Surprise, not dead!

I'll be honest and admit I considered dropping this entirely. My interest in RWBY had waned a fair bit, and life had gotten hectic enough that writing for a subject I wasn't as engrossed with seemed like a chore, rather than a pleasure.

But after a long break, I've decided to continue with Weight of a Name. I can't promise for frequent updates, though I'll endeavor for it to at least be far more frequent than it was this year.

Apologies for such a long wait, and if I didn't respond to anyone who reached out inquiring about the story. Let's get the rust off, shall we?


Dinner had been an awkward affair. Nike hadn't spoken a word during their meal and Weiss hadn't been sure how to broach the subject of… Them. Whatever in the world had occurred mere hours ago looked to be a taboo subject for both of them. Even as the waves in Weiss's mind thrashed and sent her emotions crashing she dined in silence, barely able to make herself make eye contact with her friend.

Friend. Was that what Nike was? All she was? There was no denying the visceral, hormonal reaction she had before. The feeling of their bodies against one another, heat mingling with heat. The pleasantness had gone beyond wanting warmth to shield her from the bitter cold. Strikingly, she found herself wanting more of it.

And yet that warmth had caused something inside of her to turn fetid and rotten too. Ruby was her girlfriend, or they were involved in some manner or they were or weren't, she and her partner were romantic together and her blunder with Nike, however nice it had been, left Weiss feeling horrid. Logically, she knew it wasn't the end of the world. Ruby would forgive her - if she even had the gall to tell her whenever they reunited, and nothing had to come of it. It had been an accident, an awkward moment between two lonely souls, nothing more.

Further compounding her guilt was the reminder that Nike was not, in fact, Nike. Not her true self anyways. With Rhodes's magic still tampering the Faunus's mind it was impossible to know what Nike's true feelings might be.

Did she still loathe Weiss? Did she truly have feelings for her?

Was she reading too much into an accidental embrace?

The fact Weiss had so much inner turmoil over it told her all she needed to know about herself. She hadn't hated it, and she hated that she hadn't. With Nike now acting so careful around her it was impossible to gauge her thoughts on the matter too.

After their dinner in silence they made camp beneath a slightly elevated ridge. The natural rock formation provided shelter from the winds; Weiss made use of her cloak and a few nearby twigs, erecting a makeshift canopy to block any snowfall. Nike prepared a small fire and the two of them, as far apart as their miniscule campsite would allow, fell into a tense slumber.

Breakfast had been hard tack and some lukewarm water. Camp was broken down, soreness rubbed from limbs as best they could, and with brief but polite words exchanged their trek up the mountain continued.

What exactly would Nike do once they reached her village? Without the knowledge to remove the spell over her companion Weiss couldn't help clearing her mind. And though she had stopped treating her like divinity she assumed Nike still saw her as such. That could make visiting her village, people Nike knew, a little awkward. Especially if all of them regarded Lummiare as highly as Nike did. Trying not to grimace at the idea of an entire village groveling before her, Weiss turned her gaze outward, casting a longing look over the valleys and forests sprawled out beneath them.

Somewhere out there were her friends. Heading towards Mistral, she hoped, and not on a wild chase to try and locate her. They had to be safe, Weiss refused to accept otherwise. And with herself now marching into Salem and Ozpin's grasp, and Cinder gone off to do whatever she had planned, there was little and less reason for the Church to harry her friends.

Somehow, she'd find her way back to them. Find a means of escaping Salem's machinations and avoiding having anyone she cared about being used as a tool against her.

Which brought something to mind that Weiss had mulled over more as of late; why the obsession with her? What separated her from her friends, other Magi, that Salem seemed so intent on getting her back?

It couldn't be her abilities. She was a runic mage and had versatility, yes, but in terms of raw power plenty of people dwarfed her. She didn't have any ancient or forbidden knowledge, no claims to any royalty, nothing that could be manipulated or used to further the Church's goals. Whatever in the hells those even were anymore.

Charon claimed to be my father. He also claimed to be Kalom. The very notion of being the 'daughter of death' made her snort aloud and roll her eyes. As if something so absurd were possible. I'll grant if that were somehow true then perhaps they'd see value in having me. But then what? Extort a god into doing their bidding? He'd strike them down if he truly is a god. They'd have to be lunatics to try.

None of it made sense. Huffing out a plume of hot air, Weiss glared through Nike's back in frustration, staring at nothing as she flexed her stiff fingers to work blood back into them.

"Salem? Answer me, I have questions for you."

She waited a moment, then two. Heard nothing but the crunching of ice and snow beneath their boots, their slightly labored breaths as they continued to climb higher and higher. Clicking her tongue angrily, Weiss tucked her hands under her armpits and squeezed down, biting the inside of her cheek.

"If you want me so badly then answer me, or gods help me I will throw myself off this cliff here and now."

Her eyes opened and she glanced down the sheer drop to her right. Jagged stone jutted out, splitting slabs of ice, forming rows of bone shattering obstacles. A few trees sprouted from the cliffs, their limbs devoid of leaves, bark stained white from the perpetual snowfall that plagued the mountain. It wouldn't be a swift demise, nor a painless one, Weiss realized. And when Salem still refused to answer she realized the witch must have called her bluff.

"Fine then," she grumbled, scowling as she shook her head. "Busy being a wretch elsewhere I take it."

She'd find her own answers, damn it. Somehow. If they insisted on bringing her back thens he would delve into the Church's libraries, scour volumes and tomes until she found some indication of what made her so important. And perhaps whether there was some truth to Charon's outlandish claims.

Maybe why Salem, in her rare words as of late, had deigned to tell Weiss to avoid Charon and the village at all costs.

But for now, raising questions was only going to drive her mad, and she needed to focus. The mountain peak seemed no closer than it had when they stood at the base and the weather, though thus far mild, was likely to take a turn for the worse. Traveling in the open as they were with dwindling supplies wasn't going to help them, and already her clothes, dampened and dried a dozen times, were beginning to fray and wear. They needed to restock somehow, somewhere.

"Nike?" Weiss winced when her friend jumped, wings scrunching up as her head lowered. "Is there another village on this mountain?"

Seemingly relieved, Nike's shoulders dropped, and she looked up the mountainside. "I don't know, to be honest. It's been years since I was living here and before then we didn't exactly have much contact with the outside world."

"But you had to have gotten supplies from somewhere, right? I doubt you were growing food here, or fashioning clothing out of stone and snow."

Nike nodded. "Sure, but it was the traders who handled that stuff. If there are other villages nearby, then I don't know about them. Never did much exploring on account of landslides, avalanches, Grimm, and all the other dangerous junk here."

"Okay, but let's say that, hypothetically, there is another village here," Weiss pressed. "We need supplies, and I'm not going back down the mountain for them. Where is your village, exactly? You don't live at the actual peak… Do you?"

"Nope. Close, or closer than this, but my home is technically inside the mountain. And outside of it." Nike scratched at her chin and hummed. "If we want to find another village then our best bet is finding a big cave system. That, or…"

A cave system? It made sense on some level; building structures outside would be too risky. Materials would be scarce and keeping up with snowfall would be a massive undertaking during blizzards. All of that could be mitigated by living not upon the mountain but within. Though that then begged the question of how they were meant to find any indications of civilization if it was all buried beneath hundreds of tons of stone and ice.

"Smoke."

That was one possibility, Weiss supposed. Though she wasn't sure if they could even see smoke, not with the constant flurries overhead and the poor lines of sight. She could barely see the sky most days and could only just make out the sun through all the wintry haze.

"Is that smoke?" she mumbled not a second later, blinking owlishly. It was difficult to make out but a black blot against the white backdrop stood stark above them. A steady stream of it, rising into the air and billowing.

"I just said it was smoke, didn't I?"

Ignoring her desire to thwack Nike, Weiss craned her neck, as if that would help her get a better view. "Smoke means people. People means a village."

"Generally speaking, yes."

"We need to get up there." Up perhaps a hundred feet, somehow finding the pathway they were on to that point. Except the route they had taken seemed to go right past it, and Weiss couldn't make out any handholds to speak of even if she wanted to try climbing. "Nike, you need to fly us up there."

"Um, I can't?" Nike nodded skyward. "The winds around here are too dangerous. We're just as likely to be smashed against rock as we are just thrown off the mountain entirely."

Weiss scrubbed at her tingling nose with a huff. "Then we use magic to mitigate the wind. You focus on flight; I'll use wind magic to keep gusts at bay. We only need to go a short way up, enough to see where the smoke is coming from."

"And if we use magic, we risk attracting Grimm."

"We risk running into Grimm every moment we're up here, Nike. And I'd rather risk a few Grimm than exhaust our already meager supplies and die on some forlorn mountainside." Weiss stalked towards her friend and held her hands out to her, tapping a foot on the ice. "Now come on, pick me up and let's go."

She stood there and waited, watching as color washed over Nike's lightly tanned features. The Faunus looked around, then down at her feet, uttering a few hushed curses before nodding. "Fine," she grumbled, pulling Weiss in and scooping her into her arms. "But if we crash and die, I'm haunting you."

"If we both die, Nike, I'll be a ghost too. I don't believe ghosts haunt ghosts."

"Knowing how stubborn you can be, you'll find a way..."

Snorting, Weiss began to carve her rune into the air, letting magic slowly trickle into the mark. "Hush. Focus on flying, I'll focus on us not dying. Deal?"

"You're fighting the first Grimm."

She would gladly fight a dozen Grimm if it meant finding a reprieve from the cold. Weiss finished her rune and held it ready, nodding for Nike to ascend. The wind around them kicked up as Nike's wings beat hard, and the moment they left the earth Weiss let her spell take hold.

Green energy flared out around them and encased them in a bubble of swirling magic. Gusting gales slid off the shell-like droplets on a windowpane. No snow reached them, no shearing cold or howling wind. While Weiss felt them ascending, and her stomach beginning to drop, she focused squarely on the rune between her hands. Its form, her flow of magic. Like a flame in a rainstorm she paid it every ounce of attention needed to keep it alive. A steady stream, maintaining the wind barrier, ignoring the softness of Nike's chest against her arm mixed with the firmness of muscle holding her aloft…

"Weiss!" Nike snapped. Wind buffeted them for a brief moment, but it was enough to cast them away from the mountain, leaving them hovering over a fatal drop below.

Refusing to look down or acknowledge why she was distracted Weiss redoubled her spell. Higher and higher they climbed, a mere one hundred feet feeling like a mile. Smoke continued to pour from above and as they rose Weiss could begin to make out a ledge. That small ledge turned into a shelf of stone as the mountain's face seemed to shy away from it. And when they reached it Weiss realized it was a plateau of sorts, cast in ice and snow like the rest of the mountain, but flatter and more open than any path they had taken thus far.

She wasn't sure what to expect as they crested the rise and arrived at level ground. Twin braziers, twice as wide as Weiss was tall and burning brilliantly wasn't exactly it.

Snow and ice had crept away from the open flames, giving way to moss and lichen carpeted stone. Puddles melted and shimmered, the fire's brilliance dancing in tandem with itself, and as Nike landed and slowly crept forward the blooming warmth was an immediate welcome change. Weiss loosed a sigh of relief and closed her eyes, letting the shield fade once they were close enough.

"Well, that's new."

Almost lazily Weiss opened her eyes again and cast her gaze beyond the braziers. She'd never been up these mountains before - she'd never been in Mistral before, but the structure before them looked new. An impressive wall closed them off from whatever lay beyond it. Made of mammoth pillars of pine, branches stripped away, bark hardened by some kind of lacquer, they stood in stark contrast to the snow and ice around them, slabs of black in a wintry canvas.

Surprised as both were, both Nike and Weiss jumped at the soft hiss of a blade being drawn. Two bowstrings groaned as they were pulled taut, and Weiss's breath caught as a woman materialized before them, a crossbow aimed square at Nike's chest.

Or it would've been, but with Weiss held in an unfortunate bridal-style carry the bolt was now staring her in the face.

"Huh, well who do we have here?" the woman drawled, her gray eyes narrowing. "You ladies lost?"

Weiss slowly raised her hands in surrender, nudging Nike to be put down. "Not lost exactly, no," she explained, turning once she was standing to face the woman fully. "We're trying to reach Agria. My companion here is from there, you see, and –"

"Agria?" A young man echoed from nearby, arms stretched as he held his bow steady. "You're a ways from there, and heading up the wrong peak at that. Try again."

"The western peak suffered a rockslide years ago, making the path impossible to climb, and I don't want to fly up that high in the storms." Nike looked between the group, seeming unbothered as he raised her hands in surrender. "I planned to climb this mountain and fly us across the gap instead."

"Hm. Okay, so you might be a local then. Got a name, birdy?"

"Nike." Then, because Nike was Nike, she grinned at the grey-eyed woman. "But you can call me whatever tickles your fancy."

Weiss's elbow to the gut wasn't completely born of annoyance, but she refused to acknowledge the other feeling. Glaring back at her friend, she let out a sigh and looked back at who she assumed was in charge. Stray snowflakes from a small gust dusted her face and she squinted against it, not daring to even wipe her hair from her face now.

"Please, we're trying to reach Agria to find help. We don't mean you or anyone here any harm, we only saw the smoke and decided to come investigate." She licked her drying lips and added, "We just left Zagori, and we were ill-prepared for the journey here. If we could perhaps barter for some supplies, we'll be on our way."

Grey eyes looked her over once, eyes fixating on Weiss's neck. Mentally cursing herself for not covering her Mark, she met the woman's skeptical gaze.

"Yes, I am a Hunter. We both are. But we're here on personal business, not to cause you any trouble."

"But if there is trouble," Nike interrupted, "We could take care of it for you? Tit for tat. We handle some Grimm, cut some firewood, whatever you need, and we get a bit more food for the last leg of the trip. Or… We can pay you, I guess."

"Coin's not got much use up here. Most folks can't make the trek down to trade with it anyways." The woman's eyes drifted between the two of them, her short brown hair which fell just below her ears flickering in the wind. She was silent for a moment before letting out a sigh, nodding to herself. "We'll escort you two in and verify if you two are Hunters. If your story checks out, then we'll go from there."

The other three figures all began to move in then, forming up around them. Two bows trained at their back, and a jagged obsidian-tipped spear leveled between Nike's wings. Grey-eyes lowered her crossbow slightly and sniffed. "Let me have your weapons, and if you try any magic nonsense, it'll be an arrow in you both, understood?"

Weiss nodded curtly. "Crystal clear, ma'am."

Though it pained her to do so she handed Myrtenaster off, letting Nike do the same with her spear. Although they weren't unarmed - a Magi always had weapons thanks to magic, the threat of being turned into a pincushion was a wonderful deterrent against trying. And Weiss had little interest in hurting anyone regardless. So long as no one threatened her, she imagined, Nike was of the same mind.

Satisfied enough for now, the woman nodded and let out a low whistle. The spearman prodded Nike in the back and she winced, shooting him an annoyed look before stepping forward. Weiss followed suit, walking along with the group as they approached the towering walls. She hadn't noticed it before, but a gate was hidden among the timbers, nearly invisible save for the hinges buried deep in the dark lumber. Boots crunching through snow, they stopped just outside of them, the woman knocking twice, then letting out a triplet of high-pitched whistles.

Similar calls followed, and Weiss heard a heavy piece of wood shifting, grunts, and gears beginning to crank. Slowly the gates parted before them to reveal four more figures, all dressed in a combination of fur and leather, each with some manner of weapon in hand. All looking at her and Nike warily.

They parted for their escorts and Weiss did her best to not meet their accusing stares, keeping her chin up and eyes forward. They passed by wooden palisades in varying states of wear and tear, a small group working to repair shattered, broken components. More braziers burned along a stone path that they followed, the open flames keeping frost at bay and making the trip almost balmy.

Before them a veritable haven opened to greet them. Built into the shelter of the mountain's face, backed by stone and tall, sturdy pines, a village appeared. Structures of wood and stone set upon the mountain's natural shelter stood in defiance of the harsh climes, with chimneys billowing dark, heavy plumes of smoke that wafted together overhead before vanishing into the perpetually gray skies above. Buildings were situated in small elevations, with no apparent difference in wealth between the levels. Every structure was pragmatic and simple; there seemed to be no use for luxury in such a place.

Even though there were braziers aplenty Weiss could still feel the cold bite of winter around them. Her fingertips and ears burned, cheeks too, and her lungs tingled with every tense breath.

Yet people milled about regardless, carrying on with their day like nothing was amiss. Better dressed for the weather than she or Nike were, with heavy fur coats and mittens, faces covered by cloth or scarfs. There were stalls selling meats and hardy root vegetables, some peddling hides and furs, and others selling farming implements.

Not that she had the slightest clue how anyone farmed in such a place. Hells, she didn't know how anyone willingly lived in a place like this, and she'd been born in Atlas.

People looked, of course. It was hard to ignore when your town guard escorted two women into your village, weapons drawn. But they all were nonplussed by their presence. Either wholly trusting of their guard or utterly oblivious to what she and Nike were capable of.

Either way life went on around them, and Weiss could only steal cursory glances as they were led further into the village. Past the stalls, past a small outcropping of stones in the town center, with a plaque she couldn't quite read from a distance on the rockface. Ahead of them several loose rows of homes stretched up the gentle incline, ending not far from the unyielding mountain face at the back of the settlement.

"I never knew this place was here," Nike mused aloud, breaking the silence of the group. Or maybe she'd spoken before; Weiss hadn't been paying much attention, lost in her curiosity. "What's this village called?"

"Chrysia," Grey-eyes answered. "Named after the founder. And it's been here only about ten years or so now. Been a while since you've been home?"

"Just a bit, yeah," Nike answered, smiling faintly.

"You built all of this in ten years? That's astounding. And in such a difficult climate and terrain at that." Weiss couldn't fathom the effort it must have taken to erect so many buildings in such a place so quickly. "If I can ask though, why here? There are other villages among the peaks, aren't there? Why make a new settlement?"

"Because the other villages have some ideas we don't exactly agree with," the spearman spoke up.

The elf nodded, bow still taut and trained on Weiss's back. Honestly, she was impressed with his strength; holding the bow ready for so long couldn't be easy. "Better to try elsewhere than keep putting up with nonsense."

"What's so awful about the other villages that you'd strike out on your own?"

Grey-eyes had led them to one of the wooden homes on their walk and stopped before the door, crossbow resting on her shoulder. She glanced over the other at Weiss, her gaze drifting once more to her neck, lips twisting. "The other villages work with Hunters. We don't."

"Well fuck," Nike swore aloud. "Don't suppose you lot would make an exception for some pretty women?"

Their escort knocked twice on the door before opening it, stepping aside and motioning for them to go ahead. Weiss and Nike exchanged wary glances before moving on in, and even with a potential execution in their immediate future Weiss sighed at the kiss of warmth. A hearth not far from the front entrance assaulted her in the most amazing embrace she'd ever felt, coaxing feeling back into her extremities almost immediately. She heard Nike groan behind her and snorted, though had to stop herself from walking right to the fire to soak it in.

"Ma'am? We've got two for you," Grey-eyes called, lingering at the door still.

Weiss's eyes took in the room around them while her heart did somersaults in her chest. It was a bare space, she'd admit, but welcoming. The wooden floor was mostly covered by a large bearskin rug, and three wooden chairs sat in a loose semicircle before the hearth. To her right was a closed door, a shelf with old pottery beside it, and to her left an opening into another room.

She leaned slightly when she caught a glimpse of something in the next room over, taking a small step for a better view. It was a kitchen, she realized, going by the small table with a cutting board, knife, and freshly chopped potatoes still sitting upon it.

What had grabbed her eyes though wasn't the starchy delicacy, as tempting as they were. No, Weiss found herself drawn to, and then dreading, the white cloak that hung over the back of a fourth chair, dripping slightly as it dried from a recent trek out.

"Well fuck," she whispered, tensing as the shut door swung open. Closing her eyes, she took a breath as she heard Nike's wings rustle, feeling a small wind kick up around them. Turning back around, she looked towards the open door…

And came face to face with who she assumed to be their white-robed assailant. Perhaps middle-aged, the woman's black and red streaked hair swept to one side of her head, the other cut closer to the scalp in an undercut. Wearing dark leathers over warm wool clothes, she might not have been terribly tall, but she sported a strong build, muscles evident even beneath her clothing. Weiss's eyes found the woman's and her jaw dropped, finding herself drawn inexplicably to the woman's gaze. To pools of molten silver staring back at her, guarded and accusatory.

Beyond the woman laid a scythe resting against the wall, its curved blade kissed a soft red from the hearth's flames. A scythe Weiss knew all too well already.

"Well, this is unexpected. I didn't think you two would be dumb enough to just walk in here."

Weiss didn't move, couldn't. She felt her body trembling and no amount of willpower was making it stop as the woman approached her, eyes flicking almost lazily to Nike. Her friend, thank gods, didn't move to intercept her as she went. The woman's gait was slow and assured, her posture oddly relaxed for someone who had tried to kill them not too long ago.

"If Salem thinks she's going to harm these people I will not hesitate to kill you both. Why are you here? What are you two searching for? What is Salem after?"

"I… I don't…"

The woman stepped closer, reaching out and grabbing Weiss's neck with one hand. Instantly she felt her airways being constricted and she gasped, gritting her teeth but keeping her hands up, shaking her head as Nike looked poised to attack.

"Please, we need your help. Your daughter's need your help. You're her, right?" Weiss coughed as her throat was grabbed tighter and on reflex, she grabbed the offending wrist. "S-Summer Rose! Ruby's and Yang's mother! Please, I'm their friend! They need your help!" Tears burned at her eyes as she gasped for breath, looking at the older woman frantically.

"I need your help," she whimpered.

Summer narrowed her eyes and kept her hand at Weiss's throat. Ten long, tense seconds ticked by before she loosened her grip, then removed it all together with a deep sigh. Her eyes met Weiss's again before she looked at the group at the door, waving them off.

"But ma'am, they're Hunters. We can't leave you alone with them!"

"It's fine. I'm just going to have a chat with them, that's all," Summer answered calmly, eyes never leaving Weiss. Those same silver eyes she'd come to love that now held such cold disregard for her. "Keep the villagers away from the house, if you would."

Weiss half hoped they would argue against leaving again, not wanting to be alone, but to her dismay the group relented on the spot. Bows were finally relaxed with audible sighs and all but Gray-eyes backed out of the building. "If you need us, ma'am, just call."

"I'm perfectly capable but thank you." Summer smiled warmly at the guards and Weiss saw a flicker of her partner there. The same soft, rounded features, if weathered a bit by age. "This won't take long."

The door closed with a small creak, and the silence that followed was agonizing. For a long while the only sound was the crackling of the hearth and the gentle creak of wood as wind rolled over the house. None of them moved. Nobody spoke. Weiss blinked as a bead of sweat drifted down her face but didn't wipe it away, her trembling still bothering her.

Then, graciously, Summer broke the silence with a beleaguered sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose and drew a deep breath, then pointed to two of the three chairs wordlessly. When neither her nor Nike moved she frowned.

"Sit. Sit, and talk."

Weiss's legs shuffled her to the seat, and she dropped into it heavily, eyes downcast and wide, hands pressed between her thighs both for warmth and to try and stop her shaking.

Summer Rose was alive. Alive, and keen on seeing her very much not. Weiss's mind couldn't reconcile that, all the implications that came with it, and what it meant for everything moving forward. Everything they'd been through. Everything –

"I said talk. I won't ask again."

"Going to need more specifics than that," Nike drawled snarkily, earning her a cold glare.

Thankfully, Summer let out another sigh and nodded. "Fine. You," she said, fixating her eyes on Weiss, waiting until she looked up before continuing. "Explain. Who you are, why you're here, how you know my daughters. If I find anything off about your story, or get the slightest hint you're lying to me, I'll leave you out in the snow for the wolves. Understood?"

Summer was nothing like Ruby had said she was. Not the warm, caring, bubbly woman who she and Yang affectionately dubbed 'super mom'.

Managing to convince her neck muscles to cooperate, Weiss nodded stiffly, licking her lips a few times before parting them. She didn't know what was pertinent or not, where to begin, and what might save her or get her flayed. But she figured complete honesty was their best bet to get out of this…

And so, she started from the beginning.


This chapter might read a touch oddly, in hindsight.

The first portion, most of it really, I had written back in April or May, around when I had initially planned to publish it. Then I hit my proverbial wall and didn't touch it again until now.

Things have changed from the initial plan, though the overall story remains the same. Let's see if I can't get Weiss to the finish line of this little tale.

Preferably before 2030.