Hey, I'm not dead! Apologies for the extensive delay. I did warn that this month might not see an update but I was optimistic in getting at least one chapter out. I did, sort of, right at the very end. So technically I did not lie, right?

At any rate, I hope you all had a fantastic holiday, and you have something to look forward to in the new year.

Weiss hadn't known how badly she wanted a bath until she had climbed into one.

Sure, the discolored cast-iron bathtub was not her ideal place of rest. It was unpleasant to sit on, lined with grime at its feet and along the edges, and she swore it wobbled beneath her. But warm water did wonders at chasing away her chills. Even with dirt and other muck floating in the water she had been inclined to linger in the soothing dip longer than necessary, wiggling her toes intermittently, savoring the soothing heat of the fire-kept bath. Once her hair had been cleaned however and the water thoroughly sullied, she clambered out, dried herself on a slightly stiff towel, and redressed.

Dinner had been spent in awkward silence in Charon's home. After the man had made a meal for them, a simple stew with gamey meat and tough root vegetables with a peculiar tang to them, he had excused himself and left the house. For hours. It was not until she and Nike had cleaned up that he returned, shuffling in as silently as his awkward, lanky body could manage.

Which might have been silent enough if they weren't still huddled around the fire. As if moving away from it would deprive them of the precious heat they had just gotten accustomed to again.

Then came the matter of sleeping arrangements. With one bedroom and a singular bed to his name Charon insisted that one of them take it. Nike insisted that Weiss have it. Weiss, not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, took the offer with as much forced reluctance as she could muster.

"Oh no, I couldn't." She had already started towards the bedroom. "Nike, you should take it."

"I can sleep in a chair just fine. It's yours, Weiss," Nike answered with barely held amusement coloring her tone.

Charon stepped after her before stopping, raising one hand and clearing his throat. "Ah, if you want more blankets just ask, I have some laying around,' he paused and glanced around, "Somewhere."

"I will, thank you, sir."

She excused herself from the pleasant warmth of the hearth and scurried off to bed, going from the billowing light of an open flame to the paltry flicker of candlelight.

It was in the dim lighting that she took stock of her temporary sleeping quarters. Inspected it, a nagging thought in her mind telling her to remain cautious, even as the bed beckoned to her. A small table beside the bed with a stack of papers. A cracked leather journal sat face down beside them, a black splotch staining one of its covers. To her left a wardrobe without doors leaned precariously on three legs, its missing limb replaced by a stack of books not thick enough to level it off.

And that was it. A small table, a wardrobe, and the bed. The latter of which rested beneath a foggy glass window partially obscured by overgrown bushes outside. Moonlight peered over the brim of them like a shy voyeur, giving just enough natural light into the room to let Weiss know that yes, it was still nighttime, and she was still very tired.

Weiss tested the mattress. Soft, welcoming, and to her eternal gratitude, clean. Her boots came off with haste and she climbed in, near groaning as she laid down and sank into the straw bed. Nothing like the downy, cloud-like beds back in Vale but after spending nights sleeping on the forest floor it was pure bliss.

Even the blanket was, well not soft, it itched like the hay would if not for the covers, but it was warm. Warm was good.

And as she laid in bed, staring up at the dark, low ceiling of Charon's abode, she listened to the muffled conversation between Nike and their host. Centered herself on the calming crackle of fire in the hearth, and the less pleasant scrape of the bush against windowpanes. Focused on the sound of her own breathing as it became shallower, more at ease. Dragged the blanket up under her chin, tucked it there, and closed her eyes, feeling more relaxed than she had in well over a week.

The next thing Weiss knew, a woodpecker was attempting to breach the wall to the bedroom, rousing her unceremoniously from an otherwise restful night of rest. Sunlight, what little made it into the room, spilled across the space and ran up the wall opposite the bed, a long slender streak of gold against the dark, aged wood. Unremarkable, save for the face illuminated by said light.

"Good morning, ma'am. I thought -"

There were many ways to break in a new day. Stretching to get the blood flowing. A pleasant walk. A warm drink, good company, and a bite to eat.

Weiss squealed and hurled her downy pillow across the room, drawing up her blanket on reflex. "Nike! What are you doing!"

"Eating pillow," came the muffled reply. Nike lowered the pillow and smiled amused. "Sorry, ma'am, but I came to see if you were planning to sleep all day."

With her heart still in her throat Weiss lowered the blanket. "What? No, of course not. It's not that late." Giving pause she glanced up at the window and the sorry bit of sunlight that seeped into the room before looking back at Nike. "Er, just out of curiosity, what time is it?"

"Noon, at least." She must have grimaced because Nike laughed at her expression. "If you needed the rest then it's good that you slept."

Noon. Had she really slept so late? With enough heat in her cheeks to keep the rest of her warm Weiss slipped off the blanket, set her feet on the floor and hissed. "You could have woken me sooner. I'm taking up someone else's bed, for goodness sakes," she grumbled as she reached with her toes, managing to snag her boots and drag them back to her to slip on.

"Charon insisted we let you sleep. I was inclined to agree. Besides, it gave me some time to look into this Grimm problem of theirs."

"Oh? And did you find out anything?"

"Hardly," Nike snorted, lobbing the pillow back over and crossing her arms. Her wings twitched at her back, and she leaned her shoulder into the wall. "The people report seeing a Grimm in the treeline at night, and hear wailing from the forest, but no one's actually seen anything. Which is unusual. Grimm don't hide themselves from people typically. If one's nearby then it would have attacked by now."

"Not all Grimm are outwardly aggressive," Weiss said as she slipped on her boots. "They will attack humans on sight, yes, but some cause harm more passively. Apathy are known to linger and let their presence drain their prey before moving. Arachne set up nests and wait for humans to come too close before attacking." Standing and waiting for the brief spell of vertigo to pass Weiss yawned, making a halfhearted effort to smooth the bedhead she no doubt sported. "I'm assuming there are Mistral variants that behave similarly."

"Of course. But their descriptions are… Weird. It's not a type that I'm familiar with." Nike frowned and shifted her weight. "Gangly like Apathy, and taller than a man. Some people claim it moves upright, others say they've seen it crawling along the forest floor."

"Biped or quadruped. That narrows it down none whatsoever. And the cries they hear?"

"Some describe it like a howling cat, which I'd guess is just a local lynx or something. Kostas, er, one of the locals, says it sounded like a woman crying." Nike rubbed at her face and huffed. "So, about as reliable as how it moves. Which is to say not at all."

The woodpecker finally left, thank gods. Weiss rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, groaned as she stretched, then started for the bedroom door with a trudging step. "Right. Well, let's go make another round of questioning and see if we can't learn something actually useful."

"Er, about that…"

Weiss stopped in the doorway and peered over her shoulder. "What? Do you not think we can get anything else from them?"

"Maybe, but that's not it. There's another reason I came to get you."

That other reason turned out to be enough to get Weiss rushing out of the house, rapier in hand. Squinting in the glaring sun she scanned the hamlet laid out before them, cursed, and took off down the designated path leading out of Zagori. The only one that had once been used by traders but had long since fallen into disuse. Vegetation encroached on the once clear trail, fallen limbs blocking their way. Weiss stepped over those, hacked aside limbs in her path, all while biting back a litany of curses and resisting the urge to chew out Nike.

With the mountain on their right and the forest spreading out indefinitely on their left they moved, following the trail where it remained and doing their best to estimate its path where it had vanished.

Their search did not take long. As the remnants of heat left Weiss, her breath coming in cloudy, wispy plumes, she stopped around a bend in the corpse of the trading route and gripped her rapier tight, debating whether or not runes were necessary.

No Grimm, which still befuddled her to no end. If not for the reports and sightings by the residents she would have thought the region entirely absent of the beasts.

Which begged the question then of why Charon was out here by himself, hunched over the remains of a wagon and rifling through it. The vehicle appeared long neglected, the white canvas yellowed by age and littered with holes. Both axles had been broken, one wheel shattered into splinters, and crates in varying states of decay littered the ground, some open and empty.

"Sir?" Weiss called, sleep still tinging her voice. Charon looked their way, waved, and went right back to his looting.

"Here, let me." Nike spread her wings and Weiss thought for a second she might fly over. Which seemed odd considering all of twenty feet separated them. Then she stroked her wings once and a gust of wind conjured a small twister that sent dirt, leaves, and other detritus flying at Charon, leaving the man sputtering as he shielded himself with his arms.

"Nike!"

"Got his attention, didn't I?" Nike's eyes sparkled as she smirked.

Sighing, Weiss smacked her friend's arm before marching over to meet the man, wincing as he plucked a small stick from his now messy hair. Did that constitute assault? If they were in fact Hunters still they would have been raked over the coals for such a flagrant act. It was all Weiss could do to try and apologize on Nike's behalf as Charon dusted himself down.

"I should have heeded your call the first time, the mistake is mine." No, it wasn't. It really wasn't. "Sorry, did you two need something?"

"You told me to meet you here with Weiss," Nike said, nodding towards Weiss. "She's here, so…?"

"I did?" Charon's eyes glazed briefly before shaking his head. "Oh, yes, right. Sorry, I'd forgotten. I was just…" He looked back at the wagon and made vague gestures with his hands, as if grasping for an excuse.

"Looting?"

Weiss groaned. "Nike, while I appreciate your candidness, please stop talking."

"Looting," Charon agreed, wholly unapologetic. "Although there's nothing of value here. Spoiled foodstuffs, some torn, soiled linens, and rusted bits of metal and scrap." Shaking his head, the elf knelt by the wagon again, dragging a strip of green cloth from a pile of tattered leather strips and crushed planks. "I'm looking to see if our Grimm friend has been here recently. The wreck is old but there might be some lingering negativity to attract it."

"Possible, but unlikely." Both because that wasn't how Grimm operated, not really, but also because of how emotion itself worked. "The dead do not feel emotions, obviously," Weiss explained. She approached the wreckage and squatted down, peering inside a broken crate. "Negativity, and emotions in general, are not tangible things. They're expressed by people, living people," as if she needed to qualify that, "And pass when the people emitting them do. There would not be anything to attract Grimm here."

That tired old mantra used by the Church to justify reinhabiting old towns and villages. After all, why build from scratch when you could move people into the remains of an old settlement, patch it up and call it a day? Emotion, like life itself, was an ephemeral thing, transient, flickering into existence with a spark only to fade into the darkness of oblivion moments later. A rather morose and nihilistic outlook if Weiss were honest, yet it had been one she had bought into, once upon a time.

"Emotion exists after death." Charon mumbled, tossing aside the ruddy green scrap for a dirtier, even ruddier strip of leather.

"Dead people are dead." Nike had gotten her hands on a sealed bottle and popped the cork. Sniffed it, shuddered, and lobbed it aside. "The only thing that exists after death is a corpse, Charon. I don't know what the school of Kalom's beliefs are," she went on as glass shattered on stone. "But dead is dead."

Kalom? An adherent to the god of death? That was curious. And upsetting. She had never met any believers in Kalom because, well, celebrating and worshipping death was not something people exactly did. No one sane anyways. She'd known gravekeepers and morticians to speak his name with respect as part of their work but that was hardly worship. Weiss arched an eyebrow at Nike and inclined her head towards Charon in silent question, receiving a slight nod in return.

"When someone passes, they themselves are gone, yes. The soul departs, the body becomes an empty husk. But what of those left behind? They have physical form still. Some belongings, their residence perhaps. Sometimes not even that." Charon dropped the leather at his feet, inspecting his palm before looking their way. "Tell me, have you two ever witnessed a death? Or lost someone close to you?"

"Yes," Nike answered quickly.

"Yes," Weiss affirmed after a moment's hesitation. "Although I admit their passing was not exactly… Upsetting for me." She licked her lips and frowned. "Not in the sense of losing a loved one, but in having taken a life."

"An enemy then? All the same in the end, death is death. It does not discriminate," Charon smiled wistfully. "So then, tell me something. Do you both feel nothing for the loss? Am I to believe that you both feel an absence of emotion for what happened?"

Nike, frowning and crossing her arms, regarded Charon like one might a piece of feces found underfoot. "I don't like what you're suggesting. Of course I still mourn."

"Emotion," Charon pointed at them with a chuckle. "See? It lingers after death, just not from those who have left us. Mourning. Fondness. Anger. Relief," he listed, eyes sliding to Weiss before shuttering. "Regret. All of these and more follow death, and all of them linger for untold periods of time. So while yes, you would be correct in saying the people who once drove this wagon have no more emotion, others may yet feel something towards them. I thought perhaps that had somehow drawn the Grimm to Zagori."

Charon spread his arms halfheartedly. "But as you can see there is no trace of any. It appears my whim to come and search was a waste of time, and yours. For that I apologize."

"You came out here on a whim? A hypothesis?" Weiss rubbed at her temples and blew air through pursed lips. "Sir…"

"Charon, please."

"We can't do our job if civilians are endangering themselves," she went on. "The next time you decide you wish to investigate something then please, mention it to us first. Or at least wait for one of us to accompany you. If there had been Grimm out here then you'd be dead by now."

"Well, that's awfully presumptuous."

"It's accurate," Nike interjected. "A normal person can't hope to do much against a Grimm unarmed. Even Hunters struggle, and we've had years of training for such a scenario. To put it bluntly, old man, we'd have been bringing your corpse back with us."

"You both treat death like it's such a bad thing."

Weiss and Nike exchanged a look before both staring at Charon. "Um… Because it is?" Nike said.

"A man suffering from a terminal disease passes peacefully, numbed by medicines and surrounded by loved ones." Charon smiled as he strolled towards them, flicking dirt off his gray tunic. "A tyrant is killed, sparing his people from further pain and difficulty. The lynx catches the rabbit to feed its young. A family slaughters a cow to feed themselves and their neighbors in a harsh winter." Stopping before them the elf held his hands out, smile widening slightly, spreading his pale lips across his sallow face. "It has two sides to it, as anything does."

"I feel like you're splitting hairs with your argument," Weiss countered. "Someone still mourns them. There is no death without some kind of repercussion, however small or grand. There is nothing beautiful in death."

Why were they even having this debate? As a cold wind rolled through the forest and nipped at her back Weiss felt herself longing to be back in bed, surrounded by a warm, itchy blanket and comfortable. Not here, stood in the forest beside a ruined wagon, deliberating mortality with a clearly unwell man. Folding her arms, she met Charon's gaze and frowned, running out of patience for both the weather and his faulty beliefs.

A sentiment she hardly hid as she watched the man's smile falter, dropping his slender arms to his sides with a resigned sigh. "I cannot deny what you say, but I would only ask you to keep an open mind on the matter. Kalom… Does only what nature requires, all things must pass on eventually." Another small, wilting smile. "And sometimes, death creates life."

Weiss shifted uncomfortably under the man's gaze, those multi-faceted eyes staring her down. What an absolute load of crock. Life creating death? Willing herself to turn away she pried her rapier from cold fingers and sheathed it, tucking her hands beneath her arms as she began the walk back.

"Let Nike and I consult with the villagers again and see what we can glean from them. In the meantime, sir, please do not wander off on your own again. We cannot guarantee your safety if we can't find you."

"Understood. Thank you for your concern, Weiss."

Concern borne of a sense of responsibility was still concern, and Weiss would be damned if she allowed a preventable death to occur.

Death. She had been up for all of twenty minutes and already she had become sick of that word. And no warped perception of it was going to change her view on it any time soon either. No matter how vehemently might try to sway her otherwise.

"Wonderful start to the day. Let's see what else it has in store for me…"

/+/+/+/+/+/

A whole lot of nothing as it turned out.

A second round of questioning revealed exactly what Nike's original had. Inconsistent claims, dubious accounts, and from a hysterical Frederic, further claims that he was going to be eaten. All in all, about as useful as a sheet of paper in raging rapids.

The only thing consistent about the claims were the peculiarity surrounding them. The Grimm never entered the town proper, always circled, always just in someone's peripherals. Weiss may have chalked it up to paranoia if Charon didn't claim to have seen it too - the single person with his head on his shoulders. But even their host couldn't provide anything specific that morning. Only the same vague details.

Humanoid. Spindly. And accompanied by a whispering that may or may not have been a siren song of sorts.

Weiss chewed her lower lip, grinding her heels into dirt as she paced back and forth on the Zagori perimeter. Wracking her brain for potential culprits yielded little results either. Apathy? No, they traveled in groups and would be causing more presentable symptoms. Banshee? It might cover the whispering aspect but not the form; banshees were more akin to phantoms or Geists in appearance. For all Weiss knew, and had begun to suspect given her dead ends, it was a variant unique to Mistral.

As extensive as the Church's resources on the Grimm were, each kingdom tended to focus on its respective types of beasts. Ones like Beowolves or Creeps were universal. But Hydras? Charybdis? Or Mistral's Yaoguai? Those were variants found only within certain kingdoms, which Weiss knew precious little about.

She needed to talk to Nike. None of the townsfolk would know much if they hadn't left their hamlet before. Barring spotting the Grimm herself, which she still hadn't done, she needed her friend's expert opinion.

And she would ask if she could find the damnable woman anywhere.

She checked with Hector and Tobias by the town's not-gates and neither reported seeing Nike. With the small size of Zagori Weiss could inspect the majority of the town from there. No sign of her friend. Considering she had just gone house to house in search of information, and assuming Nike hadn't taken off into the forests, there was only one place left to check. As Weiss made her way back to Charon's house she stopped briefly to try and greet the children only to huff as they ran away. Not screaming, which she supposed was an improvement. Maybe come tomorrow they could look at her without soiling themselves.

Am I really still that terrifying to them? Shorter, demure, Weiss had never considered herself an imposing figure. She had magic, sure, but other people on Remnant did too. Thousands. Was that really enough to warrant this reaction? None of the villagers seem to have any grasp of it. Some might not have ever seen it before, she reminded herself, trudging down the shoddy stone walk to Charon's. It's unknown to them. I need to remember that… And slap Nike later for flaunting hers. Dolt.

The death acolyte's home beckoned to her from the shadows of pines, door shut and windows shuttered. A test of the handle proved someone was inside, the lock undone. Weiss stepped inside and expected to find Nike sat by the fire dining, or perhaps working on her weapons. Instead, she found the room empty, the fire out, and no signs of her friend.

She did, however, hear the rustling of paper and the creak of the bed, then a curse uttered below one's breath. Faint enough that she couldn't make out the owner. Slowly, Weiss approached the closed bedroom door and reached for the handle, pausing briefly and wondering if it might be an invasion of space. Obviously, Charon was inside. It was his home, his bedroom, so it should come as no mystery who lay behind the threshold. But the rustling of papers made her curious. Perhaps he was searching for information to help them. In which case she, as a gracious guest, should offer her assistance.

Weiss swung the door open and jumped as Charon gasped. The man's eyes, wider than she'd seen them before, searched her over before his shoulder slumped. He exhaled, slowly, and a small chest she hadn't seen before snapped shut in his lap.

"Don't do that, please. My old heart can't take surprises like that," Charon chuckled wearily.

"Pardon me, I just, erm, heard you searching for something and thought to help." Her eyes wandered to the chest, wondering what might be inside. Why had Charon snapped it shut and stowed away its contents so quickly.

Personal effects, something which Weiss had no business knowing about.

"Ah, well worry not, I found what I was searching for. Thank you for your consideration though, Weiss." Rather than place the box somewhere more secure Charon stood and stowed the container atop the armoire. In plain view. Perfectly accessible for curious eyes, should the fancy find them. "How has your questioning gone? Had any luck gleaning information about your quarry?"

"I've learned that the Grimm in question is as elusive as a snake. And that the villagers are as reliable as an amnesiac drunk."

"It went well then," Charon mused. "Or poorly, forgive the sarcasm," he amended when Weiss puckered like she'd eaten a sour grape. "Apologies. If you'd like I could try and ask them myself?"

"That won't be necessary. I doubt they weren't forthcoming with me. Obtuse, yes, but I believe they answered earnestly." Scowling, Weiss leaned against the door jamb and folded her arms. "I don't understand. They sent a letter for aid, did they not? They've all seen a Grimm, clearly, but there's no real consensus on its form. Humanoid, somewhat, and thin. But I've heard multiple limbs, winged, and serpentine. It has one eye, no eyes, ten eyes." Groaning, she rubbed her forehead. "I would think that the village would at least know what it's contending with."

"Perhaps it's a shapeshifter?"

Weiss stopped, considered, then cursed and smacked her face in the palm of her hand. That would go a ways of explaining the variation, though not the variant itself. What kind of Grimm altered its shape at will? Why even bother in the first place? Unless it served some purpose Weiss couldn't fathom a creature wasting time altering its appearance.

"Or perhaps there are multiple Grimm in the area," Charon suggested. Then, because the idea of multiple Grimm itself wasn't concerning enough, he added, "Or maybe it is a type that affects the mind, changing the viewer's perception of it."

"And does such a Grimm exist here? I've never heard of one."

"A handful, yes. One that might fit your description is the Chymeera. Named after a Mistralian legend of eld, back when much of the continent of Anima was united under one ruler. It is a Grimm said to come to be by the workings of a madman, a Magi who sought to create life from the lifeless. Naturally, that does not quite work. It's akin to trying to start a fire by pouring water on wood. Two things that do not work as one might hope, as it were."

"And this Chymeera, it can change its shape at will?" Weiss asked, desperate to stop the impromptu history lesson.

Charon cleared his throat and gave a curt nod. "Ah, yes, it can. It is said to possess traits like that of a man, serpent, lion, and eagle, or perhaps a falcon. Debatable, the latter, given the supposed wingspan and the structure of said wings."

"You are… Surprisingly knowledgeable, for a man living in the middle of nowhere." Weiss' lips quirked slightly. "More so than anyone else here by a fair margin."

"Ah, well yes, I suppose when you've as many years as I do, you tend to learn a thing or two." Charon smiled, a tired little thing that somehow got Weiss to smile back at it, if only out of pity. Like a child trying to do its best she felt obligated to build it up somehow. "I digress. Might this be of help to you?"

Good question. Assuming that her target was indeed a Chymeera then at least Weiss had a name to it. No capabilities, unless Charon knew them. A quick query proved he didn't, and that small hope went down in flames in a flash. A name then. She could consult with Nike now and see what her friend could offer instead. Being a native to Mistral, and a Hunter besides, there was a greater likelihood of getting results there.

"I think it will work for now, thank you." Meeting the man's star-crusted eyes, Weiss inclined her head back towards the front door. "Have you seen Nike, perchance? I had hoped to talk to her about our mission here."

"Ah, so you're seeing this through in earnest then? Wonderful. I know I kind of foisted it upon you." Weiss' eyebrow nearly jettisoned from her face in incredulity. Charon flushed and held a hand up before she could rebuke. "We appreciate it. The people here are good folks. A little… Off, I'll concede, but good. And it warms my heart to see you giving this an honest effort despite your less than cordial welcome."

Weiss' eyes rolled in her head as she pushed off the doorframe. "Please, if I gave up the first time someone pointed a blade at me, or insulted me, I'd have never become a Hunter to start with."

Something in Charon's eyes seemed to darken a bit at that. The man maintained an beleaguered smile however, slouching as he approached her. "Is that right? It seems you've become quite the stubborn young woman, Weiss."

"If my refusing to yield to every pompous, self-righteous, self-aggrandizing fool that balks at my heritage is stubborn, then consider me a bull." She sniffed, then gestured back towards the door again. "Nike?"

"Of course. I sent her off to the forest earlier."

Brow pinching, Weiss sighed loudly. "You sent her into the forest. Alone," she repeated, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why?"

"She wished to canvas the area and search for signs of the Grimm. Not wanting to be rude I obliged, offered directions to sightings, and sent her on her way. She was rather adamant about going, you know. There are dangers in these woods beyond Grimm. Rockfalls, sudden snowstorms, and wild animals no less fierce than a Beowolf."

"She's from the area, I'm certain she knows how to conduct herself here.I don't appreciate our forces being split however." Sighing, Weiss rubbed the back of her neck and made to leave again. "I suppose I should go await her return."

"Wait! Please, wait a moment." Weiss had made it halfway through the room before stopping and turning around to find Charon in the doorway, wringing his hands with an anxious smile. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Er… Excuse me?"

"Did you sleep well? Have you eaten enough since you arrived? Do you need another bath?" Weiss took a single step towards the front door. Charon followed her with two. "Oh, what about your clothing? I can see if I can scrounge up something extra for you, if you'd like."

Staring back at the anxious, almost desperate smile Charon bore, Weiss felt herself fidgeting uncomfortably. "I am fine. Now, if you'll pardon me…"

"You don't need to press yourself on our behalf, Weiss. Please, rest here a while, won't you? I can brew some tea, or perhaps offer you a book to read?"

"Charon, thank you, but I really should be seeing to –"

"Oh! I have this old game with me that I brought from another village. It's a little rudimentary, a children's game if I'm honest, but if you would like to play a bit I could fetch it."

"Charon." Weiss leveled her voice as her irritation mounted, taking slow, measured breaths to keep from snapping. The man's insistence on her remaining in the house had started as irritating and turned to something concerning. "Is Nike in danger? Did you harm her?"

Taken aback, Charon gasped and held a hand to his chest. "Of course not. She's your friend, I would not have done anything so untoward."

"Then why are you trying to keep me from leaving?"

She could think of no other reason beyond guilt for Charon's sudden change in tone. The man's hand wringing, and lack of an immediate answer did little to assuage her concerns. Pursing her lips, Weiss grabbed the handle and opened the front door, making it into the threshold before Charon grabbed the back of her shirt. She nearly punched the man for it, might have if he didn't look so pitifully apologetic for doing so.

"I simply thought… To be a better host, that is all. It is not right for us to place our problems on you and relax in our homes while you toil."

"Is that what this is about, you're feeling guilty that I'm working?" Well, that was sweet in a way. And somewhat insulting. "I chose the life of a Hunter, Charon. Seeking and slaying Grimm is my profession, one which…" Which she had abandoned the moment she discovered the Church was a falsehood. "One which I pursue gladly. If you feel so guilty about it then why not prepare that tea upon our return? Would that help put you at ease?"

"Yes." No, went the lie, but Weiss didn't press the matter. "I'll have a snack prepared as well. Hot and ready the moment you and Nike come home."

"Home?"

"Back. Sorry, I misspoke."

"Hm. I'll see you shortly, with any luck."

"And I'll be ready for your return," Charon replied, sketching a bow. Weiss made no effort to conceal her groan of exasperation as she stepped back outside, shutting the door behind herself.

She hurried back up the steps, taking two at a time and not looking back. Not if she was going to find Charon watching after her through the window like some lovestruck lover. Oh gods. The image of the man professing her love made her toes curl, and not in a pleasant way. She tried to think of something, anything preferable to that. The trash-filled canals in Vale City did the trick. The lush, noxious, murky waters of the canals brought a wholly different kind of disgust to the fore, but one Weiss welcomed.

Now, where to find Nike. Given the woman had flight and that Weiss knew nothing of the forest, optimism was at an all-time low. She could try and use magic to propel herself skyward… And send the villagers into a frenzy in the process. Not to mention attract Grimm.

Her best option would be just to wait, like as not. What she would do eluded her, but Weiss figured she could find something to do. Another search of the hamlet's perimeter perhaps. Maybe she could see about polishing her rapier, provided she could find a whetstone.

Or she could go see what had the villagers in a clamor.

A cry of surprise propelled Weiss up the steps, drawing her weapon. Had the Grimm at last deigned to return and attack? Or were the fabled bandits making an attempt on the settlement?

As it happened neither of those were the case. Weiss skipped the two topmost stones and bolted into the center of the hamlet, coming to a sliding halt alongside two fretful villagers. She paid them no mind, ignored Frederic's claims that they were, yet again, to be consumed. Weiss made a small note to seek some help for that man.

At the very edge of the settlement, clad in a white cloak head to toe, stood a figure whose features were wholly obscured. Save for the slightest hint of black-crimson hair which fell from the fringes, Weiss could not make any distinguishing features out. Whether man or woman, young or old, she didn't know. What she could tell however had her raising her weapon and preparing for a fight.

The white cloak resembled that of a Warden's. Shabby, and clearly well-worn with stains and tears, but distinguishable nonetheless.

The figure shimmered with magic, like a bottle of champagne ready to burst at any moment. The air around them felt charged, primed to erupt at a moment's notice. Their head swiveled towards Weiss, their face remaining concealed.

Not that Weiss would have looked, not with the weapon at their back demanding her attention first and foremost. Large to the point of unwieldy, made of shining silver and sporting a blood red gemstone imbued at the tang…

The scythe swung free with a raspy hiss, blade extending with a sharp click. Sunlight caught the curved edge and revealed streaks of red in it. Dried blood. Rusted it was, Weiss had little interest in finding out.

The figure pivoted, lowered themselves into a crouch.

And lunged.

And that, my friends, is where we shall leave off for 2021. Thank you for reading and coming along with me on this ride this year. I hope you have enjoyed the journey, and here's to more with our dysfunctional RWBY ahead!

Stay healthy, stay safe, and stay awesome! See you in the new year!