Weiss is leaving tomorrow. I took the day off to help her prepare everything she needs and make a final review of all the information Winter has been sending us, which doesn't look anywhere near good – everyday that goes by, it seems more and more like somebody's about to make a play. I'm not willing to risk Atlas security, so that's why… Weiss' camouflaged airship will be the last one to leave before the kingdom closes its borders. Winter and I discussed the matter a couple of days before she left, and I've finally decided to do it – there's no reason to leave Atlas exposed to the free roaming of foreigners with thirst for revenge; foreigners who still think that what happened at Beacon was this kingdom's fault. So, if anybody wants to come to Atlas… they will only be able to do it with my permission.
I believe it's the best for all of us.
My airship finally lands right in front of the Academy. Since she left the manor all of a sudden, Weiss said she needed two suitcases to pack her clothes. I offered her to choose among mine, but she refused – "that reinforcement is worthless. It wouldn't even resist being set on fire!" When I, absolutely astonished, asked her why would anyone need fireproof suitcases when the only thing that's inside are just mere clothes, she simply dismissed it and demanded better ones. As capricious as she might be, the Gods know I can't, for the life of me, deny her anything. So, since I had to go to the city center anyway because Pietro had already finished, uh… the thing I asked him for –that was probably the most embarrassing situation I've ever been in my whole life, but he was polite enough to not make any more questions than needed–, I offered to buy the suitcases for her while she emptied her wardrobe. She thanked me, and sent me to a store not far from Pietro's lab.
So here they are, with the Schnee's logo, and all. The lady from the store knew exactly who these suitcases were for the moment I told her Weiss' requirements, and she seemed very surprised that it was me, and not Weiss herself, who was there to buy them. I'm starting to believe that Winter was more than right when she said Weiss and I are not exactly what you'd call discreet.
When I finally enter our room, there's not an inch that's not covered by Weiss' clothes. I can't see the mattress, for at least four dresses and a cape I have never seen her wearing before –the starry one is the one that's always over her shoulders– are spread over it. Another dress is hanging from the bathroom door, and I blush slightly when I realize that she has taken all her lingerie out –most of which I'm ashamed to admit I perfectly recognize– and put it over the rug.
Weiss seems to be so busy trying to put an order to her clothes that she doesn't hear me as I close the door.
"I'm back."
Her little jumps of surprise always bring a smile to my face.
"Thanks, James." She says, standing on tiptoe to give me a peck – every time she kisses me, I have to bend down just enough for her to reach. "The suitcases are perfect. They're just like the ones I had at the manor." She takes them from my hands and places them on the floor, right next to the mountain of what I think are tights – or could they be gloves? Maybe both? I don't know. She barely ever wears gloves, and I like that – her hands are way too beautiful to be covered.
"The lady from the store seemed to know they were for you."
"It doesn't surprise me" she says. "I always buy them there."
"Always?" I ask, surprised. "Are suitcases one of your frequent purchases?"
"I have a lot of clothes at the manor."
"So I've been told" I smile, "but you don't carry all of them with you every time you travel, do you?"
"You don't?" The surprise in her voice makes me instantly understand that she doesn't conceive any other option, and I can't but let out a soft laugh.
"It's not the most optimal option, no."
"Well, I like to be stylish" she shrugs. "But I guess you wouldn't understand."
I always find it funny how, despite being raised in the same wealthy family environment, Weiss and her sister are so different from each other – there's no way Winter would have said such a fickle thing. Whenever she goes on a mission, she never carries more than the strictly necessary. I have this strong belief that, if the Schnees were to be a royal family, Weiss would undoubtedly be the spoiled princess.
But it doesn't bother me even a little.
Weiss' eyes shift then to the box I'm carrying, inside of which it's Pietro's creation. Technically, I was going to hide it somewhere else before coming to our room and pick it up later, when Weiss wasn't here, but…
I forgot.
"What's in there?" She asks, curious, and raises an eyebrow.
And now I'm blushing in embarrassment.
"Uh… nothing." I hurry to hide it behind my back, as if taking it out of her field of vision could make her forget she'd seen it. It's a shame it doesn't work that way.
"Is it for me?" Her eyes flicker for a second, and she smiles.
"I…"
I mean, she's not wrong. It's not like I would have thought about getting this thing if it weren't for what she said the first time we spent our night together.
"Oh, James! You didn't have to buy me anything!" She exclaims. "I'll be back from Mistral before you realize I'm gone."
"Err…" Gods, James, can you stop babbling and say something coherent?
"Can I see?" She asks, and makes as if to peek behind my back; my body follows her movement by inertia, blocking her line of sight.
"No." I say. All she does in response is lean her head to a side – I can perfectly see the pout building up on her face, so before she can complain, I hurry to add: "I mean, you can; but not right now. Besides, I've got yet another present for you, but... I'm afraid it'll have to wait until the sun sets."
Weiss crosses her arms and stares at me for a while – her frown, deepening with each passing second. Just when I think she's about to pounce on me to take the box out of my hands, she finally rolls her eyes and sighs:
"Fine. Now, if you're done teasing me, then help pack my suitcases. This is going to take a while."
So, as I was saying…
Behold the spoiled Schnee princess, ladies and gentlemen.
...
Two. Hours. That's what it took to pack all of her clothes. I'm usually done in half an hour, but Weiss took her time in deciding with garment put over which so that none of them would wrinkle. I have learned today how to fold five different kinds of thighs depending on the material they're made of – apparently, I've been doing it wrong the whole time she's been here, and she just refolded all of her clean clothes again whenever I gave them to her, freshly ironed –; and don't get me started on the dresses. I never thought that packing a suitcase would be such a difficult science.
By the time we were finished I thought that Weiss would be, at least, tired; however, she wanted to come to the training room one last time before she leaves tomorrow. I don't really know why, because she's been training a lot since I returned to the military, and I trust her to be more than ready to face whatever it is that it's going on in Mistral. I told her that it would be better if she simply spent the rest of the day resting, but she insisted. So, here we are.
"I want you to show me how to fire a gun." She says.
What?
"What?" I chuckle, surprised. "I thought you said you didn't see the appeal of using a gun."
"I don't. Guns are nowhere near as elegant as a rapier. But I've been thinking… what if I go to Mistral and they give me a gun instead of letting me use Myrtenaster? I don't want to make a fool of myself."
"Nobody's doing that, Weiss." I say. "You're going to Mistral as a Huntress, not as a soldier; and you can use whatever weapon you want."
"Yes, but, what if?" She insists.
I part my lips to answer, but I'm going to repeat myself and I know her well enough to know that once she's set on doing something, there's nobody who can make her change her mind. So, I just shake my head, exhale a sigh, and smile:
"As you wish."
Besides, I have to admit that now that she mentioned it, I'm a little intrigued to see how she handles a gun.
.
"Okay. Hands at shoulder-height…" my fingers slide beneath her arms, guiding them; it almost feels like embracing her, and I notice how her body trembles slightly at our sudden closeness. She manages to keep a steady hand nonetheless, however, and when I praise her with a single, slightly husky "Good", I can practically hear her swallow, hard. How curious. I always seem to be the one who's nervous, when we are this close; but now, it seems the tables have turned. Holding back a smile, my breath touches her ear when I point her towards a certain part of the room. "Now... see that cube over there?"
"Everything in this room is made of cubes, James." She argues, annoyed, but visibly shaken; her body temperature rises suspiciously, and I chuckle.
"Good point. Choose one of them, then, and aim at it. You're not winking, are you?"
"How did you know?" She asks.
"Everyone does it the first time" I say, "but if you want to aim properly, you have to keep both your eyes open. Did you choose a cube yet?"
"Yes." She says, and the cutting tone in her voice makes me smile.
"So…?"
"You're making me nervous on purpose, aren't you?" She grunts. As a response, I casually run my fingers along her arm all the way down to the gun butt, making as if to correct its position, but accidentally caressing Weiss' bare wrist in the process.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Whatever" she sighs, exasperated, and adds: "I'm going to shoot." Her hands, even tighter around the gun; she takes a deep breath, holds it for a while, and when all accumulated tension in her shoulders vanishes as she exhales, she pulls the trigger.
The next thing I know is that we're both flying through the air.
Weiss screams in shock, and I, out of instinctive reflex, wrap my arms around her to use my own body to protect her. It's my back that hits the wall, and a sharp pain shakes the left side of my body and makes me groan, but she's safe on my lap and she hasn't hurt herself.
"James? Are you okay?" She asks with urgency, and her hand slides under my chin to lift it and look at me. I feel a little dazed – it's most logical to think that it's due to the blow, but her haunting icy eyes staring into mine aren't helping me focus at all.
"I think I got you the wrong gun." I snort, softly.
"You don't say!" Her quirky sarcasm makes its appearance again in her voice, and my smile broads slightly.
"Sorry. I didn't realize." I say. The worst part of all is that, even though their colors are visibly different, this isn't the first time I've mistaken my guns with one another for not paying attention. But there's no need for her to know about it.
Weiss gets up from the floor; with a little bit of effort, I do the same, and she hands me my gun almost with disgust.
"So, how was the experience?" I ask, putting it back in my holder.
"I hated it, thank you."
"Do you want to try again with the right gun?"
"No. I'm done with guns; once has already been enough. If anyone in Mistral tries to make me use one of those, I'll just cut their hands off with my rapier" she declares.
"Given the case, I'm afraid I'd have to imprison you."
"Then I'll cut yours, too."
I raise an eyebrow, jokingly, and wave my metal hand in front of her.
"I think you might be a little late for that."
"You're dumb" she smiles, and carefully shakes out the wrinkles from her dress. "Close your eyes, and extend your arms."
"Oh, so you're really doing it?" I snort a soft laugh.
"Close your eyes!"
I lean my head to a side, intrigued; but, like always, I don't object and simply do as she says, silently wondering what she's up to. It doesn't take long until I start feeling some kind of tingling on my left palm, and the sudden surprise almost makes me push my hand away.
"Weiss?" I call her name, slightly worried. Still with closed eyes, my frown deepens as I ask: "What are you…?"
"Hush" she demands, and falls silent again. Soon enough, the tingling turns into a completely different sensation – it's like my hand was touching the surface of a water stream that doesn't get me wet.
"Okay. You can open then now."
The white glow blinds me for a second, and I have to blink a couple of times; when my eyes get used to it, I watch in amazement as a smaller version of the Arma Gigas' sword materializes on my hand. I turn to Weiss, visibly confused, but she already has an answer.
"I'm going to teach you how to use a sword."
Oh.
My mind wanders back to when she helped me shave for the first time – I thought then how curious it was that, whether it was her rapier or the razor, she was always the one holding a blade.
Well... not anymore, I suppose.
I swing it a couple of times to test its balance. The ethereal appearance of the summoned sword makes it seem lightweight, but it's heavier than anyone might expect. I can still swing it with no problem using my metal hand alone; but longswords are meant to be two-handed weapons, so that's how I shall do it. It's captivating, to see the trace of light and stars left by the blade each time it cuts the air, only to vanish a second later.
"So, what do I do?"
Weiss places herself right in front of me, but the half smirk lighting up her face makes me frown out of suspicion. With no further warning, she rushes at me, rapier up; I manage to react and block her attack just when the blade is about to pierce through my flesh.
"Learn."
Not only do I find myself surprised by her answer – but pleased, too. I scoff a soft, approving laugh, and my eyes follow her movement attentively as she slowly circles me, looking for a weak point.
"You and I have very different concepts of what 'teaching' means" I say, raising an eyebrow.
Weiss' gaze sharpens, and her eyes flash for a split second just before jumping at me again; but I see it coming, this time, and I block it with a little more ease than before. Glowing blade against metal – they crash with one another and bring out glints of shattered light.
"Maybe" she pants, satisfied; sword and rapier still kissing each other, "but it's proven to be effective."
A tilted smile, and I push hard – with a backward pirouette, Weiss immediately regains her balance. It looks like she's not using glyphs today, nor dust. I suppose she's trying to make things a little more even; but even so, she has so many years of practice that it's obvious that I'm no match for her. Nonetheless, I have to at least try and be a worthy opponent, so I grasp the glowing sword grip firmly and run towards her – hands above my shoulder and the blade makes its way down, but it bounces off the ground with a loud blow that makes my hands shake when Weiss jumps away.
"You swing it as if it was an axe" she says, displeased. "Are you trying to hit me, or to cut a tree?"
"You do know I've never used one of these before, right?"
"It shows" she scoffs.
"You would make for a terrible teacher" I smile, shaking my head.
"You mistook your own guns trying to teach me how to fire them, James."
That's… a very valid point, actually. I chuckle, amused, and once again, I prepare to attack – my sword descends upon her once, twice, thrice; so many times that I lose count. Weiss isn't even trying to block my blows or counterattack; she simply dodges every single one of them with no apparent effort. I might be stronger, but I'm clumsy with the sword and she's way faster than me. I don't know how much time we spend like this, but it's a while; and with each missed attempt I'm feeling more and more tired. She, on the other hand, seems so relaxed and confident that it's like the fight hasn't even started for her.
"You know, maybe if you tried to think a little before you attack…"
The teasing tone in her voice makes me grunt, just slightly offended, and I run at her one more time. With all the force I'm able to gather, the sword draws a horizontal path as it seeks for her body; but Weiss simply jumps over it as easily as the other countless times – this one, however, I allow the momentum to carry me into a full turn. By the time the circle completes and I face her again, gravity is already pulling her down, and she's unable to dodge me mid-fall – the dull side of the blade crashes against her with a gleam of light and sends her flying a few meters to the left. I snort a soft laugh, pleased, and she returns me an annoyed stare.
"That's better" she says, clinging to her rapier, "but not enough."
Still rejoicing at having hit her once, her swift attack catches me off guard – before I realize what's happened, the tip of her blade is already pointed at my neck.
I think we've been here before, haven't we?
"Kneel" she orders.
My eyes seek hers, and in them I can read as clear as day that she knows she has me wrapped around her finger. Whimsical princess with frozen stare; I have the certainty that, sooner or later, she will be the end of me. But I couldn't care less, for I would gladly give her anything I have to offer; I would gladly search for anything she asks for even if I must find it at the end of the world. And that's why I, mere vassal of her desires, thrust my sword into the ground, lower my head, and comply.
What is my surprise when, all of a sudden, a glowing armor starts materializing on me – it surrounds me with a light so intense that it's like I was in the very heart of a nascent star. Weiss rapier rest on my left shoulder, and it makes a peculiar metal sound when it meets the pauldron; the blade travels over my head to do the same on my right one.
Did she just… knight me?
When I raise my eyes to stare at her, dumbfounded, she's smiling softly. Quietly, she leans over me, and kisses me –
and her smile tastes so sweet.
...
For the past couple of weeks, every report Winter has sent since she arrived in Mistral, I have forwarded it to Weiss each night after work to check it together. I wanted to re-examine the strategy to follow one last time before she leaves, just in case, and that's why we've spent the afternoon going through every single one of those reports. It's been tedious, because they were too many to review all at once, and I can tell by the look in Weiss' face that she didn't like it one bit.
As it couldn't be otherwise, night has fallen in the process, and the only source of light in the office are the holographic blueprints of the secret military base that has been established in Mistral.
"Is everything clear, then?" I ask. "You don't have any questions?"
"No, James" Weiss grunts. "We've been over it a million times. If I had any questions, I would have asked before, don't you think?"
She's so visibly sick to death that if she stabbed me with her rapier right now, it wouldn't even surprise me.
"Right" I smile, softly. It's definitely been too much, but at least we're done, and I can rest easy now – it would have eaten me up inside to think that we left some part of the plan unchecked. And, Weiss… she's not made for deskwork, so I suppose it's a miracle that she didn't complain sooner. "So, I think we can call it a day."
"Finally." Exasperation escapes her lips with a deep sigh. "That was terrible."
Almost angrily, she rubs her eyelids so hard that it surprises me it doesn't hurt her. I look at her in silence, and my gaze lingers on the tip of her nose, glistening blue under the glow of the holograms.
"Weiss."
"Hm?" she asks, opening her eyes again – her irises leave me frozen for a brief second.
"Remember the first time we were here?"
It's a bittersweet memory, isn't it? I will never forget it. She was as beautiful as ever, and all the colors of the dying sky were mirrored in her skin – all I wanted to do was kiss her, but I had sworn that I would keep my distance, or else it would be the death of us both. But Weiss… she had other plans. I fled, guilt and shame consuming me; and the two of us spiraled in a downfall of sorrow until, in the end, everything worked out.
And now, the moon and stars remain silent witnesses of our shared nights.
"It really wasn't that long ago…" she smiles, "but it feels like it's been an eternity."
To me, however, it has gone by in a flash.
"Do you recall the constellations you learnt that night?" I ask.
"Yes, I believe so" she says. "Why?"
"We're going to play a game."
Weiss leans her head to a side just a little, as though she didn't understand; without further explanation, I simply slide my finger across the table's screen surface, going through some of the holograms and blueprints we checked this afternoon. A few moments later, there it is, above us, once again: the projection of the celestial vault. A quick glance at a certain point of the holographic sky, just to check that my tiny, barely noticeable retouch remains where it should.
It does.
"There's something different in the hologram since the first time you came here. Can you tell what it is?"
"James, all the constellations look the same to me." She sighs, and raises an annoyed brow. I should have named that little wrinkle that I know so well – it always appears on her forehead whenever she's mad. It's adorable. "How am I supposed to point out any differences, if I only know three of them? There are hundreds."
"Well… that's a pity, Miss Schnee. I was told you used to be an excellent student," a teasing smile, "but I'm afraid you're going to fail the test."
Weiss' irked expression fades away the moment she snorts a soft laugh – she rolls her eyes, amused.
"However" I continue, "if you, as you said, recall the ones you learnt… that might – just might –be enough to pass. So, tell me, then… Do you think you can spot The Crown?"
With the cheeky smirk of one who agrees to play along at a game they don't know, she raises her sight and begins her search. Unlike mine, her eyes aren't trained to the immense pleasure of the study of stars – it's a pity, really, that in all these months I haven't succeeded in piquing her interest in astronomy. Stars surely look beautiful on her cape, but I believe she'd like it even more if she actually knew the constellations and the fairytales behind their names – I think it's fair to assume that she doesn't already know them. Jacques isn't the kind of person who would read bedtime stories to his children, and Willow… by the time Weiss was old enough to understand whatever was being read to her, Willow had already began her, uh… fondness of alcohol.
If Weiss wanted to, I could tell her the stories someday, when she returns; but what I cannot tell her is the truth that lies behind.
And I really hope I never have to.
"There it is."
"Good" I say. "And Lux Draco?"
More confident now, this time she finds quicker what she's looking for.
"There."
"You would be correct. Now, for the final question. Where's The Tower?"
She smiles, triumphant, as she points at a certain part of the hologram.
"And that makes three out of three. Very well done" I praise with a little pat on her shoulder. "Congratulations, Miss Schnee; you managed to pass the test. I believe that deserves a prize, doesn't it?" A brief pause for effect, and she stares at me, her eyes gleaming in curiosity. "You might want to look a little to the right of The Tower."
I can't express what it does to my heart to watch her expression change as realization hits her.
"It looks like…"
"A snowflake." I smile, deeply satisfied. "That's your first gift."
It took a while to find that constellation for her – several sleepless nights, to be specific. I haven't had much spare time since I returned to my duties, so only at night, in bed – as Weiss, oblivious to what I was doing, slowly fell asleep by my side –, was the time I could sink my nose in the books and continue my search. I divided the celestial vault into sections and traced countless imaginary figures, but none of them would do. It had to be perfect. It had to be exactly what I was looking for. It had to be up to what she deserves – not just an abstract star cluster named after a fairytale, but a perfectly defined little snowflake. I was about to give up, thinking that it was way too specific, that there was no way for me to find something like that; when, suddenly, right next to the word that dropped from her lips before she kissed me for the first time, I finally found it.
"You're such a nerd" she laughs, softly, before wrapping her arms around me.
"Do you like it?"
"I love it, James" she murmurs against me, and her embrace tightens. "Thank you."
Pleased, I place a kiss on top of her head.
"I believe it's the first constellation that actually looks like its name" she says.
"Well, that was the intention" I smile. "Come on. I'll show you how to spot it."
The hologram lights off with a simple touch on the table, and my hand on her back guides her to the window. Unfortunately, the real night sky has no guidelines to show where every constellation is, so, for Weiss, it's most likely that all she can see is a mass of meaningless luminous dots. Taking as a reference some of the brightest stars, I show her an easy way to find The Snowflake; but when I turn to her to make sure she's got it, her eyes only mirror bright, sad stars.
"Is anything wrong, Weiss?" I ask.
"I'm going to miss you" she says, plainly. "But… at least now I have something to remind me of you at night, when I do." Her voice cracks at the end, and I smile, sadly, because she's worded my feelings exactly.
"Me too."
A piece of the sky binds us, now – I say to myself, as I lean towards her to kiss her –; and no one but us will know.
.
The way to the room is quick, and sooner than later, Weiss has already got rid of my tie and is unbuttoning my uniform. Her hands on me are no longer clumsy, for she's grown self-assured of her own desires; and I can't thank her enough, because the feeling of being wanted in spite of everything makes me less self-aware of my own body being… seen. My prosthetics don't have temperature receptors; that's why I never thought my own metal could feel so warm inside. But, when she touches me…
The vehemence of her kisses always keeps me hooked on her, never wanting to let go. My mind flies higher than Atlas and above the clouds, swimming among an ocean of satellites and shooting stars – but I don't need to make a wish, though; not when I have her by my side.
"Weiss" I pant. As soon as we separate, her eager hands reach for me once more; harsh, hungry lips crash against mine with an urgency that makes me lose balance for a second, and my heart bangs in my ears. "Weiss, hold on" I huff – my back against the wall as I try to come back to this plane of reality. What was I about to say, again…? Oh, of course. "There was… another present for you. Remember?"
"What?" she frowns.
"The gift. The gift in the box."
"It can wait" she snaps.
Only that it can't, for this is our last night together before she leaves and I want to give her the chance to try it, if she wants to. With a kiss on her hands and a soft smile, I part from her and approach my closet. I know I put the box here before, just where…? – Ah, here it is. "James!" I hear her pouting behind my back.
I hesitate for a second before handing it to her, because now, at the last minute, it doesn't seem as good an idea as I had thought. Weiss looks at me with a killing stare, annoyed to have been interrupted. Wanting to get it over with so we can continue what we were doing, she takes it away from my hand and starts unwrapping it – as pieces of paper fall to the floor, my heartbeat becomes quicker.
I just hope it isn't too violent.
"What is this thing!?" she exclaims. The shock almost makes her drop the box.
Okay, it might have been just a little violent without context, I'll admit. I probably should fix that for her.
"Please, allow me to explain. The first time we, uh… spent our night together, you said that you felt bad you were the only one who got to enjoy it. And…" I clear my throat, flustered. Instinctively, my hands fidget around my neck, seeking for my tie to relocate it, but then I remember that she already took it off. It's on the floor, a few inches to my left. Weiss still won't look at me – her eyes remain hooked on what's inside the box. "I mean, I enjoyed it too – you know I do, every time." The more I talk, the worse the idea it seems. "The thing is… Well, I thought you could like it."
Cautiously, Weiss takes it out of the box to give it a closer look. I watch her in silence as she does, and I have to say that it almost feels vulgar to call it a gift now. After some seconds, she finally raises her sight and stares into my eyes. I can't decipher her expression, but I dearly wish that she's not angry. She has to know that I meant all of this with my best intentions.
"Listen, we…" I sigh the breath I was holding. "We don't have to use it, if you don't feel like it. I just wanted to give you the chance, in case you… In case you wanted to give it a try."
"How does it work?"
The question surprises me, actually. After an arguable first impression, I was really doubting whether she would have any interest in it at all.
"I went to Pietro's lab this morning, before getting your suitcases. He made a couple of adjustments on me. It can be… I don't know if 'plugged in' is the right term, but it allows it to connect with my neurotransmitter."
"So that's why it took you so long to come back" she points out.
"Aha."
If I thought that my meeting with Pietro this morning was the oddest situation I've ever been, I was wrong: this overcomes it.
"Should we… try it, then?" she asks.
"Are you sure?"
She raises an eyebrow, and her sly eyes tell me everything I need to know. The upper part of my uniform finally falls to the floor and, with a kiss over my heart and a bite that follows, she gets rid of my pants, too.
"Weiss…"
"Don't worry. I'll be careful" she reassures.
A couple of seconds later, the safety catch locks inside my prosthetics, and the light tingling on my neurotransmitter confirms that it's already connected to the nerve network.
"So…" her finger grazes teasingly from the base to the top, making me shudder when a soft wave of electricity runs through my spine. I have to bite my lower lip to hold back a gasp – I wasn't expecting this thing to be so… sensitive.
»"How does it feel?"
She looks at me again; her eyes flicker for a brief moment at the sight of my cheeks on fire. The face I'm making must be priceless.
"I see" she purrs.
Another brush of her fingertips, and I swallow with effort.
"Maybe you should put this kind of receptors in the rest of your body" she smirks.
"You know what I…" I pant – her hand touches me so gently, making it really difficult to concentrate, "…think of sensitive robot parts."
"Hm? Then why are you enjoying it so much?"
There's something in the way she smiles, when she kneels before me; something that shakes my chest and renders me unarmed and drives me mad. The warmth, the playfulness of her tongue around me rips waves of pleasure out of my throat – shattered voice that forgot every word, but calls for her name in a lucid dream. It's so strange that I can feel these things now; that my metal, forever dormant, can bring me more than the absolute nothingness I've known for years. It's like I'm a stranger in my own body, but at the same time, I feel like I've never belonged more.
The wall is cold against the skin on my back, but my whole body burns with the wildest of flames. I wonder, for a moment, if she feels this way when I touch her; heat of the flesh and cold stiffness taking each other's place and battling against one another – I have a feeling, though, that it's fire the one that always wins. No one ever told me if my prosthetics can overheat, but if it could ever happen, I'm sure this is the time. My breathing grows heavy and I feel myself melt; as though every remaining trace of consciousness is about to die between my hips –
But she feels it, too.
That's why she stops all of a sudden.
The void inside my stomach tears to pieces, longing for a deliverance that doesn't come. The sweetness of her name fades into a muttered, frustrated groan, and it dies at the corner of my lips. Weiss stands up again; a spark in her eyes when she looks at me.
"Not yet" she says, "General."
One of my eyebrows rises; so does my pulse, if that's even possible. I've never admitted it out loud, but she knows that when she purrs that word so casually, it acts like a wicked spell on me. I tilt my head lightly, questioningly, as I realize she picked my tie from the floor again.
"You think you give the orders now, Miss Schnee?"
Weiss moves nonchalantly, almost dismissively, but I see the goosebumps on her skin, and the brief gleam in her eyes doesn't pass unnoticed to me. She loves it when I call her that, too.
"Since when haven't I been giving the orders?" She plays with my tie between her dainty hands, and smiles smugly. That does it; I catch her meaning as clearly as if she'd said it out loud, and take the tie from her hands. She obligingly allows it to slip from her grasp, and the starry fabric makes a soft sound as it delicately runs over her fingers.
"That won't do, will it?" I respond in a whisper.
I'm still burning with the heat of the denial from before, and it's consuming me – my heart bangs in my chest and with each gone second, every inch of my body craves her skin with more and more intensity. I take a step towards her, but she holds my gaze, teasingly, as she takes another one back. Soon, she bumps softly against the edge of the bed; her head, slightly tilted to a side.
"Take off your clothes" I command.
But she just – she just laughs at me, and raises an insolent eyebrow.
"Take them off yourself" she snaps, in a magnificent display of that rebellious attitude of hers. I stare at her as she climbs onto the mattress and crawls over the sheets, trying to get as far from me as possible. I wasn't expecting less from her, to be honest; not when I know so well how much she likes to play.
Not when she knows how much I like to play along.
And tonight, there's a long-forgotten feeling that shakes my inner self; a new urge, so foreign, yet so familiar, that makes my voice deeper than usual when I say:
"That's not how you talk to your superior."
"My superior" she mocks, "is standing naked in front of me, you know."
Oh, the audacity. I snort a genuine laugh before I follow her onto the bed. She giggles, softly, and tries to escape through one side of the mattress; before she can even reach the edge, I grab her by her ankle, and pull. I pin her down by her wrists – she squirms a little, but she gives up when I finally tie her up to the headboard.
"You should know, Miss Schnee" hoarse voice against her ear that makes her shiver, and her strapless dress slides down her skin as easily as a water stream, "that I'm not particularly compassionate towards those who disobey me."
The defiance in her eyes flickers, and she swallows, hard. Faked indifference distilled from her lips; she pretends that her voice doesn't tremble when she asks:
"And what are you going to do about it, General?"
That's a very good question, milady.
"Teach you how to behave."
My breath caresses her neck as softly as the graze of a feather; a faint moan rises from her throat, and it's like heavenly music to my ears. I've barely touched her, but I can already feel her temperature rising. I smirk, and my tongue draws a path towards her collarbone; in turn, my left hand slides down her chest, where her heartbeat is already becoming faster, and makes its way down to trace gentle circles over her lower stomach, but never further. Soft kisses here and there, though they won't linger in places too sensitive to make her lose her mind; slow teasing that makes her breath grow heavy, but I certainly know it couldn't be enough for her. It doesn't take long until she looks at me with impatient eyes, and groans:
"What are you waiting for?"
I hold back a smile, because I have her right where I wanted to.
So… Alright, then. I'll let her still believe, just for a little longer, that she's the one who gives the orders tonight.
The sigh of relief she exhales when my fingers finally slide between her thighs is soon drowned out in the sound of her own moans. It's a lovely sight, how beautifully her body shakes with every wave of pleasure; how her hands become clenched fists clinging to the tie in which they're trapped. But I don't raise intensity – not even the slightest. She deserves to suffer the painful torture of feeling slowly melt but never really dissolving; she did that to me, and I'll mirror it more cruelly. Every time she's on the edge; every time the heat of her core is about to make her explode, I simply stop, and the blaze turns into soft cramps on her legs and fades out.
And back to the start all over again.
There's an enchanting symphony, filling the air – it's made of whimpers of pleasure and helplessness; of gasps to the rhythm of her own trembling chest, exhausted from the effort of building up something that is never finished. But the lovely harmony breaks when, breathlessly, she mutters:
"James…"
Her skin is pearled with sweat, and her eyes are teary with frustration.
But I don't answer back.
"Please…" she whines.
There it is.
That's what I was waiting for.
"You're asking nicely now, huh? Where's your impertinence?" I tilt my head just a little, and her back arches when my fingertips brush her again. "Please, what…?"
"Please, General…"
The sweetness of her broken voice sends a shiver down my spine.
"That's better" I praise with soothing voice, and smile. "Though I'm afraid, Miss Schnee, that I warned you I wasn't planning on being… compassionate. Not when you've shown nothing but disobedience and blatant disrespect towards me, don't you think? So… how about extending your suffering just a little longer?"
Her sharp pupils whisper that she'll kill me the moment I untie her, though she knows she could perfectly do it herself. Cutting the tie would be like cutting through butter with one of her glyphs; and yet, she doesn't do it – she simply stares back at me and, melted ice fractals that mirror my iron, she nods softly.
Permission granted, I lean towards her; her pulse races under my lips when I kiss her neck, and her whole body shivers when she feels me at the edge of her. Everything around us seems to stop, for a moment; the night remains still, and quiet, and frozen, and there's nothing in this cold, doomed world that I want more than to take refuge in her heat. The fallen angel in my bed yielded the blades in her eyes and replaced them with a plead; we both hold our breaths as I, as gently as I can, slowly make my way through. Her warmth surrounds me, embraces me; her legs around my waist holding me in place, and I don't dare move again until her grip loosens. Slow pace, at first; a loving kiss on every inch of her skin as if it was made of porcelain, but the angel, never as fragile as one might think – she asks, and asks, and asks for more, and I can't do anything but respond.
The next thing I know, is that everything is on fire. Among the fog that numbs my mind, I have a moment of clarity: I need to feel her touch. My quaking hands seek hers, still tied to the headboard, and I manage to undo the knot and finally set them free. And when she climbs over me; when she holds onto me and buries her face on my neck, and I feel my own heart echoing, beating hard against her chest, so warm and so perfect and so full of desire, I suddenly lose all sense of where I am, for I'm aware of nothing but the sound of our intertwined breaths, panting our names, and I'm not a General anymore – I'm just a man in love with the snowflake that melts in his arms. My voice is coarse, and deep, and broken after so many years of feeling desperate nothingness – hers is raw, and eager, and needy, and cries for more. She moans, chants forbidden prayers from books as old as time, and she doesn't tremble anymore, when she feels metal all over her skin – because the metal is no longer cold.
Because the metal is no longer lonely.
I feel everything everywhere; pleasure as I swear I've never felt before takes over me, turns me inside out, and the flame under my stomach, forever growing, finally consumes all the oxygen and reaches its limit, leaving me breathless. Her nails sink into my skin, into my back, into my scars, carving their way down; as I collapse between her arms, a thought: never, in my darkest of dreams, would I ever have imagined that being torn in half once more could feel so good.
Weiss climbs off me, panting, and lets herself fall down on the bed – I feel exhausted, too, but there's one remaining thing to do before I join her. A whine escapes her lips when she feels my fingers sliding between her thighs her again; she cries, overstimulated, and I decide to be more benevolent this time and put an end to her pleasant torment – she shudders, pants my name one last time, and my heart flutters as she melts underneath me.
It's always a delight to watch a star coming undone.
.
"That was... an acceptable gift."
I laugh softly, amused, and turn my head to look at her. We lie a few inches apart, still catching our breaths – she's staring at the ceiling, but her cheeks are rosy, and she's smiling.
"Did you have fun?" I ask.
"What do you think, James?" she retorts, but when she looks at me, her smile widens. "How was it, for you?"
"Strange" I admit. "It was… more intense than I recall it being before, I believe. I enjoyed it."
"Yeah, I could tell" she says, and raises an eyebrow. "You really got into the role, you know? I didn't expect you could be such a jerk."
"Oh – wow" I laugh. "Be careful, Miss Schnee, or next time I might use another tie to shut that disrespectful mouth of yours."
"I'd like to see you try" she says sardonically, as she gets off the bed. "Given how much you like to give orders around, I may slice off your tongue before you can even touch me."
"Fair price to pay. What's another missing member, anyway?"
"Especially if the replacement is even better, you mean?" she mocks.
"Gods, Weiss." I snort. She takes one of my oversized shirts and, still naked, disappears through the bathroom door.
I roll over the bed, still floating on a cloud – that's when I notice how wet the sheets are, and I frown, slightly disgusted. They've never been like this before, but I guess that's also because there had never been so much action on top of it. I decide to change them while Weiss is still in the bathroom – I'm just finishing when she steps into the bedroom again, wearing the t-shirt she picked before.
"How is it that even after I brought all your clothes to my room, I haven't seen you wearing your nightgown once?"
"Shut up" she smiles. "Your t-shirts are comfortable, too. I'm taking one of them with me when I leave."
"Do as you please, but Winter will tell you off about it if she sees you wearing it."
"Bold of you to assume that I was going to let myself be seen wearing it. James, you may have good taste in suits and ties, but your t-shirts are hideous. It's just for sleeping."
"Well, thank you" I laugh. "Why not stick to your nightgown, then, if you find my perfectly fine t-shirts so unworthy?"
"Because my nightgown doesn't smell like you, you dummy."
Oh.
She approaches me and hugs me from behind, placing a delicate kiss on my back.
"I scratched you pretty bad, didn't I?" she says, carefully running a finger along my bare skin. "I wasn't noticing. I'm sorry."
"It's alright, Weiss. I liked it."
"You never leave any marks on me. I thought you would have, this time. But you didn't."
Well, it's not a coincidence. She always asks me not to hold back in our training sessions, but leaving that aside, I always try to be as gentle as I can whenever I touch her. After everything she's been through, I wouldn't, for the life of me, ever dare mark her skin. I turn around to look at her, and I gently brush the bangs from her eyes as my own are captivated by how beautiful she is; by how she blushes when I caress her cheek. She leans her head onto my hand and, unconsciously, my thumb caresses her scar.
I don't want to be like…
"I don't want to hurt you."
She looks up to stare into my eyes, and I think she hears everything I don't say.
"This one is staying" she sighs a smile, pointing at her split eye, "and I didn't choose it. But yours… they'd be temporary. And yours, I would choose."
Weiss grabs the shirt collar and pulls slightly downward, leaving part of her chest exposed. I still waver, though the flickering lights in her pupils and her sweet voice as she tilts her head and murmurs a soft "Please?" finally make up my mind for me. I lean towards her, and it's right above her heart where my lips meet her skin. When I part from her again, a pale red mark has bloomed under my touch, and she grazes it gently with an absent-minded smile.
"Do this more often, will you?" she says. "I like it."
And surprisingly, I don't feel as guilty as I thought I would.
"Alright" I smile in turn, "I will, once you come back. But please, Weiss, be cautious, okay? Don't let it show. Everyone in the military knows you're staying here, so they'd know who's responsible." My voice becomes more concerned as I continue to speak. "And you know it wouldn't – "
"I know, James" she cuts me off, reaching for my hand and squeezing it gently. She knows when I'm about to start spiraling, and she's learned how to prevent it: to hold onto her touch is the most effective way to not let my thoughts pull me down. "I know" she murmurs again, tenderly. "I'll be careful. You don't need to worry."
I nod, content, and I place a kiss on her forehead. She starts caressing the back of my left hand with her fingertips, and I close my eyes, getting lost in its feeling; after a few moments of silence, though, the motion becomes distracted, almost mechanic, as if she was thinking about something. I'm about to ask her about it when, completely out of the blue, she asks:
"Do you have a sewing kit?"
The suddenness of the question renders me completely surprised.
"A sewing kit?" I chuckle. "Now? What for?"
"I just – I had an idea. Do you have one, or not?"
"I… do, I think. Look inside my closet drawers. It should be there."
She hurries to jump off the bed and runs towards my closet, and I just stare at her with a raised eyebrow. I don't think she needs to sew any of her dresses, and if she did, she could simply leave it here until she returns from Mistral, rather than sewing it well into the night. Sound of drawers opening and closing, a growl when she doesn't find what she wants inside, and a muffled "Oh, here it is!" when she finally pulls the sewing kit out of the closet. She also takes the starry cape on her way back to me. It didn't have any tears that needed fixing either – not that I know of, at least; so why would she need the kit for…?"
"Can you sew The Snowflake on it?" she asks, sneaking onto my lap and handing me both the cape and the kit. "I thought I could have it on me to look at it whenever I need to, even if I can't see the stars. You'd be… closer to me, that way."
And just when I think I couldn't love her more, that I will explode if I do, she comes and does these kinds of things. I never imagined that all these feelings would have a place inside of me, yet my chest keeps expanding even further to make room for everything I feel for her. I can't speak right now, so I nod silently, and she cuddles me; her head resting gently over my chest. Moonlight bathes us while I draw a little silver snowflake out of stitches, and her breathing becomes quieter until it's nothing more than a lullaby in the midst of the night. Weiss… She taught me many things, these months. She showed me a part of myself that I had buried; she tore down all the walls and, among the ruins and the rubble, she handed me my own heart – crushed, and defeated, though still beating. I still remember how unfamiliar it was, at first. In her company, she taught me little by little that it wasn't wrong to feel; that it was okay to give the heart what it yearns for.
But how terribly vulnerable I've become, because of it.
...
An overcast dark sky threatens snow this morning.
And the moment I've been dreading the most for the past two weeks has finally arrived.
"Winter will be waiting for you" I say. I put both suitcases next to Weiss' seat, at the back of the airship, and I make sure that they're well secured with the belt. "She'll give you further instructions, once you get there. Weiss…" I sigh, and I try my best to hide the concern, but to no avail. "Do as she says, okay? And please, take care."
"I'll be okay, James" she reassures, placing her hand on mine. No one can see us here. "After all, I am the best Huntress you've ever trained with."
The conviction in her voice makes me smile genuinely.
"Of course you are."
Weiss is strong enough to look after herself, but if she's ever in a danger bigger than what she can face, I know Winter will be there to protect her. So yes, I know she'll be okay. There can't be no other way. She has to be.
The question is: will I?
I wish I had a Semblance that would allow me to stop time right now, but I don't; so I just lean onto her to kiss her for the last time, slowly, gently, in a vain attempt to extend this moment just a little longer. When we part, it drops from my lips just as easily as if I'd said it a thousand times already:
"I love you."
It's been on the tip of my tongue for much too long to keep it silent anymore.
Weiss looks up at me, and my eyes linger on hers, always so clear, always so transparent. It's only tenderness that I see in their light when she mutters "I love you, too", and hugs me tightly.
I don't know how I will keep it in one piece, this heart you've given me. But I'll try, I promise, quietly, and hold her only a little tighter. For you.
But I have to let her go. I let her go, and it is as if a hole opens up where she once fit. It is only when the airship disappears into the horizon that tiny little snowflakes begin to fall over me. So does the quiet; it settles over my shoulders like the coming snow, but it is not weightless. It's not the peaceful quiet of her slow, sleeping breaths. It's only my own; the quiet living within my bones, the one I couldn't dislodge – the one her warm fingers had pried from me.
It's silence, now.
After a few moments, my scroll starts ringing. "The airship no longer appears on our radars, General."
"Good" I respond, and I really try my best to keep my voice from drowning behind the lump in my throat. "Give the order, then. Declare our borders closed, and display the battleships. I'll be there in a minute."
The snow continues to cover my shoulders as I stand, still as ever, and watch the airships surrounding the city. Their lights will be the brightest in our sky for a while – perhaps the only ones, if they're bright enough. She's gone, now, my mind echoes, and stillness of it crumbles upon me, like something in me is collapsing – lacking the foundations of her small hands to keep it whole.
It's cold, in Atlas.
Colder than it ever was.
… but my heart keeps beating.