So I read a bit of the feedback on Ruby's killing shot. I wanted to shift the entire universe into something a bit darker, but I got another idea that could justify this killing.
Vale.
Lisbon puts his hood back on as he approaches the gaping hole in the main bridge.
There is a man in a white suit dirtied by colorful dusts and gunpowder, standing behind the shattered main computer. He is staring at the blood-stained digital keyboard, his complexion focused but somewhat distraught. It's like he's tuning out the world around him, for a moment of reflection.
The Hunter's boots clack against the metal floor, making the man snap his head up and draw a hand cannon with a speed that rivaled his own. Lisbon raises his hands.
"Friendly," he says. "You must be Ironwood."
"…You're Lisbon?" The general asks, before lowering his weapon. "I don't remember Pietro putting another Exo-type machine…"
"What?" Lisbon asks.
"You're fully conscious…interesting. Someone must have been working on you without anyone knowing…"
"Buddy, I don't appreciate comments about me when I'm right here," Lisbon snaps, his anger flaring up in the sharp edge of his words.
"We'll discuss later. There's a more pressing situation, if you didn't know yet." Ironwood snorts, his attempt on lightening the mood working for only a few seconds before a scowl appears on his face. He sighs and leans forward on the glass interface with both his hands. A garbled hologram appears in front of him, but it shuts down a second after. "This ship's ineffective. We've lost air dominance; most of my fleet is in ruins, and the automated units are turning against my soldiers. What else can go wrong today?
"Well, this ship could've stayed in the possession of those two…criminals," Lisbon says, crossing his arms. "There's at least something we can do with it, right?"
"Piri, get on it. Figure out what this thing is capable of," Lisbon mentally transmits to his Ghost.
"Got it." He can feel the small whoosh of air and distortion of reality that comes with a Ghost appearing next to his head. Piri is cloaked with light-bending capabilities, so the only other person in the room shouldn't be able to see her unless she's incredibly negligent of her own self. Lisbon knows her well enough that that shouldn't be able to happen in a million years. It hasn't for the past century or so.
"The defense systems are barely keeping up with the volume of the Grimm in the sky, and the main weapon isn't ready to use with the entire weapons crew dead." Ironwood grumbles under his breath and eventually slams his fist on the main terminal. "Nothing. There's nothing."
"Don't give me that, I didn't save this thing for nothing, right?" Lisbon still isn't sure what is going on around him, and he's hoping to coax out more information as subtly as possible. His improvisation skills should hold any suspicion off for long enough to get a general idea of the situation.
That's what the Hunter believes, at least. He can't really say that this type of situation he practiced before.
He feels some sort of pulse of energy.
"You didn't. I'm still able to call an evacuation order and pull my troops out of here. They would've been stranded otherwise. My personal emergency beacon doesn't cover as much as this ship does." Ironwood seems to have settled for that option, and it doesn't look like he would be convinced very easily. It's just a feeling, like the general's already steeled himself to go through with it. Lisbon isn't very sure if he should be okay with what's going on.
"You can't just leave all those people down there to fend for themselves!" He says, shaking his head.
"I don't want to, Lisbon. You have to understand, this is the only choice that doesn't make this entire mess more of a…shit fest." The general struggled with the last two words. Looks like even this guy can stoop to profanities. He sighs and presses a few things on the glass keyboard with a finger, before holding it down. The decision's already been made. That ship probably sailed long before Lisbon even met Ironwood.
"This is General Ironwood, I am ordering a full withdrawal of any Atlas units in the AO. Rendezvous at the coordinates that I've pushed, and good luck. This is a tough decision, but the safety of my men is the utmost priority to me." Ironwood lets go of the keypad and glances to Lisbon.
"You're free to tag along if you'd like," he says, flashing a small smile. "I'm bringing this ship towards the pier. We're heading back to Atlas."
A variety of transmission buzzes through Lisbon's comms.
"This is Diamond-One. We have about a dozen civilians and on foot requesting motor transport. We can't just leave these people here!"
"If you do not have motor transport, send them to the nearest safe zone with the local militia, we cannot risk anymore lives by trying to rescue everyone."
"This is Viper One-One, we're on route to the coordinates, carrying civvies and casualties alike."
"Understood, offload them when you arrive. Blue-Two has no medical capabilities as of right now. We have to consolidate any medic units still in the field."
"General, this is Winter. I managed to secure an airship and I am on my way to Blue-Two."
"Good to hear from you Winter. I hope you understand my decision."
"Yes sir. I do."
"Is Winter someone close to you?" Lisbon asks, sitting himself down on one of the side terminals that is clearly sparking. No one's going to be using this one for a while.
"She's one of my top special operatives. A damn fine Huntress and an even greater subordinate."
"…What is that supposed to-"
Errors begin flashing in Lisbon's field of view. A sharp pain emerges around his right eye akin to a knife being shoved right through the back of his eyeball. It spreads towards the main area of his face and he leans forward with his palm pressed against the affected area. He lets out a groan and a swear.
"Is everything alright?" Ironwood inquires, glancing somewhat worriedly at his direction.
"Yeah-I'm…I'm f-fine," Lisbon manages to get out through the burning haze clouding and eating his mind from the inside out. His voice glitches, looping previously said words. "I'm-I'm-I'm…fine…no-no need to…" His voice garbles and glitches. Bytes of corrupted data that used to be a voice.
A second later, Lisbon collapses on the floor, his visual sensors cutting off and letting out one last breath before his systems shut down.
. . .
Lisbon finds himself walking in knee-high snow. The biting winds of a blizzard pricks at him through the layers of armor wrapped around his metal skin. His arm is raised in front of his face, blocking the blowing snow from getting into his eyes. Every step is a struggle as the snow is heavy and sticks on his boots.
"Lisbon please, you don't have to do this! We can just go back to the Vanguard and tell them what we know! Please, Lisbon just listen to me!" He can hear Piri begging from the right of his head. The Ghost is following him diligently, like all Ghosts do. Her blind loyalty infuriated him. Why couldn't she just leave him be!?
"Why do you keep following me like a fucking-like a fucking dog!? I tried to kill you!" Lisbon snaps back with fire and determination that he hadn't seen in himself since The Garden.
"Because I care about you, Lisbon! I'm your Ghost for Traveler's sake!" Piri is desperate, her floating more jagged and indicating distress. "I know what you went through was horrible, but THIS? This isn't the way to cope!"
"Like you would know," Lisbon bitterly spits. "What I saw in there, is something no one else should ever see."
The blizzard is starting to push him back, but he presses on.
He can feel himself freezing. His limbs were starting to lock up due to the cold.
He looks up and sees a floating and fractured pyramid with several broken fragments hovering around it. It has lines of glowing orange and intricate carvings in its black surface. His hand instinctively reaches out for it, and it pulses. Its cold, unlike any he has ever felt before. His fingers felt…stuck, completely frozen. Absolute zero.
In the darkness ahead of Lisbon, a figure appears. He isn't able to get a clear view of them before he is suddenly encased in ice.
"In Light, there is only weakness."
. . .
An Exo gasps as he wakes up from the nightmare. His back snaps up straight and his metal skin feels like it's been turned inside out. His stomach feels heavy and his head feels hazy.
Lisbon-13 is panting as he rearranges his thoughts to get an idea of where he is. Blinding white. Complete silence.
"Where the fuck am I?" He mumbles, putting his palms down on the semi-soft bedsheets and turning his body to the side. It takes a great deal of effort, as everything feels like a jumbled mess of gears, sensors and synthetic neurons that are firing off feelings that aren't even there. His own body is working against him and it's a struggle for even the most basic coordination. It takes what feels like hours before he's able to regain some semblance of control. In reality, it takes maybe a few minutes.
Lisbon sighs, and turns body over onto his stomach. His legs begin to reach for the floor by him leaning off the bed. It feels like his feet are on clouds and he collapses under his own weight as he tries to support his own weight.
Sprawled all over the floor, he coughs out what feels like his entire lungs, and pushes himself up with his two hands, managing to maintain a sitting position. His back leans against the side of the bed frame. A sigh of relief escapes his mouth. His head gently swivels side-to-side, neck feeling like there's a giant knot in the back.
The room is simple. A single-sized bed against one wall. A sink attached to the opposite, with a mirror on top. Lisbon can spot a bit of his own forehead on the piece of mirror he can see. There's a giant gash that crosses diagonally from the top right of his head down to the side, stopping around his ears. Bits of exposed wiring and mechanics that appear infinitesimal to his own eyes. It doesn't hurt, which is somewhat of a relief.
"Lisbon, you're okay, I thought you -" Lisbon winces as a female voice sounds in his head, and he groans in pain as an ache surges from the back of his minds. "Oh, uh, sorry. I got a little excited."
"Good to hear from you too Piri. Where am I?" He asks, rubbing his newfound wound. Upon feeling the surface, he can instantly tell it's been patched up a bit. The feeling of his insides was a bit too…soft for it to be part of his own machined skull. Someone must have been working on him while he was out, which is quite disconcerting.
Lisbon's more concerned about being indebted to someone without his own permission.
"I gotta get out of here." He uses his hands and on unstable and shaky legs he's able to get himself on two feet. Some feeling down there is starting to return, which allows him to get a sense of stability.
"The door's already cracked-" The single metal door in the room slides open. Inside steps an armored woman wearing light-gray plating on her chest, shoulders and legs with several blue accents around the neck, forearms and the side of her helmet. She's carrying a sleek, blocky rifle in two hands. Her finger is off the trigger, but the barrel of the weapon is pointed at Lisbon.
He raises his hands in response.
"Look I don't want any trouble-"
"For Pete's sake, put the weapon down, you're going to frighten him!" An older man's voice says from behind the soldier, before she's forced aside by a quadrupedal…chair.
Lisbon almost doesn't notice the dark-skinned elder on it. He seems like a jolly enough fellow, with a nice red vest and cream-colored shirt and dark mustard pants with a nice cap to top it all off.
"You're finally awake!" The man exclaims with glee, clasping his hands together excitedly like a child who just discovered their presents for The Dawning. His expression shifts for a second, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. He pushes his pince-nez glasses up to the bridge of his nose. "Although I don't remember setting the room this cold…no matter, what's important is that you're finally back with us!"
"How long have I been gone?" Lisbon blurts out, introductions slipping by his main priorities.
The man puts a finger on his chin and looks upwards, sporting that same confused expression. Must be his thinking face. He hums for a few moments, mumbles to himself about dates and days for another few.
"I believe it's been a good three weeks since we recovered you from your…crash, back on the ship in Vale." The man eventually says.
"Vale…?" Lisbon asks, the word a bit familiar but still foggy in his head.
"The general told me of how you rescued one of the flagships floating during the catastrophe at Vale, he talks quite well about you!" The man says. "Oh, how rude of me, I've forgotten to introduce myself! My name is Pietro Polendina, and I've been taking care of you for the last few weeks. Do let me know how well I patched up that giant hole in your head!" His voice reminds Lisbon of grandpas that would sit on benches in The Last City and tell stories to children.
"…This is your doing?" Lisbon says, lightly touching the semi-patched hole on his forehead.
"That is definitely the work of someone who knows his way around Exos…" Piri mumbles.
"How did you know how to fix this?" Lisbon asks.
"Your design is something I have…worked with, to say the least."
"Really now?" Lisbon takes a step back. Some red flags are starting to pop up in his mind.
"The construction is shockingly similar to one of those journals I've consulted for Project Penny…now if I could just remember what his name was!" Pietro puts a hand on his forehead. "I'm quite excited for you two to meet, actually!"
"There are definitely some things to work on before I go ahead and start meeting people," Lisbon says. "Like where's all my stuff?"
"Your armor and weapons are stored in the armory, but for now I have to get you oriented and the general is requesting a meeting with you."
"For what, exactly?" Lisbon asks, crossing his arms and narrowing his gaze on Pietro.
"Well, he wants to talk to you of course," Pietro says.
Lisbon thinks about it for a moment. He's alone in an unfamiliar building with armed guards and an armory without weapons, armor or his Light. Although the odds still favor Lisbon most likely, he wasn't exactly a daring Hunter. Preferred to keep the least amount of things to chance as possible. Maybe it would be a better idea to work with this old guy.
"I think you should just listen to what they say until you get your weapons and armor back…" Piri suggests, with a great deal of hesitation. Felt like she was worried about some backlash from Lisbon, which is odd because she's usually very straight forward with her recommendations.
"…Okay, I'll bite."
"Fantastic, come with me, we'll first get you out of that prison uniform…"
. . .
Lisbon is escorted into an office still in the same outfit. There are two armed guards accompanying him, one at each side.
Getting me out of this prison uniform was a lie… he thinks, rolling his neck to work out a kink in it as best he can.
The office is unusually big, with an entire half of empty space that precede a set of steps which lead up to the desk. Behind is an entire wall of windows that lets in the evening sun, lighting up the place with natural orange and red. The top is in the shape of a half-dome, also entirely composed of windows that are partially covered by metal plates. The combined lighting makes the environment feel warm, although mostly for the man sitting at the desk and not for his guests.
Speaking of the man behind the desk, his hands are clasped together over the brown wood tabletop and he gazes pointedly at Lisbon. One side of his lips is curved slightly upwards.
"Lisbon. It's been a while," the man begins. "You've been out for quite some time."
"Three weeks, and…who are you…exactly?" Lisbon squints at the formally-dressed man. A big white buttoned coat with an exaggerated collar and a belt wrapping around his waist. Looks like a general of some sort. Like a general depicted in those old Golden Age documentaries that Rekkana showed him a while ago. Not too dissimilar to Zavala, although it feels like the two would get along for maybe a few minutes at most.
The guards are looking at Lisbon like he's insane.
"Does the stubble really change how I look that much?" The man lets out an exhale through his nose and a small smile forms on his face.
The stubble does work against his entire formal white outfit, though. Makes him look unstable.
Lisbon squints at him some more. A name manages to scrounge up in his lips. "Iron…wood."
"Glad you remember me," Ironwood's smile goes a bit wider. "Quite a bit has occurred since we evacuated Vale."
"…Right."
The two entrance doors to the office slide open. In strides a fair-skinned woman wearing some sort of coat underneath a frame of straps and armor padding around the shoulders and legs. Her hair is tied into a bun although leaves some bangs on the left side from her face with a small curled lock on the other side. The stray hair goes downwards far more than the rest, almost reaching her shoulder.
"Ah, Winter, glad you could join us." Ironwood steps up from his chair and maneuvers his way to the front of his desk.
"Apologies for the delay, I came as quick as I could," Winter replies, her words firm with every syllable sharp and concise. Her stance radiates confidence, a person who knew their place in the world and was very happy about it.
"You were just in time to meet Lisbon." Ironwood glances back to Lisbon with a nod. "Lisbon, meet your new temporary handler."
"H-handler?" Lisbon stutters, apparently more terrified of the word than he had ever expected to be terrified by a word.
Winter isn't as confused nor terrified, though. "Yes sir."
"Hold on, I didn't get asked about any of this…" Lisbon instinctively reaches for the hand cannon that would normally be on his waist, but his hand grabs at air only. The two guards tense and their weapons raise slightly.
"Well, this is easiest option for you, unless you have an affection for bureaucracy that is horrifically slow a good amount of time," Ironwood says, crossing his arms while a smug smirk forms on his face. "If my choice was the wrong one, then all you have to do is tell me."
"This guy is good…" Piri mumbles.
In another world, Lisbon would have said no just out of principle. However, he also doesn't believe the general is lying at all, and it would most likely be the worst hassle in a Guardian's lifetime to go through the bureaucracy.
"You got me." It hurts to even say those words. To think a man with that excuse for a beard would outsmart a Hunter like the Lisbon-13. Even Rekkana wouldn't have predicted that. "As long as I get my stuff back."
"You have yourself a deal. Winter, bring him to the armory."
/
Kuo Kuana.
Sometimes Ilia thinks she's grown up too quickly. Since her childhood, her view on the world was through a bitter and fractured lens, knowing that there was an evil rooted in the base, and that no good action could ever make up for the centuries of mistreatment of her kind. Her parents told her stories of genocide, systemic oppression and racism all caused by humans. They told her that the world was unfair, and it's unlikely that anyone could do anything about it. They said to just keep quiet and you might just survive the next day. Maybe you'll get a lucky break and live a decent life, outside of poverty. They had plans of saving up money to leave Mantle for Vale, hoping to escape the slavery and allow her a better future than their own. When she would graduate from the boarding school, they would leave.
Ilia's childhood was marked by anger, and that's all she remembers. Anger towards a system that oppressed her and her friends. Anger at the people who caused it, and the people who stood by and did nothing. She was considered the unruly and violent child, of course, because she couldn't let it go and just…be a kid. She avoided social interactions and friends were few and far between.
She spent her entire pre-teen and teenage years seeing grey and red everywhere. She could never believe the story tellers that told fantastic tales of heroes and monsters where there was a clear dichotomy between good and evil with some ditzy moral that was never useful in real life. There was no such as thing as pure good, because it's always tainted, somehow, some way. Her parents taught her so, and her experiences as a Faunus in Mantle entrenched these beliefs. How could these grown men and women tell these stories and deliberately omitting some parts of the truth? She could never understand it, and it only made her more disillusioned.
Perhaps that's just what she's looking for: The truth. To what, she doesn't know yet.
When it came time for the second half of her education, her parents had struck out by managing to pull favors from an Atlas boarding school's admission office. A high-end education in the floating city of Atlas. It sounded majestic, and she can't really blame them for pushing for her inscription, despite her status as a Faunus. It helped that that she could pass for a human quite easily and she did what they told to maintain that mirage. They only wanted what they thought was best for her, and she's grateful for that.
The boarding school wasn't any better than Mantle. It was just a different type of oppression that went on there, not focused on Faunus because there were essentially no Faunus in the city. Rather, to keep the humans dumb and listening to the machine. Constant barrages of mathematical formulas, sciences and language rules that were never explained. Only to prepare for state exams, after that it doesn't matter. Get a piece of paper, and find a job in some lab or office somewhere. For most of her classmates, it was very easy; all you had to do was memorize. Ilia wasn't that type of child, and they so desperately tried to subdue her.
It almost worked. Her friends must have been on it, but there was a moment in her teenage years where she thought the way that they wanted her to think. Things were easier, quite a bit so, and she hates herself for falling for that garbage. Some things you can't beat or yell out of a person, though. The conditioning quickly broke when she realized just how far she's gone.
Sitting on a roof in Kuo Kuana, Ilia allows herself some quiet time, outside of the chaos of running back and forth the village doing what she can to support it.
Ilia's glad that the children sitting around in a circle below her haven't grown up the way that she has, but at the same time she's scared. What if the humans come back to Menagerie? What happens when these children grow up and go out into the real world, outside of this isolated Faunus bubble? Was sheltering these children from reality the right thing to do, having them believe that there is absolute good in this world? That they would get treated fairly based on the content of their character and not their species? Ghira's insistence on cooperating with humans despite everything they've done to their king is grating and almost insulting to her. They don't deserve reconciliation, it's been way too long for that to be an option anymore. Things won't change unless they're forced to. How couldn't Ghira of all people understand this? He was a leader of the White Fang for god's sake!
Watching a certain Saint-14 tell his tale of monsters that stood as tall as twelve feet with weapons the size of entire people and machinery of pure destruction that tried to laid waste to his city makes her want to go back to a more innocent time, if there was one. She so desperately wants to believe this story and she doesn't know why. There was something in it that was different, but she couldn't exactly pinpoint what.
Ilia doesn't know how he can…pretend so well. It's the same deal with every Huntsman or Huntress that passes through Kuo Kuana. Surely, they must know, right? How could they just…lie, like this?
He's about to finish up the last part of his tale. About his crusade on the house of Eliksni that attacked Twilight Gap. His own part of revenge for what they've done to the people he swore to protect.
He's a great story-teller, she must admit. It was almost frightening at some points.
The night sky is getting cloudy, and the children are packing up their cardboard swords, guns and shields to bring home with them while Saint stands nearby to watch them get home safe. He's eventually whisked away by one who wants to be accompanied.
Ilia remains in the same spot, unmoving. She rarely stops by her little cabin back at the White Fang camp, despite the Albain brothers' complaints. Sometimes it's nice to sit some open spot, looking at the sky and letting her mind drift somewhere.
Lately, it's been going towards places that she'd rather not think about. That Atlas military channel…did Adam really pull through with that insane plan? Half of her can't believe it, a quarter doesn't want to believe, and the last bit knows its true. The brothers must be working on their part, then…if Vale actually fell.
God, it was just surreal thinking about it. A human bastion, toppled overnight? She wants to be gleeful, and happy but she just…can't.
But this is what she wanted, right? Retribution for the centuries of mistreatment by humans? The oppressed finally revolting against their oppressors to beat them back to equality? She studied many works of philosophers that were long dead, but who's ideals and ideas have lived throughout history. Most Faunus, but some humans had decent ideas.
She remembers reading these works with…her.
Her cheeks flush and her gut wrenches once she finds her mind in the pit again. The runaway, the traitor…the one she loved. Ilia wants to cry but she has no more tears to shed. The past is the past, and it's unlikely she'll return into her life.
Blake chose her path, and Ilia chose her own. If they find themselves in opposition, then so be it. If she wants to be friends again, maybe it could work out.
That's what the lizard Faunus repeats to herself as she drowns out her other feelings for the girl.
It's getting late. She should find something to sleep under for the night.
. . .
Ilia wakes up to the sound of her Scroll's ringtone and its vibration. She pushes herself to a sitting position in one swoop before rubbing her eyes, making sure to clear out the gunk at the edges. The weight of exhaustion sits on her shoulders like strapped dumbbells. She yawns, stretching her arms before pulling out her still-ringing device.
Saint-14 is calling. She swipes the screen in the direction to answer his call.
"Hello Ilia!" He's as loud and boisterous as ever. "I know it's still quite early in the morning, but I need your help. Again"
"Shoot," Ilia says, her own voice soft and still tired. She needs a drink of water.
"There's a cave near the edge of Kuo Kuana, and I need your help clearing it out." The vagueness is slightly suspicious.
"Clear it of what? Are you talking about the cave on the west side of Kuo?" She asks. "It's the only one, actually."
"I believe so."
Oh shit. She forgot to tell him about that.
"Is there something that requires the need for a lizard Faunus in particular?"
"Well, there are dead bodies…"
"What? Send some pictures."
About ten seconds later, she gets a notification of an incoming text message. It's a photo of an Atlas soldier with a hole burnt right through their chest.
"Fuck, there's an Atlas ship docked in the pier right now. They'll be fucking pissed. I'm on my way, stay put and don't go in."
"Understood."
Half of her is sparking with glee and the other is worried about Saint. She gets up and heads to his position.
/
"And did you take the killing shot?"
"Yeah…I did."
"Considering your recorded behavior in Beacon and your views on Huntsmen, don't you think that's a bit…odd? Out of character, even?"
"I didn't really think when I pulled the trigger, if that makes sense? I just heard his voice in my head. Telling me to finish it once and for all."
"Who's voice?"
"I'm not crazy, I don't actually hear voices, haha. It was something a professor at Beacon told me in a training session that stuck."
"What did they say?"
"I don't remember it exactly, but I think it was 'Don't be afraid to put down repeated threats once and for all. Future you will appreciate it.' He said that before throwing me back into a combat simulation."
"Was this the first time you applied this advice?"
"Yeah…I had a chance a while ago, though. It was a clean shot. The professor was working with my team in Mount Glenn."
"It was Professor Oobleck that accompanied you on that expedition to Mount Glenn, correct?"
"Yeah…but it wasn't him that was with me at the time. The other, he does things…off the books, you could say."
"I see. Go on."
"I had a straight shot on Torchwick. I didn't shoot. I got yelled at for that."
"Let's refocus on what happened in Vale. Do you feel any remorse for what you did?"
"I do…at the time, I didn't know what to think. The guy that helped me on the ship was all 'nice shots' and I was all like 'thanks!' I didn't even realize what I did. If I could go back I would've shot his leg, or something."
"According to my report, you took another shot before interacting with the other Huntsman? Was this also meant to kill, too?"
"Yeah…I think I just missed. I must have gotten lucky."
"Interesting…could you give me the name of the professor that told you the advice you mentioned earlier?"
"Felwinter. Called himself 'Lord Felwinter' sometimes. He disappeared a day before the attack. It was an…incident, with a student."
"The incident, was this about the murder of the Mistral transfer student?"
"Yeah…I don't know what to say about that. It just all happened so fast…"
"I suppose this concludes our questioning and you are free to leave, Ms. Rose. I appreciate the effort you took to stick with us."
A chair slides out and a set of footsteps exit the room.
The recording ends.
So I hope you see where I'm trying to take Ilia as a character and build her up a bit more. I'm trying to go for a person constantly motivated by a vague rage against the world to keep going, and never had an opportunity to tone it back because the world just kept dealing her a shitty hand. She's unable to cope and ends up doing some heinous acts. I believe RT had a good idea with where to take her, but with time constraints and the limits of RWBY's design (the show, I mean) a lot of backstory is left out and we're given the cringy character that we all know. I'll definitely put an emphasis on the cognitive dissonance when someone's entire world view is challenged, which should propel the events that can offer a non-canon explanation in the show while being a catalyst for her interactions with Saint when things get…hectic.
I expect to do a bit more chapters with Ilia as the main POV, doing wacky adventures with Saint and maybe, just maybe finds a friend in him. Then the show approached in a differently, then we move on. Lots of stuff to work on!
One more thing I would like to address: I was thinking of replacing Osiris with Lord Felwinter since I officially linked my two stories together, but idk yet. I do think the Saint-14 and Osiris duo is great but there could be interesting interactions between the Titan we all know and love and an Iron lord who's even more ruthless than him, without the heroic personality.