Here we are again with the second of four trailers, this one being longer than the first! This took me a while to figure out how I wanted to write it, this version is probably the fifth or sixth draft, and the first one I actually wrote to completion. All in all I think it turned out pretty good, at first I was writing it in an attempt to make it perfect, like something you'd read out of The Catcher in the Rye or something. But Eventually I decided to make it all little more palatable to a wider audience, write it for entertainment rather than some super serious societal commentary.
Fun fact: Opera singers can sing as loud as 100 decibels, about the same volume as a riding lawn mower, a jack hammer, or a motorcycle. Thus they often don't need a microphone when performing with an entire orchestra because they can simply sing as loud if not louder than them.
On with the story.
The only thing Weiss Schnee could hear beyond the chattering of the audience was the beating of her own heart. An incessant tha-thump that was beginning to drive her mad. The curtains were closed before her, shielding her from the crowd that lay beyond, allowing her to let her guard down somewhat and display the nerves she was feeling.
The seconds leading up to a performance were the most nerve wracking for her. Despite all the rehearsals, despite how many times she had performed in the past, she always had that heaviness in her heart that just wouldn't go away until she finally got on stage and began her music set. She tried to calm herself logically once or twice. Telling herself that she was always prepared, and because of that preparation the performances went smoothly. She even knew that the second she began to sing the nerves would fall away. But in the end the only thing that could help her here were simple breathing exercises
"Breathe in… and out," She muttered to herself between breaths. This, she found, was the only thing that seemed to calm her nerves, whenever they were acting up, not just before a concert. Even if it did only help a little.
"Breathe in… and out," Her stage manager signed with her hand the one minute mark before the opening of the curtains. She double checked her place on the stage to ensure she was in the right position. Everything had to be absolutely perfect, anything less and it would be unacceptable for a Schnee such as herself.
Or at least, that's what her father taught her. He was the one that instilled these high standards into her. Through years and years of simply being his daughter he had taught her how to be one of the richest people on Remnant.
"Breathe in… and out," Something rich people had to do often was try and stay in the public eye. Or, more specifically, seem good in the public eye. Which was exactly what this final concert of hers was designed for: one last charity performance hosted by the good Schnee Dust Company before the perfect heiress went off to Beacon to spread the good Schnee name to every poor human and faunus Weiss Schnee saved.
Too bad her father didn't believe the story he told the public upon her announcement to attend Beacon. In reality he was furious, she still could see the anger in his eyes when he lambasted her for her decision. She wouldn't be surprised if he didn't even show up tonight.
"Breathe… in… and… out." Any such thoughts on her family drama were cast aside as the curtains finally parted to reveal herself to her audience. Before her was a large, elegant auditorium with rows upon rows of high class people in expensive silk suits who wanted to catch one last glimpse of her before she veritably disappeared from their social circle. She was supposed to know these people, executives from potential business partners, celebrities looking to be paid off for endorsements, politicians earning more from lobbying campaigns in one month than their position would pay in one year. She thought of all of them as scoundrels.
While her accompanying orchestra began tuning their instruments one final time, she quickly glanced among the crowd to see just who had shown up. Not her brother, or sister. Not her mother. She was surprised to see her father, however, sitting at his private lounge area in the Schnee Family Theater. The fanciest of the fanciest theaters in all Atlas. She never got to see what his personal private lounge looked like; probably covered in gold and jewels worth as much as the theater itself.
She couldn't see his face, though she had a feeling he was scowling.
The first notes played by her orchestra rang out across the audience, silencing any final chatters of gossip and business. It was her time now, her turn to be heard, and her turn to express herself.
The theater was filled with melodies of melancholy and harmonies of hardship. Long notes together with a slow tempo created an air of sadness around her, she could almost feel the audience's emotions. Nowhere near as intense as her own were most nights.
She took a deep breath as she heard her cue to begin singing, and sing she did. An angelic soprano joined in the somber song, and carried it to new heights of beauty. She had no need for a microphone which might muddy her tone and ruin the song. Her orchestra was trained well enough to play at a level where both could be heard, and the Schnee Family Theater was perfectly designed for sound to resonate throughout the whole building.
Not that she necessarily needed all of these things as she was a trained opera singer. Tutored by the best teachers money could buy from the moment she was able to sing as a small child. She knew what she was doing, she didn't need the awed expressions from the few audience members she could see in the first few rows. Though they were appreciated.
One thing she liked about being a performer was being able to choose what songs to perform. And since this was her last performance, she decided to be rather rebellious. Her music was carefully chosen to convey her pent up frustration at her father, his business, and her career as a business woman she has been forced into since she was thirteen. The lyrics, that of an old language of a dead civilization from Anima, told of a young princess trapped in a tower, unable to escape from her solitude. It is a song of lament, of feelings of hopelessness and emotion that could not be portrayed but through music. She had chosen it wisely, it perfectly encapsulated her feelings of her life here in Atlas like nothing ever could.
Just as the Chorus began, a part of the song she knew by heart, she closed her eyes. When they opened again she was back at her training facility. Facing down her most difficult opponent. An Arma Gigas, a massive entity in medieval plate armor, towered over her, giant sword in hand stabbing into the ground, waiting for her to make the first move.
"Breathe in… and out." She lunged forward with the aid of a speed glyph. The suit of armor, seeing her movement, lifted the gargantuan sword and reared back for a swing that would most definitely kill her if it hit and her aura was down. At the last second, she jumped, clearing the suit's height easily with a swipe of her rapier, Myrtenaster, and landing in a roll behind her opponent. She turned to see the armor standing before her in its original stance, unphased. It seemed it was content to make her do all the work.
Huffing in frustration, she stood. Another glyph appearing before her. Just as before the armor lifted its sword, preparing to intercept when she got close. This time, she ducked under the strike and jumped from beneath the suit, landing several blows in time for it to turn and lash out with a punch that sent her across the facility.
Struggling to stand from such a hard blow, she thought of a different strategy while the armor returned to its resting position. Obviously this wasn't going to work. The armor was too resilient for her rapier to easily pierce, and getting close enough to use Myrtenaster like that left her vulnerable against counter attacks. Something she knew she could not shrug off as easily as her opponent was absorbing her own attacks.
She ran in an arc, around the suit, hoping to find some weak spot in its stance. But as soon as she would get close, the suit returned to its combat stance, and would spin as she circled around. She noted it was surprisingly agile for its size as it kept her in front of it.
Wanting to get this over with as soon as possible, she charged in with the aid of another speed glyph. This time she was close enough to get into the armor's guard before it could swing, and managed several precise strikes within the seams of its armor. Whatever was inside that thing was definitely hurting now. She dodged again as her opponent regained its bearings and began swiping across its body in hopes of hitting her.
She landed away from the suit and stood again, trying to think of another way it could be damaged as she had a feeling that trick wouldn't work a second time. She barely had the chance to think as the suit charged, opting for a more offensive strategy.
She rolled out of the way, unprepared for the sudden change in behavior of her opponent.
It must be weak if it's changing behavior like this, Weiss thought. Nothing else would explain the sudden change in tactics. She kept her distance from the charging mass of metal as she attempted to gauge any new weaknesses in its movements. None showed as far as she could tell.
Having had enough of the game of cat and mouse, she decided to stand her ground as the knight neared. She lunged forward, narrowly avoiding its swing in order to stab at the beast's knees in an attempt to cripple her foe. She jumped out of the way of its leg as it tried to kick her out from underneath it, her plan bore no fruit.
Before the suit could charge her again she attempted to roll under its guard with the aid of a speed glyph. The Arma Gigas was faster this time, and managed to land a direct hit on the Heiress, sending her across the facility and into the opposite wall.
She sucked in a breath in an attempt to refill her lungs after the impact. Kneeling on the floor, attempting to regain her bearings, she cared little for her opponent at that moment. She looked up and saw red. Not the continuous filter that accompanied rage, but the stinging presence of blood in one of her eyes. Her hand came back bloody as she felt her forehead, having felt a deep, painful gash above her left eye. Steeling herself back towards her foe, she thought logically of her next move.
My aura must be broken, otherwise this cut wouldn't have happened. This thing is too fast, too resilient for any simple use of my glyphs and Myrtenaster, and any prolonged use of my semblance will drain me completely. Whatever I do, it better be enough to kill it. Her full attention was brought back to her opponent as it charged again, only having enough time to roll out of the way as it stabbed the wall where she was standing a moment ago, sending cracks all the way to the ceiling.
She continued to evade until she led the suit into the center of the facility. Ensuring enough room for an attack as possible. She ran in circles around the beast, breath coming out hoarse as she did. This was her last chance, fail here, and she would never get away from her father.
A glyph formed beneath her feet, accelerating her beyond her natural capabilities, two more formed in front of her speeding her still. Just as she felt she was about to collapse, she jumped onto a glyph and angled it perfectly to jump back towards the beast.
Using her momentum, she launched herself at it, striking deep into its abdomen. Flying past it, she formed another glyph in mid air, and launched herself again, another deep hit. Again, she launched, and again, she struck. Again, and again, and again. Faster and faster she flung herself back and forth. Striking her enemy with each pass. Its arms flailing at the recoil of the blows. Nine, ten, eleven times she struck, unsure if it was enough. She didn't know how much more she could take, but she knew she was still going. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen times she pierced her enemy. The rapid attacks sent the armor into the air, making it easier for her to strike. Eighteen, nineteen, twenty blows to the armor's chest left multiple holes through which white light leaked out and brightened the room. Weiss failed to make the twenty first glyph and landed in a roll away from the beast. Praying to whatever deities were out there her final attack was enough. She pushed herself off the floor and turned, vision half blocked from the blood drying in her eye, to see the Arma Gigas crash onto the floor. The intensity of the light shining through the holes in the armor grew rapidly, cracks spreading throughout. Until finally it burst. Weiss shielded her eyes from the blinding flare as the suit of armor's life came to an abrupt end.
Shakily, she stood, her legs felt as if they were on fire from the exertion of her final blows. She looked out to where her opponent had died, seeing the remains of the cracked, bony mask of the Grimm that possessed the armor. Walking over to it, she crushed it beneath her heel, and looked to the observation room above her as two figures stared down on her. She huffed triumphantly, and closed her eyes.
She opened her eyes again to sing the final notes of the ballad of her sorrowful life. Slowly, her voice softened until it was inaudible. She looked out over the crowd as she let go of the note and took a soft breath. The audience before her broke into a polite applause, one that seemed inadequate for her performance imbued with emotion and sincerity.
She was insulted at the dismal display, but would not, could not, show it. She simply bowed, and turned on her heel to walk off stage. All the while she could feel her fathers eyes burning holes into her back. She smiled.
I wanted to specify that Weiss was an opera singer because for one it sounds like something she should be good at; if she's going to sing, then she might as well be the best of the best when she does. And because I was in choir throughout all of high school, and one day two opera singers came in, and the girl opera singer sang so loud and so high my ears almost started to hurt, and it still sounded beautiful. I've been somewhat fascinated by opera singers ever since; recordings do not do their performances and skill justice.
I also want to comment on the job I did writing the fight scene: I think I did a good job. If you disagree, feel free to tell my why in a review.
Until next time.