Chapter 34
The nun, upon seeing his heroic actions and wherewithal, had knelt down in front of him, and earnestly took his hands in hers.
"What is your name?" she asked, "to name an orphanage after," she clarified.
And, gladly, Mr. S gave it. I mean, who, if not him, deserved to have an orphanage named after him.
And, upon hearing it, the nun's expression immediately went cold.
"Oh…" she said, with a disappointed tone that said he probably wasn't going to be getting the Jacques Schnee orphanage off the ground any time soon.
Apparently, she hadn't recognized him at first, what with all the rain and the slightly darker clothes he was wearing.
Then, of course, Winter floated down from on high, riding an ice tornado and keeping the rain off of herself with wind gusts.
The nun promptly took this moment to leave the awkward situation, shepherding along her line of orphans along ahead of her.
Winter, in her own due, sheperded Mr. S and his security team up to the manor.
The air-lift, as it had gone, was nowhere to be seen.
And everything that had happened before seemed to exist in a past time, devoid of any personality.
As Mr. S walked through the abandoned streets and trudged through the silent city, he quickly felt his spirits begin to fall.
The rain hadn't stopped, it hadn't even slowed.
Schwarz was ecstatic that he wasn't dead. And, he guessed he was happy with the outcome, too. But, for whatever reason, his heart was too sick and bitter to take any enjoyment in the matter. Honestly, the further he seemed to get from the alley, the more scared he seemed to grow. By the time he'd reached the edge of the plain, grassy lawn that demarcated the edge of the Schnee Manor property, Mr. S was all too glad to get out of the city; every dark alley and random noise that he'd passed there had set his heart thundering and his whole attention twitching to the source of his troubles. By the time he'd gone halfway onto the grass park, which was now empty of protesters due to the recent excitement, it was all he could do to keep the shaking in his hands from becoming apparent.
As the highs from his recent activity wore off, the world seemed stark and depth-less as he looked around it with uncoordinated motions.
By now, his eyes were blinking unnaturally, and he and his group were silently cresting the gradual hill that supported the Schnee Manor, and which stood shining against the dark background that the rainy sky presented. The outer walls and their white facade, recently clear of the police tents, were flashing every so often, in time with the lightning strikes who's thunder Mr. S failed to hear.
Linked atop the palisades, several, heavy turrets stood watch like mechanical sentries, uncaring of the rain or of anything of the outside world except potential targets. Suddenly, all in unison, several of the forward turrets swived to face a point several dozen yards behind Mr. S who, shaken by the motion and the sudden onset of a heart attack, turned rapidly to face whatever it was they were pointing towards.
There, behind the sudden wall of security that formed to stop them, team RWBY stood, silent and sulking in the rain.
Yang stood a bit off behind them, staying a respectful distance away.
Mr. S, comforted by the harsh assurance of the turrets, as well as the ignominious retreat of his would-be killers, and the comforting presence of the Winter Maiden, allowed them to step closer. Though, not too much closer.
Team RWBY complied, presenting Weiss, who stood at the head of them, as their formal ambassador.
She looked up at him with a still figure, hands held at her sides as if chained there, and flashing intermittently white, in time with the lighting walls of the castle behind.
"Father," she said, deftly keeping all emotion from her voice
Ok, he could play this game.
"Weiss," he nodded pointedly at the girl, unable to raise his hoarse voice above a soft whisper.
Through the motion of his head, he discovered, at least a little bit, how harrowing a look he presented -matching well, his beaten voice. At the very, lower edge of his vision, his dark jacket was torn and unstuffed, caked in mud and soaked in ice. His pants, especially the lower legs, were in worse condition, showing through to his darkened socks at some points. He really didn't mind the look much, it was representative of the shattering weakness that prevailed his body, at all those same points.
At points, across his shoulders, soft stains hinted at the impact of bloody flesh against his darkened clothes. He wasn't sure he wanted to remember how he got those. And he quickly turned his thoughts away from the events of the past few hours, unable to bear the honestly terrifying paranoid that turned every expression into a grimace and made his emotions counterplay against him. It… felt childish that being scared could honestly have this much of an effect on him. He'd thought, earlier, during the fight, that he'd proven himself as a man and showed the requisite bravery. But, he hadn't been brave then, he now saw. He'd just been in shock. And, now, as the shock wore off and his genler aspects revealed themselves, Mr. S felt completely and utterly terrified. The back of his mind rang constantly with alarm bells. He felt sure that he was just moments away from dying, that if he didn't dodge to the left right this instant a sniper bullet - or a person moving just as quickly - would paste his body and bring on the darkness.
And this fear was painful, painful, painful. This was worse pain than he'd experienced in a long time. This was the pain he'd experienced as a child that made him want to blubber into tears.
He'd thought himself immune to fear once he'd grown up. But now he understood he just hadn't been put through enough of it. A soft… rumbling thunder sounded in the distance. Barely loud enough to even have caught his attention, and he sparked his attention to it, staring pointedly at the fixed spot that had originated it, and holding, frozen, before he turned his attention back to Weiss.
Weiss, in contrast, shining in her grey borleo, and only very recently succumbing to the wetness of the rain, merely returned the nod, showing nothing in her expression, as she said: "We… wish to stay at the Schnee Manor."
"Why?" he asked, impatient.
"We… thought Adam was the only danger. And we're worried they might attack us if we're not somewhere safe."
A confusing mix of emotions warred in his heart for prominence as Mr. S took in the request. It was anger that won out, however; for, during the darker points of his meditative musings as he came up here, as he stared across to every horizon, wondering where Raven might have gone, he started to develop very bitter feelings towards the girls.
The selfish, ungrateful, rude, murderusly incompetent, angry girls who'd put him through this, and come back in fresh pressed clothes asking for passage back into his castle.
He recounted to himself, running a survey of every great trouble he'd faced since he arrived here, and all of them, in some regard, involved Weiss and her friends. These were forgivable. What was not, was how they'd obviously lied about their relationship to Raven.
At this, a number of exclamations came to mind to Mr. S to stay.
However, his naturally gentler nature revealed itself when he settled for asking: "and, which one of you was responsible for Raven's recent arrival?"
"I was," Weiss said, boldly stepping forward, though not managing to hide the overlapping note of assent Yang had presented, setting herself apart as the culprit.
Mr. S ignored Weiss and turned to Yang, speaking with a hollow voice that, unconsciously, filled itself with hateful emotion until it was brimming with wrath. "You," he said, pointing at her. "Leave. Now. Get out of my house; get out of this city; get out of my life, before I have you arrested for conspiring with terrorists."
His last sentence had gotten away from him he realized, as his eyes blinked and his shaking fists tightened against the flashing memories that hounded at him.
Noticing this, he returned his voice to it's previous cool, he turned to the rest of them with an inexpressive look. "The rest of you may stay."
Yang, foregoing her usual bravado, and overflowing with guilt, nearly bowed with nods and assents as she muttered her hurried apologies.
Weiss, however, stood in her way, standing protectively over the taller girl as she faced Mr. S.
"Didn't you hear me!" Weiss yelled. "I'm the one who lied!"
"It takes four to lie," Mr. S responded, pausing in his turn so that she was to his side.
"How can you do this?" Weiss yelled, keeping his attention spared. "I just told you she could be in danger!"
"Well, perhaps she should have thought of that before lying to me," Mr. S said cooly. "And perhaps you should have thought about it, too, before she lead an army of assassins to my door."
Weiss found herself sputtering. She recalled a nostalgic feeling to every argument she'd ever had with her father.
"She didn't lie to you!" Weiss remanded. "I did! I made her lie, ok? If anyone should be kicked out, it's me! Just let the rest of the stay."
"I'm not kicking her out for petty vengeance, Weiss. I'm kicking her out because she's a security threat. If I really felt like blaming people, you'd all be talking about this in a cell." Mr. S said this, feeling a superior tone of voice coming to him, and earnestly believing these to be his true feelings, despite the natural contradictions they presented when compared to his earlier, clearly presented, sentiments about these, "ungrateful" girls.
"Well…" Weiss paused, drowning in the rain and drowning in her words, "...no! No! You can't do this! I won't let you!" She stamped her feet, and waved her arms, feeling such a loss of control that she was sure the earth had fallen out from underneath her.
Mr. S surprised himself: as his anger spiked higher, his face seemed to grow calmer. He could feel that character overtaking him, again. Perhaps this was natural, he'd never been this angry before, not at anyone he could see. Here they'd almost killed him, and here she was yelling like a child and blaming him.
Everyone's been blaming him, recently. Mr. S thought darkly. Unbeknownst to him, the rage and anger and complete dispassion the world had shown to him… to Mr. Schnee… had affected him somewhat. He'd done everything with honor, and everyone hated him! Everyone!
The worst part of it, was how this list didn't exclude the people directly profiting from his ventures.
Oh, he knew they weren't actually mad at him. He knew they only really had these feelings about Mr. Schnee, with whom they'd had long histories. But, feelings can overtake reason. And he could hardly stand how even the most evil, selfish, and thoughtless people who he had reason to meet throughout his day, even those directly dependent on him, whenever they met him… looked down on him.
They all looked down on him, down their noses, like they were better.
Oh, you're the richest man in the world. And I want you to help me. But, I'm still a good person, they seemed to say. And, even if I'm not a good person, I'm still entitled to look at you with contempt because I'm not "Mr. Schnee".
It was senseless, but, it was… a travesty, every time, to be so rejected by people.
And, this all came bubbling up now. And he could see that same expression in Weiss's face.
Well, he couldn't see that expression, actually. He was lying to himself, but it felt as if he should. He'd seen that expression in so many faces over the days he'd spent here. From business partners, to competitors, to the council. It felt as if he should be seeing it now, with the one person who was actually entitled to show him it. He'd spent so long accepting the blame for someone else's deeds, most of it unfounded, that, in his recent, shaky, state, he couldn't stand to accept the blame for something he actually was responsible for.
Oh, he knew Weiss had a decades long history. He knew this was the culminating chapter in a long relationship he'd, just that morning, promised himself that he wouldn't meddle in.
But, right now, he didn't care. And all he could feel was the building anger. And, as his anger rose and rose and rose, his face only grew colder.
Weiss, nearly flinched as she saw it, almost jumping back from him despite his soft tones.
"Be reasonable, Weiss," he implored. "She's a danger to you, as well. She's a danger to all of your friends. I know she doesn't mean to be, but even she'll agree that that's the case. And, you're a danger to her, too, Weiss."
"What-?" Weiss yelled, still unable to muster any of her former poise.
"She's the method by which Raven can reach us, and you're the reason why Raven would even want to use her to reach us. The longer she stays anywhere near a Schnee, Weiss, the longer she stays near you, or me, the more certain an outbreak of violence. That's a danger to everyone involved."
Mr. S was strictly logical, falling into that comfortable suit, and - like a poisoned man cutting off his limb - departed from all of his anger and emotions, as he decided to enact his spite for the girl the best way he knew how: by letting reality run its course.
Weiss was bending under the terrible weight of reality.
"No, no, no." she whispered, her horror picking up momentum.
He was right and she was wrong. That much was certain. She'd nearly gotten him killed and he was allowing her to limp home with three of her friends. He wasn't even asking for an apology! And everything he said made a terrible sort of sense!
But… Weiss could never remember a time when he hadn't made sense.
He'd made perfect sense when he'd decided, "tutoring, will serve you better," and caused her to spend the last several years of her life trapped in the Schnee manor.
He'd never failed in his judgement when he'd told her few, tentative friends that they ought not to visit so much, distracting her, as they were, from her private sessions.
He'd all but cornered her with logic when he'd made her agree that, "Atlas Academy" was the only academy. And, even as she ground under his control, she'd been forced to admit to herself, that he was right.
All her life, he'd never stopped making sense, he'd never failed in his calculations, and she hated her life more than anyone she knew!
"You… you don't know that!" she yelled desperately. "They might be after Yang, too!"
"If they were, she would've been the first one they attacked. Raven's portals are always closest to her, after all."
"They won't attack if she's in the castle!" Weiss promised. "We'll make her stay there!"
"Is that why they felt brave enough to send two armed figures into my office?" Mr. S spoke in an even voice, in contrast to Weiss's wavering cries.
Tears were coming to Weiss's eyes now, and her breaths were coming in short bursts. Her hands were hooked behind her head and she'd fallen onto her knees in the mud, crouching low before him.
"Please," she said, tearful sobs coloring her voice.
Even as she fought herself, however, she knew how terribly she'd lost this battle, and how unsparingly the rest of her life would unfurl. This was how it always unfurled, whenever her father was involved.
Because, of course, Yang wouldn't be the end of it.
Even now Weiss foresaw how it would make sense for Ruby to go as well: why take such a massive risk as the death of thousands, if she had even a minute chance of relating to Raven? Not to mention, Ruby wouldn't be one to leave Yang by herself.
And why would Blake even want to stay with her, the old Weiss, who lied and manipulated and injured just to get her way, and couldn't even succeed in doing that?
Of course it wouldn't be anything dramatic, but, under the strain and loneliness of the house, they'd grow apart. Blake would resent her for making her lose her friends, for forcing her to live in a household filled with Schnee just for her sake, for making her lie until they got into that position. And Weiss… Weiss shuddered to imagine the kind of person she would become once she was in that position again.
And, there, Weiss saw it all unraveling, from the single thread of Yang's departure.
"I… I'm sorry!" she said, leaning on her arms, which were driven into the mud, and gritting her teeth, directing the statement at no one in particular.
Mr. S's expression was cruel and uncaring.
It wasn't a malicious cruelty, or even a self-congratulatory one, but rather the one that adorned the face of every person who, convinced that they have done everything required of them, retired peacefully into an uncaring repose - that would allow them to overlook even the most heart wrenching scenes of suffering with little effect.
"Get up, Weiss," Mr. S said. "Let's go home."
And never had three words sounded so terrible to Weiss as she huddled herself in the rain.
Suddenly however, a soft hand came onto Weiss's shoulder, and a gentle reminder of her past came flooding back up to her.
"There's another way, you don't see," the words pulled themselves from her in a whisper. They were old, and half forgotten, and were the central thesis upon which she'd built her courage when, for the first time, she abandoned her Father's reason and went to Beacon, and met Blake.
Looking up, it was Blake's hand; and it was Blake's kindly face that looked down at her with firm determination.
And, with that backing her, Weiss found it a little easier to gather the courage necessary, this time.
"No," she said softly.
"What?" Mr. S asked, sounding more offended than his rational mind told him he should.
"I said no," Weiss said. "I'm not going to be staying here without Yang!"
Here, she made a turn to move, starting to walk away.
"Wait!" Mr. S said, "are you insane!"
"Maybe!" Weiss whipped back around to face him with a rain-streaked face. "I won't be sad to leave this place, though!"
"So, you really want to keep her here?"
"I want her to stay with me!"
"Then we'll set up accommodations for her in one of the auxiliary palaces!"
"Those aren't as safe!" Weiss yelled, anger growing.
"They're enough. And I shouldn't have to remind you, you're on a rather short bargaining position."
"No! She stays in the main palace, with me!" Weiss pressed.
"That's impossible, and you know it!" Mr. S was yelling fully now, anger commanding. Why was he so angry? He'd been calm a moment ago, he told himself. "She'll stay in the auxiliary palace, or she doesn't stay at all!" Mr. S's fist shook again with a hard rage.
And Weiss, despite her bravado, felt herself pressing needily back against Blake's supporting hand.
"Fine!" she relented at last. "She'll stay in the auxiliary palace. But I'm staying there with her!"
'Those aren't as safe!' Mr. S almost yelled but then stopped himself.
Weiss, through her saness, was smiling triumphantly at him, now. It seemed she'd gotten the better of his logic, after all.
And, Mr. S's, grip suddenly loosened. And he said something that truly surprised the heiress.
"Fine!" he spat, "go."
His anger was directed more at the slight of losing an argument than at any real stakes he had in the conversation. He wasn't sure why he ever cared in the first place. He hardly knew the girl!
"Leave this city, and a good day to you," he bowed lightly, taking some satisfaction in Weiss's worried looks, and began to walk away.
Weiss was frozen with shock. She surprised herself with her surprise. Why was she surprised? This is father she was talking about. This was something he'd do, right? It was strange, how out of character this felt… she'd been less surprised when he'd accepted her and Blake's relationship.
"Let's go, Weiss," Winter stepped forward, speaking evenly and leaving the guard that surrounded Mr. S. "I'll escort you to the port."
Mr. S hardly noticed the notable departure.
Still, as he walked, the voice of his better angel came to haunt him.
You're condemning a young girl to her death, it whispered.
I almost died! Mr. S shot back. Besides, I afforded her every opportunity, I have no guilt in this.
You're condemning a young girl to her death, the words came again. And the words were terrible.
Death?
Well… what about my death? Mr. S reasoned. They're probably not after any of them, anyway. Yeah, nintey nine percent, they were only after him. Why would they leave that Yang girl, otherwise. He was nintey nine percent sure that was the case. Hating how he couldn't allow himself to admit the last one percent as a casualty to reason.
You're condemning a young girl to her death.
How ageist of you. What does her youth have to do with anything? Mr. S's thoughts came, frantic, now, and he was treading upon them with little care. Besides, he thought, I just saved a literal orphanage. I'm sure that gets you a pass.
You're condemning a young girl to her death.
...Shut up! He yelled, feeling true anguish that superseded his fear. Oh, how the painful fear of a few moments ago seemed respiteful, now that he'd thrown himself into doing this.
You're condemning a young girl to her death. Do you really want to be a man that does that?
No! I just… what am I supposed to do! I'm going to die!
You're condemning a young girl to her death. And you're playing the part of her father.
And then, flashing painfully through his memory, the second, searing voice came:
But, he restrained himself, looking at the man encased in a dungeon of stone and asking: "When I go out there, is there anything you want me to do?"
"Weiss," he said, "my youngest daughter. She will hate you… me. Do not think this is something that can be fixed with words, or fixed at all, she… she is hurt, because of what I've done to the family name, and she despises that I've disowned her from it- for her safety!" he said, preempting Mr. S's rebukes.
Mister Schnee sighed, regaining his train of thought as he continued. "She hates me for what she sees as besmirching the family name, and she will continue hating you unless you can meet her impossible standards.
"She's an idealist," he said wearily, "despite my best efforts."
"Why tell me this now?" Mr. S asked.
"Because that idealism and her opinion of me will make her… difficult." Again, he saw the need to preempt Mr. S. "-Whatever you may think of me, or of her," he said, with a quickly peaking tone, "you must promise that you will think of her. You must think above all of Whitley and of all my daughters; before the company, before the city, before your life." This, he said without flourish or decoration, stating it as simply as if it were fact.
"Look," Mr. S said with an appeasing, exhorting quality to his voice, "I wouldn't just-"
"Promise me," Mister Schnee demanded. "Promise me, as one father to another."
The sudden, recalcitrant shock of the request was enough to wake the man, and before he could even measure his words, Mr. S found himself speaking.
"I promise," he said, meaningfully as the stone creeped over an invisible border around the man's neck, and with a tripped, blinding flash struck forth, leaving Mr. S staring, bewildered at the dignified, stone countenance of Mister Schnee.
Mr. S stopped in his tracks, shameful tears running down his cheeks, lost in the rain.
His security team nearly bumped into the back of him, and he froze, unheeding of the gathering stares that were being drawn onto him,
You're a demon with words, Schnee.
Mr. S was taken by a character of the promise he hadn't noticed when he first made it, confused and flustered as he'd been, then. Mr. Schnee had made him promise, "as one father to another", and the memory of her was hot enough to hurt!
"Wait!" he yelled, his pained voice carrying over the now quickly dissipating rain.
By the time Weiss had turned to face him, the rain was completely gone, though the world was still in the shadow of rain clouds.
Mr. S, in his turn, also turned to face her, unable to bear the tension of opening his eyes, for his heart still burned with false images of…
He took a deep breath, steadying himself, and then opened his eyes, the effort of it taking something fundamental out of him, as he soon collapsed, falling back into a sitting crouch. He landed roughly on the dirt, one arm resting on a raised knee, and revealing further to himself the haggar state of his clothes and of his body.
His security team fussed over him, but he made no show of noticing them, keeping his cold, blue eyes focused squarely on Weiss.
"Ok," he admitted with a weary smile, letting the tiredness show in his eyes, "you win."
"What?" Weiss said, perplexed. "What did I win?" a suspicious tone coloring her voice.
"I'm saying you've won our little game. I have to give up. You can stay."
Weill, still, was no less confused, to go by the askant blinking that overtook her eyelids. "And, Yang, too?" she asked.
"I'm admitting," Mr. S started after a deep breath, "that I… can't allow myself to kick you out of the castle while monsters like…that… are out for our blood."
"Why are you telling me this?" Weiss said, still guarded and suspicious.
"Because I'm hoping that I can trust you to be reasonable. And, I want to know: if we allow your friend to stay, what compromises are you willing to agree to, so that this never happens again?"
Weiss, with an almost dreamlike expression, nodded. "Anything."
Mr. S looked up at Schwarz. "And, can you devise any method that can keep her stay here… somewhat safe?"
"Yes," Schwarz said, ornamenting her answer with all the uncertainty that could be expected of her.
"Then, I believe we have an agreement," Mr. S said, feeling his voice come out like dead wood, and feeling himself grow lethargic, as if his body were taking root in the wet soil.
The agreement was yet to be finalized, but all could agree that - until more permanent measures could be set up - temporary solutions would be necessity.
As part of the temporary agreement, Yang had to stay in the small, 11th century, hovel that stood, squared away, in the far corner of the outer gardens.
There, she'd been outfitted with a portable space heater, a line in the grass she wasn't allowed to cross, and two walls worth of turrets pointing at the space surrounding her humble abode.
With great difficulty, Weiss had managed to bargain Schwarz down from having the turrets point directly at the girl.
Ruby hugged Yang, jumping stepped back over the line as she ended the hug.
"We're really going to miss you, Yang," Ruby said, with a sadness tinging her melancholy.
"Jeez," Yang laughed, you make it sound like I'm dying. "I'm still going to be here, you know!"
"You know…" Ruby started, looking at the mud walled hut, the rattling space heater, and the water soaked interior Yang would be staying in, "I can say and keep you company overnight, if you like?"
"Oh, you don't have to do that!" Yang said, appreciatively.
"Ok," Ruby responded, just a bit too quickly.
"Yeah…" Yang replied, slightly less appreciatively. "You can go now."
And they went, and Yang remembered that she forgot to ask for a scroll charger, and she saw that her scroll was at five percent.
"Aw man!" What had she ever done to deserve this?
Mr. S, having managed to end his most recent argument under vaguely good terms, felt once again like a light soul.
And, really, he felt good that he hadn't kicked the girl out. Even if the memory hadn't pushed him over, he dreaded to think how he'd sleep if the girl actually left. Not to mention if something happened to her while she was out…
Mr. S shook the thought away, feeling more at ease now that he was in the strangely cosy interior of the Schnee Manor. The servants were all exceedingly kind, and all stopped to stand aside and nod in acknowledgement of him when he passed.
At first, he thought it might have been pity of the: oh, you almost died sort.
But, upon looking closer, he saw something quite different gleaming in their eyes. Pride.
Servants, in Atlas, considered themselves as much a part of the house as the heads, if not more so. See, the earlier, disastrously inept coup attempt by the head staff once the Blake situation had been absorbed. They were often parts of a house for generations, with long histories of service and pride bolstering their confidence.
And, much as Mr. S was a stranger to it, he was appreciative, and noted that, of everyone in remnant, the Schnee house servants were the only people who ever looked at him with anything resembling understanding. Without any of that "at least I'm not you," nonsense.
Today, however, they were looking at him with pride and great awe. After all, he was the head of the house, and he'd just come back, victorious, from battle. For, not only had he survived, greatly outnumbered, against some of the top hunters in the world. He'd even single handedly, defeated two of them in single combat, despite the fact that one of them was carrying the power of the fall maiden. And, he'd performed this feat with great cunning and wisdom, the stories and rumors told. He'd, cunningly, lured his enemies into the dust palace crater, which was filled with half frozen water, and there… he'd unleashed his mighty semblance, shaking the earth with his power, and dominating the atmosphere with his.. Wisdom!
Not to mention, he was also a Knight! Saving those orphans with his superhuman deductive powers, and sparing their lives despite the great risk he took in letting his attempted killers escape.
And, oh, yes, as head of the house, his pride was his servants pride, as well. And what did servants do, in their free time, when interacting with the people of another house, except get into "well… my lord can beat up your lord!" arguments. Well, the schnee house stood with calm, those arguments would be a thing of the past. Because now it was obvious, which lord of Atlas actually maintained his hunting prowess despite his very sedentary schedule.
They all shouted this, as they lined the walls, and crept around the corners to catch a glimpse of him.
And, Mr. S was loving it!
He walked in just the right way, slumping slightly to show his exhaustion, but no so much that he failed to look badass. And his clothes! He was glad to have work the slightly darker outfit, at it looked charred and damaged, testament to the epic battles he'd surely fought. And his hands were covered in mud, showing how he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, and not at all the long moments he spent ducking against the ground!
This was the greatest!
The doctor came running, bowing, mid stride as she came, breathless to catch him. In her hand was a white, plastic suitcase with blue markings.
She took a moment to catch her breath.
"Are you ok?" she asked, worried. "I need to perform a checku-"
"No need," Mr. S said, interrupting her with a raised hand. "I'm unharmed. Just… let everyone know I'm not to be disturbed. I'd like to rest." He said this was very, very casual tone, letting slip, casually, that fightly like this were basically no big deal, really. He barely even cared. He was just that casual about this kind of stuff.
At the same time, he let slip that he was tired. Revealing, by doing so, a more vulnerable, human side that allowed people to relate while, at the same time, not being too vulnerable. The doctor would, of course, only nod in a familiar manner, chiding under her breath about how hunters never look after themselves enough.
The doctor instead said: "Shut up and take this thermometer!" stuffing the glass tube into his mouth and taking him roughly by the arm to her work station.
Doctors, it turned out, could get quite huffy when someone told them how to do their job.
And, Mr. S sat grouchily in the hospital bed, scowling at how the doctor had ruined his moment, and turned him into an ER patient with numerous tubes sticking from his body, as a portable X ray on a robotic arm waved over him.
"Well, Mr. Schnee, It seems you're fine," the doctor said, smiling as she went over her personal checklist.
I could've told you that, Mr. S thought.
"Ok, all we need to do now is the aura check and you'll be good to go. Just, make sure you come back if you notice any symptoms" the doctor said, holding up her scroll.
"Uh, that won't be necessary," Mr. S said, raising his hand and gently pushing the contraption away.
"Uh, what?"
"That won't be necessary." Mr. S said, adamant.
"But it'll only take a second," the doctor began, bewildered.
"Yes, but it's unnecessary. I mean, what exactly will you learn from doing that aura scan? That I have aura? You already know that!" Mr. S began, rapidly sitting up and pulling at the various tubes and patches that covered his chest.
This, atleast, managed to get the doctor to put away her scroll as she hurried over to keep him from touching any of the bloodlines, and worked to remove them herself with her far more expert hands.
"But really, Mr. Schnee, it's just due procedu-"
"See, that's why I'm opposed to it." Mr. S began. "The moment someone invented aura detectors, people knew that they had to have them in hospitals because they were new. And then people kept using them because they were in hospitals. They're pointless! They only tell you something everyone knows!"
"Well," the doctor said, slightly affronted, "they can tell you the level of aura."
"So can the person you're treating!" Mr. S said, himself sounding insulted. "Not to mention, so what if someone has low aura? All you'd tell them to do is rest, something they're going to do anyway!"
"Well-" the doctor began.
"I'm opposed to them on principle. They're an unnecessary waste," Mr. S crossed his arms. "I don't care if they only take a second, I don't want them done, as they represent everything that's wrong with modern medicine - doctors just racking up costs with pointless tests."
"Hu-" the doctor started to puff up, looking really affronted.
"And I'm not blaming you, because you work on salary here, so don't get to offended. All I'm saying is that I never want anyone to perform an aura test on me, ever again, no matter the circumstance. And put that request on my medical file, so every doctor can see."
"Fine," the doctor relented, rolling her eyes and bobbing her head in such a way that it caused her springly, brown hair to bounce in the arcs it formed either side of her chin. "Not like most doctors do those tests in an emergency anyway, they are pointless," she muttered under her breath as she went over to the computer and updated Mr. Schnee's medical file.
Schwarz had been waiting outside of the office for Mr. S, seeming a lot more… attached, than usual.
He didn't really mind, however. He didn't mind anyone, really. The house staff was great, even the doctor had only been doing her job, and, most importantly at all, with Adam gone, he wasn't under threat of starving anymore.
Small Blessings, remember?
"Schwarz?" he said, feeling a faintly jolly attitude coming to him. "Where do you think we should eat out tomorrow? I'm feeling…" he consulted his algorithm chart, "Atlesian," he said at last.
"Well, we certainly won't be eating there unless they do deliveries, Sir," Schwarz said, "we're on lockdown."
"What?" Mr. S said, breathless.
"Well, there was just a recent attack, Sir."
"But, we have the Yang situation under control, don't we?" Mr. S asked. "In fact, it might even be safer outside the castle, considering."
"Well, yes, but we can't be sure that Raven didn't leave any enemy agents in the city before she retreated. We'll need to perform a thorough search of the entire surrounding area before we can allow anyone under a protected status to leave this castle, sir."
"And, how long will the search take?' Mr. S said, a dreadful feeling growing in his stomach.
"Oh, about two weeks," Schwarz said.
"Hmm, see? I told you so! I told you he had a heart! See?" Ruby said.
Well, ok, Ruby didn't actually say that, but she certainly looked like a very smug bunny, shooting longing glances over at Weiss as they walked through the main lobby to their rooms.
"Stop looking at me like that!" Weiss, finally, acknowledged to Ruby.
"Looking at you like what?" Ruby asked, with a perplexed tone of voice.
"Like you know anything about my father!" Weiss answered.
"But he really seems like he cares about you! And he even accepts you and Blake!"
Weiss scoffed. "Look, he may be many things. And I'll admit I'm wrong about some of them. But my father," she stressed, "is anything but a fan of our relationship." Weiss held Blakes hand in mutual solidarity. "He only pretended to accept us as a joke, if you'll recall. If you can even call what he did a joke. And I'm sure his feelings don't elate anywhere beyond 'tolerance'."
"Aw but he let you stay…" Ruby drooped.
"Yeah, and I said he tolerated us. That's different from acceptance."
"Aw come on," Ruby jabbed several light elbows into Weiss's side. "I really think he might be turning around. And even I know you've got to be patient."
"Yeah, maybe you're right…" Weiss said, for the first time a hint of relention coming to her voice. This… smaller act of kindness was more believable, in a way, then his earlier extravigancies of "acceptance."
"You know I'm right," Ruby smiled. "I mean, you can't just expect him to turn into a doting mom like Tiyang all of a sudden!"
Here, Ruby, Weiss and even Blake laughed lightly, as they remembered Ruby and Yang's mutual father.
"Yeah…" Weiss said, coming out of her laughter and feeling better in the ensuing silence. She was content now, to stew in it, comfortingly, peacefully, meditativ-
"Weiss!" Mr. S's voice skidded into view from one of the upper railings.
The triplet turned to look up at him.
"Oh, good, you're still here!" Mr. S breathed out, almost huffing his lungs out as he leaned across, supporting himself on the handrail. "I need to ask you something, it's about Blake!"
"What?" Weiss asked with a straight tone.
"Are you two planning on getting married anytime soon?" Mr. S asked, a hopeful note taking his voice.
