"God, that guy's such an asshole!"

The sound of cellos filled Carmine's ears, guiding him as he worked on his weapon. He typed a short command into his scroll and the small bundle of rods in his hand shifted into a smoother and easier to grip handle. When he let it go, in split in two, with one half snapped upward to form a right angle with its twin.

"Seriously! Where does he get off treating us like that?"

Despite how it might've seemed to his partner—and Carmine did use that term in the loosest sense possible—programming his weapon was not easy. Not only did he have to find the proper shape, he had to sequence the transformation to be as smooth as possible. He'd come close to cutting his fingers off more times than he could count.

"I mean, I get that he's technically supposed to be teaching us, but there's no way his methods can be sanctioned."

A piano joined the cellos, forming a soothing harmony as Carmine carefully maneuvered one of the rods out of the angled section. After a few taps on his scroll, the selected shaft segmented, allowing him to further manipulate it into a roughly triangular shape near the intersection of the handle's two halves. Another command into his scroll caused the shape to shift again, creating a hatchet-like axe head.

"C'mon, Embry. Even you have to agree with me on—"

Carmine spun the weapon, finding a grip on it only to slam the keen edge into his workbench in frustration. Taking off his headphones, he turned in his chair to face the irritating presence in the room. "No, Ilex, I really don't." The faunus had been complaining about their new mentor on and off for the last hour and a half, and Carmine was sick of it. "I'm fairly confident the Headmaster—or Professor Goodwitch, or whoever the hell hired him—knew what they were doing when they brought him on. He's intentionally pushing our buttons, and that's what they want him to do."

Ilex stared over at him from his bed, his laid back position contrasting with the tone he'd been speaking with. "How in the hell is that supposed to work?" he asked, crossing his arms.

On the other side of the room, Rhys had stopped playing with Aspen's Beowolf mask and was actually paying attention to the conversation. Great. As much as he wanted to tell Ilex off, dealing with both faunus wasn't something Carmine wanted to do. He flared his nostrils. " For once, just trust that my experience outweighs yours," he said, less-than-pleasant memories rising up to the surface.

Unsurprisingly, however, Ilex looked at him with suspicion. "You know what? I don't think I will," he said, swinging his legs off the side of his bed and standing up, " 'cause to be honest, I can't help thinking you're only taking his side because I'm a faunus."

Carmine almost laughed at that. The thought had certainly entered his mind, but he wasn't so biased as to blindly take sides on something so trivial because of race. He stood up to match his partner's more aggressive stance. "If anything, I'm taking his side because you're a self-absorbed rich kid who could use a lesson in humility."

Ilex took a half-step forward, a fire in his eyes that Carmine had rarely seen. "I am not—"

The door to the room suddenly burst open, Aspen coming in with it. She stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle, looking as if she had just crawled through a mile of gravel. Dust and wear marks covered the set of black leather armor she wore, small bits of stone caught in some of the deeper crevasses. Over one shoulder she carried a dark red duffel bag which, by the looks of it, was filled with something heavy. What caused Carmine to want to take a step back, however, was the look on her face. Her eyes were opened wide, yet her pupils were massively dilated to a point that didn't seem physically possible. Her upper lip was curled back, revealing her teeth as she ground them together, and the mess of hair hanging down over her face only served to accentuate her maniacal visage.

The four teens stood motionless for several seconds, Aspen's eyes flicking between Ilex and Carmine as they tried to figure out what was going on. "Uh… Hey, Aspen," the lemur faunus finally said, shifting from the aggressive stance he'd had with his partner to one that was more defensive. "Are you, uh, alright?"

Aspen's eyes locked onto him before flicking back over the others a few more times. Eventually, she shut her eyes and dipped her head, though the muscles in her neck only tensed up further. The doorknob began to groan in protest as she squeezed it tighter, and Carmine briefly wondered if she actually had the strength to crush it with her bare hand. Her grip slackened, however, as she exhaled, the air hissing as she forced it through her teeth.

When she reopened her eyes, her pupils had returned to their normal size, and Carmine was surprised to find himself relieved. Aspen released the door handle and walked over to her bed, ignoring Ilex's question. Swinging the bag off her shoulder, she dropped it onto the mattress and immediately began removing her armor. Rhys sprang off his bed and, looking curiously at the duffel, signed a quick question. |What's in the bag?|

Aspen paused, already in the middle of removing her gloves—they were more like gauntlets, really. Lifting one hand, she hesitated again before spelling out the word: |A-R-M-O-R.|

Before Carmine could point out that she was already wearing armor, Rhys was unzipping the bag. What did I expect? Runt has no sense of— His thoughts ground to a halt as the faunus flipped the canvas cover off the top to reveal the duffel's contents. It was a few seconds before he could even begin putting the pieces together. "You're going to make armor out of Grimm plates?" he asked as Rhys pulled out a Nevermore mask.

"Yes."

"I take it this is what you were doing this morning?" Ilex asked, stepping up next to her. He reached into the bag and removed a tusk that surely could have only come from a very large Boarbatusk.

Once again ignoring Ilex's question, Aspen immediately grabbed the tusk away from the faunus, setting it on the opposite side of the duffel bag. The white-haired teen's mouth briefly hung open as he no doubt considered the hypocrisy of Aspen allowing Rhys to take the Nevermore mask—who was now actually holding it up to his own face—but he quickly closed it.

Unfortunately, in Carmine's opinion, he didn't keep it closed long enough. "You know, we haven't really gotten a whole lot of time to get to know each other. Maybe we could go out to the colosseum later, catch a few fights?"

Aspen's response, was blunt, harsh, and immediate. "No."

"Okay, then how about we just go to the fairgrounds?"

"No," Aspen repeated, removing the jacket-like armor from her torso. Even from where he stood near the door, Carmine could practically feel the heat that had been trapped between the dark leather and her body, and was surprised to see that she somehow didn't appear to have worked up a sweat. "I need to work on the armor."

Ilex wasn't giving up, though. "C'mon, you can do that later. Let's just relax for the rest of the day."

Aspen didn't even look at him as she shut him down again. "Laurel is finding me somewhere to work. I'm starting once she does."

For as much as he enjoyed watching his partner try and fail to flirt with the girl, Carmine had other things to work on. Closing the door, he returned to his workbench to finish working on his weapon. When he returned the headphones to his ears, the sound of a piano greeted him. Turning the music down a notch in order to monitor the conversation in the room, he focused his attention on completing the weapon design.

"Hey, did they tell you that they're going to make you the leader of our team?"

Pulling the split hatchet out of the wood, Carmine folded the two halves back together into the weapon's proper form. A quick command on his scroll caused the rods to lock in place, and he gave it a quick look-over to make sure it looked how he wanted it to.

"I don't think I understand. Where exactly am I leading us?"

"What? You're not… You're in charge of us. When we're in a fight, you tell us what to do. Though if that's not something you want to do, I'm sure…"

After adjusting a few settings, Carmine tapped a button on his scroll and the hatchet section of rods reset to a single shaft in his hand. Now to see if it actually works. He executed the code he'd been working on, and the rods moved and shifted, forming the small axe exactly how he'd programmed it. Halfway there.

"Vronon."

The word caught Carmine's attention: not because he knew what it meant, but because he didn't. Most people in the Kingdoms spoke the same language, though there were a few offshoot dialects on the fringes. He was familiar with most of them, though, and they were all very similar regardless. Whatever she had just said was not based in the same language.

" 'Vronon?' " Ilex repeated curiously, apparently oblivious to the peculiar nature of the word. "That sounds nice. What does that mean?"

Aspen hesitated for a moment, as if she didn't actually know. Come to think of it, she did sound like she pulled that word out of nowhere.

"Commander. I'm to be your commander?"

Ilex put up his hands. "Woah, let's not get ahead of ourselves." Rhys, however, grinned and snapped a sloppy salute, much to the other faunus's chagrin. "C'mon, Rhys. We barely even know her!"

"Doesn't seem to be stopping you," Carmine said, relishing in his partner's flustered look as he turned back to his workbench. Despite the barb, though, he did have to agree with Ilex to some degree. She hadn't spent nearly enough time with them to inspire confidence or loyalty, and the fact that she was still refusing to interact with them didn't help matters.

"Tomorrow then."

Carmine paused at Aspen's words. Is she actually…?

"If you think it will be… helpful, we will go to the fairgrounds tomorrow."

The red-haired teen sighed to himself. There were worse ways to spend a day, though not many.

(-)

Oliver stared at the four faces on his scroll, idly drumming his fingers on his desk. The rooms he and Laurel had been given were small—combined still smaller than his apartment back in Vacuo—with only a desk, a chair, and a bed in the way of actual furniture. They each had a bathroom, a kitchenette, and a small closet, though not much else. In fact, it felt like little more than a hotel room. Not even a proper computer. He glanced out the window toward the CCT tower. At least the view isn't half-bad.

There was a knock on the door, a familiar three-strike rhythm that refocused Oliver's attention. "Yeah!" he called out, inviting his partner into the room. Sure enough, the door opened, Laurel walked in, and she promptly kicked off her shoes. She looked disheveled, lacking her poncho and with her hair down instead of her usual short ponytail. Without even a greeting, she made her way to his bed and threw herself face-first onto it. "So, how was your day?" Oliver asked sarcastically. The woman said something in reply, though, with her face in his bedspread, it was hard to tell if it had been actual words. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Laurel rolled herself just high enough onto her side to speak clearly. "Can I get, like, five minutes of sleep before you start talking?"

Oliver smirked. "You're the one who came into my room," he pointed out. She let out an annoyed whine in response, and his smile widened. He gave her her silence, though, choosing to re-review the files on Aspen's teammates.

After a few minutes, the orange-haired woman rolled over onto her back. "She woke me up at three," she groaned. "Three. I don't think she even slept." Oliver nodded in understanding; she'd already told him everything that morning, before she'd gone back out to the Emerald Forest so Aspen could get "armor."

"How many did she kill?" he asked.

Laurel sighed. "I don't know. I stopped counting after she pulled a Nevermore out of a tree and accidentally ripped its head off."

" 'Accidentally'?"

Orange eyes lazily turned to look at him. "I'm pretty sure she was trying to take its face plate off." Oliver grimaced at the image. He hadn't even known that it was possible to take a Grimm's face mask off prior to the day before, but now to think that Aspen was intentionally ripping them off? It was brutal, even for a Hunter.

"That's not all." The man raised an eyebrow, waiting for his partner to continue. Sitting up, Laurel moved so her back was resting against the wall. "Do you remember that gorge out in the middle of the forest? The one where she got her chess piece?"

"Did she go down there?" Oliver ventured, getting a nod in response. "Well, she came back up, right?" Another nod. "Then what's the problem?"

"She didn't come back alone."

A chill ran up the Huntsman's spine at the thought. Straightening in his chair, he set his scroll on his desk as Laurel continued. "There was a man with her. Pale skin, black hair, red eyes, late-fifties… He looked like he could have been her father."

"All the way out here in Vale?"

"I had the same thought, except he just left her there after they came back out. Oh, and he was naked, too."

The air in Oliver's lungs escaped in a drawn-out, throaty sigh as he rubbed at his temple and forehead. "What is going on in my life?" he muttered. Leaning back in his chair again, he asked. "Did she say anything to you about it?"

Laurel shook her head. "I asked her if she had anything she wanted to tell me, and all she said was that she needed somewhere to work on her armor."

"Alright," Oliver drawled, staring up at the ceiling. Why didn't she tell Laurel about it? It was possible Aspen simply hadn't understood what the woman had been asking, or had taken it literally. I wouldn't put it past her. "Have you written your report for today, yet?" he asked his partner.

"Yeah. Haven't submitted it yet, though."

"Okay. Maybe leave that part out for now."

"Well, if I don't put it in today's, it's not like I can do it some other time."

Oliver winced at her correction. "Yeah, yeah. I know. I just have a… weird feeling about this."

"If you say so," Laurel relented, adjusting herself so she was laying down again. "How was your day?"

Oliver huffed, accepting the change of subject as he slid his scroll back off his desk. "Well, it certainly wasn't as strange as yours, though I can't really say it was any better." Feeling restless, he stood and began to walk around the room. "They really are about as charming as their dossiers would make you think. I channeled my inner Reddich and jerked them around a little bit, just to see what it would take to get them going." Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Laurel smiling at the reference to their former combat instructor. He leaned against the wall serving as the boundary between the bathroom and the rest of the room. "It was not much. I mean, Rhys…" Opening up the file on the youngest member of the team, he flicked through the small amount of information available digitally. "I'm pretty sure the file actually understated just how much he loves to fight."

"Let me guess: You made him sit on the side and didn't do anything when he did try to fight?"

"Yep, and he threw a fit. Almost had to knock him out at one point."

Laurel paused at that. "I don't remember Reddich ever doing that to anyone."

"No, but there were rumors," Oliver countered. His partner conceded the point with a shrug, and he turned back to his scroll. "The other faunus, Ilex, is a narcissistic womanizer who apparently fancied himself to be the next leader of their team."

"Who did you choose?" Laurel asked, cutting him off.

"… Aspen."

The woman sat up. "Seriously?! None of them were a better choice?"

Pushing himself away from the wall, Oliver gestured toward his scroll. "Carmine, maybe, but he can't even get around the fact that his partner is a faunus long enough to give a decent weapon demonstration." He shook his head as he set the device back on his desk and sat on one corner of the mattress. Feeling Laurel shift to make some room for him, he laid back across the foot of the bed, arms settling behind his head for support. "You know, they do kind of remind me of us a little bit."

Laurel's feet settled atop his chest, though he didn't particularly mind. "Us?"

"Y'know, GLOE."

"Oh. Well, how's that?"

"For starters, Rhys has a lot of the same energy that Gray did, even if he directs it differently." Oliver pulled one hand from behind his head, gesturing toward the ceiling as he spoke. "Carmine has that analytical intelligence Ej does that's really off-putting when you first meet him, and Ilex has my good looks and charm. Well, the good looks, at least."

Laurel lifted one of her heels and playfully dropped it back on his chest. "I'd argue for bo—Wait, are you saying Aspen is me?"

The man chuckled. "Oh, of course. Cold, aloof, doesn't quite understand the subtleties of language…"

Both feet came off his chest, the kicks turning more forceful as Laurel attempted to force him off the end of the mattress. "Jackass!"

Oliver laughed, putting one of his hands on the floor to stop himself from falling. "Don't forget whose bed you're on!" The assault paused for a moment before Laurel pulled away, allowing her partner to roll back up onto the bed. As soon as he had repositioned, though, she slipped her feet under his back. They were cold, meaning she was either using her Semblance to actively pull heat away from him, or she was just too tired to use it to pull heat from the air.

A strange sensation washed over Oliver. A few years ago, it wouldn't have been unusual for a situation such as this one to occur, but now, after everything that had happened between them, it felt odd. It wasn't as though it were unpleasant, however. Far from it; he'd admittedly missed the intimate contact with his partner. Perhaps he just hadn't expected her to seek it out first.

"Do you… ever think about us?" Laurel suddenly asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had settled over the last several minutes.

Oliver blinked several times. GLOE? Or you and I together? "What do you mean, 'us'?"

"You and me." Her feet shifted under his back, burrowing deeper into the folds of his comforter. "Five years ago, did you think we'd still be together?"

"Uh… 'together'?"

Laurel growled in frustration. "You know what I mean."

"I really don't." Oliver lifted himself up on one elbow to look at his partner. She'd brought her arms up to cover her eyes, but he could still see the reddish tint to her face. Whether the blush was caused by the actual question or from the misinterpretation, he couldn't be sure. "I don't want to overstep any boundaries between us by taking it the wrong way."

Biting her lower lip, the woman's face began to return to its normal hue. With a sigh, she said, "Partners."

Oliver laid back down, still not sure if he understood her original question. "Well, five years ago I probably figured that if we ever broke up, that would be the end of it. I guess if you're asking if I would have thought that we'd still be partners and not dating, the answer would be no." In hindsight, the context of the question hadn't really mattered. As they lay there, he felt Laurel's feet warm to their normal temperature, and found himself strangely disappointed.

After another few minutes of silence, the man sat up. "We should probably get working on those reports." He turned toward his partner only to find she had fallen asleep. Reaching over, he gently nudged her shoulder. "Tawny?" She barely reacted, only shifting enough to turn away from him. "Hey, get up," he said, a bit more forcefully. "You're not sleeping in here tonight."

When she didn't stir, he decided it would probably be better just to let her sleep. Standing up, the man walked around to the other side of the bed. Laurel's room was just across the hall, and it was late enough that the odds of anyone seeing them was low, so he bent over and lifted her up into his arms. She was heavier than her frame would suggest, but he'd long since come to expect it.

As he carried her out into the hall, she began to stir and he paused. Things could get awkward quickly if she woke up, but instead she tucked her head further up under his chin. Oliver felt the heat from her forehead spread up from his neck into his face. Gah. Fantastic.

Pursing his lips, the Hunter managed to open the door to his partner's room and slipped into the darkness. He moved off memory and the light from the hall to walk over to Laurel's bed and gently lay her down. Taking a moment to ensure she would be comfortable, he turned and walked back to the door.

"You didn't have to do that."

Oliver turned back to look at the woman. She had propped herself up on her elbows, looking up at him. Great. When did she wake up? "You need your sleep," he said, dismissing the anxiety creeping into his mind. "I'll take care of your report."

It was a moment before Laurel lay back down. "Thanks."

Oliver hummed his acknowledgement and closed the door behind him. Why does everything have to be so complicated?

(-)

Small animals chirping and chattering in the brush. Wind rustling the leaves and rattling the branches in the trees above him. Water burbling in a brook he had drunk from several dozen yards away.

The comfortable chill of the evening air on his bare skin. The grit of the grass and dirt beneath his feet and arms. The press of innumerable havneel, far more clustered together than he had ever felt in all his years.

How long has it been?

Releasing a long breath through his teeth, Deirean eased himself down from his front hold. His muscles burned, even though he'd only held the position for several hours. They'd atrophied during his time in the havashah.

Too long.

Something stirred in the bushes nearby, but he did not sense any threat and continued his meditation. Eyes closed, the man stood, rolling his shoulders as the ache began to resolve itself. Where once had been a city now stood a forest. What remained had crumbled into ruins, ruins that had trapped him in darkness for months.

A snarl tore through the air just a few feet away. His eyes snapped open to see a lanky, black-furred beast baring his teeth at him.

No… This is not possible…

The creature lunged, and Deirean acted on instinct. He reached out and caught it by the throat, crushing its windpipe before ripping it out as its corpse sailed past. Staring down at the mass of flesh and fur disappearing in his hand, the man fell to his knees as the remains of the pech ter'al vanished as well.


How long has it been?

Has it really been a whole year since I started publishing this story? It doesn't feel that long, though that's probably because I'm under one chapter a month. I'm working on that, but this semester at college is looking to be super busy, so as much as I want to make promises about increasing my rate, I can't. I won't leave y'all hanging, though, so I WILL continue writing as much as I can.

On to the chapter. Not a whole lot to say, really. It's mostly wrapping up threads from the last few chapters and setting up the coming events. A transitionary chapter, if you will.

Oh, one last thing before I go: I've never brought this up (no idea why), but someone set up a TV Tropes page for Grimmsdottir a while back. It's a little threadbare right now but, if that's your thing, maybe you could go check it out and contribute. I check it out every now and then, and it's always fun to see something new pop up that I hadn't thought about.

Anyway, that's all for now. Au revoir!