A/N: RWBY was created by Monty Oum. I only take credit for my own added character's and storylines.
I post on both A03 and FanFiction, take your pick in whichever you prefer to read.~.
I hope you enjoy!
Chapter 1 ~ Scatter
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She didn't scream.
...three hundred seventy-seven, three hundred seventy-eight...
She could still move her leg. Bruised and battered, maybe, but nothing that would be of issue. Well, not a significant one, at least. Her pain tolerance was decent enough that she could ignore it for the foreseeable future.
...three hundred ninety-three, three hundred ninety-four...
The blood had long since gone dry, the wounds not deep enough for her to feel much concern for the coming minutes. Some pinkish coloured marks were still evident, true, but there was no visible purulent in any of the recent injuries she'd examined.
Those needed careful observing. An infected wound, no matter how small, was not something she wanted to experience again.
...four hundred thirty-four, four hundred thirty-five, four hundred thirty-six...
But damn it, pain tolerance didn't mean it didn't hurt.
And she was slightly concerned they'd missed something. Perhaps a mark on her upper back, no matter how unlikely it was for an injury near the neck. Maybe behind her thigh, or possibly her elbow, even as she carefully brushed her skin in search of something.
Focus.
The room was starting to brighten, the spherical like room beginning to become visible as the sun almost revealed itself from behind the blood-coloured clouds. The thirteen pillars started to form shadows, entangled and playful with the patterns of the floor underneath her feet.
It was a cage, painted at the top of the castle in its beautiful, opus francigenum like design. Large enough to fit three cars, maybe four if one became creative.
A reminder, with her hands and feet chained to the centre of the floor. Barely long enough for her to stand; the thick, sturdy chains having dug into her wrist and ankles for years with no end.
Well, they thought it might be years. With how little light graced onto the land, it was easy to lose track of time. It wasn't like there was a clock to keep track. Instead, they'd...
Oh, what was it again?
Fifteen centimetres, roughly.
Right, anyway. What she assumed had been her original auburn coloured hair reached from the bristles ends next to her knees to her hips, the snowy, almost porcelain colour replacing the rest.
Idly, and perhaps apprehensively, she wondered if she was done yet.
...four hundred eighty-nine, four hundred ninety; almost done, we're still on schedule, four hundred ninety-one...
That was assuming the schedule wasn't thrown out of the window.
No jinxing it. Now let me focus, using a nail to open this isn't easy.
She grimaced, watching her fingers move as her almost black coloured nails carefully twisted in the keyhole. That was always gruesome to watch, especially when the nails were snapped off.
Right. Okay. Stop. This isn't pleasant for me either.
Well yeah, she knew that. It didn't stop her from wanting to throw up as her nails bleed from underneath.
Stop being snippy. Again, counting and tearing our fingers apart? Not my idea of fun.
She wasn't being snippy. She was just worried the sun had risen earlier than usual. Honestly, she couldn't think in peace anymore?
Well, I'm sorry for invading your privacy. But I'm going as fast as I can.
The chamber's silence filled the air, nothing but the soft hum of the land echoing throughout the castle.
Sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just... very nervous.
...Apology accepted. I'll breathe deeper, just stick to the plan.
Letting out a mental sigh, she focused on Other-Her's breathing, taking comfort in the slow, measured grasps for air.
She wasn't quite sure when her mind had fractured; or what had been responsible for it snapping. At some point she'd... realised, she supposed, that she just existed. It'd been with Other-Her, who'd perhaps been even more confused than she'd felt when she'd started focusing on a sense of self.
There was a woman. A gothic, deathly pale, scarlet and black-eyed woman, who would speak to her, sometimes.
But speaking might be an exaggeration; since it was that woman who'd broken her mind. She'd taken pleasure in it too, with only whispers and gentle touches as she pushed, pushed and pushed. Never raising her hand as she left her in her near isolation.
Other, rare guests also visited. They'd vary, over the years. Masked guards who'd bring her food twice a day, occasionally cleaned the empty room. A scorpion feature graced man; insane and cruel, the one who'd left her in this state just some hours ago.
There was another, too. He was large, but, sometimes, he showed a rare spark of sympathy.
She hated how much she craved for soft touches of comfort. She just wasn't sure which of the two she loathed more. The one who meant it, or the one that didn't.
Also.
She was naked.
Unfortunately, she'd been in that state for years.
And while she didn't remember, she was fairly certain she'd been a very private person. Especially when it came to showing skin.
She wasn't sure about others, but she hadn't built any tolerance to showing skin, much less walking naked.
Done. Other-Her smirks, a click echoing in the chamber as she gently gives her a spiritual equivalent of a squeeze.
And her body returns to her, limbs and fingers moving the instant she requires them to.
Less admiring, we're at six hundred and forty-eight.
That was outside the planned range.
Outside the ideal planned range, yes. We're still doing well.
True. Yeah, they could do this.
Forcing their limbs to move, they walk towards the edge of the balcony, gently reaching for the only object in the room as they bring it to their chest. The half deteriorated weapon was barely held together, with faint traces of rust on the metallic parts as parts of its paint fell apart.
Freshly picked Pearl Drift had decorated around it, now laying around her feet with soft freshness she could never see from her tower.
She knew there was a taunt in that message. She also didn't have the energy to decryptor it.
There's no way it'd be loaded, was there?
My opinion on kidnappers would drastically decrease if it was. Besides, the barrel's torn in parts. I'm not an expert, but I'm fairly certain that's against gun safety.
Grimacing, she reaches for the stairs, a slight wobble to her steps as she justices to the possibility of walking again. Still gripping the weapon to her chest, she takes a tentative step down the spiralling staircase, her free hand leaning on the wall as she shakily descends from her prison.
Careful. Aura might have preserved our limbs, that doesn't alter the fact they've been unused for years.
She knew that.
Right, right. Let's just hope climbing down isn't as time-consuming as it looks.
Worst comes to worst, she'd jump. Not something that sounded all that enjoyable. Their aura was already low, and they'd need all they had to build distance from this prison.
Of course, there was also no telling that they'd have enough to survive the jump. The castle was built upon a steep mountain, engraved throughout the upper section as it slowly made its way down to the middle.
...hopefully, it doesn't come to that, yes.
Also, this felt more than just a few hundred meters. As in, she had the terrifying irking that it was a good kilometre in height.
Still better than our worst-case scenario. Other her making a humming noise, thought's wondering as her gaze lowers to the distant ground. Those Grim aren't moving coherently. We were right, she only controls the ones in the castle.
Or, she'll start controlling them the instant the alarms rise. Which, well...
Jumping to her escape might be counterproductive; what with flying Grim that could just snatch her up mid-fall.
Not funny. Also, we've almost reached the castle, so focus.
How had they made something so pretty so incredibly eerie? She wasn't even sure what materials had been used for its construction; black, inky coloured substance forming what, from afar, appeared to be a darkly lit, French-like designed cathedral.
As I've said, a B-rate villain. They probably used the internet.
She didn't think that was a thing here. They were in the middle of desolate land, after all.
Again, we have a sniper rifle that was manufactured. Manufacturing requires labour, which, in turn, requires societies.
The rifle looked custom made, though. With how easily her hands grasped around it she'd probably made it herself. Not for the first time, she wished she had at least some degree of recollection of how she'd got to this point.
Also, while it was entirely possible it'd been made by society, it was no proof that it was still kicking. For all one knew, it was before the post-apocalyptic world had come to pass.
Other-Her doesn't respond, leaving a solemn, tired whispered silence that indicated the end of that conversation.
She meticulously hides her aura, enhancing only her hearing as she walks at the side of the wall. Frowning as the faint trails of light, she hastens her pace, stilling more than once at the spike of any sound.
Huh, okay...
She frowns, raising an eyebrow as she leans over the corner.
We might have timed this better than we thought, it's going to rain soon.
Oh?
Difficult to give a precise time frame, but you might-
Both voices still, a resounding echo of a rumble shaking the entire castle.
That was-
Yes. Run, or-
Dead or in prison. I know. Window?
Of course, we're going through the window. We're not risking going through this labyrinth while having deadly creatures prey on us.
Ah. Point.
She leans over the windowsill, using her hand for balance as she gazes downwards.
She could make it. Probably.
She doesn't stop to think. Instead, she leans forwards, moving her balance towards her upper body as she starts to move downwards.
And she falls.
Careful. There are whales here.
Slightly dazed, she looks up, taking a moment to let her aura shift.
...oh. Well, that was disconcerting. Two - Three - enormous Grim floated without a care in the sky, seemingly ignorant to the growing chaos in the confines of the walls.
She still wasn't sure what they did.
...She didn't think she wanted to know either.
Her gaze lowers, studying the mountain before she sends a hesitant glance towards the castle.
There was an airship. Sleek and small of design. It would leave the place behind in seconds. A minute, at most, the castle would be little more than a dot on the horizon.
"I found her!" A deep voice shouts. "She's down here!"
Not worth it. Jump.
She knew that. Even if she made it to the ship, figured how to pilot it, had enough time so no one would destroy it, she'd still have to deal with Grim attacking her in the sky.
Other-Me. The voice hisses in barely concealed dread. Jump. Now. Or we get thrown back into the cage. Permanently.
At this height, the probability of her survival would be... small. Possible, yes, but still small.
But then, her other choice was being thrown into her pretty tower with thicker chains. So...
Jump, dam it.
And they who had no name jumped.
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I sometimes post art of my fanfics here:
Deviantart: sapphireandemeralds
Twitter: SappandEmr
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Another idea that I had just some few days ago. Not quite sure where this is going, but had the urge to publish it either way.
None the less, if you felt I should have written something differently, be it personality and/or displays of different states of mentality, please leave a comment! Any advice is welcome and appreciated!
Anyways, Ill See you next time! Ciao!
~ Sapphire and Emeralds