Ten o' clock in the morning bore down on them with the weight of a thousand suns, Mistral's back streets too full with immigrants to push through unscathed, the heights the only path ahead towards the apex of summer, to the Council building, to the declaration of war.
However quiet they were, it wasn't long before they caught the attention that sliding around in black cloaks in High Summer will grant, a horde of Hunters on their heels.
"What are we doing?" Oz signed.
"Walking. Towards the Council meeting." Pyrrha waved back. "And nothing else."
"We can't brute force our way in there!" Oscar waved ahead, the leaf print on his cloak dusty in the wind. The Mistral National Guard already formed a riot line in front of them.
"Call Grandpa, we have to get in there!" Ruby's joints cracked. "Ah shit." The line marched forward. The Hunters stood at their backs.
"HALT! The Mistrali Terrorist Task Force commands you to cease and desist this instant!"
All eyes fell on Pyrrha, who eased into the front, hands left folded at waist level.
"Forgive me," She rose off of the floor. "but we must intervene." Some soldiers faltered, others held fast, most paid her no mind. "War against each other and war against the Grimm will split us in twain."
"...I- this is some bullshit!" The leader waved it off. "Shoot them down-" Six phantom blades fell at his feet. Two of his soldiers laid down their arms.
"Sir, she-"
"I am aware of her presence. Proceed, Lady." They stepped aside.
A jade green cloak watched from the roof, a bow on its shoulders.
They pressed into the now defunct auditorium of Haven Academy, dusty from a year's disuse. It was packed with representatives from every major township. The banners of Mistral and Atlas stood on each side of the stage, with a white flag behind them both, peace talks were the murmur of the crowd. A scorpion's tail curled.
"Too many people here." Oz signed. "Is there a corner we can lurk in?"
Glynda vaulted up on Ironwood's shoulders. "Of course, it's a auditorium, there's a bo-" Golden petals blew up and over, a empty box covered in them. "...thanks Grandpa."
So seventeen bodies squeezed into a spot made for ten, Weiss and Blake agreeing to stand guard by the door, its panel made indistinct by the latter.
Archibald Stone thundered across the stage to sit opposite a woman in sky blue and khaki green, a seven foot table between them, with a man in green and black and a woman in a bandeau and shorts seated in the middle. The peace talks were nothing but thinly veiled threats.
"Guys," Oscar pointed across the way. In the opposite box, the railing dripping with purple leaves, were several figures, the black hair and flame colored eyed girl staring at them under a red hood, the lion tailed man creeping through the door. "Do you know them?"
"...we killed them." Ruby leered over the crowd. "We killed all of them."
"Where's Emerald?" Nora squinted, trying to wriggle out of Ren's grasp. "...oh shit."
"They are undying." Oz swallowed, Ironwood reaching a arm around him. "The-"
A spotlight swung into the boxes, illuminating both sets of Strange Interlopers. Both bowed out of the doors as fast as legs would take them, weapons drawn and loaded with Dust, out of the doors, half tumbling, half falling down the stairs.
Into Ozma standing before them, in the flesh, wearing a soft green shirt and a softer smile on his face.
"Don't. They want a massacre." He spoke softly, bunching them into the stairwell. "...they'll blame it on you." The emergency exit opened. "Go." He watched them leave, a woman with blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes waiting for him to turn into the atrium.
The heat threatened to slaughter them on impact, a thunderstorm brewed on the horizon, the shoulders of cloaks thrown behind them, thin and thinning black and greys proving hellish on suntender skin.
"...we've got to get back in now." Ruby crept back around, the exterior stage exit left wide open, a pair of guards asleep or dead from heatstroke in their heavy armor. Jaune bit his cheeks, muttering hope against hope that they weren't slain. Backstage bustled with stagehands and armed guards, Ren held hands with him, making them all ghost thin, only the dust disturbed by cloakfall held proof of intruders.
And Oscar stealing a tray of veggies and cupcakes, but hey.
The stairs led up into the second floor, the arguments echoing through the thin wall. Atlas claiming protection for the citizenry, Mistral claiming war crimes. A door was left ajar, a break room with enough chairs.
And a man with red hair and dark green eyes, flipping through a Scroll, bronze armor cresting his shoulders.
Jaune clamped Pyrrha's mouth shut, a scream dying between his fingers, wincing as the poison singed his veins.
"Hello?" He looked up, pulling the glasses off his face, drawing a xiphos from his belt. "Who goes there?"
They shuffled around the corner, flickering in and out of color, Ren's Semblance shattering as they crossed the edge. The older man took three steps in each direction, before deciding on the corner, the edges of a meander trimmed cloak catching his eye.
"...what." The collection of mixed shapes and weapons sticking out of black gauze twisted his face. "What are you doing? W-" The edge of Pyrrha's shield glinted in the light. "...come. Come!" He shoved them all into the break room. "You want to get caught now or later?"
All pressed inside, Jaune still stood between him and his daughter. Ren and Nora cracked their knuckles.
"...you're the Band of Strangers." His accent was thick, the hills of Argus leaving their echo behind. "...I dreamt of you. Please sit." They didn't.
"You're Agamemnon Nikos?" Glynda stuck her flask through her veil.
"Yes. My daughter was Pyrrha Nikos, now called Blessed. If...it is true that you people whisper to the gods, then you must know her very well. If she told you about my past, then killing me is nothing but my destined end, and I accept my fate. But..." He sent the xiphos, the cestus on his arms and the shield on his back clattering on the table. "Surely, you will talk to a unarmed man, yes?"
"...then talk." Glynda sat down. No one else did.
"Six years ago, General Clementine ordered all soldiers go through a clinical trial. It was supposed to increase Auric Depth or some doctoral nonsense I am not equipped to understand. I went home for the weekend. Proceeded to wake up three days later in jail." Harbinger bounced off the wall. "...I spent five years in jail crying. The last was when she died. Got my act together. Did research. Found that the drug has a nasty side effect of psychotic breaks."
"...you look fine now."
"...welcome to not taking that everyday for a fortnight." He yawned, his canines a bit too long. "Excuse me. High General Clementine is on the chopping block. I got out, got my retrial. Exonerated, seeing as how everyone is terrified of Her Wrath. As am I."
"Why...are you freely volunteering this information?" Glynda took notes in a different purple notebook.
"Because it's a seventeen on one match. I am good. I am not a god. And I was hoping, if you were compassionate towards me, that I could join you and take my daughter's mantle: the fight for blesséd peace. I'm sorry, but it's the least I could do for ruining her life."
"And this is the man you beat to death with a pancake griddle?!" One of the taller one with leather at the edges of his cloak waved hands at Agamemnon, sparks singeing the already burnt fabric. "WHO THE FUCK IS CLEMENTINE?!"
"I'M SORRY!" One of the smaller ones broke down crying, the pull on the metal door frame cracking the walls. "I'm sorry..."
Ironwood rested his forehead against Oz's shoulders. "Again, more questions, no answers."
"...can someone explain what is going on here? Why is this one crying? Why is that one angry? Who beat me to death with a pancake griddle?" He tilted back in the chair, rocking back and forth like he was on the open seas. "What happened to the pancakes that were on the griddle? Did they end up on the floor?"
"...your daughter?" Qrow finished a different flask, a white one kept in the same pocket. "...do you not remember that?"
"The last I remember was calling my wife to let her know I was coming home, to ask what she wanted from the store."
"Then you came through the door," Pyrrha pulled off her hood. Agamemnon's chair fell back. "and closed your hands around Mama's neck. I grabbed the nearest thing and beat you black and blue because you wouldn't let her go! And then the pots went! And the pans!" Nora pressed her hands over her face, the veil wet with tears. "I nearly killed you."
"...Pyrrha?" He stared at her, the only difference between the two was the streaks in her hair. "...why do you look so old? You're only what, eighteen now? You look grown. Why do you sound like that? How are you alive? Was that you? On th-" She grabbed him into a hug, still sobbing, still chanting 'I'm sorry'. "I have...so many questions."
"Join the club!" Ironwood finished his flask. "We've got nothing but questions!"
The door knocked. Hands pulled Pyrrha off her father and into the wrong side of the door, Ren blurring them into nothing. Agamemnon answered it.
"Sir, the Mistrali Generals wish to see you...and who were you talking to?"
"...oh I was watching a video." The intruder wasn't too taken with the explanation, Agamemnon pulled two Scrolls out, both with videos loading.
"...okay, whatever, let's go." The door closed with their departure.
It opened again to Ozma's arrival. He said nothing as he took the head of the table, everyone else shuffling to sit, the room slowly falling apart into the field of golden flowers, them all sitting at a table without edges, the stained glass top on dark wood, the dusty cloaks blown away as per tradition.
"How...how are you walking around?" Ruby shook her empty flask. A bottle of whiskey appeared. "Why are you walking around?"
"Bold of you to assume that I never walk around, Ruby. For once you happened to be in my vicinity. For once, you have seen your true adversary."
"...the girl with the pretty blue eyes?" Raven took the bottle from Ruby, it went around and came back to her half full. "Surely-"
"Looks-" He bit back vitrol, fingers tracing the short glass of iceless whiskey. "...can be deceiving."
"She was yours?" Oz finished his glass without a blink, and Oscar wasn't far behind, the tray of snacks long since emptied.
"She was mine. Before all she craved was destruction." The glass cracked under his hand. "...I apologize."
"You need a hug?" Nora stretched her arms. "We're good at hugs, right Adam? He was reading something on his Scroll, whiskey glass half filled in the other hand, the rope braid thrown over the opposite shoulder. "We're still working on that one!"
"Thank you, Nora bu-" She leapt up to hug him anyway. He sighed and hugged her back. "You all keep me sane." Her eyes flashed white, she swayed back to her seat, Ren's eyes filled with worry.
"Going to explain why you let us drown?" Taiyang picked at a loose scale. "Who those goobers were? What's going on? What are these Relics? Why did Winter float? Why did Yang go to pick it up?"
"...Would you like that in order of importance or recency?"
"Importance." Oscar finished another glass, the spectral blooms snaking down his plait. "Because 'm tired, Grandpa."
Ozma shook his head. "The Relics are strange, secretive entities. Releasing them from control of the Grimm seems to be your main task right now."
"So you're saying that you don't determine what we see?" Qrow pulled the whiskey bottle from Ruby's hands. "Who is?"
"...I don't call all of your shots. I just help you make them. Winter can float while she's holding the Sword. What did her dress look like?"
"Like...I was walking on water..." She spun her cup in her fingertips.
"What color is Yang's hair when she's mad?"
"...gold?" She looked up from the game of tic-tac-toe.
"It's on fire. All of you will hurtle towards your destiny innately. I'm just making sure that you don't have to do it alone. I can't save you from the pain of death every time. Just when-" He threw the glass at Blake, it knocked the headphones off her head. "Just when it calls for it. I am this close to knocking you on your ass, and you're gonna see the gods when I do."
She said nothing, shrinking into her chair.
"Anyone else want to try me?" Weiss shifted in her seat, averting his gaze. "...Back to business. The goons are your adversaries. Mine's is Salem. No one there is new to you, including you, Taiyang. And they lose numbers by the season with you there."
"Why are they acting so recklessly?" Ren won the game of tic-tac-toe happening on the table.
"They are undying." Ozma had his hand stuck in popcorn. "When you can kiss death and laugh, what's a makeout session?"
"...madness." Pyrrha waved over the bottle for a refill, pouring Adam a new glass as well, a hum of thanks making it back. "It's flirting with madness."
"Are you okay?" Ozma looked her over, unimpressed with her hair.
Jaune hid in his hoodie.
"...I'm flirting with madness, but well." Fourth glass down. "AIN'T WE ALL!" Jaune was on his seventh.
A round of cheers. Ozma rested his head in his hands. "Any more questions?"
"Where's the last two relics and where do we go after that? How do we defeat Salem's faction?" Ironwood shook Oz awake, having had facedesked a long time ago.
"...ask these two." He pointed at Qrow and Pyrrha. "Though the physical toll it takes on you is apparent. Come here." They shuffled towards him, taking the outstretched hands. Gold shimmered over them, white returned to crimson and jet, the weight returned, the lines softened. "Any more questions?" Breathless, he relaxed into the chair, Weiss reaching for him, only to take her hand away. Winter squinted at her, waving at her, saying something in Old Manti. Weiss didn't respond. Brown eyes looked her up and down without a word.
"When does this end?" Ren finally looked up from the game.
"Where it began. With the gods that abandoned this world." He looked at a thin gold slate of glass. "It's time you returned. Go."
The world rose and fell, a seat at the table was now empty, the green and gold of the conference room now back in view. A man opened the door. "Oh...are you those weird traveling monks?"
So they snuck out, as a group of weird traveling monks do, into the incinerator where the emptiness of mid-morning flowed into the bustle of early afternoon, girls in sundresses passing by, despite the calendar's late markings and the smell of burning nectar clinging to the mountain air.
They looked less out of place, many parting or stepping aside for them, Ren stopping into a small bookstore to peruse recent history, "to keep tabs on public knowledge." To keep tabs on themselves, and all that went down around them, in the aftermath of Lisieux and Menagerie. Pyrrha slipped into a different shop and came out of them with her traditional accessories.
Jaune stood looking into a jewelry store, with a No Faunus sign hanging in the window, then at his hands, and then the across the street as he stepped away, a woman with tall horns staring at him in the reflection of the window, jewelry sparkling as she swayed. 'That's weird.'
A thin hand landed on his shoulder, Oz pressing a secret into his ear. "We're being watched. Come." The older man borrowed his arm as a cane, his limp acting up in the heat, joining the rest of the Cavalry and their shopping bags in a shaded corner of a park, Ruby squeaking how she got Adam and herself matching shirts.
"What are we doing?" Jaune handed Oz over to Ironwood. "Where are we going?"
"...we can attempt to stop war between Mistral and Atlas over violation of dignity or we can batten down the hatches and stop running around in ten thousand degree heat. Aura's good, it's not that good." Raven's wrists cracked. "I'm worried about Qrow and Pyrrha. Especially you, Pyrrha, How is your health?"
"It's a flare-up. It comes, it reaches its peak. It leaves."
"Sadly, we're reliant on you two. I think that we need a extended break, for everyone's health." She looked over at Jaune. He looked away.
"Oh look, you grew the spine!" Ironwood's wrist whirred. "Finally!"
"We need somewhere to stay." Weiss took the water soaked towel proffered by Blake. "Immediately. Some of us aren't built for heat." The sound of parade music and the whir of Dust powered engines came from the east, cheering and clapping followed with it. "Blake." She looked over. "Please, go see what that is." She nodded, slipping through the cracks.
"All of the hunting lodges are full and all of the penthouses are too. We'll have to move." Winter gave Qrow back his Scroll. "An-"
"Rose!" Two looked over at the cat on a hot tin roof, the both of them prickly in the heat. "It's a rose parade."
Ruby whirled over to see, exploding as she fell back down, twirling on her toes. "Thorn, can we go!?"
"...we have greater things to worry about than-" He looked up at her from his dying Scroll, to grey eyes pleading, hands folded, lip quivering, a single tear rolling down her face. A waltz came on over the loudspeaker, the Scroll went into a pocket, a piece of his soul flew out with a sigh, and he grabbed the girl's hand. "Fine." They went swirling over the rooftops and the rest followed, the waltz had already begun. The rest followed.
5'6" and 6'7" with horns weren't ideal dance partners but they made it work, Ruby spinning to match his gait, leaving extra petals on the wind.
A white cloak billowed on the wind.
And the red petals blew into the furnace, and the ignition roared, and the soft velvet of the blooms were caught in the explosion.