Oh boy… despite my note, it seems a lot of people have made snap decisions on where this will all go. I'd just like to say that not every relationship has to end because of death, which is what a weird number of people seemed to say. The "Oh, this means Blake will die" posts. Um… Christ guys, that feels a little dark. I've never even said they'll… ah, you know what, screw it – from now on, I think I'll go with a no disclosure approach on pairings, lol. Let's just say "yes" Ruby is included in character tags for a reason, but "no" I wouldn't do what RT did and kill off a love interest just to add development to the one they love. That's not to say I wouldn't (as readers of my other work know), but it's usually for development of both characters. Tl:dr, I'm not going to kill Blake out of convenience, sheesh, guys.
Jaune Arc – the Kiss of Death.
Coming to a Fanfiction near you…
Beta: College Fool
Cover Art: Kegi Springfield
Chapter 24
As the fire died low and the cold crept in, we found ourselves snuggled together for warmth. It was strange in a way, to imagine the ardour and heat of that kiss, but also how comfortable it felt just to sit against one another afterwards. The heat Blake's body created was a welcome relief, but I knew it wouldn't be enough to last. We both knew.
Outside, the blizzard continued to rage, and the sound of it beating upon the walls and roof of this dilapidated structure wouldn't let anyone forget that fact. The windows had long been frosted over, with no light piercing the thick storm and frozen water. It must have been the middle of the day, but it felt like midnight.
My hand brushed against her bare arm as I reached down to toss a fresh piece of wood into the flames. It roared for a moment, and that initial wave of heat was something we both basked in. The pile it came from dwindled, however. It had once been the outer door, broken off its hinges, which I'd gone and torn down to break into firewood. The interior door kept most of the heat in, though I was sure some of it slipped through the cracks. There was nothing that could be done about that.
It wasn't going to last.
We both knew it.
Neither of us said it.
We talked of other things instead. Simple things, pointless things, whatever we could to keep our spirits high and our minds distracted. We talked of things like Beacon, philosophy – but also my family.
"Your father is level twenty-four? That seems… rather low. You're twenty, and you must be twenty years younger than him, at least."
I felt a certain surprise at Blake's words, not because of how sudden they were, but what they meant. I was approaching my dad's level, wasn't I? "I never thought about it that way," I admitted. "My father is actually really high level for his Class. I just sort of accepted that I'd never reach that high… now, well, I guess that feels silly."
"Twenty-four is high level?"
I shifted my legs uncomfortably at her piercing look. "It is for the labour caste," I said. "Or it was back in Ansel. You have to understand, Blake, the caste spend most of their lives doing the same thing, over and over. My dad works with iron and steel, but all he makes is farming equipment and tools, along with horseshoes and the like. I guess it doesn't give him much in the way of opportunities to level up."
Blake hummed and shuffled a little closer, her back pressed against my chest through the cloaks between us. "Maybe it's because of diminishing returns," she said.
"Hm? What do you mean?"
"Think of a Canis, one of the weakest Grimm, and how much experience we get from that. When you're a low level, it makes a difference. If a level one Knight was capable of killing one, they would likely gain an entire level in one go. On the other hand, you would probably need to kill hundreds of them to gain the same. It would take days, perhaps even weeks." The Assassin yawned gently. "It would be inefficient and pointless. You'd have to move onto stronger Grimm. That's what every Hero would do."
"But members of the labour caste wouldn't have that choice. Is that what you're saying?"
"It's one explanation. You said your father works in the same material, on the same tasks each day. If he gains experience from each item he crafts, then it stands to reason he would need to work new and rarer material to keep gaining levels."
"That kind of material isn't cheap, Blake. I doubt my family could afford much of it, and even then, the gain in levels for him wouldn't really make him noticeably more profitable."
"Exactly… unlike a Hero, he cannot go out and seek threats that scale to his level, nor can any of them, I suppose. A farmer is going to work on what crops he has, no matter how much he has out-levelled them." She shrugged one shoulder. "Maybe medicinal herbs would give him better experience, but if the village relies on his harvest, it's not like he would have much of a choice."
She was right there. Ansel was a community, and although people sold and bought between one another, there was a certain amount of stability and order required. If the farmers refused to sow their seeds, then the entire village would need to import grain to survive. Was that why Nicholas never made it past level twenty-four? Because he was trapped in a situation where he couldn't afford to work better material? It made a certain degree of sense.
"I guess that's the difference between the labour caste and the hero caste," I said. "Is there an average level for Heroes?"
"I doubt it. I think the levels of Heroes vary too wildly. There are always more Grimm, which gives us an almost limitless ability to grow… in theory, at least. From what you say, it sounds like the labour caste can hit a peak where the challenges they face don't get any harder. We, on the other hand, can push on in search of new, stronger Grimm to slay."
One of my hands opened and closed, forming a small fist in Blake's lap. Limitless potential… it was a strange thought. I was a part of the labour caste too. Now, however, thanks to my time masquerading as a Hero, I was far above the curve of what was expected for my age. Level twelve… that's what I'd been when Beacon began, and now I was level twenty. That was a growth of eight levels in only a few months.
"I spent seventeen years working my way to level twelve," I groaned, "and then gained eight more in less than three months. What was I doing with my life?"
"Being a child," Blake chuckled. "I think it's expected that we grow faster in levels when we're older, Jaune. I doubt you were out slaying Grimm as a nine year old. There's a reason sixteen is the average level for Beacon, even if those attending are seventeen years of age. Or they normally are, at least."
She meant Ruby, no doubt, but I heard something else. "You were different," I pointed out. "If you were twenty-one at thirteen, then you must have been far higher when you joined Beacon…" My words cut off, because the girl in my arms had gone deathly still. "Not that it matters," I said, "I guess I'm just whining about how lazy I am. What made you decide to come to Beacon anyway?"
Blake's shoulders relaxed, almost imperceptibly so, at the change in conversation. It was such a subtle thing, but I already felt bad for bringing it up again.
"I never really thought about coming to Beacon when I was younger. I suppose I wanted to make a difference, or maybe just to do something with my life. As for why I chose Beacon? It was just the closest school. It was convenient."
"I thought you told Weiss you weren't from Vale originally."
"I'm not. I came from a collection of islands far off the coast of Mistral."
"Why not go to school there, then – or in Mistral?"
"Home didn't have one, and by the time I was seventeen, I was already living in Vale, so Beacon was closer. I moved to the Kingdom when I was younger."
I made a sound of understanding. I guess I'd just assumed the journey she spoke of was something undertaken when she was older. "Was Vale different to where you originally came from?"
"A little," Blake admitted. "Everything worked in the same way, but the culture was… difficult to get used to, at first. Things were different where I came from, but I wanted to change ad fit in. It took a little time, but it wasn't too hard."
"What kind of differences were there?" I asked. Blake looked at me oddly, but I shrugged my shoulders. "I'm just curious. You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."
"I suppose it's fine… I guess the biggest difference was in how people would act," she said, after a long pause to think. "Vale felt a little more traditional when it came to Class and Caste structure and it was hard to get used to. At first, I felt like Vale was restrictive and backwards, but I soon learned it was the opposite. We, or what I used to be, were the ones who thought differently to the rest of the world. Vale was just like Mistral, Atlas and Vacuo."
"For example…?"
"Rogue Classes," Blake said. "Back home, they were never treated as being any different from any other Hero class. No one batted an eye at a Thief, nor an Assassin. There wasn't the same mistrust there is here, nor the subtle hate."
I had to wince at that. "Your home sounds like a nice place." I said.
"It wasn't."
"Heh? But-"
"You wouldn't wish to go there, Jaune. While you might think it admirable for them to treat people like me fairly, it… came with its reasons." Blake sighed. "When society embraces people who are built to break the law, it should say something about how it operates. I came to Vale for a reason."
There was a story there, obviously, but if Blake didn't want to tell it, I wasn't going to push. "You came to Vale, then? Even knowing how people would treat you?"
"I'm not quite that selfless… if I'd known how people would act, I might have changed my mind." The Assassin laughed gently. "I'm glad I didn't, though. For what it's worth, even with all of this, I'm glad I came to Beacon."
"Me too. T-That I came to Beacon," I added when she sent me a strange look. "Not that I'm not glad you didn't come to, of course."
"Smooth… I can see that Knightly Charisma is working wonders for you."
Heat crept up my cheeks as the girl laughed at my expense. My Charisma was still a bit of a sore topic, since it was so low it might as well not even be a Stat. Seriously, I'd only gained one point in what felt like the last five or six levels. What was that all about?
"Don't be mean," I growled jokingly and poked her side.
"I'm an Assassin. I'm supposed to be mean."
"You're not a very good Assassin, then."
"Excuse me?"
"Well," I waved one hand and smiled. "You saved my life in the First Quest, then have helped me out ever since. That feels like something an Assassin wouldn't do."
"Maybe I'm trying to fatten you up. You'll give me far more experience if you're a higher level when I kill you." Her teasing smile spoke of how unlikely that was.
"You keep calling me a strange knight," I said. "Maybe I should start calling you a strange assassin."
"And Weiss uses a sword, so we should call her a strange mage," Blake rattled off, "not to mention Nora."
"Nora? What about her?"
Blake gave me the kind of look that asked if I was entirely there. "I keep forgetting how little you know," she sighed and shook her head. "Barbarians are normally far more aggressive and arrogant, especially when it comes to strength and fighting. It's almost unheard of for a Barbarian to be friends with someone they consider a `weaker` Class, and I'm sure a Monk would count in that."
"Huh," I paused and scratched my head, "the more you know. I guess we're all kind of strange."
"It's not necessarily a bad thing. You're not as arrogant as someone like Viktor, and Nora doesn't walk around insulting everyone with a lower Strength score than herself."
"And you don't kill people," I added.
Blake's pause was telling, even before she spoke.
"I've killed people before."
"I'm sorry… I didn't mean-"
"It's fine," Blake shrugged. "I've never killed someone for money, so I suppose that takes away from it, but I have killed people, Jaune. I killed two people on the way to Atlas."
"When the pirates attacked?" I asked, receiving a nod in return.
"Perhaps they deserved it, but I still did kill them. You might call me a strange assassin, but I would argue I'm actually a very good one."
I looked away, my stomach a little upset. "That doesn't count," I said. "That's… that was self-defence. No one could blame you for that."
Blake pushed off my chest and turned around to face me. Though I could see her bra-clad bosom through an opening in the cloak, it was her piercing, amber eyes which kept my attention. "That's not the only time I've killed a person," she said. "I once killed a man out of revenge. I didn't have to, but I wanted to."
"I…" My eyes strayed left and right but there was nothing else to focus on. "Why are you telling me this? Why bring this up at all?"
"Because you've been upset about your kill for several days now. You can't keep beating yourself up over that."
"Blake," I warned, voice even.
"Yours was self-defence, and more than that, you helped defend other people from harm as well."
My hands felt clammy, even before my stomach started to roll. That kill… it wasn't something I wanted to talk about, and an event I'd hoped everyone would forget. "Can't we talk about something else?" I asked.
"You probably feel guilty," Blake said, "and that's normal. If you keep all of that bottled up, however, then you'll be distracted and get into trouble later. I… when I first killed someone, I felt sick to my stomach. Straight after, I started to throw up in the grass. I huddled into a ball and didn't want to move."
"Blake, this really isn't necessary."
Blake's hands settled on my chest, to keep me in place or to balance herself, I had no idea, but her eyes stared up into mine. "I think it is," she said. "You can't hide away from this forever. We might as well talk about it here, it's not like there's anything else to do. Compared to the others, I'm more likely to have insight as well. I've dealt with the feeling of having killed. I'm not sure they have."
My eyes rolled back in frustration. Couldn't she take the hint? No, I knew she could, but it was rather she decided it worthwhile to ignore it and push on. That was admirable, I supposed, but not in this situation. "I don't want to talk about this."
"Why," she asked, "because you feel guilty over it?"
My teeth gritted together. "Yes."
"Jaune, that's perfectly normal. There's nothing wrong with that."
Something inside of me snapped. It came out as a chuckle first, and then a full-blown laugh as my body shook under her hands. "It's normal, is it?" I asked, once I'd gotten myself under control. "It's perfectly normal for me to feel guilty about what I did? About killing that person?"
Blake looked at me. There was concern in her eyes, but also something else. "Yes." she said. "Everyone feels it."
"I didn't."
Her mouth opened but no sound came out. The Assassin, for all her wise words, seemed surprised… shocked, even.
"I didn't feel guilty when I killed that Berserker," I repeated. "Do you know what I felt, Blake? I felt elated. I stood there with a bloody sword in one hand, my life in the other, and as she heaved and spat at me, I asked myself – is this real? Did I, Jaune Arc, just kill a real Hero? Did I just kill someone dangerous, all on my own – without the help of Pyrrha or Blake?" My hands shivered but I kept my eyes locked onto hers. "When I realised I did, I felt the most incredible rush of pride – of victory. I didn't feel guilty at all, Blake. I felt alive."
"But…" Blake looked me up and down, as though she couldn't quite believe my words. "You were so quiet afterwards," she said. "You looked troubled. You wouldn't talk about it and you kept washing your sword to get the blood out."
She'd watched me that much? I didn't know whether to feel worried or flattered, but right now my emotions were locked onto disgust and self-hate. I looked away from her, unwilling to meet her eyes for fear of what they'd reveal. "I was troubled," I said, "because I'd just found out what kind of monster I am. You said it yourself, Blake. It's normal for people to feel bad, to feel sick or afraid about what they did." I waved a hand dismissively, my heart heavy in my chest. "What does that make me, someone who would actually feel pleased with what they'd just done? What does it make me when it's normal to be guilty and the only guilt I feel is about not feeling guilty?"
Blake's hand reached out to touch my face and point it back towards hers. Against all odds, she was smiling. "It makes you different," she said. "I'm surprised, I'll admit, but perhaps I shouldn't be. You wouldn't be much of a strange knight if you were the same as everyone else."
"Blake… I enjoyed killing that person."
"I wouldn't go that far, Jaune. It sounds like you're proud of your achievement. You deserve to be; I imagine she was a higher level than you."
More silence. I sat there, listening to the sound of our laboured breathing. My chest rose and fell, but that was about it. I couldn't bring myself to feel guilty, to feel bad or even to care. I'd killed the Berserker, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt proud of that fact. I couldn't make myself feel guilt before, and that was what had tortured me for the last few days.
"I don't know what's wrong with me," I sighed, the anger slowly draining away. "If it didn't bother me, then why am I so bothered by it all? Why can't I ignore it and go back to normal?"
Blake turned around and leaned back into me, her back to my chest. "It's because you're not forgiving yourself," she said.
Confusion settled over me. I looked down at her, to ask for more, but she must have felt the movement because she continued without any prompting.
"When most people do something they think is wrong, they feel guilt because they can't forgive themselves for doing it. It's not until they learn to accept what they did that they're able to move on."
"But I don't feel guilty over it…"
She tilted her head up to look at me. "No, but you feel guilt over what you did feel."
I looked away.
"Whatever you felt when it happened… that's a part of you. It's not right or wrong. It's simply the person you are. You've judged it, though. You've decided it's wrong and now you rail against it, like it's some kind of wild beast you need to hunt down. Maybe you need to stop playing to the namesake of your guild, and start forgiving yourself."
"Forgive myself for what?" I asked. "I killed someone who would have killed me. I don't think that requires forgiveness."
"Not for that. You need to forgive yourself for something far worse." Blake smiled. "You need to forgive yourself for failing to meet your own expectations."
"Huh?"
"Jaune Arc," Blake chuckled. "Bastion of all good in the world, the chivalrous Knight, someone who always does the best for everyone else, except that he felt what he considered the wrong emotion when he got into a life or death fight." She looked up at me. "I doubt anyone else would hate you for that, but you see yourself as some kind of monster for it. You're not, by the way… but you're not perfect, either. You're allowed to make mistakes."
I was flabbergasted. My mouth hung open, my eyes wide as I stared down on her.
"You seem to think you should be, though," she went on, "which is why you're so critical of yourself for this. You're trying to be what you think you should be… I don't know if it's because of how you grew up among N- the labour caste, or if it's something else, but it's like you're holding yourself to some unreasonable ideal. Stop it. Just… be you." Blake finished her long rant with a sigh, but started to fidget when all I did was stare at her for a few moments. "What?" she demanded.
"Nothing, it's just… I don't think I've ever heard you talk so much."
Amber eyes flashed. "Maybe I won't in future, then."
"No, no, no, I didn't mean it like that." I wrapped my arms around her, even if she hadn't really tried to escape. It was too cold to. "It's…" I laughed. "Maybe you're right… maybe I am being unreasonable, with myself, I mean."
"You are," Blake whispered. "When I was younger, I told my mother I didn't want to be an Assassin that kills for money. Despite the absurdity of it, I told her I wanted to be different."
"What did she say?" I asked, curious despite myself.
"She told me I could be whatever I wanted to be. She said the only person who would hold me back was myself, and only if I let me." She drew her legs up before her, shifting the fur cloak over them. "My mother didn't tell me to be what was expected, or that I should give up and do what an Assassin is supposed to."
A warm feeling spread through me. To be what you want to be, rather than what you were born as. That was something which resonated with me. "She sounds like a wonderful mother," I said. "I'd love to meet her."
"I think she would have liked to meet you too."
My breath caught. "She's-?"
"Dead," Blake agreed. "It… happened a while back. Don't worry about it. The point is that she would have told you that it didn't matter if you thought differently to how you're supposed to. You don't take pleasure in killing, Jaune, no matter how you word it. If you're the kind of person who doesn't feel bad about it, though, then accept that. It's a part of you. It doesn't make you a killer, nor does it make you a criminal. What you choose to do is your own choice."
The tension I'd felt for the past few days slowly seeped out of my muscles. It wasn't perfect, nor was it the kind of conversation I expected or played through in my mind. I was still disappointed, I couldn't lie about that. I didn't think I should feel the way I did, but like Blake said – like her mother said – I couldn't change the way I felt to fit some Class expectation. Should I continue to hate myself for that? Or should I accept it and move on, even if I wasn't thrilled with it?
"Thank you, Blake."
"Do you feel better?" she asked. "I… this didn't exactly go as I planned it. I should have known, really. You have a tendency to break my expectations." Her eyes narrowed, almost teasingly. "Not always in a good way."
"I…" How did I feel, really? It wasn't anything I could place. I felt cold, obviously, and a little weary – but that was because of the current situation. On this issue, however? "I do feel a little better," I admitted. "It's… I still think it's messed up, but maybe I'll get used to it. At the very least, I don't feel quite like a monster anymore."
"Good." Blake murmured, watching the fire.
I reached over to toss some more firewood into it. We were running low, now. The storm hadn't abated, and in fact sounded just as bad as it had for the past few hours. "What was your mother's name?" I asked.
"Kali," Blake whispered. "Kali Belladonna."
"She… sounds like she was a good mother. What was she like?"
"She was an Assassin like me. Unlike me, she had little problem with her Class and was an efficient killer. She went on many contracts and used her skills to take the lives of Noble, Hero or Grimm, without mercy or hesitation."
Ah, well… not exactly what I'd expected. I swallowed and made to change the subject, but Blake continued.
"She was a loving mother, though. She adored my father, Ghira, and even though I often disagreed with how she used to do things, she never tried to change my mind. If anything, I think they let me change theirs. Kali never took another contract once I told her how I felt. She... she wanted to change to more peaceful ways."
"They sound… wonderful."
Blake snuggled a little closer. She rested her head atop her knees. "They were…"
I wanted to know more. The silence stretched between us, but she didn't offer any further detail. She yawned instead, an action which somehow managed to look cute. "We should get some rest," I suggested. "There's no point staying awake through this. If the blizzard breaks, we'd best be at full strength."
"What about the fire?"
"We'll stock it," I said, suiting action to words as I poked the rest of the firewood into the hearth. "It… it'll last as long as it can."
It would give us the best chance of survival it could, before it ran dry and we were left with nothing. Blake looked at me, eyes lidded but not without understanding. She'd caught my hidden meaning… that, or she'd always known.
Either way, she didn't argue when I laid down. She wrapped herself in the cloak and settled down against me, as close to the fire as the two of us could get without being burned. No words were exchanged. No acknowledgement of the despair in our current situation, nor well-wishes or words of hope. Those felt long lost.
We simply closed our eyes… and prayed we would be able to open them once more.
/-/
When I woke, it was to a room bathed in near-darkness. It took a moment to realise where I was, but the smoke that lazily coiled from the ashes of the fire was all it took to startle me into action. Panic gripped me. The fire, our heat source… I looked down to Blake.
She stared back up. "You're awake," she said. Her voice shook a little and I felt her shiver.
"When?" I asked.
"A-An hour ago… it ran out of fuel."
"Why didn't you wake me up!?"
"I thought it would be kinder…"
To let me pass away in my sleep, she meant. The futility of that unfinished statement was like a dagger to the heart, especially when I couldn't find any way to argue with it. It would have been kinder, even as it would have meant her being alone at the end. I wrapped my arms tighter around her, drawing Blake into my chest in a desperate effort to pool our warmth.
The blizzard… it sounded like it had lessened, but the whistling of wind still rattled the walls and windows. It wasn't the all-out storm it had been before, but the freezing temperature spoke of what lay outside.
"I could try and find us some more wood," I whispered.
"It's no use… we've been snowed in."
We had? How did she know? My eyes traced her face, zeroing in on the blue of her lips, and the small flecks of white in her hair. "You went outside? Are you mad?"
"I-I looked outside," she corrected. "Like I said, we're snowed in. I couldn't get out."
"Still, you stupid girl, what if something happened?"
"You would have done the same." Blake smiled when I couldn't find a counter to her words. "It doesn't matter," she said. "Unless we want to break down the walls, we're trapped. I guess our Quest ends here."
Frustrated tears pricked at my eyes. It wasn't enough that I had to die, but that someone else had to for my weakness. Blake wasn't just here on this quest because of me… she'd been pulled into the crevasse trying to save me. "I'm sorry about all of this," I whispered.
"I'm not." Blake shuffled and pushed a little closer. "I'd rather it happened like this than to some distant Grimm, on my own and without anything to feel happy about in life. If I'd let you go on this alone, and later found out you died?" She closed her eyes. "I'd have never forgiven myself."
That was… so backwards. She shouldn't have to face this because of me. Not like this. The thought of using Stoke the Forge came to mind, but that wouldn't be a real solution. It would keep her warm but only for as long as it took to finish me off, as the last dregs of my energy drained away. My Passive would reign supreme, making me immune to the heat from my own skills. The irony was thick with that one.
"What are you thinking?" Blake asked.
"That I don't want to freeze to death in some crappy cabin," I admitted.
She laughed. Blake pressed her face against my chest and laughed, her entire body shaking – half from her amusement, but also half from the hypothermia. I'd never seen her smile or laugh so much, it felt.
This was bringing out the madness in us both.
"What about you?" I asked. "Any thoughts on your mind?"
"The same… almost exactly the same." Blake smiled up at me. Her amber eyes looked defeated. "Jaune… will you do something for me?"
"If I can. What do you want me to do?"
Her cold hands reached up to touch my cheeks, and before I could think to question, her lips were on mine once more. It wasn't the sweet, passionate kiss of the night before. This was one was hungry, desperate and bitter.
"Blake?" I asked, panting a little as we parted.
"I'd r-rather have a pleasant memory," she said, pushing up against me and placing a tiny kiss on my chin. "We need the heat anyway and… and honestly, I just don't want to die miserable, cold and alone."
Her lips were on mine once more before I could protest. Her hands pushed up against my shirt, underneath it and against my stomach. As cold as they were, it still felt like hot fire against my skin. I could feel my mind blur too, lost in the sensation as her tongue pushed against my lips and I granted it entry.
Her tongue roamed my mouth, my own pushed against it. No romance, no tender feeling, but hot, passionate lust, mixed with a desire to forget the world around us, to pretend it wasn't happening. My eyes closed, and for a moment it was possible. I was cold, as was the room, but Blake was so very warm.
Screw it, I thought. If I were to die here, if we were both to die here, then what did it matter what we did or didn't do? She wanted it, my body wanted it, I wanted it – and the consequences wouldn't matter a damn bit. She was right. I'd rather my last moments be happy ones. I pushed back against her, hands falling beneath the cloak as I ran them across her toned stomach, up her arms, to rest on her shoulders. Blake made an appreciative moan into my own mouth.
"Are you sure?" I asked, as I pushed her down atop the cloak.
Her cheeks were red, flushed with emotion. "Not really," she said, with an almost coy smile.
"Me neither," I admitted.
Her arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me down. We lost one another in a sense of touch and taste, of my lips against hers, and then her chin – then her neck. I felt her hands run across my chest, touch the amulet which allowed all of this in the first place. She pulled my shirt up and over my arms, revealing me without my lips ever leaving her.
"-inside…"
I froze.
My lips were on hers, my tongue buried somewhere deep within her mouth, and she had one hand in my hair, the other on my back. She smelled good, felt amazing and tasted even better. But… had I imagined that?
No… There was a scratching outside, the sound of something striking snow.
Something stirred to life inside me. I pulled back from Blake, dazed blue eyes staring into pools of gold. "Is that…?" Blake couldn't finish. It sounded like she didn't dare believe it.
"Hello?" I called, hoping against all hope.
There was a pause. It lasted not even a second but felt like an eternity, in which all noise ceased to be. And then, against all odds.
"Jaune?"
"Pyrrha?" I yelled. "Pyrrha, is that you!?"
"Jaune! Oh, my goodness, you're okay!" The noise increased, what had been a dogged digging now a frantic scramble.
"Faster!" Nora yelled, not an ounce of humour in her voice.
"Ruby, back away a bit," Yang shouted. "Let me get some space on this. Weiss, hit us up with some fire."
Relief struck me like a Beowolf. It was enough to make my arms collapse, to fall atop Blake and rest my cheek against hers. "They found us," I whispered. "They… they really found us. Blake, we're going to make it!"
"I-I guess we are," she breathed. What was once a tentative smile blossomed into something bigger. "I suppose I don't have to blame you for this accused Quest just yet."
"Is Blake in there with you?" Ruby yelled through the wooden walls. "We couldn't find her."
"She's here," I called back. I turned to Blake with a smile. "She's…" My words cut off as I looked down on her. Essentially naked but for her underclothes, Blake's skin was flushed red with one or two telling marks on her shoulders. Her lips were bruised from mine, her hair in disarray and her arms still wrapped around me.
She seemed to realise what I'd seen at that moment too. Her eyes grew wide, then glanced away. Suddenly, it felt very warm in the room… overly so.
"Can you…?" she didn't finish, nor meet my eyes, but that didn't stop me rolling off of her and looking the other way as she scrambled for her discarded clothing. With a dry mouth, I pulled my own shirt back over my shoulders.
It was a jumbled, bashful affair, in wish neither of us dared look at the other. How it could be so after what we'd done, what we'd been about to do, I had no idea. All I knew was that I couldn't meet her eyes, even as we stood up, fully clothed.
It was not a moment too soon, either, for the door barged open and a bedraggled, blonde figure strode in. Yang took one look at us, standing at least twelve feet away from one another, and froze my heart with one sentence.
"You look like the most awkward pair in history."
"Ah…" Nothing came out, despite my best efforts. Did she… did she know?
"Don't tell me you two are still stuck in your little argument? Hell, you'd think being trapped in a cabin together would help get over that."
The argument? Oh gods, yes – anything I could grasp onto.
"You know me," I laughed – perhaps a little too hysterically. "I'm stubborn as a rock."
Fortunately for me I didn't have to explain any further, for something struck me as though it had been launched from a ballista. Small arms wrapped around me and crushed my ribs with deceptive strength. "Jaune!" Ruby wept, tears instantly staining my top.
"H-Hey Ru-"
"Jaune!" Pyrrha whispered, taking position on my other side and destroying all hope I had of escape. Okay, well, at least it could get any wor-
"JAUNEY!" Nora yelled.
We were bowled to the floor in a heap of tangled limbs.
"Belladonna," Weiss nodded to the Assassin.
"Please spare me the hug, Schnee."
"Everyone's alive!" Nora cheered. "Oh, my god, Jauney – we were so worried. First you and Blakey got swallowed by the ground, then the earthquakes got bigger and we went to look for you when we could, but a blizzard rolled in and then when it was over some Grimm actually thought it would be a good idea to get in my way an-"
I cut her off with a hand over her mouth, which wasn't an easy task with Ruby and Pyrrha crushing me. "How did you find us?" I asked.
"The smoke from your chimney," Ren answered. "It travelled for a long way. We didn't know it was you, but it seemed our only hope. I'm glad to see you alive, Jaune."
Alive…
We were, weren't we? Through the haze of relieved tears that settled across my vision, I looked towards Blake. She was as stoic and steadfast as ever, but after what we'd shared, what she revealed and how she acted… I knew it was a mask. Her eyes met mine briefly, only for a moment, before she coughed and looked away in embarrassment. Even in that brief instance, however, I caught the naked relief within her gaze. It almost made me choke.
"I'm glad to be alive, Ren." I said. "I'm glad to still be here."
Argh, I wrote myself into a corner with this series of events. It's kind of the same issue between first and third person, in that I couldn't switch over to another's PoV. I know some people have reviewed to say I shouldn't follow it too harshly, or that I should just switch for a chapter if I need to, but honestly, I want to try not to.
It would kind of defeat the purpose of my experimentation in first person if I didn't find the difficult spots and try to work through them. It helps me learn not to make those mistakes again, as opposed to just making them over and over, and cheating my way out every time. Anyway, the corner was that I couldn't leave the entrapment of the cabin once I was in here, which led to me sort of trying to find a way out that felt realistic, but adding conflict to keep it interesting at the same time. Did I succeed? Ah, you'll all decide, I'm sure. :)
Chapter was hard to get out, however, so I've learned a valuable lesson in the best way possible.
Next Chapter: 10th April
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
