Emerald felt the cold of the rain as she exited the towncar.
It was almost enough to extinguish the heat of embarrassment from having a formal crier introduce her to the patrons of a small cafe she frequented to the point of having a usual. It was nowhere near enough to convince her that Cinder had somehow not managed to regained her Maiden powers though; she was almost sure there was steam rolling off the woman as she exited the car. At least Emerald had the time to appreciate the little Cafe between her own List being called, and then Cinder's own heralded approach.
It really was a nice place, a large window taking up the front of the space, brick walls adorned with kitschy placards and paintings with dumb words of wisdom like 'If at first you don't succeed, do it the way your mother taught you.' Along the ceiling were hung coffee mugs and teacups, modified into lampshades, with fairy lights strung down to give the room a cozier feeling without robbing it of the high ceiling. There were even some old school vacuum bulbs spaced in sconces adorning each side. The overall effect made Emerald feel as though she had stepped into some kind of indoor grassy glade, where fae were happy to serve and entertain their passing mortal guests.
Speaking of mythical royalty… Emerald was still stuck on just how Cinder chose to dress for the day; in the best of ways. She had somehow managed to find a coat featuring what Emerald hoped where fake feathers adorning one shoulder, and a bone charm chain ending in a bird skull attached to the zipper hanging from the other. The coat itself was a lovely burnt-brick color though, and the cut allowed for twin coattails to dangle down to her knees, with a cowled hood deep enough she looked like some mountain-dwelling monk on leave from her monastery. A pair of black, lightly patterned leggings sufficed in the chilly but still temperate city climate this time of year. Her boots continued the voodoo theme of the jacket, with several ornamental strips of rough leather appearing to be holding the footwear together, and shiny metal toe-plates shaped like talons standing out from the black leather; the heels were modeled in complement.
Emerald was far less done up, but given where they were she didn't feel underdressed for the occasion. A white vest with detachable hood and a collection of metal buckles for aesthetics, a nice green blouse with silver detailing around the roll-up sleeves, and a pair of black slacks (that by some miracle actually had pockets!) all tied together with a set of black weather-appropriate boots that matched her belt. It was more fashion forward than her usual attire, but sometimes it felt good to show off her sense of style.
"I hate them… Ruby, her sister, everyone and everything she loves. I hate it all." Cinder grumbled as they found an unoccupied table. Emerald was practically laughing by the end of the tirade, and the next comment turned 'practically' into 'loudly.'
"Hate hate hate. Hate hate. Double hate. Triple hate with… Wheatgrass?" Emerald couldn't quite figure out if Cinder was looking at the menu, or running down a list of all the people she had met since coming to Vale. Made all the harder by the cafe's hot/cold speciality drink list having a "unrighteous cause" theme to the names.
And that was the breaking point for Emerald, despite her best efforts.
"Aha-hahaha… Ha! C-Cinder y-youhoohoo. Ah. Hoo, giv-give me a second… Hehehe… Whoo!" Emerald should have cared about the death glare coming her way as she broke into even more laughter, but the whole "bone-queen being confused by a drink list" bit was just too much for her poor mind all at once. "S-sorry. Sorry. It's just, you're like a Tuesday-night cartoon villain right now. All 'Graaa! Curse you heroes, if only I had known the power of friendship and wheatgrass!' I swear you were about to start monologuing your evil plan to an army of 'Evil VooDooers' or something."
Cinder seemed a bit blindsided by the comment, her eyes darting back and forth for a moment as she pieced together the information.
Once her brain had caught up with the world, though, her face immediately smacked into her hands. As Cinder slid her hands down her face, her makeup apparently magic in its lack of smudging -Wait… is she even wearing any?- Cinder's defeated gaze locked onto Emerald. "Mrghghhh. I hate you. You know that? I hate you. I hate this city. I ha-" Emerald burst out laughing again.
"Cinder. I may not have seen you for the past few decades, but don't lie to me. You know I remember you well enough that I can tell the difference."
"Just what is that supposed to mean?"
"You don't hate… any of this." Emerald made a sweeping gesture with her hands. "If you did, you wouldn't still be here. I've seen you hate Cinder. It's scary, all consuming," and maybe a little hot. But no way am I leading with that. "And there's no way you would still even be on the continent if you hated it here so much."
"... Yes, alright. I'll give you that much, I… appreciate living in civilization again. Having ingredients that don't come from a can is something I hope to never go without again."
The admission made Emerald feel lighter somehow, and her smile grew a bit wider at the mention of the woman's hobby. "I'm glad you're cooking, you were always more- I don't know the word, alive? Yourself? Whole, maybe? -after making something. I don't know if you even hate Ruby these days. I haven't seen her this relaxed… maybe ever. And so far as I know she hasn't had a run in with your… dagger's business end yet." Emerald stumbled a bit, unsure if Cinder had heard the news about her weapon's name yet.
"Well, Fate's been a good girl. Doesn't hurt that Ruby keeps her classroom completely clean somehow. I can't just create her anymore, I need dust to manipulate, if you remember." She quickly flicked a small twist of glass into being, and placed it on the table like a decorative paperweight, mostly to prove the point probably. "The thought of Ruby running around the room in a Valish Maid outfit and a feather duster just to spite my plans for revenge does crack me up though. Or maybe not Ruby, maybe-" she gave Emerald a playful stink eye "-Weiss, or even… Blake. -That just feels so odd to say. Blake. Blake. Weiss. Blake. Weiss. Weiss. Blake. Yaaaaa- No. Not happening. I'm calling her Xiao Long. I'll take the extra syllables.-"
Emerald was nearly on the verge of tears from holding back another outburst of laughter, but somehow she managed to tamp it down to a small chuckle.
"Okay. Maybe you hate Yang a bit, fair. But seriously, this is the least hate I've seen in you since… probably the day we fought the Fall Maiden. Maybe that corn town was just what you needed." A light chuckle answered Emerald, but was oddly cut short as Cinder locked her attention somewhere at the back of the room. Her face read somewhere between respect and disgust, which ranged in the "looking at practically anyone" region of Cinder's expressions. I haven't seen that look in her eye since we were planning the Fall. Usually when Adam was in the room, but he hasn't been around since, what, Haven?
Turning to look, Emerald was immediately reminded of the feature wall behind the register: an entire wall decorated in grimm masks of all sorts and colors, with the focal point being a collection which had clearly seen combat in their lives as White Fang identifiers.
"Emerald. My memory may not be a match for yours, so remind me; that mask in the middle…"
"One of Adam's old lieutenants, 6'3", dark hair, full face-mask, chain sword." Emerald prattled off like she was reading a criminal record, or answering an order from Cinder years ago, before catching herself. "We never learned his name back then, but nowadays he prefers 'Chef Foxtrot.'"
That seemingly shocked Cinder out of her combat-prepared state of mind. "I'm sorry. What?"
"I mean, you could probably call him Bronze if you want, just wait until he's not on the clock to ask; He's a lot like Weiss."
"You… know his name?" Cinder's brow furrowed, clearly trying to piece together a story from what little information she had to work with.
"I mean, yeah, I come here probably once a week. And he makes some great brisket." She shrugged. "Had to get the recipe."
"How?" Right, she hasn't known him outside the mask. Emerald leaned back in her chair.
"I'm guessing you don't mean 'how did you get the recipe?' Honestly I have no idea, this place was already established by the time they got me. But as for 'how was he allowed to open a restaurant with his history?'" Emerald shrugged. "Probably the same way two known collaborators with the Queen of Grimm can eat in a little cafe in the center of Vale."
"Ruby." The look on Cinder's face was one of familiar defeat. The kind that came with an odd glimmer of hope that maybe the enemy would get sick of winning soon.
"I doubt they'd have started with even just me. All things considered, a low-level terrorist being given a chance at a new life is a lot easier to imagine than either of us getting a second shot."
"Right. So." Cinder squared her shoulders, either in recovery or defiance of the world around her; Emerald wasn't sure. "Let's put off the slight crisis I'm about to have until after we place our orders. What do you recommend?"
"Ohh, all the grilled sandwiches are incredible, or if you want something with more produce try the Justice Wrap…"
The food was… Emerald wanted to say it was amazing. It was good without a doubt, but amazing put it on the level of a world-renowned five-star chef. Bronze had some serious skill, but there was just a chasm between what he did and what you might eat in a tailored dress with a matched wine. He didn't take that as an insult though; if anything his smile only got bigger when Cinder compared it to one of the back-alley dive bars she remembered from their time in Mistral.
Bronze Foxtrot really was a loveable capybara of a man though, and Emerald would fight anyone who put his pastry of the day on any pedestal below godly. He had joined them after the two women had finished lunch, vacated their table to browse a small bookstore connected to the Cafe by stint of the building's layout more than intent, and returned after the rush had died down.
"So wait. You left the White Fang to chase tail?"
"Hahaha! Just about." The large Faunus' gravelly baritone filled the small restaurant with mirth all on its own as he spoke. "She has spines though. Really, she saved my life I think. Last job I did with our "glorious leader" was ramming that train through the mountain. Met my Tina during the cleanup, she wasn't happy with the Fang for pretty obvious reasons. Practically shouted my goodbyes to the crew, convinced her to run just before the attack on Beacon; and the next thing I know a year's passed and the whole rest of the White Fang leadership is either dead, jailed, or missing."
"So. How did you end up with this place?" Cinder motioned to the now mostly empty tables "I can't imagine the Kingdom was too forgiving of someone so closely involved. Or, I couldn't if I wasn't sitting here in front of you, I suppose."
"Ahahahaha!" He leaned over conspiratorially, still towering over emerald and failing to actually lower his voice. "Em, you sure this is the same hellion that used to threaten us? She's got the same voice, but no way are they the same person. The sense of humor alone makes it impossible."
"B, trust me. Same one. Maybe try not to insult her too hard, she's only been in town six months. You remember how long it took me to adjust."
"Emerald, my weapons are made of glass, not my feelings. I can handle a little banter." Cinder almost kept a straight face as she took a drink. Almost.
"So to answer your question, it woulda been, I dunno, fifteen years or so ago. All that nasty business in Atlas had wrapped up -The stuff with the SDC leadership, not… all the nasty stuff.- and who else but Chieftain Belladonna's right hand woman comes knocking at my door. Gives me this official looking letter, and walks off. Dunno if you've ever gotten a paper letter delivered…" Bronze waved his hand like he didn't quite know the words he was looking for.
"It had weight. Not just as an object, but like it was important." Cinder offered, clearly more familiar than Emerald.
"Yeah, weight. Letter was basically a free roundtrip ticket to Menagerie for me and my family. And who was I to say no? Had to show my son the good side of being Faunus, not just the odd glares from strangers, you know?" He paused a bit for a drink, maybe expecting Emerald or Cinder to sympathize or agree. Neither one 'knew.'
"Right. So we pack up for a full vacation, head off -and this was just after the Shallows got made into a big deal, so lots of humans were just starting to make the trip out to see the place too.- and when we get there, the biggest man I've probably ever seen and his wife are there to greet me. Guy notices me, parts the crowd between us, and wraps me a huge bear hug, then offers to carry our bags. Even gave little Copp a ride on his shoulders. About halfway up the steps to the Chieftain's house and I realize 'I never told him where we were going.' Turns out the Chief himself came to greet me. And lemme tell ya if you don't know: meeting the person who should by all accounts hate your guts, and them being the friendliest Grimm-kicker you've ever met? Throws you for a loop."
"Oh trust me." Cinder rolled her eyes, but not in any way mockingly. "I'm acquainted with the feeling."
"Yeah. Yeah, you know." Bronze nodded, maybe seeing something in Cinder's eyes as she said it. "Right then and there, on the steps to his house, the Chief sits me down and just asks how I've been doing. And, I'm not a proud man, so I can admit, I started crying. Not right at that question mind, but it damn near burst that dam on its own. One thing led to another and he tells me that the Kingdoms are starting to put together a plan; let those wrapped up in the whole ugliness get a fresh start, or close to." He seemed about ready to tear up again. "They needed a few test runs -start small you know?- and my name came up 'cause I already had a family, and hadn't been involved in anything big since before Beacon, but I was still involved in it to a degree."
"And of course I ask 'Why?' and 'How can this be real?' just like you probably did. Then this big monster of a man who could probably tear my throat out with his bare hands pulls out his scroll and starts flipping through pictures of his daughter… I'd fought her before. Or at least her Schnee friend. Straight up tried to kill her too. And at that point I knew that everyone I'd hurt, human and Faunus, had a parent with pictures of em growing up. He told me the strongest words I've ever heard then too. More than Sienna's rallies, or Adam's rants. Even more powerful than his own speeches for a equal rights before we started wearing those masks: "It's not about us anymore." He broke into a dry laugh "Maybe the most my life's ever been like some cheesy feel-good flick, but I knew I couldn't let Copper grow up in a world where his papa was always worried about knocks at the door."
Cinder's eye flared a bit, like she'd just found some missing piece to a puzzle. "That's… the same thing Ruby told me."
"Funny how good wisdom seems to stick around. Salem, maybe she got it from the old cat himself; she's part of his daughter's pack after all."
After that the conversation lightened to more culinary destinations. Emerald knew how to follow recipes, but the crafting of them went over her head enough she mostly stopped paying attention to what was being said, and more who was saying it. Bronze was a good friend since she first met him, really helped her through a rough patch or two. She hoped Cinder wouldn't need the help, but at least it was there if she did. Even if it wasn't coming from Emerald herself.
They wrapped up their afternoon with some deific danishes, and a warm hug from the giant man.
"Don't be strangers. And if you're planning another introduction like you had today let me know, I'll get the red carpet ready." before 'whispering' in Emerald's ear "And if you need a good 'band, I know a guy who does quality hunter cloth."
Emerald couldn't feel the cold of the rain, she was fairly sure it was all evaporating from the heat coming off her face.
Cinder still looked like some cartoon villain though, even with her face full of cannolo.
A/N:
Big respects to YellHead for the kick-ass beta.
No excuses on my end. I had plenty of time to write last week and just... Didn't.
Preemptive answers:
Tuesday Night cartoons are the equivalent to our own Saturday Morning, there's a slight reasoning to it but mostly I just enjoyed how odd it sounded. Think Thundercats/Johnny Quest style stuff. Very Hanna Barbera.
Yes, that's Banesaw.
And yes. I do in fact love feedback. Gimme.