September 10th

City of Vacuo

Vacuo

Downtown

5:36 PM

For not the first time, Rosalinde Varna tossed her head back and laughed, relaxing into her plush desk chair with a smirk. Laying open before her was her most secret and potent tome. Within it was her solution to her age standing between her and the powers of the Summer Maiden. While she had tapped Gina Adel and her little friends since their arrival in Vacuo, she hadn't imagined that the estranged daughter of such an important Atlesian political figure would be the Summer Maiden. It would have been too obvious, she had decided, for three of the maidens to be Atlesian but it was becoming more and more apparent that Ozpin remained unaware as to the Summer Maiden's identity. Now she knew who it was she sought, she was preparing to handle the situation. Remedy it, she told herself. After all, remedy was a lighter word for what Varna was planning than her true meaning, which was murder. She was unashamed of the fact, and it was not her first time either. Varna had spent decades clawing her way up to the top of Vacuoian politics. She had poisoned a few drinks, stabbed a few friends, and slit a few lovers open to reach the top and now she was the queen. Her people adored her, she had power for life, and now she had the powers of a maiden just below her finger tips.

The spell to age her physical body backwards thirty years to when she was in her twenties called for a rather revolting potion, but she lacked none of the ingredients. She had been waiting for years. She had the blood of her womb, the fingernails of ten lovers, and the hair of the one she hated most. Her plans for this spell had long preceded her lust for the powers of the Summer Maiden; she had begun gathering the ingredients just after she had killed her predecessor. It had not been hard to save, in a small jar, the blood she had captured from her monthly cycles, nor had it been hard to lure lovers and steal a fingernail from them as a trophy of the dalliance. It was the last ingredient that had posed the greatest challenge. It had been nothing short of hell to get her hands on, but she had cut off part of Cristal Schnee's hair while the woman had been asleep with Ozpin during the damn Vytal Festival. Now, Varna's hands lingered on the long lock of deep brown hair she had stolen from the woman. Cristal would never know she had it; she had used her powers as a sorceress to regenerate the prosecutor's hair so she could not notice. It was perfect, it was convenient, and it was why Varna could almost taste the Summer Maiden's powers. Yet she was paused and slammed the lock into the small bowl when she realized why she despised the Winter Maiden so.

She still wanted Ozpin.

Every bone in her body ached to feel him in the most sensual ways imaginable. She wanted to prove to him that he always could have done better, only to leave him alone after she had ruined everything he had in retribution for not choosing her in the first place. It was petty, she knew, but she could not set the fantasy aside. She had spent decades practicing perfect manipulation on countless men and he was the only one not ensnared in her grasp. It enraged her when she considered it. She wanted power most of all and would not be strayed from the path but she also wanted to ruin Ozpin. He couldn't win, after all. She was still jaded by the realization but she would not risk her life anymore to see if he were right. She was more than content to be Vacuo's queen and to do as she wished. Salem would not bother her, after all, so long as she did not oppose her. It was the best opportunity she ever had, and Varna refused to squander it. She did not doubt that the Queen herself would be angry with her if she ripped off all of her silks and pinned Ozpin down to show him herself in the most carnal sense but she knew it was a transgression that could be forgiven if it became an issue. The trouble was, Varna knew it never would. He would never tear apart his life and it was more than clear how much he loved his wife. It now lay on her to get revenge, and to be the enemy of their enemy. A kink in their plans if another ever appeared to be moot.

Slowly, the sorceress channeled her inborn magic to activate the powers of what she had stolen from others and herself to begin the ritual. It would not take long and the effects would be immediate, but she would have to develop an explanation for her people. That, she decided, would come with time. Her aura began to ripple over her body and she deftly removed the covering from the jar of her blood. Then, she began to pour it over the fingernails and the Winter Maiden's hair. The potion she was creating began to emit a golden smoke, just as her tome suggested it would. A smirk gracing her face, Varna continued until it became a single, bronze liquid. Her magic still radiating from her fingers, she began the incantation and lit the candles upon her desk in the proper succession, allowing them to let a single drop of wax fall one by one into the bronze liquid. When the ritual was complete, she summoned a complete darkness and raised the potion to her lips. Then, without hesitation, she drank all of it in a matter of seconds. Soon, there was energy abuzz in her veins and she felt her entire body growing hot and then suddenly freezing. A moment passed in trepidation but, when she was sure the magic had flooded her veins, she unveiled the room and restored the light.

It was when she turned to the mirror and saw a very young woman looking back that she knew she had succeeded and her violet eyes seemed almost ablaze.


September 10th

City of Atlas

Atlas

Downtown

11:57 PM

"Jake!" Four-year-old Caitlin Ironwood had shrieked upon her baby brother head-butting her in the back of her knees, causing her to fall over. "Don't do that! That's mean!"

The eight-month-old baby giggled, not understanding why his sister was being so loud.

"Boop!" Four-year-old Ivy Ironwood jumped on the floor near her brother and tapped his nose. "Say it! Boop!"

"Boov?" He repeated, looking completely confused.

Ivy pouted. "Boooooop!"

Her baby brother merely looked at her and laughed, crawling towards her and trying to grab at her face.

"Ivy, look!" Caitlin excitedly exclaimed, bouncing up and trying to reach something on the counter. "Mommy left these!"

Ivy seemed confused for a moment but then climbed up onto one of the chairs to reach the counter. It was then she realized her sister had been talking about the almost full bottles of strawberry and chocolate syrup.

"Ooo…" Ivy began, grabbing them and dropping them to the floor before climbing down herself. "Fun! Get the milk!"

Caitlin glared and pointed at the fridge. "I can't!"

"Climb," Ivy suggested, grinning while their baby brother crawled over to them and the syrup bottles. "Look at these!" She told him with a mad smile. "They're sweet!"

Ivy spent about a minute trying to pull open the top of the bottles. In that time, her sister had (with much effort) tugged the refrigerator door open and began to climb the shelves to reach the milk jug. She dropped it, yelling at her sister that it was heavy, but it was plastic and rebounded on the floor. Ivy quickly became distracted by dragging over the jug while her sister closed the fridge. While his sisters were preoccupied, Jake became curious. He poked at the syrup bottles and pushed his tiny hands against them with just enough force for the liquid inside to ooze out. Finding this amusing, the eight month old tipped them over (unfortunately aimed towards the carpet) and began to smack his little fists against them, watching the liquid squirt in all directions. By the time his sister's noticed, it was too late and he had managed to smack out at least half of both bottles. A few seconds later, Glynda stepped into the room only to find her eight-month-old son rolling around in syrup, her younger daughter dragging a jug of milk across the floor, and her eldest sitting against the fridge and sucking on her index finger. She was stunned for a few seconds but then quickly scooped up the syrup bottles and ran into the laundry room to grab a towel to wrap her son up in before she carried him upstairs for a bath, motioning the girls to follow her.

"What on earth happened in there?" She asked them, gently scrubbing the syrup off of Jake with a warm, wet towel. "Did the two of you get in a fight?"

Ivy shook her head. "I was hungry!"

"You made me climb the fridge!" Caitlin angrily protested.

Glynda paused for a moment and stared at both of them in horror.

"Ivy," She finally said. "Don't scare your sister into doing dangerous things."

Ivy nodded but elbowed her sister pointedly.

"And, Caity, please don't do dangerous things because your sister tells you to," She went on tiredly. "Actually, apply that to everyone."

"Glynda?" James nervously called from downstairs, evidently having just gotten home. "Is everything alright because the kitchen —"

"I know!" She called back. "I'm handling it!"

He could be heard running quickly up the stairs. Soon enough, he was standing in the doorway to their bathroom. The girls both turned towards him and Ivy waved while Caitlin ran at him to give him a hug. He laughed and ruffled her hair before setting her down and sitting down on the edge of the bathtub beside his wife.

"They really are special, aren't they?" He murmured, affectionately kissing her cheek. "Have you been holding up alright?"

She sighed. "Better since you returned from the deployment."

"Daddy's staying," Caitlin said, crossing her little arms with a defiant spark in her eyes.

"Yes," James agreed. "Daddy's staying."

"How long?" Glynda asked softly, cradling their son in one arm and brushing her hand over his metal shoulder with the other.

"The rest of the year," He replied. "So almost seven months."

She smiled. "Okay."

"Caity!" Ivy shrieked. "You're no fun!"

Caitlin triumphantly held the bar of soap over her sister's head, an easy feat considering she had climbed onto the step stool.

"You tried to eat it!" Caitlin irritably said. "It's not food!"

James chuckled and took the soap from her hands before taking them both downstairs. Tired and exasperated as she was, Glynda soon followed. The least she was hoping for was that the stains would come out of the carpet. It was only syrup. How much harm could it possibly do?

Funnily enough, even after several cleanings, the stains never faded away, and merely suggested that the kids were adorable little wild ones.

It was a pity that life couldn't stay so simple.


September 11th

City of Atlas

Atlas

Downtown

7:13 PM

Ex-Dr. Arthur Watts smirked, walking up to the side entrance into the Schnee manor. He knew this was the only point of entry from which he would not be spotted. He had peeked at the front of the manor and at its expansive drive, only to find an eighteen wheeler, a Mercedes-Benz, and a pick up truck along with Emmett Schnee. Watts snorted at the thought, more than certain that the professor's presence meant his sister and nephew were about to leave too. For Watts' purpose, this was an advantage. He did not want to risk a confrontation with a member of Team JGEE, especially knowing how well-connected they all were. Of all of them, he hated James the most for being involved, if even by accident, in his career's damnation in the early 2000s. However, he did not fear James in the way he feared Emmeline. That was especially true given the news he and that Taurus boy had received that morning from that green-haired girl. The message she had sent them had been brief, but it was informative. Though it was unreported and hushed up, the recently publicized assassination of Sienna Kahn had been carried out by Emmeline Ciel herself, and for personal reasons. Nothing terrified Watts more than justified rage, and, now he knew Ciel was possessed by it, he did not want to risk her doing the same or potentially worse to him.

"You!"

Watts snapped his fingers at the small, white-haired boy standing in the hallway. The boy jumped back, startled. He said nothing, and Watts knew the kid was afraid. He looked only about thirteen, and he was lanky. Imperiously, Watts began to make his demands, knowing the boy would be too scared to refuse them. He asked for his name, though he truly didn't care, and then asked where Jacques was. The boy did not respond for a long few seconds and lied. Watts found himself growing angry and made the demand a second time, hoping to scare him into submission. The boy swallowed hard and then motioned for him to follow. While they walked, the boy kept his hands clasped behind his back but his fingers fidgeted anxiously. Through the manor, they passed the dining hall, the swimming pool, the library, and so many other doors that Watts knew the boy was stalling. Fear was all that appeared to dominate him, and he knew the boy must have developed that because of Jacques. Watts knew full well that his former colleague was not affectionate, and was often distant, focused on an ideal and a projection rather than the reality. It was all cold and calculated, something Arthur had maintained respect for and, now, found easy to manipulate to his own ends while Taurus did whatever the fuck he wanted in the city over the next few weeks with this heavy day being the first in their own schemes.

"Umm…" Whitley nervously lingered in the door to his father's study, unsure of how to explain what he was so startled by. "There's a man here to see you."

"What was that, Whitley?" Jacques irritably snapped, drawing his son from his thoughts. "I told you and your mother and even Emmett for God's sake not to let anyone in here!"

Whitley flinched. "He...kind of let himself in."

Jacques raised an eyebrow in disbelief, something which was only amplified when the man stepped into his study. He could barely believe he was staring at one of his former business partners, let alone one presumed to be dead. At first he was horrified. Whitley, while being taken away by his mother, would still inherit the SDC and Jacques did not like the notion of his son being left with someone so dangerous even for a little. He also knew Arthur would never come without purpose and had to know something. Quickly, Jacques began to recount every company action he'd recently instated. He had fired everyone in his upper staff whom he could not trust and he had been itching to pull the trigger on the lower staff in Mantle too. Much to his disappointment, for the time being, he had to play politics.

He was not short of anger towards Ironwood for supporting the fucking dust embargo so vehemently, and the same held true for his brother-in-law. When Emmett had come by the manor a few hours before to help his sister, nephew, and Klein with the logistics of them leaving, Jacques had found himself struggling to contain his anger. He had worked endlessly for decades to secure a perfect image and that had been shattered by a few months in court. For a moment, he had even wished Emmett still acted like a spoiled brat, but it seemed that was long gone. Instead, he was running through the manor with his sister, helping her and Whitley leave alongside Klein, who had more than happily agreed to come work for Willow when her now-ex husband had fired him. Briefly, for Emmett, at any rate, things almost seemed to have returned to as normal as things ever were for the Schnees.

"Okay," Emmett said, heaving another box full books from the manor's spacious library into the moving truck. "I don't know how we're going to get the rest of them."

Willow laughed. "How come?"

"Because your son is scrawny, you constantly get distracted," He lamented. "And, if Klein is right, I look like an uncooked chicken."

Whitley smirked. "Can I call you that?"

Emmett shrugged. "If you want me to take up drinking and gambling, then sure."

Willow all but stabbed his foot with her heels.

"Not with my son, you won't!" She exclaimed, much to the amusement of Whitley and Klein. "Winter has done enough bad things in her day to give Whitley ideas! Don't encourage him to reenact that!"

"I'm not very creative, mom," Whitley countered. "And I think I know better than to act like Emmett."

Klein chortled. "He has been known to be quite the charmer!"

Emmett rolled his eyes. "Thanks," He dryly replied, then turning back to his sister. "Still, you seem better since the divorce."

Willow smiled. "Thanks."

"Change anything?" Emmett remarked, starting to tape up the many boxes that were already loaded. "Other than your marital status?"

Willow paused for a moment in thought. "Well, I started smoking again."

Emmett raised an eyebrow disapprovingly.

"I'm not a child, Emmett," Willow reminded him with a laugh. "And I'm older than you. Don't be like that."

He put his hands up in surrender and sat down on one of the shut boxes, causing his nephew to chuckle.

"You're a man child," Whitley said. "It seems mom was right."

Emmett shrugged. "I will not confirm or deny that allegation."

"That means he agrees," Klein whispered. "Actually, Master Whitley, when in doubt, always assume those words mean yes."

Whitley sent him a confused look. "People don't often mean what they say, though."

Klein sighed. "With your uncle, at least, it's a fair assumption."

For the first time in awhile, Whitley genuinely smiled.

"I'll give you that," The heir to the SDC replied. "Touché."

Author's Note: Hey! Hope everyone isdoing well! Just wanted to say the next chapter will be a longer one so it may take awhile to turn around! Also, much love to my friend Emil! Happy late birthday and happy early Easter, y'all!