These two introductory chapters were written at 3 AM fueled by spite and Red Bull. Sorry if there are any errors or grammatical mistakes, comment or send me a PM if you spot anything you feel is worth mentioning in either chapter.

Jaune Arc yawned, stretching his arms above his head and rolling his neck to a satisfying series of pops. He hummed in satisfaction and looked to where his fire had been burning a few hours before, holding one hand over the embers.

"Still warm." He commented to himself, turning to the sunrise. "Guess it's time to get moving..." He sighed and moved to his bag, pulling his clean, carefully folded 'city' clothes out and making sure they were clean and not terribly crumpled. He moved over to a river eddy to check his reflection before getting dressed.

As usual, the scars were the first thing he noticed when he saw his reflection. The surgeries may have restored his ear and the shape of his face, but the flesh was still shiny and pulled taught over his face, the scarring continuing down his neck to his shoulder, ending where the metal cap of his arm began and warping the flesh of his right pectoral and much of his upper back.

He sighed and pushed the thought of the scars away, as usual.

His gold-white-gradient hair was matted and a little greasy, but a few moments scrubbing it in the clear river water returned it to its natural, messily spiked state. It had grown a few inches past what he liked in the past month, but he supposed that the hair-ties he had in his bag would see some use now, especially since he didn't have the time to trim it. The stubble on the left side of his face was quickly taken care of with a razor and once he was done with that, he stripped down and waded out into the river, not caring about the frigid temperatures while he scrubbed himself as clean as he could be in the wilds. He let himself dry in the air for a few minutes before pulling on his clothes, checking to make sure that he had everything on correctly.

The usual pair of well-worn brown boots, many-times-replaced-leather-laces drawn tight, faded blue-jeans tucked into them and a pair of belts crossed over his hips to form an X-shape. On one side he had a large survival knife sheathed and on the other rested Crocea Mors. On his left arm he wore thick armor plates to provide better protection while guarding and a breast-plate, all of which were white with golden borders. Although his right arm was left largely bare, the high-quality Atlesian alloys used in the prosthetic from the shoulder down provided ample protection- though he still supplemented it with a simple steel bracer painted to match the rest so that he could avoid as much damage to the prosthetic itself as he could. Underneath his breastplate, he wore his favorite Pumpkin Pete Hoodie for good luck.

He hated that cereal, but the hoodie was just so damn comfortable.

Finally, he tied the white bandana around his neck, completing his ensemble. He pulled his well-worn backpack on and kicked dirt onto what remained of the previous night's fire before walking towards the city in the visible distance.

'Beacon, here I come!

Sorry for the short chapter here, it's a lot harder to be descriptive with a simple outfit. I could have crammed a gratuitous bath scene in there, but I felt it'd be out of place since we're just opening up. I want to include mature themes in this story, but I don't think it's something that a story should be opened with if it isn't the main focus.

Stay sane y'all.

~MindsandMirrors

Me: *Trying to sleep*

Brain: You up?

Me: No, now go away.

Brain: You know that chapter you just wrote? The one you complained about being short? It'd be hilarious if you forgot to describe his scars.

Me: ...

Me: Sonuva-

So yeah. I forgot to describe the scarring on Jaune. But I'd also like to take this moment to say that this story idea was given to me by Coeur in mid 2018. While the idea is originally his, he has no hand in the direction of this story.

See ya.

~MindsandMirrors