"Hey there, cool cat."

Blake stumbled, nearly dropping her books. She spun around on her heel and glared at Yang, who shrugged, leaning against the doorway to the library. They were afforded access to Beacon Castle's library, out of the fact that Yang's uncle was a Master Hunter and Blake was a ward of the kingdom. She thought that, if ever she got the chance to live elsewhere, it would have to be somewhere with a collection just as extensive as this. She couldn't imagine going back to life without the access to thousands of books, both ancient and modern, on every topic she might think of.

No enjoyment of literature could smother that anger that rose in her, smoldering and hot, at seeing the blonde's stupid grin. "I thought you were leaving." Blake snapped, and turned away.

Yang dodged ahead of her, stopping her in her tracks. "Cmon, Blake, don't be like that. I was hurt. I am hurt. It's my baby sister, and my dad's so… sad, all the time. I haven't seen Qrow in weeks." Yang shuffled, holding her eyes with her violet ones, and Blake's ears drooped.

"I know, Yang. I get it. I'm sorry." Blake put her books down on a nearby table and Yang pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her tight, with need. Blake reciprocated, burying her nose in the blonde's thick hair. It smelled… fresh. Like earth, kind of. The rest of her had a stronger odor that made Blake pull away first.

Yang stepped back, putting her hands on her hips as she looked away and sniffed. "Yeah, well, you're an asshole. But I forgive you."

Blake snorted and rolled her eyes. "Thanks." She said flatly. Then she remembered a little of what she'd said, and winced. "Thanks, really."

Yang flashed her a tentative grin, which grew wider when Blake stuck her tongue out at her. "You'd go crazy in here with all these books if I didn't stick around. Probably lose the ability to speak my language or something."

"How?" Blake deadpanned, and Yang shrugged.

"I dunno. Sounds like something you'd do." Blake rolled her eyes at her friend, glad she could still call her a friend, and she felt the weight of a thick melancholy that had settled over her lift. She eyed her books, suddenly less interested in reading them now.

"Let's go talk?" She asked, hopefully. Yang smiled, and Blake smiled back.

They found a comfortable nook in a corner by a window. Evening light streamed through the large glass panes, overlooking a snow covered garden on the other side. Lamps burned oil overhead, hanging from a tall ceiling. Blake settled in across from Yang in a plush armchair, an unused coffee table between them.

"So, what did you get up to?" Blake asked her, in a tone that she intended to be nonchalant. She felt a little upset that Yang had made her wait so long.

Yang wore a lopsided grin. "I almost got into a fight with my uncle." She chuckled. "I think he could probably kick my ass, Blake." Her expression sombered a little. "He was really angry about me wanting to leave. Not that I shouldn't be able to, I'm a grown woman, I know how to fight. But…"

"But what?" Blake began absently tugging on a clump of hair behind her ear.

"He said there's some really bad stuff going on outside of the city. Said things are getting really dangerous… Like, more dangerous than it's been in a long time, Blake." She hugged her arms to her chest. "He said it's hardly any better in the city."

Blake heard the implication. "Did he say anything about… your sister?" She was hesitant to bring it up, but she too was nervous about it. She thought of Adam, and how he still hadn't shown back up. At all.

Yang shook her head, though. "Says he's looking but they haven't found anything at all. It's like she's just…" She gestured with her arms. "Vanished. Gone. Poof." Her eyes tightened in guilt. "I really feel like I should be doing something to help, but I have to get back to Patch soon. Dad can't just be left alone."

Blake nodded, her brow knitting together in frustration. "How can they both just go missing like that. It's so strange."

"Both?" Yang asked, leaning forward.

"Adam is gone too. He left for a meeting and just, never came back. I've been waiting for him to just show up with that stupid smile of his and make me feel dumb for worrying, but it hasn't happened yet. It's so weird." The words tumbled out of her mouth, and she was relieved to finally confide in someone. Then she felt more guilt, thinking of how deeper it must hurt Yang to have her sister missing. "I'm sorry again, Yang. I shouldn't have said what I did. It was a real asshole thing to do."

"Forget about it, cool cat." Yang said, waving her off. "Adam's gone too, huh?" She ran a hand through her hair. "Have you asked anyone about him?" He was a fairly popular figure, especially among the Faunas.

"I'm afraid to, Yang. I'm scared he got messed up in something. When he left, he said he had someone to go see. He made it seem like it was someone important." She sighed, trying to ignore the feeling of loss. "I don't want to get roped into it. I really am a coward."

"Shut up. You're not." Blake's ears stood straight and stiff as the blonde got up from her seat. "Come on, let's go knock on some doors."

"Yang, that's silly. What if he really got himself into something bad, and whoever it is thinks it's better if we aren't looking for him."

Yang grinned at her, the same annoying, confident grin that Adam often gave her. "They haven't tried to mess with me, kitty cat." She winked, and Blake flattened her ears to her head, scowling.

"I preferred cool cat over that." She mumbled.

Adam thrashed and stirred as fitful dreams came and went. They were strange and unintelligible, not that he could possibly find the clear headedness to focus on them anyways.

His skin pricked in pain, and his breath felt ragged in his throat as he drew breath. He spent the rabid time in between his crazed dreams clawing at himself, trying to pull out whatever was coursing through his veins. He could feel something inside him, and he was consumed by the need to get it out.

He saw dark, leering figures, standing over him and laughing, mocking his life. Versions of himself sometimes came to him, misshapen and wrong in every sense of the word, and they would tell him words that he couldn't understand. In those moments, all he knew was the fetid fire that was burning him alive from within.

In the moments where he was left awake, wheezing, nails bloody from the marks he left in his bare skin, he wept. Wherever he was it was dark, though he was too delirious to think much of it. Worse was that, as the moments when he was slightly aware became more frequent, so too did the height of his hysterics. Something was growing in his throat. Some cold, dark desire. He gropped at his neck with rigid fingers. It felt like thirst. Like he hadn't dranken in months.

He lay, arms bent upwards and hands twisted in clawing angles, back on whatever hard surface was below him, slick with sweat, thinking he'd do anything to quench that thirst.

Anything at all.

He wasn't aware of the strangled laugh that gurgled from the depths of his throat, or the people who watched him from behind the dark iron bars of the cell he lay in.

Blake hung back a few paces from Yang and the conversation she was having with the street boy, who's narrow, untrusting eyes kept darting towards the street. He answered Yang's hushed questions in a reluctant manner, and he bounced from foot to foot like he was taken by some desire to bolt. She glanced at the street as well. Night had fallen, now, and it had brought with it the full chill of winter. Wind gusted snow off of tiled rooftops, and she huddled beneath her coat.

Yang made a frustrated grunt, and then cuffed the boy on the side of the head.

"Yang!" Blake snapped, her boots stomping as she came to stand beside Yang. The boy had fallen on his butt, and was rubbing the space where Yang had beat him. He looked at Yang with fright. "What is wrong with you? Do you go around punching children often, or is this a new thing?"

Yang frowned, sniffing. "These kids are rats. Rats." She glowered at the boy, who looked like he thought to back away on his hands before realizing his back was to a wall anyways.

Blake let out a deep breath. She turned to the boy with a friendly, apologetic smile, and held out a hand. "Sorry about that. My friend is a little sensitive and sometimes she can't control herself very well." The boy eagerly took her hand as she helped him to stand up, and immediately took to using Blake as cover. Blake glared at Yang, who shrugged, giving the boy a sharp look.

"If you wanna try, be my guest. I'm not talking to any more of these runts. I'd actually rather do anything else. Anything." Yang spit near the boy's foot. He jerked it away, and glared up at the blonde, his nose wrinkling as he frowned.

Blake sighed and turned her back to Yang, placing herself between the two. "What's your name?" She smiled.

The boy pursed his lips, his bottom jaw jutting out a little due to an underbite. "Goerge."

Blake blinked. "You're not from Vale?"

The boy shook his head, but then he fixed her with a suspicious eye. "How'd you know?"

"It's pretty common to name children after colors, here." She kept her smile up, and waved a hand. "So, George, I'm Noir. My friend here, er, Yang," Her frown nearly slipped, realizing she'd given the boy Yang's real name. "Asked you a few questions. I was hoping you could answer them for me? About a Faunas, a bit taller than me, red hair, bull horns?"

The boy shrugged in a noncommittal manner, planting his hands in the pockets of his dirty pants. "I haven't seen nuffin'." He sniffed, holding her gaze.

"Then, perhaps you've seen a little girl recently? Brown hair, silver clip in her hair? She came to the Flying Parasoul a day ago." The tavern, as she'd easily found out, was a dingy place. A few of the unfortunate children in the city hung around the property, hoping for handouts from passersby or the clientele, as it seemed one of the few places where they wouldn't be chased away with sharp words and a too eager stick.

The boy shrugged again, jutting his lower lip out further. His eyes lit up like he had something to say, took a quick look at Yang, and then swallowed his words. "I can't say if I have or not." He said simply.

As expected. Blake manifested a thick, silver coin. "It's cold tonight, George. Why not spend it in a nice place. Perhaps a few nights." Yang snorted distastefully behind her but Blake ignored the blonde. She may not like it, bribing children, but Blake had bigger things to worry about.

George did, too. He stared at the coin with hungry eyes, and she smiled warmly, holding it out for him to take it. He did, and when he tensed to run, she brandished another coin. "If you can tell me anything at all, you can have another." She told him. His eyes widened, and he settled down.

"Well, er, Noir," He said her fake name with some attempt at being sauve, "I s'pose I've seen some stuff. I did see a girl with a real expensive lookin' thingy in her hair. Though, I don't know why you'd be looking for her, she returned to the castle, with that noble man." He looked at the coin expectantly.

"That noble man?" She asked emphatically. For a moment, George's mouth clamped shut, and he looked ready to scurry away. Blake gestured with the coin in her hand a little, and the boy made a pained sound in his throat.

"Look, miss, it's just, the man has these real scary guards with him all the time. Always lookin' at us, making faces. Scares anyone who isn't a milk drinking baby. I don't wanna get on his bad side, he lets us stay around the place. It's safer than anywhere else." His eyes stayed on the coin between her fingers, and poor George was torn between his safety and the promise of a very comfortable few nights.

Blake appeared a third coin with ease, and George's eyes seemed ready to pop out from their sockets. "Please, George, these people are important to me."

Looking as if he was on the verge of crying, George tore his eyes away from her money. "I'm sorry, miss."

"Some other kid will get them anyway. You know that, right?" Yang said over Blake's shoulder, sounding exasperated. George's back stiffened, and he was suddenly scowling at the thought of it.

"She's right, George. We need this information, and I'm sure there are plenty of cold, hungry kids who'd take this money. Why not help us, so you can go get yourself something to eat?" Blake piled it on, urging George. A little of the guilt that she knew Yang felt prickled at her, but she put the thought out of her head. It was necessary, and she couldn't help every child without a home.

George groaned, and his shoulders sagged in defeat, but his eyes fell on the two coins between Blake's fingers with eagerness. "His name is Ronan. He came with the Atlas ships, and he's stayed here ever since." He suddenly was glaring at Blake as if she had hit him aside the head. "Now, gimme the money so I can get out of here before his goons get me."

Blake moved to give them to him, but he snatched them from her hand and took off, scampering past them.

He stopped at the edge of the alley, turning to stick a tongue out at Yang. "Catch you later, fat-" Blake's face reddened at the words, and she had to snatch up Yang's wrist as she started after him.

"Yang, just… just let it go." She murmured. Gods. "He's… Just let it go."

"Rats, Blake. Rats." She scoffed, pulling her hand out of Blake's grip and blowing a stray hair from her face, settling down now that George was no longer in sight. "I should have just broken his nose. Bet he'd have spoken then, and you'd be three silvers richer."

"We don't beat up children for information, Yang." Blake said flatly.

"Yeah, but at least he deserved it. He didn't call you… Bah." Yang kicked at a loose pebble, and it rattled down the cobblestone pathway. "Rat."

Blake grimaced. True enough. The kid probably deserved the cuffing he got. "Let it be, Yang," She said instead. "We got what we came for; a name."

Yang snorted. "Yeah, fake name. You think this guy would give his real name? I doubt it. Why do you think this girl is connected to Adam, anyways?"

Blake shrugged. "I don't, actually. It's just, I saw a little girl come down this way. She looked like she was from a noble family, and she came with a letter. It was really strange that she came through the alley, and she looked frightened. And she asked for the same man." Ronan.

Yang scowled, hunching in her coat and stuffing her fingers up into its sleeves. "We should be looking for Adam, then. Not spending silver on finding out about some stupid royal stuff. It was probably something about how Ozpin is ugly, or something. You know, the kind of stuff they talk about."

Blake fixed her with a level stare. "Yang, technically, I am royalty."

Yang shrugged. "Yeah, but you come around and roll in the dirt with the rest of us. Makes you more us than them." She flashed Blake a grin.

Blake hmphed, wishing her face didn't redden. "Well, either way, I think it was strange. And Adam was talking about meeting someone the day he disappeared, someone that sounded important."

Yang nodded, shuffling in her boots. "Well, whatever it is, cool cat, can we go talk about it somewhere warmer?"

Blake snorted. "Strange, you don't usually get cold."

Yang frowned, suddenly looking troubled, and Blake's own grin dropped. "Yeah, well, something really weird has been going on. I don't know about you, but my aura is kind of… I don't know, like, gone, almost. It barely does anything." She sounded worried, making a nervous laugh. "It's probably just too cold, it gets all used up on that."

Blake frowned deeply. She felt fine. And when she attuned herself to her Aura, it was strong, like a heavy cloak that lay over her. "I feel perfectly fine. Are you sick?"

Yang sneezed, as if on queue. "Maybe." She muttered, wiping her nose with a sleeve. "But it's been like, a few days. I don't think I'm sick." The blonde shrugged, her strong face looking strong again. "I'm sure it's just a thing, maybe I hurt myself and didn't notice." She shivered. "But, can we get out of the cold? Please?"

Blake nodded, turning to the Flying Parasoul. "Not there, though. Probably not there."

Instead they chose a tavern a few streets out nearer to the wall that separated the inner city from the outer. To Blake, the construction was a perfect example of the class issues in Beacon, a problem only exacerbated by the conflict between Faunas and humans, and she always found herself feeling a little agitated with it in sight. Even now, with the lights that shone halfway up its height, and the small shapes like shadows that patrolled the top parapets, she thought it was an ugly thing.

Despite her mood, she found that when she was sitting at a table in the Summer's Breath, a hot plate of baked potatoes, roast mutton glazed in honey, peas and gravy, still warm bread and a glass of thick milk, she was placated. Her stomach rumbled at the smell, though she was slower than Yang to start eating. The noise of the common room was raucous, the din of rough laughter not even drowning out the sound of the harmonica and the banjo in the corner of the room, nor the voice of the singer.

Yang even sang a few words of the chorus in between mouthfuls of her food, though she never fully swallowed before accompanying the loud choir. Blake's ears wilted a tad against her head every time the voices in the room rose up, and Yang ignored the rueful looks Blake gave her. To Blake, it seemed nothing bothered the blonde, and as Blake leaned back in her chair to watch the man who was dancing across the room, she was at least glad that her friend's spirits had returned.

"Yang," Blake called out to her friend, leaning forward in an attempt to be heard over the cacophony of merrymaking, "We need to talk about this Ronan, and what we're going to do about it!" Her ears flinched in response to a crash somewhere across the room. Yang paused with a turkey leg in hand, attention on the source of the racket. The grease dripped around her fingers, making them shine. Blake glowered.

No one else in the tavern hardly even took notice, the instruments continued their songs and those who were stomping boots or clapping hands continued on with little more than a momentary pause. "Yang!" Blake snapped.

The blonde whipped her head around and smiled. "What's up, kitty?"

Blake chewed on her cheek. Maybe it would be better to investigate alone. But, no. She could use Yang's muscles, if not her head. "We need to decide what to do about this Ronan guy."

Yang bit a chunk of white meat from the leg in her hand. "We go to my uncle and tell him to look into it." She shrugged, and then drank deep from a wooden flagon. "I can bet you my left arm that, if there's anything linking this guy to Adam or Ruby, he'd know."

Blake sighed, crossing her arms against her stomach. "Yang, don't you think he's got better and bigger leads to look into? I mean, what do we know about this guy? Before you say it," She held a hand up as Yang opened her mouth, "The answer is pretty much nothing. At all."

Yang set her drumstick down and set to licking her fingers, crossing her boots as she leaned back comfortably in her chair. "We know he came with those frisky Atlas clowns. I bet he probably sells faunus children into slavery or something."

Stupid. Stupid moron. "Yang, not funny."

Yang, for her part, managed to look at least a little abashed as she straightened her posture just a little. "Okay, fine. But, look. If he has little messenger girls from the castle running back and forth for him, and he uses street children to keep his cover. The guy is obviously kind of sick."

"That doesn't make him our guy, Yang. For all we know, that girl could have been sent by his wife, or maybe she's his daughter. There are too many things we don't know. Too little information to go, demanding around the castle for your uncle to put down all his important business and come running on some tiny itch you have!" She didn't mean to sound angry, but as she finished, she was breathing hard and her cheeks were red.

Yang blew out a breath of air, sitting properly. "Okay, then, what's your plan?" She asked.

Finally. "I say, since he's gone at the moment, we go find out for ourselves what Ronan is up to down here amongst the commoners."

Yang raised an eyebrow. "You want to go ask him?"

"Gods, Yang." Blake sighed. "I want to go poking around in his building."

Yang fixed Blake with a level stare and a flat smile. "Sure. Lets just go break into an inn on a hunch. That's surely better than bringing it to my uncle. Who, by the way, can probably do something like that and not have to answer to anyone if he gets found out."

"You think I'd get found out?" Blake leaned forward. Challenging Yang with her expression to suggest what she'd implied more plainly.

Yang threw her hands up in the air and muttered a curse. "Let's go break into the inn."

Night loomed over the city like a heavy blanket. A cold, frigid blanket that brought no comfort or warmth with its arrival. As the taverns filled with the stragglers coming to drink their worries into forgetful hazes, Blake found herself facing the ill humored weather alone as she stalked the streets that surrounded the Tallon's Roost. Yang watched the building, waiting on Blake's return.

Cloak held close to her shoulders, Blake kept her head down. There were men and women lurking beneath awnings or watching from dark corners, but the light was too poor to denote anything about them, nor could she decipher if they might be the unfortunate folks that orbited around the city or plants. Likely it was a significant number of both.

Nothing that tipped her off that her plan might be any more dangerous than she already knew.

She quickly wove her way through alleys and streets to end up back with Yang, who loitered around the back of the building, nibbling on an apple core. She wore a coat tonight. "Hey there, cool cat." The blonde greeted her, tossing the remains of her snack on the ground. "Are you done? I'd appreciate it if we could get out of the cold, now."

"Now you know what it's like." Blake grumbled. Her throat burned with every breath she took, the sharp cold biting in her chest. "Stop complaining and focus. Did you see anything? Anything at all? I mean it, Yang!" She pointed a finger in the taller woman's face. "If you saw anything I want to know."

Yang pushed Blake's hand away, glowering. "Nothing. I guess there's this cat that keeps coming around to bother me, but other than that, no." Blake's hackles raised, but then Yang gestured with her head at the alley cat Blake had seen the other day and had to resist an urge to hit her friend.

"Stand back, then." Blake pushed past her friend to kneel at the backdoor, lockpicking utensils already held in her familiar hands. Choosing to ignore Yang, she fumbled around with the lock for only a few moments before it clicked open.

Yang whistled from behind her. "Damn. I didn't know you got that dirty, kitty cat. Here I thought you were just going to get me to kindly open the door."

Blake felt her cheeks grow warm and was thankful it was dark. "Quiet, Yang. We're here to do a job, remember?"

Yang snorted, though a little quieter than usual, more like a dog sneezing than a horse. "Okay okay, don't let me insult your noble sensibilities." Blake ignored her. Again.

With practiced care she was all the more ashamed of, Blake let the door swing inwards. The hinges, to her chagrin, creaked noisily. She sensed Yang tensing behind her and hoped that she'd keep her wits about her just for a little while longer.

The interior of the Tallon's Roost was unlit save for what little bits of moonlight made it through the small gaps between shutters in the windows. They were staring in at the kitchen, its counter and sink void of any dishes or food. In fact, when Blake smelled the air, there was no sign it had ever been used as a kitchen at all.

She slipped in through the doorway, crouching low to keep her head near the height of the counter. Yang followed after her, muttering something under her breath that might have been about leading a life of crime.

Blake's fingers brushed lightly on the hardwood surface of the kitchen serving counter, and she found herself expecting dust. There was none. So, it was used. In some way or another, at least. Steeling herself, the top of her head crested the counter, until she could look over it and see the common room. More clean blankness greeted her. Little bars of moonlight lit the floor under the windows, dark wells of shadows beneath the tables. A set of banister stairs on the other edge of the building led up to a second floor. There was no sound aside from the scuffing of Yang's shoes on the floor.

"Don't you think it's kind of strange that an inn would be closed this early? It doesn't even look like anyone's staying here."

Blake nearly hit her forehead on the counter top as she jumped. Yang stood straight, hands on the small of her back while she stretched it, leering out at the common room with a frown almost as if she hadn't just spoken at normal volume.

"Yang!" Blake hissed, nearly hysterical. "There could be anyone watching, or listening, Yang! Sit down!"

Yang turned her eyes to Blake, shrugging. "Let them try it, then. I've never had any trouble when it comes to dealing with grubs before." She had put on an air of confident swagger, like she wanted someone to come out of the dark and test her. Blake wouldn't have minded betting on her, either, if she wasn't sure there would be more people than they could handle.

"If you want to be a dumbass, Yang, do it when I'm not around. Please?" If they managed to get out of this without making it obvious they broke in, Blake made a silent vow to herself that she'd never, under any circumstance, attempt anything like this with Yang as a partner again.

Yang's frown sharpened and her eyes tightened but she knelt back down, huffing. "There's obviously no one here, Blake."

Except there had been. Blake knew it for a fact. George had corroborated the idea, too. She'd seen it happen herself, watched the girl walk up to the door and ask for a man named Ronan. The state of the inn itself implied residence. Unless they'd just missed them, of course. She felt foolish even suspecting this man might have something to do with Adam and yet she had nothing to really go off of. At least it was something to do. Perhaps they'd uncover some other strange political plot. Anything to keep her mind off of what was happening around her, to her friends.

"Just keep your head down." She snapped. Then she was off into the common room, her efforts to keep her footsteps as barely soft whispers ruined by Yang's own less careful steps. She skirted them around the room, clinging to the wall, careful to stay low and always search for the densest shadows.

Shunk.

Blake froze, one foot in the air. Yang nearly crashed into her, slinging a string of curses at nothing in particular with mastered skill. Both of them turned their eyes to the floor beneath their feet, Blake's breath caught in her throat. There was someone below them.

Suddenly, Blake's desire to poke around in someone else's business turned out to be as strong as the desire she had to dance naked in the dead of winter in the city square. In that it didn't really exist as a desire at all. She didn't even realize that she'd gripped Yang's hand in a deadlock.

Turning her face up to Yang's, already telling her friend that they should go, her words died on her tongue. Yang looked back at her with a set jaw, eyes fierce and too proud to let Blake bail out. Though, Gods, she really wanted to.

She let out her breath slowly, stilling her beating heart. No. They'd already broken in, they'd already poked around and left their descriptions with a kid who's loyalty to this man was hard bought. They had to leave with something, too. Nodding to Yang, Blake turned her attention to the stairs at the end of the room. They led downwards as well.

They stopped at the first step, peering down. Aside from the sound, there was no obvious indicator that there might be someone else in the building. The stairwell was thick in blackness, implying no source of light below. Blake nearly balked, her unwillingness to go into an unknown situation with no light giving her caution.

Yang pushed past her in response to her hesitation. Blake threw a hand out to catch Yang's arm, but the blonde dodged deftly and started her way down the stairs. A strangled whisper of a groan escaped between Blake's parted lips, and with little other choice, she followed behind her. At least they were both making an effort at subtlety, now.

At the bottom of the stairs they could make out a door. Yang paused, looking back at Blake expectantly. Shaking her head, Blake poked the door gently with the tip of her boot. Nearly imperceptible it moved inwards, soundless. Yang put one hand flat against it, moving as if to push it the rest of the way open before she stopped. She looked over her shoulder at Blake, her features just barely readable in the dim light. The look on her face was either concern or fear, and Blake chose to believe it was concern.

Nodding, Blake gestured to the door. She reached into her cloak, fingers wrapping around a dagger hilt. Something, she wasn't sure what, made the hairs on her arms prickle. Yang opened the door in one smooth motion, one arm crossed before her chest in a protective manner.

Darkness was all that lay before them. Deep, impenetrable shadows that Blake's eyes could not see through. Her fingers wound tighter around the dagger hilt until her knuckles were bonewhite. Yang audibly swallowed. Who was down here? And why?

Blake immediately banished the thought of Grimm. She wouldn't let herself balk at dark shadows. Grimm didn't come to the city; they hardly existed for the people of Vale, especially those living in Beacon. They just didn't. That still didn't stop her from imagining crimson orbs that glowed with a sick light watching her from unseen corners. She pushed those worries down.

Yang took the first step into the room.

Blake followed her immediately, swallowing a curse as the blonde seemed to melt into the shadows. She could just barely see Yang ahead of her. As they stepped into the heavy, lightless ambience, Blake wondered again what she was doing here. Why she couldn't just keep out of other people's business and mind her family. She held her hand to her side, refusing to reach out for Yang's coat.

Shunk.

They both cringed violently. Blake's teeth clacked together as Yang bumped into her, the blonde stepping back hastily. Blake's blood chilled in her veins. To her ears, at least, it sounded like meat being butchered on a table. She almost yelped when she felt Yang grip her wrist, back turned to her.

Shunk. It sounded again, and they both started to back towards the door they'd entered through. Something metallic grinding against another metal surface. Something heavy and wet thudding noisily as it fell. Suddenly, Blake found she could smell blood. An awful lot of blood, the air so thick with its scent she wasn't even sure it was real. She did know that she had to get out of here. She needed to leave.

Whatever this was, she knew it was the kind of trouble she didn't want to wind up in. She pulled out of Yang's grip and instead grabbed the blonde's hand, starting to pull her towards the door with haste.

Blake reached the door, felt her hand touch its surface. She fumbled frantically for the handle.

Were those footsteps? Why was the smell of blood so strong?

"B-Blake, come on!" Yang whispered harshly. She sounded frantic, aggressive. She knew that, if it was fight or flight, Yang would most likely fight. Blake balked at the thought. Gods, what were they doing here?

There! Blake nearly shouted in relief as her hand finally found a hemp rope attached to the middle of the door for pulling. She yanked it as hard as she could with one hand and succeeding only in pulling herself, her head connecting with the flat surface with a sharp crack. She blinked, dizzy, letting Yang know what happened with a painful groan.

Dully she wondered at the door being locked, her frenzied panic subdued by her daze. Yang cursed, her words not really sounding like anything understandable to Blake. She leaned into the door, weakly pulling on the rope. The door rattled.

Shunk.

Blake let herself get pushed out of the way by Yang. There came a frighteningly loud crack, like splintering wood. Blake blinked furiously, trying to clear her head enough. There was something down here, blood. They were trapped. The door had been locked.

Her panic and frenzy climbed to the forefront of her senses and Blake let out a frightened, wordless shout.

A new hole in the center of the door where there had not been one before now let in fire light. Blake backed away, shielding her eyes that were no longer used to brightness against it. "Blake, come on! We should go!" Yang snapped. She was no longer whispering.

Those were footsteps. They were close.

Blake whirled around, snarling and whipping her dagger out from her coat. It whistled through the air, edge positioned for slashing anything close by.

It flew from her hand a moment later, blade glinting off the light it caught through the door hole. Blake's eyes watered as sharp, cold needle-like pain flared up her hand to her elbow, feeling the sensation in those fingers turn numb. She gasped, pulling her arm back tight to her chest. She could feel wetness from her wrist.

Behind her came a loud, splintering crash as Yang hauled the door open, nearly pulling it off its hinges. Blake was backing away, thinking she might already be dead in a few seconds, when she was suddenly being lurched towards the door. She stumbled over her feet and fell backwards, hitting her head off the ground.

She heard Yang's shout of struggle, felt her pulling on her good arm, but Blake couldn't move as her vision fluttered between blurry to black. Her head was a circus of pain and her arm felt like dead weight on her side. Light flooded the room through the door, and Blake thought she caught sight of something yellow struggling with another mass of color. Then glass shattered and the light went out, followed by the sound of rushing footsteps on stairs.

Blake teetered between being conscious and unconscious for only a moment longer before she succumbed.

Apologies that this comes a day late! Some other things came up! I hope this finds everyone in good spirits and I just want to wish everyone a happy holidays!