a little of the tension in the room lifting. "I received all of your texts,"

He nods again, propping himself against the shelf. "We've managed to pin down where this Cinder woman came from, and that she might have been raised by a Witch."

One blonde brow rises above the rim of her glasses. "Any idea if she is a Witch herself?"

Qrow shakes his head. "According to Holiday she was an orphan, no way to be certain one way or another."

"It might explain how she infiltrated Beacon so easily,"

"She could've learned that from anyone." he chuffs. "It's my understanding that her and Torchwick were partners in that mess, and he had access to everything but the kitchen sink. But, then again, that doesn't mean it isn't possible."

"Let's try to stay away from theories for now, if you please. Did you learn anything definite?"

"Yeah. Cinder's looking for something specific."

"Oh?"

"According to the Arc boy and his lot, she's after a mirror. They recognized a couple of students from the Vytal Festival making off with one."

Glynda's glasses slip down her nose as her other brow rises, the expression holding for but a second before her arms cross, almost hugging herself and shifting her feet.

"Salem's mirror?"

Qrow smirks lazily as he looks at Blake again. "Well look who's been listening. How much do you know?"

Blake's hands fuss a little in her lap. "Enough to know how important a mirror can be to the right Witch. So?"

Qrow exhales with a chesty chuckle. "Thankfully it isn't hers, but I would imagine that's the endgame."

"How do you know it isn't?"

"Because we already know where Salem's focus is." his dark red eyes slide to Glynda for a moment. "And we know she won't get it so long as it stays right where it is."

"But this is still a considerable problem." Glynda adjusts her glasses. "Taking into account that Cinder was able to steal a Maiden's powers, she may be using the focus objects for personal gain just as much as she could be aiding Salem."

"Is that possible?" Blake asks.

"Unfortunately, yes. Maidens are much like Witches, although when the Maiden's were created, it would seem the wizard neglected to make them subject to certain rules. In some ways they have a great deal more...liberty with their magic. Using a focus that isn't their own likely isn't a stretch."

"So we're certain it's Salem now? No reasonable doubt about it?" Qrow tilts his head.

"Miss Belladonna's contact with Raven coupled with what you've told me seems to point to that." Glynda nods, reluctant. "At least that's something certain."

Qrow inches his shoulders, not exactly comforted.

"About your texts? If you don't mind changing the subject, that is. You found Spring and Winter?"

He nods. "I was kind of right, you know; I had always been suspicious of the Schnees."

"Oh? Which one?"

"It was Winter." he almost laughs again, amused by the coincidence.

"So the rumors were true? She died?" She sees the faunus flinch in her peripherals, a little hitch of breath that jogs her shoulders.

"No, not in the permanent sense."

Her brow lowers, "I don't follow."

"I think the news is just propagating that gossip for her protection, but it was only long enough for the magic to look for a new host. It went to Weiss."

Blake's ears flatten again and her heart hitches. She feels the muscles in her jaw bunching, trying to make her mouth move to form words, but nothing comes.

"Oh dear." comes Glynda's cryptic sigh.

"Is she all right?" Blake finally manages to say.

"So far so good, I think. Ruby and Yang are with her now, so..."

"And Spring?" Glynda takes back his attention.

"She and her Guardian are with the kids too."

The Witch nods, visibly relieved to a degree. "Who is she?"

"You remember the hunt in Menagerie and the faunus village? I know it was some time ago, but,"

"How could I forget?" her expression darkens, remembering.

"Our guide, it's her daughter."

"I see." she tucks a stray strand of hair behind her ear, wondering how many more times that day was going to nip at her heels. "And she's agreed to help?"

"I think so."

Though Glynda doesn't seem thoroughly pleased, more so suspicious. "As grateful as I am, something just doesn't feel right. It feels like it's all falling in our laps."

"In a way, yeah, I get what you mean, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, there's bad to go with the good."

"Ah, well that makes it all right then." sarcasm laces the breathy laugh. "Nice how some things never change. So?"

He smiles in spite of himself, not actually amused at all. "We might be dealing with some kind of jacked-up, Grimm-human hybrid."

All of the color in Glynda's face bleeds out in an instant, the weight of his words manifesting in the steady widening of her eyes. For a moment her mouth hangs ajar, her mind quiet of all thoughts and notions. Then she sputters, trying to adjust her glasses though they don't need to be, a habitual gesture in an attempt to ground herself. "H-how is that...what do you mean?"

"Just what I said. Mind you, all I have is second hand from a bunch of worn out kids and old stories, but that's what I could take from it. A Grimm with a semblance."

"That's not possible." Blake says firmly, as if citing some irrefutable, cosmic law. "Grimm don't have souls, they can't have a semblance."

Qrow's eyes thin on her, a firm line pulling around his mouth on one side. "No, but humans do, and humans can." He looks to Glynda again. "You ever heard anything like this before, Goodwitch? Because I haven't."

Glynda is silent, her hand resting over her mouth and her eyes focused on the floor, moving this way and that, possibly searching for an answer to pluck from thin air. "I...no, I can't think of anything. My god," she exhales, seeming somewhat nervous. "I...I'll try to contact my sister, maybe she'll have something." she looks up, her hand cupping the back of her neck. "Where are the girls now?"

"In Atlas by now. They should be okay."

"Should,"

"Don't get your magic wand in a bunch, alright? Chances are Atlas is the safest place for them right now, doubly so since the assassination attempt. They've got an entire army in front of them, even James could do in a pinch."

"You don't still trust him, do you?" she gapes at him.

"Marginally, and mostly out of necessity. At the very least we can count on him to protect Weiss if for no other reason than to save face. I don't like it, and I'm sure you don't either, but it's the best we've got until I can get a power nap and start back that way myself."

"Then please, by all means, make yourself comfortable. Whatever you need to do." Glynda nods, her eyes on the floor again. "If you'll excuse me." and she all but runs out the door. She's a woman on a mission with a sensation of very little time to accomplish it.

Qrow and Blake remain in the study, silent and absorbed in their own thoughts for a time. The older hunter fishes his flask from his pocket, tipping back his chin two, three times before putting it away again. Still propped against the bookshelf he puts his hands behind his head, stifling a yawn as he raises his eyes. Blake stares into her own lap, focusing on her hands as the pads of her thumbs rhythmically stroke against the bends of her index fingers. He briefly wonders what's going through her mind.

"I should go with you." her voice is tight, almost choked into a whisper.

"Yeah, you should." he shrugs.

"But..." her brows knit together, her lips thinning.

"But what?"

Blake hugs herself, shoulders inching as her biceps bunch, her eyes rising to his knees and her ears flitting. "...What if they won't take me back?"

"Whether they want you or not, they need you. You four need to be a team again or you don't stand a chance."

"How could we function as a team if they don't trust me anymore?"

"What makes you think they don't?"

I left. I ran away without a word. I abandoned them. But all she can get out is "...I don't know."

"That won't change if you don't try."

Blake takes a breath, her stomach tightening like her chest. "What do I tell them?"

"The hell are you asking me that for?"

She recoils, ears folding back.

"Look. I'm not the best at mending bridges, I'm more the burning sort." Qrow exhales, grumbling. "In any case, you're a Maiden now, and that's bigger than all the hurt feelings you girls have going between you. A lot bigger. You understand?"

Blake nods quietly, still staring at his knees.

"Still...at the very least, you owe them the effort."

The conversation seems to die there, Blake having no response as she tries to process everything he said. She fights to keep her mind on his words instead of the countless tangents her mind tries diverting to, countless horrible possibilities and potential disasters of facing her teammates again. Thoughts of them make her focus zero in, make her speak before she really means to.

"How is Yang?"

Qrow almost smiles when Blake manages to meet his eyes. "Not too bad for a girl who almost got shanked by a waitress." the expression breaks through when Blake flinches, her features pulling with wordless shock. "Although if you want my personal opinion...she's got a long way to go and she's going to need more than Ruby to get where she needs to be."

Blake sees his features soften, something changing in his eyes as the last of the words leave him. A sort of...almost paternal worry or sadness. As much as she could smell him from across the room, she thought him simply too numb to feel anything other than his natural snark. She takes another breath, her thoughts breaking up again for a second or two. When they come back together she finds herself speaking without fully thinking again.

"I'm sorry about Raven. I didn't want to do it."

"I know." Qrow tilts back his head, resting it against the bookshelf with a muted thump. "So am I. We all tried to find a way to get that mark off of her...me, Ozpin...Summer died trying. It was after Summer was gone that I really felt Raven pull away, she didn't want to hurt those girls -thought it would make Summer's sacrifice a waste." He sniffs and pulls his hand across his nose.

"I-,"

"I'm sure Glynda told you this already, but Raven picked you for a reason. Maybe she wanted you to do what she couldn't...maybe...hell, who really knows. Just...try not to let her be wrong, alright?"

Blake just swallows at the thickness in her throat, trying not to feel suddenly so overwhelmed.

Author's Note: Holy crap, two weeks. That's how long that damn fight scene took me to get out. Anyway, so yeah, next chapter should be much more character oriented. I feel like a lot of the plot set up is out there now, so I can focus more on character relationships for a while. No telling when the next chapter will be out, but here's to hoping it'll be a week. Questions and comments are always welcome and appreciated.