If this whole pandemic thing could end last week that would be greeeeeat...
Can't decide if it's a blessing or curse if I'm still working during all of this. Let's call it both. A blurse. Cessing?
Cessing just sounds wrong.
Sleepy ramblings aside, enjoy!
Thirty minutes.
In the half-hour between her arrival and her borderline hysterical reaction to finding an empty town Blake hadn't seen hide nor hair of anyone else. If the residents of Alabaster remained within its walls then none emerged, neither to greet nor confront her. If Vincent and his crew were nearby they made no efforts to signal as much.
They had given her an hour, yes, but an hour it would not take to reach the town. As she continued to remain squat in a dark alleyway, obfuscated by shadow, calves aching from maintaining her position, she considered each explanation. None were good, every option gave cause for concern. Her ears swiveled at the call of a songbird and she strained her senses further, expecting it to be a signal of sorts. Then a small bird flitted from an adjacent rooftop and disappeared behind another, followed shortly thereafter by a second. No signals, no conspiracy, just two birds.
Forty-five minutes.
The ache in her calves had prompted her to stand. The growing anxiousness compelled her to search the town in full. Hesitation kept her stationed where she was, eyes trained firmly on the gate, two orbs of amber nigh unblinking.
Should she attempt a signal of her own? If she ignited the cloth, let the doors go up in flames, then certainly the Hunters would have to respond. If not to enact whatever they had in mind then to save Alabaster, surely. Blake considered the idea, eyes passing between the flint in her hand and the trail of oil-drenched cloth between her and the entrance. Even if it did nothing, she couldn't deny a small perverse pleasure in burning down the town of bigots and fools. They had been pushed to the brink by the White Fang and she could appreciate that, but they hadn't always been under the organization's thumb. Indeed, they had been targeted precisely because of that reason.
Gods… Blake laughed, a raspy, low sound that she strained to keep imperceptible. I've been spending too much time around Yang if I fancy playing with fire.
One hour.
The allotted time had passed, assuming she'd kept track accurately. Still no signs of another person within the town. There was the gentle creak of wooden structures, the give of the wall she leaned against, worn planks flexing even beneath her meager weight. The calls of birds aplenty, their vaguely distinctive, melodic songs clashing with the coiled, tense muscles within.
Blake gave it a bit longer. Five more minutes, then ten, just to see if the Hunters were running late. No one came to the gates. No one called for her. Just as notably however no trap was sprung. No spells or explosives were unleashed. She'd half expected a reenactment of Holbrook's gates, walls and guardhouses blown wide by carts filled with Dust.
Nothing. Not even so much as a single shout.
Had she truly just been paranoid? Something could have easily delayed the Hunters. Surely, they wouldn't have waited so long and given her the chance to question their motives.
As a tumult of conflicting thoughts sloshed about her mind, she allowed herself to step free of the alcove, discarded the flint, and took stock of the immediate area again.
Shuttered, yet not sealed. Desolate, yet clearly not ravaged by battle. The town had been abandoned but it had been with the intention of being returned to. Something was amiss, that much was obvious, and as Blake drew her twin daggers and began to wander down the central road, she felt determined to learn why that was.
The immediate homes and shops provided no useful information just as they had before. Empty, free from signs of struggle. No traces of blood, no scuff marks to suggest a forcible removal. The roads bore cart tracks but that meant little when travelers likely came and went frequently.
In the town's square she was given options. To her immediate right the land rose into gentle hills, homes, shacks, and small storehouses lining the dirt and cobble road. Straight ahead she assumed it was more the same, although in the distance, barely obscured by trees, she could make out a manor; the pale white stone of the house trimmed with darker spruce was much too elegant, too large to be anything but a noble's home. It too appeared abandoned.
Instead of taking either route Blake chose left and followed the road down, past a pen of clucking chickens - they hadn't taken all their animals, further evidence they'd return, and around a carpenter's shop, the tables still blanketed with wood shavings, twisting clouds of dust swirling in the afternoon sun.
Another shop with leather hides hung out back. A third with a freshly slaughtered hog by a spitroast, its corpse besieged by a cloud of flies, its red, still bloodied meat far past the point of being edible now. Blake held back her grimace and continued down the road, passing by a small gathering space, wooden benches arranged in rows before a low stage, with wreaths hanging on posts along the edges. She paid it little more than a passing glance on her way to the bottom of the hill where the ground leveled out and the sound of water rushing could be heard.
Her ears perked up when she caught the telltale squeaking of a wheel churning. The mill! Alabaster was home to foresters and carpenters aplenty - the shop she'd passed had to be but one of many. More importantly however was knowing that there was an alternative means of entering and leaving the town. After all they couldn't possibly carry each fallen tree through so many streets, up and down hills.
As was the case with the rest of the town the mill appeared abandoned. No one moved about its yard where shaven trunks laid, bark and limbs piled apart, brush clumped together near a pair of twin furnaces. Using the stacks as cover she moved point to point, taking time to scout her surroundings before moving along.
Freshly sawn logs filled the air with the scent of sap, the death throes of trees seized by man to suit their needs. Her feet trudged through piles of sawdust and she drew her scarf closer to spare herself inhaling the specks and grumbled as they clung to her trousers and boots, caking them in pale flakes. From the outer lumberyard she moved on to a shack just before the main building and peered inside. A small desk and chair, a shelf of ledgers, lockboxes, and assorted small tools. With nothing of note she moved on, pausing at the entrance to the mill itself, a wide twin-doored entryway not unlike the town's gates, albeit half the size. She shook her head and circled around the building instead, following a pitted road around the building. All the while the wheel churned, squeaking and grating, gears shuddering as teeth ground against each other.
Finding the river used to power the whole operation was easy. Finding the bridge, she sought, a wide, length structure of stone and mortar, just so. Carts lined the interior bank, ready for use yet neglected. Blake reached the bridge, paused, then went to the edges and peered underneath. No one in hiding, no signs of traps. Satisfied, she crossed the bridge with haste and traipsed along the other side, following the road further until the town's walls came into view again.
Blake stopped short, stationary in the middle of the road. Fear spiked, a heat of uncertainty melting ice in her chest and filling her veins with an unpleasant chill. Jaw taut, she stepped back and her head whipped around, eyes darting to and fro in desperate search. Stacks of planks, stumpa of long severed trees. Carts, crates, and barrels.
The gates were wide open.
That couldn't be a mistake. They wouldn't have sealed one set only to leave the others wide open. If there had been any doubt this was a trap then it fled in that instant. Backing away then from the open doors, eyes trained on the road that disappeared into the forest just beyond Alabaster's walls, she prepared magic to flee, just in case.
"Blake!"
Instead of fleeing she froze, fingers tightening around her daggers. "Blake!" The cold fear was pushed aside as fluttering confusion took hold. Dubious, she turned, and her heart leaped, jaw going slack at the sight of Ilia racing through stacks of wood. Before she could respond in any way her friend crashed into her and she took a step back, arms raised in surprise as Ilia's wrapped firmly around her.
"Thank gods I made it in time!"
"Ilia, what are -"
"You have to run!" her friend urged. "Questions later, you have to leave this place. Now!" Fine. Between her initial misgivings and now Ilia's insistence she nodded and let her friend step back, eyes going to the open gates. "Not there," Ilia warned.
Blake frowned and looked to her friend. "Why…?"
"They expect you to come out there!"
They. The Hunters then, right? But why would Ilia know of that? The Church never dealt with the White Fang. Hells, she'd sooner believe Yang had cooperated with Merlot than that. A guilty sense of unease took root and Blake stepped back, narrowing her eyes on Ilia.
"You are Ilia, right?"
"Blake, of course I am! Who else would I be?"
"Illusion magic exists," Blake replied. "Prove it."
Baffled, and just a bit hurt, Ilia drew a hunting knife and ran its edge across her palm. Not only did a spell not break as it should have but she bled, openly and freely. Satisfied, although still baffled, Blake nodded and offered her scarf as temporary bandaging. Ilia declined and wiped her palm across her dirtied trousers. "Come on, we need to go."
Blake took after her as she ran and they raced back along the bridge, climbing the hills away from the lumber yard, back past the shops and homes. When they reached the plaza again Ilia started towards the main gates, paused, then shook her head and moved towards the upper residence again. "This way!"
Two steps. They made it all of two steps before one of the homes suddenly erupted, showering them in wood and dirt. Ilia narrowly avoided the sudden blast and Blake grabbed the back of her friend's shirt to drag her away further, seeking refuge behind the well in the center as debris rained down. Another building went up and electricity crackled, pieces of furniture and wall hitting the ground in charred, smoldering heaps. Her ears rang and Blake clamped her hands over them, lowering herself further and squeezing her eyes shut. Another explosion, another building gone in an instant.
The explosions subsided and their ragged, panicked breathing filled the eerily silent plaza now. Gone were the songs of birds, and shattered was the last vestiges of escaping peacefully. An uneasy look shared between friends, an unspoken vow, and both drew their weapons, Ilia's whip-like sword unfurling and going rigid.
"We're escaping," Blake reassured. "Not fighting. There's four of them."
Ilia nodded and rose, peering over the well. She fell back and shook her head, eyes wide, face ashen. "N-No…"
"Ilia?!"
"Blake… R-Run…"
Slowly, swallowing the lump in her throat, Blake rose to face whatever had frightened her friend. The ice returned in an instant and her breath hitched, stepping back. A lone man in the road strode through the clouds of smoke, red blade glistening, dropping blood along the road.
"Hunters really are pitiful without their magic, aren't they?"
"Blake!" Ilia had risen to her feet and pulled on her arm. Without thinking she reached for her magic to draw them away. Shadow rose, flickered at her feet, then faded. She tried again, and again, drawing up energy that refused to answer her summons.
"They're always so high and mighty, lording their power over others. They think because they can cast spells that they're better than us. And if they're not Faunus?" Adam passed through the smoke and sneered. "Their arrogance makes me sick. Don't you agree, my love?"
Something was thrown their way and Blake felt bile rise in her throat as she stepped back. Rolling to their feet and coming to a stop she stared down at the shocked expression plastered on Vincent's face. Eyes wide, mouth agape, frozen in a mask of pure shock. Her knees shook. Her daggers almost slipped from her fingers, reflex alone keeping them in hand.
"But no more Hunters to get in our way! Only you, me," Adam's gaze drifted to Ilia and he scowled. "And a traitor who will soon join the rest. Tell me something, Ilia. Was it worth it?"
"Run," Ilia urged in a raspy whisper, grabbing Blake's arm and pulling. They scarcely turned when another building erupted in a plume of smoke, glass and stone raining down on the road. Her back hit the wall and Blake searched for an unbarred street, free of ruin. The main gate!
"I have waited so long to see you again, Blake. Enough playing Hunter, it's time you came home where you belong."
Where she belonged. Where I belong. Where were the others? Adam couldn't be alone, could he? Her magic was still out of reach, unattainable. But she and Ilia surely… Right? Her friend's frightened expression softened and she nodded, raising her sword in defiance. Though her arms shook, Blake hefted her daggers and readied for an attack, letting her mind relax and releasing her fitful grasping of magic to focus on the fight.
"I don't belong to you," she whispered.
"What was that?"
"I said I don't belong to you!" Blake shouted back. Ruby had saved her life. Weiss and Yang had become friends. She had come to enjoy their company, and Ilia would too, she was sure. She didn't belong to anyone but herself. "I don't belong to you," she repeated, steeling her body, her nerves ceasing to tremble. "And neither does Ilia. We're leaving."
Adam appeared earnestly disappointed by that. He shook his head, lowered his sword, and started to advance on them. "These Hunters have your mind in a haze, my love. You've been duped. Clearly you forget who your true family is."
"I know exactly who my family is. Tukson Belladonna. Ruby Rose. Weiss Schnee. Yang Xiao Long." She listed them off each in turn and felt a fire growing. Reasons to fight beyond just saving herself. Blake stood a bit taller, smiling bitterly at her tormentor. "And Ilia Amitola. Not you."
"You've chosen them over the White Fang? Over me?!" Adam's speed without magic was terrifying and Blake raised her daggers in the nick of time as his sword clashed, pressed back by his assault. "Look what they've done to you, Blake!"
Ilia's lunge forced Adam back and she stepped closer; weapon held ready. "She's done what we've all been afraid to do, Adam. You're not the leader the White Fang needs, not anymore. And we're leaving," she shouted, giving Blake a fleeting smile. "Together."
"Together…?" Adam laughed, leveling his sword at them. "Together?!" he repeated in a snarl. "This was your idea wasn't it?! Fine, I'll kill you first and deal with her later!"
He redoubled his attack. Blake blocked the blade with her daggers and pushed it down. Ilia rolled over her back and kicked his shoulder, driving Adam back. A thrust just missed his chest. Rapid swipes of a dagger clashed against a crimson blade, throwing sparks. Adam stepped back and screamed.
"Blake…"
"Stay close. We can win."
Adam bolted towards them. Metal crashed against metal. Smoke rose into the sky and Blake's arms trembled under Adam's barrage of blows.
/+/+/+/+/+/
Raven says there's important stuff in that journal. Didn't tell me where of course. Why be direct when you can be a cryptic tart? Weiss ran her hand over the cover of Merlot's spells, turned over the leatherbound book, and scoured its cover for anything out of the ordinary. Says it could help your friends, Roman's voice added. Good luck, kid.
Four hours had passed since Roman arrived with her "belongings". Three had been spent with 'her' aunt catching up on matters Weiss herself knew nothing about. Luckily, Lady Lavender seemed more than willing to eat up whatever farcical answers she had to offer. Doubtless they would crumble under scrutiny, yet the woman seemed content to accept whatever she was given. Weiss sighed, checking the door again, then rising from her desk and going to it, jostling the handle to make certain it was locked.
Finally, alone she settled in at the desk and opened the book. The first pages had ramblings and scrawlings, notes to himself and little of value. Having already familiarized herself with the first ten or so she skipped ahead and began to skim through the pages' contents.
Spells aplenty. Combinations of runes, some Weiss knew, others she couldn't begin to guess at. While the runic system was hardly inexhaustible it was extensive, and she'd barely scraped the surface in her own spellcraft. She recognized the elements, she knew most of the ones used in summoning, a handful for extra effects. "Bolstering spells" as Merlot referred to them as, not unlike augmentation magic used by Remnant's more surly brawler sorts. Enhanced speed, strength, endurance. Useful, yes, but not so much for their current situation.
Merlot used this to cast spells, hadn't he? Weiss was certain that was the case. In their initial encounter he'd flung spells on a whim despite being like her. He hadn't needed to prepare runes to do so despite that being a binding principle of their class of magic. Does the book let him do that? Is there a trick to it? Storing runes?
If there was such a system, she'd never learned it. Sparse as her specialty was, she could hardly consult other rune users on the matter either. Most were Wardens dedicated to maintaining protective barriers, others were doubtless sent afar on missions that required their versatility.
Simply put, it was something that she'd never had a chance to be exposed to before. It made sense however. Traps existed. Runes could be placed, the magic within them stored, to be triggered by motion, or pressure. Surely the same theory could be used to create a spellbook of sorts?
Yet Weiss couldn't draw from the book. Runes inked onto pages reacted not to her will nor her gestures. Her own runes refused to resonate with the book, the pale blue glow of an ice rune fading with a frustrated huff. If that was the purpose of the book then it eluded her. Surely Goodwitch and the others didn't expect her to master a new medium while working to free Ruby and Yang? That was expecting far too much.
So, she moved on. More pages of runes, combinations she didn't recognize, notes on the efficacy of spells, the fatigue they'd incur, variations of said spells. If the man hadn't been such a bastard she'd praise his knowledge. Hells, she was even now.
Twenty pages of spells. Thirty pages. Two-hundred and eight combinations of runes existed to her knowledge. More than two-thirds of those had to be within this book alone! Yet the spells themselves couldn't be the purpose of it being brought to her, right? Surely not. Weiss almost salivated at the cornucopia of knowledge before her but focused on the task at hand, passing over spells and digging further into the contents. Candlelight danced beside her, the small flame flickering, a faint heat radiating from the glass casing. Leaning forward in her chair and resting her head in her hands she stared at passage after passage, tapping her foot against the floor as impatience mounted. She rose from the desk, paced the room, then returned only to find that whatever answer was meant to be provided remained as elusive as ever. Frustrated, she pushed the book away and slumped in her chair, taking to staring at the ceiling instead of confounding pages.
Twenty or so pages remained, doubtless filled with more and more spells. Was a specific one meant to help in their efforts? What could she possibly hope to uncover that would help her defeat half a dozen Wardens? Never mind not knowing a combination of runes, needing to perform them in the heat of battle, but the power itself would be lacking. Her spells lacked the punch of Yang's magic. She had control, yes, but not overwhelming force.
Raw strength isn't always the answer, she chided herself, groaning as she ran her hands down her face. But it certainly would be helpful here.
So, raw strength notwithstanding, what did the journal have to offer? Weiss stared at the spread-open text and narrowed her eyes at the pages. A hidden message? Something between the lines perhaps? If Merlot had ever suspected his capture, then he'd likely had created a cipher of some sort. Something to keep his more intimate secrets concealed.
Weiss knew nothing of ciphers or code. The only man she even considered who may, Oobleck, was several hundred miles north and doubtless occupied with some other trivial tasks. If that was indeed what she was dealing with then she was on her own.
"Gods damn it…" Her hand passed over another page, scrutinizing the runes printed on it - one known as a 'waymark', often used in short-ranged teleportation, or 'blinking' as it was often called. More intricate than any elemental rune, shaped like a rough wagon's wheel whose spokes jutted out past the wheel itself, sharp edges running perpendicular from the ends of the spokes. In theory a simple design but one she was unaccustomed to making and thoroughly useless to her.
As her fingers toyed with the edges of the page a knock gave her pause. A serving girl's voice rang out a second after and with resignation she closed the book, dog-earing the page to revisit later. Finding a drawer in the desk she moved aside documents and stuffed the book to the bottom. Satisfied, she rose from the desk and moved to the door, opening it with an easily put upon mask of annoyance. "What is it? I'm busy."
"Apologies, my lady. The missus wants to see you," the girl replied, bowed at the waste and eyes averted. "She says it's urgent."
"I'm sure…" Weiss grumbled. No doubt some more inane prattling or nonsensical stories about 'their' fellow nobility. "I suppose it can't be helped, can it? Lead the way."
She would much rather stay and continue to search the journal. In truth she would prefer being hogtied to the back of a cart and dragged than endure another mind-numbing conversation with Lady Lavender. Her reluctance must have been plain to see as the young girl offered a small smile of condolence before taking her down the halls.
Perhaps the information Raven insisted she find wasn't a rune? There were shorthand notes, ramblings mostly, and at a glance Weiss hadn't found anything pertinent. Lifting her dress, she followed the serving girl down a twisting flight of stairs, her godsdamned heeled boots clacking against the polished marble steps. An offhand mention of an erring cell of Wardens perhaps? Their goals could have aligned with Merlot's and the pair may have been hesitant allies before the man's death. Would he have recorded information on them? If he had then Weiss doubted it was anywhere within the confines of that text; she'd been provided a spellbook and nothing more. Ozpin had the man's primary journal now. Research notes, logs, recordings of data. Not that Weiss was sure she'd have any use of that either.
From the stairwell they entered one of the few gloomy rooms, devoid of windows or doors. A vestibule just off the main foyer, the space was no less decadently furnished than the rest, with plush chairs against the wall, landscape paintings hung between each, and tables with bouquets of freshly pruned flowers distributed among them. The walls themselves were a ghastly cream color with gold trim, a combination Weiss felt was abhorrish but clearly the lady of the estate did not. Footfalls deafened by an orange carpet they proceeded through the room apace, pausing and stepping aside as the far door opened.
Weiss' jaw fell and she quickly composed herself before anyone noticed, hands folding at her waist as she tried to stare straight ahead.
"I told you a million times I am not to be disturbed while in the study!"
"My apologies, sir, but the lady insisted I make certain all of our guests are -"
"I am working here you imbecile," Watts snapped. The butler, Wallace, bowed his head in apology and remained silent. "And now you insist that she has something more pressing than my work? Absurd. Ridiculous."
Why was he here? Weiss lifted her eyes and followed Watts as her hands wrung together, nerves bubbling to the surface. Watts' presence here meant one of two things; the Church knew full well what was happening, or he was operating right under Ozpin's nose. Neither sat well with her. Looking every part as skittish as the serving girl beside her she wanted to disappear when Watts finally noticed them. At first he appraised them with something akin to disdain, like he'd come across a rodent scampering around in his chambers. The butler whispered something to him and for a moment he appeared surprised, then bemused, approaching them and extending a hand.
"Ah, so you are the infamous niece I have heard so much about." Her hand in his own he leaned down and kissed the knuckle, sending an unpleasant shudder down her spine. "Charmed. And terribly sorry you had to see that. I tend to be quite passionate about my work."
"I…" Weiss swallowed and shook her head. "It's fine, good sir. Father is the same way, keener to work than play whatever games my aunt has in mind."
"Your father is a wise man then. But alas, I am a guest, after a sense, and I am beholden to this woman's farcical whims." If she were the actual Caroline, she might have felt indignant by Watts' assessment. True as it was however Weiss nodded along, albeit hesitantly. "While I might be inclined to speak further, I'm afraid I do need to be on my way. If you'll excuse me…"
"Actually sir, the young lady has been summoned as well. I dare say this is an opportunistic meeting." Wallace smiled apologetically at her. "If I may, perhaps we should venture there together? Evelyn, you're free to return to your duties, I'll handle matters from here."
The young girl nodded and bowed to Weiss, then Watts, kicking up her gown and making a slow stroll from them. Only once the doors leaving the room shut did she hear the girl's pace pick up, no doubt racing off and glad to be free from them.
"I suppose it can't be helped. Very well." Watts smiled at her and offered an arm. Repulsed, but not knowing any way out, Weiss slipped hers through it and fell in line beside the lanky man. "Perhaps you'll act as a buffer between me and your aunt."
"Using me as a shield?" Weiss arched a brow in mild amusement. "I thought Hunters were supposed to be brave."
"We are, although I myself am not a Hunter, dear lady. I wouldn't think of myself as something so pedestrian."
What then? Weiss' eyes searched the skin just above Watts' collar. She could see the markings, but most were obscured by his linen shirt, the dark blue material harsh against his otherwise paler complexion. What little she could see resembled more a Warden's mark than a Hunter's, yet clearly different. No ring containing runes, no familiar base symbol, the crossed hatchets that symbolized them as a Valean Hunter. Weiss strained to make out more and her face flushed as Watts noticed her staring.
"Something amiss, young lady?"
"I… You're… Quite… Handsome…?"
Smooth. Great cover, Weiss…
Edos had enough mercy to keep Watts from laughing at the sudden, painfully awkward compliment. Wallace ahead of them coughed into his fist and seemed to fuss with his collar but otherwise remained silent. For his own part the senior Hunter merely stared before chuckling.
"Thank you, I suppose, although I'm afraid I have little need for such compliments. I feel I've become somewhat inundated with empty praise from you nobles over the years."
"Is that arrogance I hear?" Weiss asked, relieved to have an out for her blunder. This time Watts laughed and smiled her way.
"I think I like you, Lady Rosalind. You have a sharper mind than most at any rate. Consider me impressed." His mustache twitched and he let out a sigh. "Though I suppose given your aunt it's not a particularly high bar now is it?"
"Not everyone can be so astute as a seasoned member of the Church."
"And not every young woman has so sharp a tongue as to rebuke a man twice her age," Watts mused. "But here we are. Forgive me but I care little for these games we play. I am not a man who dallies, and your aunt, unfortunately, seems to be fond of doing nothing but."
Again, not wrong. Feeling she should say at least something in Lady Lavender's defense she pursed her lips. "Well, she's allowed a carefree life because of efforts like yours, sir. I'd be grateful, I think, knowing people can live easily because of me."
"Stop. That sounds far too much like the ingratiating drivel so many of your kind are so wont to give us." Watts shook his head and released his grip on her arm, stopping in his tracks. Weiss realized Wallace had stopped as well and stood at a twin set of doors, eyes set squarely on Watts. She saw the slightest downward turn of the butler's lips but a lifetime of servitude kept whatever comments he doubtless had from coming out. "Let us dispense with this gaiety of your aunt's and be on our way, hm?"
On that she could agree. Weiss nodded and the butler knocked before throwing the doors open for them. Just within the parlor Lady Lavender paced back and forth, youthful countenance twisted into a mask of worry. When she realized she had visitors she stopped and advanced on them.
"Caroline, do you realize what you did?!" she barked. Taken aback by the outburst Weiss merely stared. "Answer me, young lady!"
"I… Um…"
"Of course you don't! Why would you? You haven't learned a thing, have you?" The frazzled woman shook her head and began pacing again. "You're just like my brother! You think you can say whatever you want to people and get away with it, don't you? Well you can't! Even we have consequences!"
"Clearly those involve being squawked at by a loon…" Watts muttered beside her.
"Why were you so rude to my guest?" Lady Lavender went on, rounding on Weiss again. Hands raised as though to grab her before dropping to her sides with a huff. "Well? Explain!"
It took Weiss a second to register what was being asked of her. When she realized she smiled. Clearly the wrong response as her aunt stomped her foot. The petulant display was humorous, and Weiss felt an unbidden laugh come loose, shoulders shaking as she fought to contain it. Nerves mostly, knowing now she'd offended Ruby enough to warrant the lady of the estate to chew her out for it.
"I'm waiting!"
"I didn't say anything untoward to her, auntie," Weiss drawled. "I merely let her know I had no desire to be friends with her. After all, we're above Hunters, aren't we?"
"We… Caroline, what's gotten into you?" Weiss kept herself from brushing off Lavender's hands and continued to smile. "Hunters are invaluable! They keep us safe; they kill Grimm. Why, without them we'd be a lawless wasteland!"
"Nice to finally get some recognition," Watts muttered sarcastically.
"That doesn't mean you're completely innocent either!" To both hers and Watts' surprise he was turned on instead, a finger pushed in his face. "That young girl has been inconsolable since you've arrived! Now, I'm sure she's grief stricken over her sister's illness, and yet clearly you've been doing nothing to keep her spirits up!"
"Good lady, may I remind you that we shouldn't discuss these matters -"
"And that's another thing! What's with the blasted secrecy, hm? You lot ask to use my estate as a site to practice some new treatment and I've heard nothing of the process! Do you honestly take me for an idiot?" Yes, yes, they did. Judging by how Wallace looked askance, it wasn't just her guests that thought it either. Until Weiss realized the man's pointed stare was at Watts, not his mistress. "Well? Do you?!"
Watts exhaled and adjusted his collar, wrinkling his nose. Her little outburst had left Lady Lavender panting for breath and the Hunter started down at her, calmly folding his hands behind his back.
"I do not have to answer you. What I do here is official Church -"
"Then I'll contact the Archbishop! Do you want that? I can write him a letter, you know! And I'll have you demoted for this!"
"You will do no such thing." Watts reached out preemptively and caught Lady Lavender's wrist, her hand inches from his cheek. "The process warrants secrecy because of the sensitive nature of the patient's ailment. My insubordination, if you wish to call it that, is because I am constantly bothered by inconsequential matters while I attempt to save a young girl's life." Watts released his hold and frowned, leaning down to his hostess' level. "And, frankly, you are owed nothing. No explanation, no courtesies, not even thanks. If need be, we could have had the royal family order you to open your doors to us. Be grateful we extended a request to you at all."
Weiss shifted her feet, uncertain of what she could do, much less say, in the situation. Looking between Lady Lavender and Watts she managed a better look at the man's markings. It was still masked but she could make out a rounded shape, not unlike the wheel that made up her own mark. Thinner linework, bold points not unlike a compass. Anymore she couldn't make out and as Watts stood tall again it became imperceptible once more.
"I will be writing to the Archbishop later," Lady Lavender snapped. "I will not suffer having such rude guests in my home!"
"Well, you needn't worry then, good lady. We are almost finished here and will be out of your abode soon thereafter." Watts stepped back and smiled. "Now, are we finished? I must be getting back to work, although perhaps now I'll visit the young lady myself. Would you like that?"
"I'd like for you to finish your work and be gone!"
"And so we shall. By your leave, good lady." The sweeping bow had to be made in jest, and if not that then the kindly smile certainly was. Watts wasted no more time with either of them, brushing Wallace aside and strolling back out into the halls.
In another time, in another situation, Weiss could see herself in Watts' shoes. Hell, she'd been in his position plenty of times. Dealing with an indignant noble barking at her, threatening consequences that they realistically couldn't hope to enforce. Truth be told he'd handled being shouted at with far more grace than she likely would have.
Yet any positive impression was swept away in the face of his callous disregard for Ruby and Yang. Treating an ailment, was he? A fine cover story, if an utter travesty. Nevermind the fact that his presence here alone was damning. He'd known Yang had been kidnapped, he'd known where they had been taken and yet he'd played along. He'd been in their meetings and…
Oh gods. He was there. He knows. He had to know. He was present for the meetings prior to their dispatching, he had Ozpin's ear. Weiss hurried into the hallway and caught the final glimpses of Watts as he reached the end, pausing to look back at her. From afar she couldn't be certain of his expression, but she was certain he smiled at her. Ice gripped her spine and she watched him disappear back into the antechamber, an unpleasant ringing in her ears.
Has he known this entire time? Why hasn't he said anything? Why hasn't he done anything?
Her legs started to ferry her forward until Lady Lavender's hand seized her arm and hauled her back. "Where are you going? We're not done here yet!"
"Let go of me!" Weiss protested. "I need to go to my chambers! Let go!"
"Not until you apologize for what you did!" Dragged back into the parlor Weiss was made to sit in one of the chairs as the woman stared down at her expectantly. "Well? I'm waiting."
"Shouldn't I be apologizing to Ruby Rose?"
"From what I understand she doesn't want to see you again. That doesn't mean you're free of it though, Caroline. I want to hear an apology!"
Weiss was more than content to let the girl's reputation with her aunt burn to ashes. She was even more willing to have Ruby hate the girl. Neither were going to get her out of here, though were they? Agitated, she took a deep breath and smiled. "I'm sorry I offended your guest. May I go now?"
"Make it earnest! None of that courtly nonsense."
Oh hells… They were really doing this weren't they?
At least finding some sincere regret wasn't too difficult. Masquerading as someone else or not Weiss herself had still said those words to Ruby. She'd caused her partner hurt, and no doubt even more yet unseen by not being here. Dredging up guilt was easy. Upsettingly so. Downcast, she slouched in her seat and folded her hands in her lap.
"I'm sorry I offended her, auntie. Sincerely I am. And I'll apologize to her too if I may."
That seemed to satisfy the woman a little more. Incrementally maybe, but she did nod and back off a bit. "Fine, and no, you may not. You're not going to get out of your own guilt that easily."
"Then why am I apologizing to you? I didn't offend you, did I?"
"You did! You've insulted my guests, Caroline, and that… That rapscallion Dr. Watts has done the same thing! Honestly!" she huffed and crossed her arms. "It's like you two have no appreciation for how difficult it is to host!"
"Not something I exactly make a habit of…"
"Obviously. And that man, I swear… They need to put collars on their Hunters! Some of them are beyond rude!"
Yes, because that's how collars worked. Dogs clearly learned to obey just by putting some leather trinket around their necks. Weiss opened her mouth to snap back before her eyebrows went up in surprise and her mouth hung agape.
A regular collar was no more special than a shirt; just a garment. That would do nothing to curtail someone's rude behavior. What about a magical collar, however? One designed to bend the will of its wearer.
If the Church had Merlot's notes, and by extension Watts, then they could exert control over Yang. Weaponize her even. While the spells were rune based it wouldn't be too hard for them to bring another user like herself in. Watts himself could even utilize runes for all she knew! If he had stolen Merlot's work, if Raven and the other suspected as much…
Wouldn't they try to find a way to remove Yang's collar altogether?
Raven had asked her to look into it before, then insisted they take Merlot's work for themselves. Maybe she had found something? Or at least enough of a hint to warrant going through it a second time.
"Well? Do you have anything else to say for yourself?"
Weiss jumped up from her chair and threw herself at Lady Lavender, arms wrapping around her and nearly sending both toppling over. She giggled, squeezing the woman tight before releasing her. "Thank you!"
"I… Um…" her aunt blinked and shook her head. "You're… Welcome…?" Weiss swept past her and jogged to the hallway. "I didn't say you could leave! Caroline!"
"Ground me later!" Weiss called back before rushing from the room, nearly tripping as she stepped on her dress. "Blasted thing…" she cursed, drawing it up and racing down the hall. Watts was nowhere to be seen and unless the gods were inordinately cruel, he wouldn't be anywhere near her chambers either.
If he was onto her as she suspected, then...
No, Watts couldn't possibly know. The disguise had been a last-minute addition to the plan, something they'd concocted in the spur of the moment. He could have suspicions, sure, but nothing concrete. Either way she needed to get to work and fast; Yang needed a way to break free and she couldn't do that if they had a failsafe to make her heel.
It was a stretch, but as Weiss ran up the stairs, pausing to discard her heeled boots, she felt a rush of certainty that made her almost giddy.
Yang was controlled by a spell. Merlot's spellbook was inside her desk. With any luck the answer she sought laid within the final pages.
Watts might have been onto something calling Lady Lavender an imbecile, but to Weiss the woman was an idiot savant.
/+/+/+/+/+/
In most battles having a two on one advantage would signal a swift end to affairs. Certainly, against any other opponent Blake and Ilia would have claimed victory in mere moments. Yet as her dagger scraped against Adam's sword, arms burning as she fought to hold the blade's biting edge from her shoulder, she watched Ilia be swat away by Adam's scabbard and she was reminded of a harsh truth.
Adam wasn't just any other opponent.
She and Ilia kept pace, even scoring a wound or two. For what they lacked in comparative strength they more than made up for in agility. It may have taken both her daggers, but Blake could consistently parry and deflect blows, knocking Adam off balance for Ilia to press the attack. Whenever her friend was in danger Blake could throw a dagger, lunge for Adam, or taunt him from afar.
"I thought you were going to bring me back?"
The redhead wheeled around and bared his teeth, sheathing his sword and charging. Blake dove aside, feeling the tail end of her shirt become just a little lighter as Adam's blade soared over her.
It wasn't exactly orthodox, but it was working.
He was strong, yes, but so were they. And now he wasn't the only one that could play mind games either. They just needed to press the attack and fatigue him, wear Adam down until he couldn't keep up. They didn't even have to kill him, just injure him enough to not give chase.
Ilia stepped into a thrust and her sword unlinked. Wrapping her blade around Adam's she jumped, landing on his back as he doubled over, rolling across and yanking his arm behind him, wrenching the sword free. While he kicked her away Blake raced into his blindspot and tore into his leather gambeson with her daggers. Not deep enough to wound she realized, cursing as his scabbard narrowly smashed against the bridge of her nose.
They didn't have their magic. That was fine. She'd fought without spells before and survived. Adam fended off another assault by flinging dirt into Ilia's face, retrieving his katana and putting space between them. While her friend sputtered and hurried to clear her vision Blake placed herself before Ilia, crouching preemptively as Adam began to circle them, a predator taking stock of its surprisingly feisty prey.
Adam lowered himself to charge, but they reacted first. Blake charged and they clashed again, daggers screeching along the length of the katana before locking at the hilt. He brought his scabbard around to strike and Ilia caught his arm, pulling it back and using Adam to pull herself in. Her feet drove into his ribs, Blake's daggers raked across his chest, and with a pained snarl he toppled, rolling away and clambering back to his feet again. Blake, giving him not so much as a second's respite, lunged, forearms striking scabbard as she bore her daggers down at his shoulders. The wind rushed from her lungs as Adam struck her, grunting and darting away to avoid his blade.
Staying locked in a grapple would spell the end of them and so they relied on hit and run tactics. Blake darted in and out of Adam's vision, using her daggers both for melee and as projectiles. Ilia switched her sword back and forth between whip and blade.
It was as quick as whittling down a stone wall by way of a gentle breeze, but it was working. Adam's breathing grew heavier. His movements slower, if only just.
They weren't free of the exhaustion of battle however and Blake too felt her legs begin to burn, arms going numb from absorbing repeated blows. She could feel welts forming where she'd been struck and a score of wounds bled, openly. None had suffered a fatal wound yet, miraculously, though she doubted their fortune would continue.
Then, as though the universe was waiting for the perfect time to spite her, Adam landed a heavy blow across Ilia's head with his scabbard. She remained upright but clearly dazed and Blake had to rush in to deflect a lunge. Adam expected as much and twisted his sword, catching her under the ribs with the flat of the blade and pushing her back, striking her bicep and deadening her arm. A dagger fell to the ground and Blake cried out as her chest was struck again, gritting her teeth as Adam's blade sliced along her thigh. Hobbling back, she leaned on her other leg to relieve pressure, gripping the wound as hot blood pooled to the surface. He'd missed an artery, barely.
Ilia tried to step in and managed to do little more than nick Adam's cheek with his sword. Her wrist was caught, and she jumped to avoid a low cut, driving her feet into Adam's stomach, falling back, and kicking him away.
They needed something else. Something to score a more decisive blow. Blake reached for her magic again and growled in frustration as her mind couldn't grasp the energy around them, tendrils just out of reach, taunting her like bait on a line. Their weapons weren't enough.
In retrieving her dagger Blake found their answer. Unexploded Dust crystals lay scattered amongst the rubble, various shards of fire, wind, and electricity strewn throughout charred wood. Grabbing the largest fire crystal she could find Blake rejoined the fray, stone clutched in one hand, dagger in the other. She had no idea how she'd activate it - force was needed to cause Dust to explode. Could she strike it against Adam's sword? Sure, if she wanted to be caught in the explosion too.
Think! Think damn it!
Ilia was bat away and Blake's dagger missed Adam's throat by inches. With her other hand occupied she could only step back, biting back cries whenever pressure was applied to her thigh.
"Did you think I'd let you escape?!" He twisted and his foot drove the last of her breath from her lungs, throwing her back where she crashed down into the rubble. "Did you honestly think I'd let you leave again?!"
"Blake!"
Ilia rushed to them, loosing her sword and letting the bladed links unfurl. Adam's blade was caught in her own and she pulled with both hands to disarm. Instead she staggered forward, overpowered, and Blake heard a sickening hollow crunch as Adam's scabbard struck Ilia in the side of the head. Her friend fell and she lost her sword, sputtering and spitting out blood in the dirt.
"I am so very tired of this…" Adam sighed, dragging his blade along the ground as he approached Ilia. "Why can't you all just behave? We're fighting for our freedom. For what we deserve." Ilia reached for her blade and Adam's leg caught her ribs, lifting her and throwing her away. "Why do you two fight against our freedom? Why do you hate your own kind?"
"We don't hate our own kind, Adam…" Blake spat. The crystal, warm in her hand, begged to be used. "Just you."
Adam took the bait. Leaving Ilia where she lay, he turned back to her, smiling. The unpleasantness of it made Blake want to withdraw but she stood firm, wrapping her fingers around the crystal in hand to conceal it. She'd get one chance and only one. Even if it didn't cause serious damage, she'd only need a distraction to make this work.
"Blake…" He sounded sweet, caring, like a parent gently correcting their child. Adam flicked blood from his blade and cooed. "Blake," he repeated. "Why are you doing this? I wouldn't need to fight if you'd just come back and behave."
"You're delusional if you think I'd rejoin you!"
"Hm. I'm delusional." He stopped and examined his sword, running a finger along its edge as if admiring its lethality. "I'm fighting for our people, Blake, while you work with the enemy. And I'm the delusional one?"
On reflex she stepped back as he approached again, kicking aside fallen lumber and twisted cutlery. Swallowing fear, she smiled back at Adam, ears folding in contempt. "The enemy? They aren't the ones who killed my parents, are they? Just who is the real enemy here, I wonder."
He paused again, seeming to mull over what she said, twisting his blade and pursing his lips. Then he smiled, shoulders shaking as a curt, cruel laugh came. "Oh, that? I'd almost forgotten all about them. Sorry," his smile vanished. "I've been busy fighting for our people. You usually don't remember every fly you swat."
She'd known, after a fact. Tukson had told her as much. That didn't dull the blade that twisted in her heart or the heat of emotion that swelled up within her.
"They were my parents, Adam!" Blake screamed, hot tears welling in her eyes. "You bastard!"
"They were in the way. What were we supposed to do?" He asked it so casually, the bastard! "Let them continue? If we're going to gain any ground for the Faunus then we need to be able to do what's necessary, my love. And that means casting off rot."
"Like you're casting me off?" She stumbled through wreckage again and stepped free of it, backing down the cluttered road. "What happened to casting me off, huh?"
"You're not rotten though, darling. You're…" Adam rolled his neck, sighed, and smiled at her again. "Misguided. You're like a dog who's bitten its owner. You made a mistake, and I can correct you. I can fix you."
Ilia was still down. She tried to crawl for her weapon, but blood leaked from a gash by her temple, limbs barely able to pull her along. She'd find no help in her friend. This needed to work.
As defiantly as she could Blake lifted her chin, although not before spitting at Adam's feet. "Fix that, you psychopath. I can't wait for the Church to finally put you down."
Any facade of pleasantness left him as Adam scowled and lunged for her. Blake waited, body screaming for her to evade, to run, to do anything. His sword raised and she lifted her arm, flicked her wrist, and threw the Dust crystal at Adam's blade as it fell.
His sword twisted at the last second and the crystal bounced off the flat of the blade, clattering to the ground with a faint clink. Blake's scream was muffled as a hand latched onto her throat, legs kicking as her feet left the ground. Her hands clawed at Adam's hand and she kicked against him, aiming for his abdomen, his crotch, anything and everything. He weathered her blows and sneered up at her all the while.
"Blake…" he sang, lifting his sword and pressing the edge against her abdomen. "Why do you insist on hurting me? After all I've done for you…"
She gasped for breath and choked on it. Gritting her teeth, she swung out and drove her fist into the bridge of Adam's nose. Whatever reprieve she bought herself as she was dropped was fleeting and she felt a boot bury itself in her side, rolling across the dirt and reflexively curling up.
"Why can't you just behave!" Adam stalked towards her. There, her dagger! Blake rolled and reached for it, crying out as he slammed a foot down on her arm. "I've given you everything you needed, Blake. I'm working to better our kind." He knelt down, putting pressure on her arm as he did. Biting back a howl of pain she lifted her head and spat again, satisfied as a glob landed on his cheek.
Until the bite of his blade dug into her arm.
"I just need you alive, my love. I don't mind if you're a little worse for wear." Her hand twisted and clawed desperately beneath his boot. She couldn't reach her weapon. "But you know what, darling? I forgive you. We'll finish this mess and you'll come back where you belong." Smiling, he reached down and grabbed her hair, yanking her head up. "Won't that be nice?"
"I'd rather die…"
In the corner of her vision she saw something dark move. Was her vision fading? No. Her eyes flicked to the corners and Adam followed, frowning. "What are you looking at? Hoping Ilia will save you?" He scoffed, finally moving off her and pulling his blade free. Blake yelped and cradled the limb to her chest, pushing herself up as he moved towards Ilia.
"Leave her alone!"
"Why? She's unnecessary. She's a distraction. To you, to the cause." Adam flicked her blood free and flipped the sword, pressing his foot to Ilia's chest. "And I hate distractions."
The black streak again. Adam's arm raised. Blake shouted, reaching out in a desperate bid to stop him.
Another building exploded and Blake felt weightless for a split second, hit the ground, and her vision went dark.
Once again Adam is a right jerk. Once again I toned down just how jerky he is because ew. Hopefully he's still awful enough!
While I love being able to tell two separate stories I feel like it's V4-V5 syndrome, so apologies if things feel a bit disjointed. There's a reason for it though, I promise!
Thanks for reading as always, lovelies, and until next time!