Me: Okay, I'll write this fight and it will be short and sweet.
Also me: Haha, fight go brrrr.
Remember boys and girls, concise language is important when writing! Do as I say and not as I do.
In the dying light of a fading day Yang waited. Nestled between two buildings down the road from the warehouse she sat, rolling a worn leather ball between her hands as she idled. Watched, counted, and grew more bored by the second.
She had agreed to do this. All because Blake had seemed so torn, so heartbroken over the sight of those Faunus that she'd put aside what had happened to her in an instant in favor of helping them. And since Yang liked to think of herself as a damned good friend she'd agreed to help even as she felt the temptation to pummel Sun into a pulp. But she had refrained. Smiled, gotten along, and through a single afternoon that went by in a blur decided that they weren't all that bad.
A fly buzzed by her head and Yang scowled, swatting at the tiny pest with a hiss. She did not hate Faunus, far from it. So long as they were a decent person she could not give two shits what they were. Her only issues were with people who hurt someone she cared about.
They had hurt Blake, however superficially. That had been enough for Yang to want to return the favor. Blake's adamant stance on helping the people tempered her anger.
New kingdom, new faces, same old shit.
Yang's hand lashed out and she caught the fly, smirking as she felt it flitter about in her enclosed fist. After debating crushing it she loosed a sigh and opened her hand, narrowing her eyes as it flew closer to her face and stayed there hovering.
"Buzz off."
The fly took off down the alleyway and disappeared, a tiny black speck against the shadowy corridor. She wouldn't mind doing that herself; wander Pradalia, take in the sights, just relax. Maybe after Blake's job they could actually enjoy themselves and unwind if only for a day or two. Just long enough to remember what it felt like not to be constantly fighting or running.
Yang leaned back on her crate and kicked out her legs, hands splayed behind her for support. Maybe she could at least go out and mess with the guards? Challenge them to a game or something, or try and agitate them enough to get in a little scuffle.
Something, anything to help her boredom.
A groan came as she let her arms slide from beneath her, draping herself backwards over the crate. Standby sounded boring even before she'd been sent to this dark, quiet little alleyway and told to wait. Wait to see if anything went wrong. If the alarm were to be raised she had to be poised to fight. What exactly she could only guess; Hunters or a Warden, since guards wouldn't give even the magic-robbed Ruby much trouble. Yang blew her bangs from her eyes and kicked her feet once more, heels clacking against the crate.
Her eyes drifted towards the rustling of fabric and the scrape of boots on stone. Spotting two orbs of amber staring at her through the dark she smiled, realized it might look like a frown upside down and frowned instead.
Okay, no, being upside down didn't change that. Yang beamed when Blake padded over to her, silent as death itself.
"Getting nervous, kitty cat?"
Snorting, Blake folded her arms. "Making sure you're still in position before we begin, that's all."
"Mhm. And you didn't try spooking me this time. You could've snuck up on me without me ever knowing you were here." Yang rolled on the crate and propped her chin in her hands, kicking her feet again behind her. "Still here boss, still waiting for you to get started."
Because until Blake slipped inside the warehouse none of them could act. Until Sun came across the rooftops and told her that crates were beginning to vanish nothing else could be done.
"Seriously though," Yang prodded softly. "Why are you here? Not that I hate the visit but I figured you'd be starting by now."
She kept silent as she watched a playful look turn contemplative. Didn't say a word as she waited for Blake to speak. What sparse moonlight managed to slip between the building left Blake's black hair shimmering, tinted with a fine silver that rather complemented her eyes. Almond shaped eyes that Yang considered she hadn't ever really stared at before. Or the slight hints of purple at the corner of her friend's eyes that she never quite understood how they got there. Wind blew at her back and swept Blake's hair with it, fur-lined ears with white tufts folding down on reflex against it.
"I'm sorry about this. I know it was sudden and it came out of nowhere…"
"And? That's been our lives in a nutshell, Blake. And it's not exactly a bad thing we're doing, ya know." Yang's smile came easily as she sat up, angling herself forward with her hands on her knees. "We're helping people. You'd better believe I'm always up for that."
"I know, and I'm grateful for that, truly." Blake's smile returned, albeit more hesitant than before. Another step closer and she exhaled softly. "I… I haven't always known people so ready to do the right thing. Remnant needs more people like you."
At first that sent a thrill through Yang. Warmth bubbled in her chest and her own smile widened to the point her eyes crinkled, a little trilling giggle passing her lips. Then she felt the bandages against her right arm, remembered the creature that even now lived inside of her, watching everything she did and waiting for a chance to exert its influence. Thought about what might happen if it won their fight for control and went on a rampage that it wanted. That she wanted, Yang had to admit, although that could just be the Grimm's influence too. Or her own destructive tendencies.
"Hey…" Yang dragged her eyes from the ground and met Blake's, surprised to find them only inches from her own. So close that their breath mingled between them.
She somehow missed the hands cupping her cheeks until a thumb brushed against one of them, sending a confusing jolt through her that left her tongue drying in her mouth. If she thought she could manage coherent speech she might have spoken. Asked why Blake stared at her like that, why her warm, lightly calloused hands continued to hold her face like a delicate flower, thumb dancing across her skin.
"I've never really thanked you, any of you, for all you've done. For helping me find another purpose, for being at my side, and being a friend." Yang felt the hands leave her face only to grab her bandaged hand. Shivered as fingertips circled the back of it, traced over her knuckles. "I still don't really know everything, about what we're doing, about myself, but…" She turned Yang's hand over and traced her palm. "I'm happy to know I have you and the others by my side."
"Always," Yang whispered. She caught Blake's hands in her own and she forced her smile not to look too panicked even as her heart began thrashing in her chest. "That's what friends are for, right?"
Friends. Just friends taking on the world together, playfully flirting with one another. That's it. That's all they were. Yang shivered when Blake's eyes traveled up her, tracing her bandaged arm to her shoulder, feeling them burn across her exposed clavicle before finally meeting her own, but not before pausing briefly somewhere just a bit below.
"If things go wrong tonight somehow, if we're caught and you're put in danger."
"This is gonna go off without a hitch!" Yang snapped. "Don't start talking like that, not when we're about to start. Now isn't the time to start second guessing ourselves." Letting her voice soften again she gave Blake's hands a squeeze. "You got this. If our resident sneaky expert can't pull off a measly heist then who can?"
"Hm. I'm only the resident expert because the rest of you are as subtle as an Ursa."
"Hey, Weiss might take offense to that."
"Maybe," Blake chuckled. "But Weiss isn't here right now."
No, she wasn't. Neither were Ruby or Qrow, or anyone else. Yang's heart thundered louder as Blake leaned in closer, licking her drying lips and swallowing once. Twice.
"Thank you, Yang. For tonight, for being my friend. I owe you all so much."
She leaned in and parted her lips, eyelids fluttering and preparing to close. Her breath hitched and her fingers dug into the crate, nails scraping against wood as she waited. Lips pressed against her forehead with a featherlight touch before extracting themselves, as fleeting as a light breeze. Yang didn't know what to do but stare blankly ahead, unsure if she should say something, breathe, or react. Stared like a braindead buffoon as Blake stepped back with a hesitant smile that disappeared beneath her scarf, amber eyes watching her with a confusing mix of emotions dancing in them.
Shadows wrapped around Blake and she vanished within seconds, leaving Yang sitting in the alleyway by herself like before. Unlike earlier however her nerves now felt flayed, her breathing coming in shallow pants as her lips tingled. Even though she hadn't gotten what she expected.
What, to her surprise, she had hoped for.
Swallowing frustration and the groan in her throat she rose from the crate, slapped her own face, and turned back towards the mouth of the alleyway.
Whatever the hell that had been about, whatever had brought about a sudden change in her friend, well, Yang couldn't begin to guess. But she supposed sitting around for a bit to make sure Blake's little scheme went off without any issues could be kind of fun. Even if she couldn't go lighting any fires.
"Hypocrite," she breathed, grinning as she stared out at the dark rooftops across from her. "How come you get to mess with fire?"
/+/+/+/+/+/
An utter farce and a complete waste of time. That's all Weiss could call this… Display. She sat by the windows and gripped her untouched mug so tightly the wood creaked beneath her dainty fingers, nails biting into the waning oak.
Five taverns in one evening. When the first they had visited borne no fruits they had gone to the next, a slightly shabbier place just as packed as the first. And when that too hadn't shown hide nor hair of a Hunter they moved on. Again and again until they found themselves in the latest ramshackle building. In Liar's Bay you could tell who had more money, more influence, just by climbing higher into the city.
Vale operated much in the same way too. Pradalia seemed to have missed the memo.
Hidden away behind estates with meticulously shaped hedges and pristine, snow white walls they found this place, leaning against the side of another equally pitiful looking building. Half the size of the first, Weiss counted the small blessing that fewer people seemed to come here.
No revelry, no music. What few patrons deigned to slum it kept to themselves, hunched over scarred tables as silent games were played, conversations held in whispers. Her foot bounced and the floorboard beneath it creaked each time.
From where he stood against the bar Qrow grinned, a lopsided, easy thing that had, to her unending surprise, made more friends than not that evening. Some banter and a bit of Lien that Weiss hadn't a clue where he'd found it earned them willing ears in every tavern, and with it sources of information. They had followed those whisperings from place to place to try and discover where Hunters might frequent, or if they deemed the city's watering holes even worth their time. Weiss might have accused Qrow of just wanting an excuse to indulge himself if he didn't look stone cold sober. More than once she caught him pouring his own drink into someone else's, or dumping a bit on the floor when his latest friend wasn't looking.
Clever, more than she would have given him credit for.
Taking another look at the murky liquid in her mug she gave it a tentative sniff and came back gagging. When the next barmaid passed by she set her untouched drink on their tray and slinked back onto her stool, her frown more than enough to keep any server from asking if she needed anything.
Late. The last time they heard the chime of a belltower it had struck twelve. Midnight had come and gone and they still searched. At her own insistence and ignoring her fatigue she had demanded they continue looking until they found someone. Ignoring the obvious issue that anyone with half a mind would be in bed by now, not slogging it with drunks and gamblers. When they finally reunited with the rest of their group Weiss wanted to have something to show for her absence. Anything to hopefully dull the blade of guilt still nestled between her ribs.
She had attacked Ruby. Injured her. Yet despite that Qrow still traveled with her and helped with this hairbrained scheme of hers. Although Weiss suspected that kindness didn't come without caveats. She had attacked Ruby because of the Warden's Mark and if Salem or Ozpin so chose she could lose control again, attacking anyone around her. It stood to reason then that Qrow hadn't traveled with her to spare her the loneliness of solitary, or because he preferred her company over that of his nieces. By separating himself and traveling with her he removed that threat, protected Ruby and Yang, and kept himself close enough to stop her if she lost control again.
Her mark remained inactive. Either chastened by her small display of defiance or biding his time Ozpin and Salem hadn't attempted to exert influence could only hope against hope that their distance continued as she sought out answers.
The distant, dull echo of a bell signaled that the hour had turned over once more. Stifling a yawn behind her hand Weiss rose to her feet, taking to pacing to stave off her exhaustion. From the bar she felt Qrow's eyes follow her as she moved. No doubt waiting for some signal that something had gone amiss. With a halfhearted smile over her shoulder, she tried to convey that everything was fine. After a silent exchange he smiled back, nodded, and went back to feigning interest in an intoxicated man's ramblings.
Her tired mind didn't have the capacity to feel ashamed as she sauntered over to a nearby table, pausing briefly to inspect the man passed out on top of it, then snatched a still steaming skewer from his plate. Buttery meat melted in her mouth and she groaned, covering her mouth again while chewing.
A second skewer found itself in her hand as she made her way to Qrow, inclining her head and raising the food in offering. The gleam in his eye told her the gift would be appreciated and she smirked, waving it and raising an eyebrow expectantly.
His hand missed the kebab as she stepped back, tutting and moving it behind her back. "Where did you get that Lien?"
"From someone's pocket," Qrow answered easily, shrugging with nonchalance as he reached out again. "Gimme that thing, I'm starving!"
"And you didn't buy us food with it." Weiss stepped back again, taking a bite of her own skewer. Onion and pepper crunched, filling her mouth with juices and leathery skin. Gods, she needed that.
"Give me some of the Lien first, then you can have your food."
Come to think of it, Qrow could have just ordered something for himself by now. Should have, if he had half a brain cell to work with. But then his lie that they had no money would have been exposed and she would have demanded that they get dinner. Four hours. Four hours of stumbling between increasingly deplorable taverns for information, and twice as long since they last ate. Weiss had half a mind to devour the other skewer out of spite.
Until coins fell into her outstretched hand and she stowed it away in her pocket, grinning as she handed over the remaining food.
Qrow already had half of it in his mouth before her hand left her pocket. "You're awful, you know that?" he grumbled.
"What can I say?" Flicking her hair, Weiss handed Qrow her empty skewer and licked her lips clean. "I've had terrible influences as of late."
His eyes narrowed in question and she nodded pointedly in his direction. Relief flashed on his face, then offense, and finally a smile curled his lips upward, shoulders trembling in a silent laugh.
"Cute, Princess. Real cute."
"Enjoy your stolen food, drunkard."
Qrow's 'friend' grabbed his shoulder and dragged him back to the bar, sliding a fresh mug into his chest. Hearing the phrase 'and my damned wife' pass the man's lips Weiss excused herself, wiggling her fingers in farewell as she returned to her stool by the wall. And maybe she helped herself to the last skewer on the sleeping man's plate; better to eat it than let it go to waste.
With semi-warm food in her belly now she felt a little more alert. Tired, impatient, but ready to move on once Qrow escaped his drinking buddy's clutches. She watched him take a proper drink this time and smothered a laugh as his face twisted, throat bobbing before he swallowed the drink. She made a point to look away when he glared in her direction, finding a water stain on the ceiling immensely interesting. If nothing else, she supposed, they had gotten a better lay of the city. Still alien, sure, but now they knew how to navigate it.
Or how to find drunken dens at the very least.
The bolt of ashen grey cloth at the doorway rustled and two figures strolled inside. The first ducked their head as he entered, twisting sideways so the greatsword on his back didn't catch the doorframe. Holding the curtains open, he stepped aside as his companion came in after him, missing the soot-colored cloak the first wore.
Weiss openly gawked at the wings on the woman's back. Feathers dark as the sky outside dotted with white flakes, streaks of wintery pale breaking up the beds of black. Powerful wings that stretched briefly in the more open space of the tavern before snapping closed. On her back between those limbs sat a spear, its head narrowly missing scraping against the ceiling. A small buckler of iron hung atop it, its face marred by scores of gouges and small dents. Weiss' eyes roamed away from the weapons to the long plait of red hair tossed over one shoulder. Green eyes scanned the room lazily, a freckled nose scrunching up in disgust. Turning to her companion she muttered something to the man then sighed when he shook his head.
Pyrrha. That red hair looked so similar that Weiss' chest clenched the second she saw it. An ocean away now she wondered how her friends were faring. Recalled Blake's encounter with them, how they too had been forced to act against their wishes, and felt her throat swell with emotion.
Yet another issue to be remedied. Once she had the time and knowledge. She would go back for them, free them and all the others from those infernal marks.
The pair moved towards the near empty bar, to the only two empty seats towards the far end. The barkeep took one look at them and hurried to greet them, smiling seedily as he wrung his hands together. Eager to please, or as Weiss suspected, more eager to take their coin.
One look and Weiss knew these two didn't belong here. Rather, they looked like they could go anywhere they wanted, which made them settling for this dump all the more interesting. The man's clean if worn gold-gilded bronze armor looked far more expensive than the dirty linens most people wore. The woman's leathers were clean too if scuffed from age, no signs that they labored. At least not in the way the civilians did.
The armor and weaponry might have sold them as simple mercenaries if Weiss didn't catch the tattoos on their necks. Hunters, both of them, feeling a slight twinge of relief as the man's hood came down, revealing short cropped grey hair and a beard flecked with black hairs, his tattoo disappearing beneath stubble.
Hunters were easier to deal with. Weiss hoped that held true as she moved away from her seat, wiping her greasy fingers on a hanging cloth by the window. Maybe she could pull rank with them if she had luck on her side. Hesitant, she peeled back her collar and let the Warden's brand show as she sauntered to the bar, taking up a spot to the woman's right.
Green eyes slid to her as she leaned into view, folding her hands on the counter and smiling at the Faunus. Her mouth opened and she started to speak, blinked, then closed it. She hadn't considered how she might broach the subject. Weiss mentally slapped herself for such a glaring oversight, shifting her weight and clearing her throat. On a whim she angled her head to the side and tried to show the mark on her neck.
"Business with us, Warden?"
A tone of tired respect. Despite the fact the woman had to be at least ten years her senior, and no doubt ready for bed, she addressed Weiss like a superior. The smile on her lips belied her amusement as she rolled the cloth on her sleeve. "Perhaps, if you two are feeling helpful."
Not the way Qrow had planned things judging by the glare given down the bar. She turned her hands, palms upward and eyebrows raised. What else am I supposed to do? Qrow's head subtly shook and she snorted, then smiled again at the winged woman whose gaze hadn't left her, mouth pressed into a thin line. Waiting patiently, although the slight twitch in her lip said she wasn't happy about it.
"We're looking for someone. We aren't familiar with Pradalia," Weiss explained, shifting her weight and inspecting her nails. "And after spending the better part of today searching for leads, my subordinate and I decided we'd try searching elsewhere for information."
Qrow coughed into his drink and the man beside him patted his back hard enough to knock him over.
"And this information you're after, you thought to approach us for it?" The older man leaned into view, pale blue eyes studying her intently. Pale scars on the left side of his face shrank as he smiled. "What can we do for you, young lady?"
"As I said, we're searching for someone. A woman by the name of Maria Calavera." Weiss paused for a beat and waited for a reaction. The woman's eyes flickered to her companion, mouth downturned slightly. The man remained impassive, a faint smile on his lips. "We understand that she's caused a bit of trouble as of late and are trying to locate her whereabouts. Rumor had it that she had been spotted here in Pradalia." Sighing, Weiss lowered her head and flicked a wrist with a huff. "But she's not here, and I am running low on patience. So, hopefully you two can help us."
Two mugs clinked down on the bar before them. The man grabbed his and took a long, deep drink. The Faunus studied Weiss for a moment before grabbing her own. "We've never heard of that name before, I'm afraid."
"You're a terrible liar."
"Greyson!" the woman snapped, wings bristling as she slammed her mug down.
"And you're too easy to rile," Greyson added, smiling amused. Sloshing around his cup he looked to Weiss and inclined his head. "There is a back room here used for storage. We've used it for… Discussions in the past." White teeth flashed and he made to stand from his stool. "Shall we continue this conversation in private?"
"That would be wonderful." Weiss followed suit, waiting until Qrow moved away to trail behind Greyson. The tavern itself couldn't have been more than two hundred square feet, and the storage room was maybe half that size. A tiny space sequestered towards the back of the building, half of its space taken up by shelves and containers.
Greyson wandered in first, then Qrow. Weiss paused at the door with the woman in tow, smiling and gesturing for the Faunus to go first. When she remained put Weiss let herself in instead, tensing when the door closed behind them.
Nothing to worry about. She had shown her mark and gotten no reaction. Taking a breath, Weiss smiled and folded her arms. Greyson took up a spot across the room and sat on a crate, leaning forward as he sipped from his mug. Slowly. His eyes watched them over the brim and when he lowered it he chuckled, lifting the near empty container. "At ease. We're not some thieves looking to cut your throat and run."
"Don't worry about her," Qrow drawled. "She's new to this. Too young for the job, too big for her britches," he added, throwing a grin and wink her way. "She thinks because she got a promotion she's a big girl now."
The heat on her cheeks wasn't fake as Weiss growled, stomping her foot indignantly. "Mind your mouth!"
"Aye aye, ma'am."
Greyson's laughter helped ease away some of Weiss' tension. Qrow's banter too, and she shot him a grateful nod before smiling at the silver Hunter before them.
"So, you know Maria I take it? Unless you wish to drag us in here to tell us otherwise."
"I know of her, yes. Hard not to when you've been at this as long as I have." Greyson drained the rest of his mug and set it beside himself. "Before we talk though, may I ask who I'm speaking to?" When her brow furrowed he smiled easily. "I'd just like to know who I'm to be working with, that's all. Surely a common courtesy isn't too much to ask?"
No, she supposed giving a name wouldn't be too much. Although maybe giving her name would be a bad idea. Disastrous even depending on whether or not word had spread of her rebellion. Weiss smiled and placed a hand on her chest. "Winter Schnee, at your service. And this is my companion -"
"Callum Thorne," Qrow said.
Greyson stared at them before nodding to himself, leaning back and crossing his arms. "Wonderful. Greyson Kiano. That charming young lady outside is Nike Teresi. Don't be offended if she seems cold, that's just part of her charms."
"Pleasure to meet you, Greyson. And thank you for your help." Weiss bowed her head. "I had begun to wonder if we'd spend all week here searching for clues."
"Well, search no longer my friends. I have the information you seek, although I'm sorry to say that it might not be what you had hoped for. The last I heard of Miss Calavera she had gone south, and that was some time ago now."
"How long?" Qrow asked.
"A year? Perhaps longer." Greyson missed their dejected expressions as he rubbed his chin. "We had been given word she'd been here as well but by the time we arrived she seemed to be long gone. Haven't heard much since, I'm afraid."
A whole year. If Weiss' limited knowledge of Mistral held true then the kingdom was massive, larger than Vale by twice, if not more. Finding a single person in that expanse wouldn't just be difficult, it would be impossible. Without a proper lead and a warmer trail they might as well be scouring Vacuo for all the good it would do them.
Still, south at least gave them somewhere to start. Even vague as it was they could head that way and look for more clues as they went. Sooner or later they would find something that would prove promising… She hoped.
"So we travel south then? At least now we have some semblance of an idea." Weiss smiled and bowed at the waist. "Thank you, Greyson. That will help us immensely."
"You two aren't from Mistral, are you?" Greyson smiled amused. "Your clothing gave it away, and your manner of speech. Your accents too." They had an accent? Weiss had never noticed. The Hunter stretched his arms overhead, plate and chain shifting and clinging as he groaned. "So, Vale decided to send two of their own our way to help, huh? I suppose it was only a matter of time," he mused. "In which case, it's only fair to warn you about traveling south."
Qrow arched an eyebrow, the mug in his hand forgotten. "Oh yeah, and why's that?"
"Mistral's territory is immense. Too large for even the Church to handle properly, and so we don't. Couple in the fact that the kingdom itself is fractured and split among different rulers and, well, it's not the easiest place to traverse on the best of days." Greyson shook his head. "The south isn't even ruled by anyone. From the edge of the eastern and western kingdoms to the ocean, you'll find nothing down there. Nothing but Grimm, bandits, and whatever else has decided to make its home there."
But of course. It couldn't just be an organized kingdom. No, that would have been too easy for them. It stood to reason that Maria would travel to a lawless land to escape the Church's persecution, hiding out of their jurisdiction. Sensible, but infuriating.
"We'll take your warning into consideration, thank you." Weiss offered a smile as she took a step back towards the door. "I'll be sure to speak to your Archbishop and put in a good word for your assistance."
"Bah, keep the praise. I would only end up with more work on my plate as thanks." Greyson grinned. "Take care of that rogue for me and that's all the thanks I need."
"That we can do," Qrow laughed. "And when we're done I'll treat you to a drink, surely you won't turn that down too?"
"I should like nothing more, Callum. I look forward to it."
That had gone surprisingly well. Yes, the information they had gotten hadn't given an exact location but now they knew where to look. A start if nothing else, and they hadn't had to sell themselves to someone else for the information. Weiss fancied the night a success. Maybe she'd even make Qrow spend some of that Lien of his to celebrate.
"Oh, before you two go?" Greyson raised a hand, smiling. "Winter, good luck with your hunt. And be careful. The woman is old but she's skilled, and dangerous. You two should consider bringing some allies if you plan to fight her."
Weiss nodded. "Thank you, Greyson. I'll take that into consideration."
"Although, I suppose a Warden wouldn't have much trouble. Certainly not one selected at such a young age." The rusling of chain links, the creak of a wooden crate. "I wouldn't think you would be sent, so it's reassuring to know someone so capable is on the job. A Schnee, no less." Greyson stood, floorboards groaning under his weight. "Although I'm surprised you made it here before me, considering we were both in Argus not two weeks ago."
The floor beneath her and Qrow groaned too. Weiss' hand slipped from the doorknob and she gasped as her body grew heavier. Invisible hands seemed to grab her and drag her to her knees, body shuddering as she riled against the unknown force. Her trembling hand reached for the rapier at her side, then to carve a rune, failing at accomplishing either.
"You do bare an uncanny resemblance to her, you know. Using her name wasn't such a bad idea." Greyson stalked towards them idly, one hand extended towards them, coated in a soft yellow glow. His pale eyes flared and he frowned. "Whoever you two are, you're not going anywhere until I've spoken to Leonardo. I'll not have two rogues gallivanting about in my kingdom."
Weiss couldn't even turn her head to look back. Her neck muscles screamed in protest just at the effort to keep her face from the floor. Her chest hit the floor and she groaned, arms and legs aching as she fought to rise. Light spilled in as the door swung open at her head and a shadow walked into her view, the tip of a spearhead hovering inches from her face.
"Nike, see that these two are subdued and prepared for transport."
"Understood, sir."
Qrow grunted behind her and she heard him elicit a sharp gasp as a boot slammed into him. "What are you two doing? We're on the same side here! When Ozpin hears about this -"
Greyson squatted down before Qrow, Weiss noticed as Nike began to collect her. The man's face had turned hard as he grabbed Qrow's chin and lifted his face.
"I've received no word from the Archbishop, either of them, that two members of our order were to arrive here. Nor have I been asked to resume the search for Calavera. Something of that importance wouldn't be left unsaid," Greyson explained, turning Qrow's head and frowning. "Hm. You bear marks but you're clearly acting under your own volition. Allies of Maria's then?"
Damn it. Think! Think! Weiss hissed as Nike drew her arms behind her back, unable to pull against the woman's hands.
"We were sent without notice because we're unsure of who might be working with her!" she snapped. "Send a message to your Leonardo if you doubt us. Surely he's spoken to Ozpin!"
A gamble, and a big one at that. But sending notice to the man in charge of Mistral's branch would require time. Time that she and Qrow could use to work this out, find a way to escape or evade capture. Greyson stayed silent for a long moment as he looked between the two of them, dropping Qrow's face unceremoniously and sniffing. He rose, nodded to Nike and rolled his shoulders.
"Did you two think we wouldn't notice the ship outside the city?" Weiss' heart skipped a beat, her tongue turning to dry parchment. "Consorting with a traitor, with pirates, and asking after a disgraced woman? I don't know whether to be annoyed or insulted you thought us so incompetent."
Lie. She had to lie, come up with something to explain that. Weiss' mind raced as she was hauled to her feet, shoulders screaming in protest as Nike jerked her.
"We were undercover! We suspected that Rhodes might know something."
"And you mean to suggest that man had no idea who you two were?" Greyson snorted. "We'll put them in a cell for tonight and deal with this in the morning. Nike, you can go on ahead." He reached down and grabbed Qrow by the back of his shirt and hauled him up.
Qrow's face went red and his arm shot out, fingers grabbing and squeezing Greyson's wrist. The man's body sparked as magic flickered and his eyes widened, jaw dropping…
Then cracking as Qrow's fist slammed against it. Greyson dropped, Qrow's greatsword hissed free from the sheathe on his back.
Weiss drove her head back into Nike's face and winced, then slammed her foot into the woman's foot and stumbled free. Away, they had to get away. Qrow shared the sentiment and shouldered Nike into the wall by the door before grabbing her hand, throwing her ahead of him and surging back onto the tavern floor. They made it all of halfway across the room before Greyson came charging out of the back room, sword cleaving after Qrow. The two blades collided and screamed, steel against steel, sparks throwing as they fought for supremacy. Weiss stumbled, thrown away, and turned to help just as Nike slammed into her.
Her feet left the floor and Weiss screamed as she and the Faunus hurtled into and through the window, wooden panes shattering as they were flung into the mild evening air. Air rushed around them and Weiss kicked and cursed. Unable to grab her weapons she reached up instead and found the woman's hair and pulled. Hard.
Nike hissed and wavered mid flight, enough that Weiss could grab the woman's face and push against it, kicking and scoring a few blows against Nike's legs. Tumbling and twisting, she felt herself be released and instinctively curled up as she fell a few feet to the ground, hissing as she struck the stone road and rolled. Her head spun and fresh cuts and abrasions stung as she hurried to her feet, whipping her rapier free and raising it just in time to deflect a lunging spear.
Thrust. Swipe. Lunge.
Weiss' head had not stopped spinning as Nike's blows rained down against her. Steel ringlets clanged against her rapier, the blade vibrating and sending trembling ripples up her arm. The air itself heated with each vicious sling, spearhead whistling. Stumbling backwards to avoid being skewered, she parried, dodged, and grunted as the spear's haft slammed into her side, sweeping her off her feet and throwing her aside.
Nike lifted off the ground and those powerful wings beat once, launched her high, then propelled her back down. Weiss felt a thrill of terror as the spear missed her by inches. Steel buried itself in solid stone and came out none the worse for wear.
Eyes of emerald stared at her as she darted back. Cold, furious. Only one thing on Nike's mind.
"Stop! We're allies!"
Dirt kicked up into her eyes. Weiss hissed and on instinct alone blocked a thrust that would have run her through. She pushed her weapon back and jumped away only to be buffeted by a sudden burst of wind. Cracking one eye open she watched Nike invert, then the world…
And gasped as her back struck something hard. Pain laced her cry and she fell to the ground, rolling away from another thrust. Grabbing hold of a small rock she blindly threw it behind herself and hurtled into a nearby alleyway, trying not to stare at the shadow behind her taking flight. Weiss lunged to her left as the spear missed her head by inches, buried itself in the wall beside her. Nike soared past her as she ducked and she bolted out the other end of the alleyway, turning and running as swiftly as her legs could carry her down the road. At least Nike had thrown her spear; going back for it would buy her invaluable seconds to think.
Nike's outstretched hand glowed green and the spear answered her silent call, twirling once before she caught it.
"You've got to be kidding me!"
Dirt and leaves kicked up before her, swirling and tossing about in a vortex. Wind howled and stones lifted with it, wobbled, then rocketed towards her. In the middle of the street with nowhere to go Weiss did the only thing she could. Stone shot up before her and she winced as rock struck rock, her defenses and the projectiles colliding so hard that the latter exploded, the former cracking at the impacts.
Nike's spear grazed her cheek as she leaned aside and her rapier missed her chest, failing to even scratch the padded leather covering her vital parts. She ducked under a sweeping lunge and raced away from the wall, weaving another rune and letting wind erupt at her back.
Gale struck gale and the two petered out with a thunderous crash.
A stone wall erupted behind her and Weiss dared to breathe, dared to hope that the obstruction would buy her more time.
Nike flew over the wall and her hand crackled before a bolt of lightning shattered a potted plant just to her right.
No use in trying to hide the startled scream that exploded out of her mouth, or the panicked, haphazard weaving as she tried to answer magic with magic. Her feet skid as she rounded a corner and her shoulder slammed into a wall, hissing before pushing off and redoubling her efforts.
Faster! How she wished she had bolstering magic to reinforce her legs. Faster! Keep moving! To where she didn't know. Weaving through alleyways and down darkened streets showed no signs of salvation.
She didn't know Pradalia nearly well enough to have a plan in mind. The denizens of the city knew enough to remain indoors as a battle waged around them, howling winds and her frantic screeching splitting the still night air. Weiss managed two runes of ice and gulped down humid air before hurtling two spells backwards. Rotating discs of ice sliced and hissed, cleaving the air and racing towards Nike. The Faunus banked and twisted her body to split the difference between the spells before spreading her arms, body alight with magic.
This time Weiss couldn't even scream as wind lifted her off her feet, threw her into the air in a tumbling, flailing panic. Eyes stinging, she whipped her head around and only just managed to raise her rapier to parry a thrust.
Why? What made Nike so adamant about not just catching her but killing her? Did she and Greyson know who they were? Or did they attack off assumption alone, off the small, if accurate chance that she and Qrow had gone rogue?
Even if Weiss had the chance to voice her questions, she doubted she'd be given an answer.
Sent careening by the force of Nike's attack Weiss twisted again, grateful for her sparse dinner as her stomach leaped and tumbled within her. Two dozen feet over the buildings she watched red-tiled rooftops race to meet her, the wind screaming in her ears, ponytail thwapping in the wind.
Ice formed beneath her, an uneven, sloped stretch. Managing to twist her body enough Weiss angled her legs downward and felt her teeth rattle as her feet slammed into the slippery surface. Her back arched with pain as she slammed down and all too quickly, she sailed through the air again, still tumbling, still racing towards the rooftops. Another slab of ice slowed her descent and she flipped as her momentum tossed her sideways. Wind howled inches above her and she wove a third rune and prayed to any god listening that the impact didn't kill her.
Her own airburst softened the fall but she still felt pain rocket through her as she struck the ground. Right arm going numb for an alarming few seconds she rolled across the ground, tucking her chin to her chest and drawing up her legs. Over and over until she came to a stop in someone's yard, abrasions and bruises singing in agony.
Weiss didn't allow herself time to check her wounds as she crawled away from another errant blast, ducking her head as dirt and debris showered her. To a low wall she ran, grabbing the ledge and hauling herself over it, throwing herself blindly down the hill on the other side.
Time. She needed time to think, to find a way to stop Nike's assault. The area around them was too open to fight her in. If they could just stay indoors, or if she could somehow ground the woman…
A silhouette loomed ahead of her and Weiss threw up a wall of stone as lightning exploded against it, stray bolts splitting off and crackling around her.
Stone began to crack and split, light piercing through the fissures forming. Weiss reinforced her barrier, grinding her teeth as she funneled more magic into her runes, fighting to hold back the assault, focusing on surviving.
Focusing so hard that she missed the spear sailing for her neck.
/+/+/+/+/+/
"Hah, you know…" Qrow slid back across the room and grinned even as his arms screamed in pain. "For an old bastard you pack a punch."
Greyson kicked aside a table and walked towards him slowly. A casual gait, one of a predator cornering its prey, knowing full well there would be no escape. That armor of his couldn't be that thick, not with how easily the man moved, his range of motion. Qrow knew his own greatsword could make mincemeat of the thin plating if he struck it.
If. Three minutes of exchanges and he hadn't hit the Hunter once.
Not that Greyson had hit him either. Qrow grabbed a chair and threw it, clicking his tongue as it shattered against Greyson's blade. A lot of near misses, sure, but no blood had been spilt between them. That might be a victory if he hadn't realized how outclassed he truly was. Without magic, Greyson was the stronger fighter. Physically, in terms of experience, the old man held the advantage.
"Beware the buzzard in a profession -" Qrow hissed as his blade trembled in his hands, sparks and a piercing echo rattling through the tavern. "Not a fan of one liners, huh?"
"Lay down your weapon and we can stop this."
"Hey, I didn't start this one, pal! You did!"
Steel flashed near his face; strands of greying hair flecked away in the wind. "Then lay your weapon down and submit yourself."
And risk being dragged off to gods know where? Or abandon the girls? Sure, he'd like to stop fighting...
But that option disappeared the second Greyson attacked them. Now he was stuck in this shitshow with no avenue of escape, no easy win. Even if he wanted to use his own magic to sap strength he couldn't; Greyson had enough control to tuck his energy away. In a brief moment where Qrow had grabbed him he only felt a void, grasped fleeting tendrils that slipped through his fingertips before giving way to nothingness. No bridging the gap in physical ability then. He's knocking me around like I'm some fricken mewling squire! Qrow's jaw rattled as another blow rocked his guard, a cannonball slamming into a reinforced wall. One of them would give eventually, he knew, yet four minutes in and Greyson's strength hadn't shown signs of waning despite the man throwing around a zweihander with one hand like it weighed nothing.
The floorboards cleaved apart between his feet and Qrow darted back, taking a swing and scowling as the tip of his sword deflected off Greyson's hilt.
Too small. The tavern restricted their movement and using the furniture hadn't helped him any. He needed more space to fight which, unfortunately, meant giving Greyson more to work with too.
His own strength had begun to flag though. Not by much - he could go a while longer - but he knew the faint burn in his arms for what it was. Cursed, scrambled as the wall above his head split beneath a blade's biting kiss.
A smiling face flashed in his mind, eyes twinkling. "You know, stilts, that sword of yours is awfully big. Are you compensating for something?"
Despite himself Qrow smiled, a low rumbling chuckle rising in his chest. Maybe he should have considered carrying something more reasonable, training with a shortsword, or one of those katanas that Raven seemed to fancy.
Using the flat of his sword he caught Greyson's, stepped into the swing and threw a jab. To his delight the man's head snapped back and he watched blood fly from a split lip. "First blood! Hah!" Raven's sword wouldn't have blocked that attack!
Wind rushed from his lungs as a fist buried itself in his sternum, spittle flying from his mouth. A foot followed suit and he sailed out and through the door, digging steel into stone as he skid back and wheezed, gripping his chest and coughing.
Gloat when he's down, dumbass! He derided himself, spitting out phlegm and blood, rolling his shoulders as he waited for Greyson to emerge and - "Oh fuck!"
Who threw a zweihander like a spear?! Qrow barely knocked it aside before the man came charging out, shoulder slamming into his stomach, feet lifting off the ground. Slamming the pommel of his sword between Greyson's shoulderblades he kicked out, toes aching as he struck shin guards. His back struck wood and Qrow winced as splinters tore through his clothes and buried themselves in his back, lowering his head as canvas and planks fell around them. His fist cracked against the Hunter's skull and he felt himself be dropped, taking a wide swing that forced Greyson to dart back.
They continued to dance in the plaza. Among the pale stone buildings that emulated the stars above but lacked their shining splendor, kicking up dust as their feet scuffed and skid, shattering the still night with exchanges of steel and fist. Grunts and curses left their mouths and even as Qrow felt his stamina steadily flag he pressed harder and harder.
Veteran or not the fact remained that Greyson was old. Easily in his fifties, perhaps older. Sooner or later the man's surprising fount of energy would wane and he'd fatigue too. Qrow only needed to weather the storm of blows until then, suffering being put on the backfoot until an opportunity presented itself to down the man.
Not kill. He wouldn't kill an innocent Hunter for attacking him; their assumption about his and Weiss' going rogue was correct, but they had their reasons. And Greyson and Nike were only following orders. Orders he himself had followed blindly not so long ago.
So no, he wouldn't stain the paved roads of Pradalia red that night, not if he could help it.
Easier said than done when Greyson grabbed him by his collar and lifted him off his feet before handily lobbing him as though he were nothing more than a pebble. Somehow he caught himself before he ended up tumbling head over heels and crashing into a wall.
"You've gotta be shitting me!" Qrow staggered and braced himself on the wall, rubbing the bruise already forming at his throat.
Greyson leveled a slight smile at him as he advanced. "For a man without magic you hold up remarkably well. In another scenario I should like to call you an ally." He twirled his sword in one hand and Qrow had to wonder if the bastard wasn't just showing off. "A shame you decided to go against your allies."
"Look pal, we can just go our separate ways here. I leave Pradalia, you keep doing whatever it is you do here, and we never gotta fight again." His arms ached as he lifted his sword. "What do you say?"
"What do I say?" Greyson extended a hand and stopped, his palm glowing yellow. "I say I'm outside of your blocking range, and I do hope you're as durable as you look."
Qrow managed a startled gasp before his body became weightless before he flew across the plaza and slammed into a stone wall.
Not paralysis magic. Gravity.
The realization didn't have a chance to settle in as his vision darkened, his body seizing up as pain rippled through him.
And his sword fell with a clatter as he slumped to the ground.
Before I'm razed at the stake for two cliffhangers, yes, I am just as annoyed about doing it as you are. But I needed to cut it in half or else you'd be reading a roughly 35 page fight and the results of said fight. To spare you that, I needed to adjust things slightly so they could continue in the next chapter. Doesn't make it suck any less but there's the method behind the madness.
Part 2 coming ASAP!