Whitley was confused.
He had found the events of the past couple of hours perplexing, to say the least. The boy was never really the type to concern himself with learning the specific intricacies of Huntsmen and Grimm. Not to say he was totally ignorant about the subjects. He was still cognizant of what was considered basic knowledge any person living on Remnant should at least know about.
Huntsmen were tasked with hunting and exterminating Grimm.
The creatures of the Grimm were attracted to, and in some cases fed, on negative emotions.
Aura pushed the huntsmen's strength to superhuman levels and allowed them to fight Grimm.
That wasn't any groundbreaking information, but it was enough for him. In his defense, there wasn't exactly anyone he could've asked before. His mother was always locked up in her room drunk, and his sisters were away. He tried asking his father about Aura in a way that insinuated that he was actually interested in having his unlocked, but the man had merely scoffed at Whitley.
"You have no need for it."
At that point, he was more than proficient at reading the man known as Jacques Schnee. It appeared that bringing up the subject of huntsmen in any manner that wasn't an insult was a sure way to get on his father's bad side.
Dejectedly, Whitley had dropped the subject and never brought it up again.
Nonetheless, he felt like whatever his father was doing right now was not actually something huntsmen should be able to do. From the looks of disgust and confusion on his mother's and Winter's faces, they seemed to agree.
Thus in his very humble opinion, Whitley felt like this was a very good time to once again broach the subject. He was content to let it be last time because he thought he wasn't the only one without an Aura. Now he is seriously starting to feel left out.
Whitley believed he was entitled to at least an explanation. But first...
"Yes?" His father as said as he saw Whitley slightly raise his hand.
"What does 'nuke' mean?" Whitley asked. It was clear that his father felt like his declaration was supposed to shock them. However, Whitley had a problem being shocked when he didn't understand what the plan was.
"Nuclear bomb," Jacques said with a raised eyebrow as if it was common knowledge.
"I see," Whitley said, not seeing at all. A second later, he asked again. "What is a nuclear bomb?"
His father opened his mouth to answer before he seemed to realize something. Rubbing his chin in contemplation, he spoke. "I guess you wouldn't have an idea about it, huh. It's more or less a massive explosion. Just be on the lookout for a mushroom-shaped cloud."
Whitley nodded. At least he knew what a mushroom cloud was. If he remembered correctly, it happened when big volcanoes erupted. He felt like doing that to Beacon was a bad idea, but people who knew better than he did seemed happy to go along with the idea. So, Whitley kept his thoughts to himself.
"Any more questions?" Jacques inquired with a bored look while his eyes swept across his family.
"Is that permanent? " His mother said as she pointed with her finger across her husband's new body.
Jacques looked down at his new body. He started twisting and moving as if to better marvel at it. "Why? Do you like it?" He said with a smirk.
Whitley didn't have to turn to know that his mother was looking disgusted. Still, he agreed with her question. It would be good to know if he will have to get used to the new look because frankly, it was very creepy.
Jacques spread his hands by his sides. Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes. A second later, his body was engulfed by what could only be described as black fire. Soon enough, the flames disappeared and his father was back to his original form. "The answer to your question is no. It's not permanent. I couldn't stomach the thought of ever depriving my dear wife of seeing my handsome mug."
Willow made a gagging sound in return.
His father then turned to Winter, a condescending smile plastered on his face. "What about you, doggie? Any question you want to ask?"
Whitley could hear the threatening growl of his sister. He spared a glance in her direction and found the eldest Schnee daughter giving their father the evil eye. She seemed on the verge of insulting him back for a second but held herself back.
"The flesh of the Grimm is not something that can be consumed. There were documented instances of people who had done so in the past, and they all died within minutes. Yet, you're still breathing. How did you do it?" the Specialist inquired calmly.
"What can I say? I'm built different." Jacques shrugged with a cocky laugh.
"It is the work of your Semblance, isn't it?" Winter pressed on.
"Perhaps." He replied.
Winter scowled, her temper starting to flare at their father's continuing dismissal of her questions. "I have neither the desire nor the patience to play this game with you. Therefore, I would appreciate it if you discontinued this mockery. What is the point of telling me to ask questions when you will simply avoid answering them?"
Jacques's smirk dropped at her outburst, replaced by what could best be described as a look of disappointment. "First the Dog and now you. Do the Atlesian armed forces never teach their men how to read between the lines? You people really need to learn how to take a hint." He let out a heavy sigh. "Very well, then. Before I answer your question, allow me to answer one of my own. What is life?"
'That…is a weird question.' Whitley thought to himself. The question was hardly one can answer out of the blue. He looked at his mother and oldest sister and found them sporting equally puzzled looks.
"I know that is a bit of a philosophical question, but I would be thankful if you humor me." He said with a reassuring tone. "There are no right or wrong answers, so don't be afraid. I just want to hear how each of you see life."
None of the Schnee women seemed keen to answer, so Whitley begrudgingly stepped forward. "I think life is a journey." He answered. That was a lie, of course. Whitley had never contemplated what life was or its purpose. He merely repeated what he once read in a book. It seemed like the type of answer that would please his father.
And what do you know, it actually did.
"Hmm, that is a great answer! Good job, kid." Jacques smiled in satisfaction at his son's reply. Whitley had to stop himself from preening like a peacock at the compliment.
His father turned his gaze at Willow and waited for her answer. His mother maintained eye contact stubbornly for a period. After a while, she let a huff, and with a roll of her eyes, she answered. "Life is nothing but a series of regrets."
Jacques nodded at her answer. "A bit too pessimistic for my taste, but nonetheless, it is a good answer. I understand why you would hold such sentiments seeing how bloody miserable your life is." he critiqued his wife's answer. He didn't seem to pay too much attention to her implication that he was the source of those regrets. Whitley would have said that his father didn't notice, but the man was far too perceptive for that.
Finally, he turned towards the Atlesian Specialist. "What is life?"
"Life is a set of rules and laws. Each person has their own set of rules that govern the way they live their lives. As long as those rules do not actively harm others, it is fine. However, there are those who seem to get off on that." Winter replied at last. Her voice was laced with malicious intent and accusations against the man in front of her.
For the nth time, Whitley wondered if throwing shade every time they opened their mouth at one another was the real hereditary Schnee Semblance. However, that notion was quickly interrupted as his father spoke again.
"That is a decent answer, and one fitting of a soldier. Out of the three, it is perhaps the one closest to mine." Jacques said as he considered Winter's answer. "Rejoice girl; it seems you and I see the world in the same manner."
By her glare, Winter didn't see the point of being happy. Rather, she considered it a slight.
"Life, to me, is about giving and taking. At its core, it is barely anything more than a never-ending series of transactions." His father started talking. "Everything in this world has its own worth. In order to obtain something, another thing of equal value must be given, an equivalent exchange so to speak, the higher the value, the bigger the price. [MERCHANDISE can never be given for free. It can only be exchanged or used.]"
"So, you won't answer, unless I give you something in return." Winter summarized with a bemused expression.
That was Whitley's first thought as well, but if that was the case..
'Then why didn't he simply say so?' Whitley pondered.
Whitley was confused at his father's words. His answer fit someone who was obsessed with money like his father. The explanation seemed comprehensible enough, and yet, something was off about the last sentence. Why did he phrase it like that?
Unless…
"It's not that he won't; it's that he can't answer those questions without receiving something in return." Willow's voice caught him off-guard. Whitley turned to face her and found her looking at his father with narrowed eyes. "No, it would more fitting to say: You aren't allowed to give that information freely."
As soon as she finished, she seemed to sense the wide-eyed gaze her children were giving her. "What?" She asked with a bashful look. "I might not look like it, but I used to be a professional Huntress, one of the best in Atlas, at that. I couldn't achieve that without knowing how to deduce Semblances."
"Precisely," his father said with a clap. "Information about my abilities is far too valuable to be disclosed that easily. If I had to rank it, I would say it is considered the second most valuable thing to me."
"So, if you were to divulge that knowledge.." Winter repeated.
"You would lose something of equal value." Jacques completed her sentence. "So, what do you say? Are you still interested in how I am still alive after doing the impossible?"
Winter huffed in response. "No, I am not. Besides, I already have an idea about the mechanics of your Semblance." With that said, Winter turned towards the exit and went on to leave. His mother followed after a second.
But before they left the room, Whitley spoke to father, his voice loud enough for all three of them to hear. "Father…you said that your Semblance was the second most important thing to you. Can…Can I ask what's the first?"
Whitley was ashamed to be this hopeful.
Jacques smiled at the question. "Hmm, tell me. What do you think the most important thing to me is?"
"Your Ego?" Winter rolled her eyes with a mocking tone. Jacques paid her little attention aside from a short glance.
Whitley did not answer.
His father raised his hand and beckoned Whitley over to him. Whitley went with little hesitation. As soon as he reached him, the man's hand came to rest atop his head. His father ruffled his hair with a smile.
"It's you."
Weiss felt like her head was about to split.
As her consciousness started returning, she realized she was in a sitting position, leaning against a wall. Her eyelids felt like they were made of stone as she tried to open her eyes.
The first thing she saw was a pair of arms around her midsections keeping her in place. She was leaning against a person, not a wall. Her eyes started moving upwards passing the suited chest, the well-built neck, the white mustache and settled on the familiar icy blue eyes of her father.
Her father…
Weiss's body jolted as her mind relayed the memories of what happened inside the shelters. The heiress pushed her arms against his chest and pried herself off of him. In his surprise, he offered no resistance.
Weiss tried to stand, but her balanced crumbled as a strong gust of wind hit her. In a flash, her arm was in her father's grip.
"If you fall, you land in the middle of the ocean. No one can help you there. That is if you don'tget ripped apart first." He said in a serious tone of voice. He gently guided her arm down. "Sit."
Weiss did as she was ordered. As she sat, she felt her legs land not on concrete or steel, but on fur. She looked downwards and found nothing but black. She followed the darkness to the front and found the back of a massive skull mask. The small outline of Beacon Academy getting slowly closer by the second.
Her breath stopped.
She let her gaze wander around her surroundings.
What she saw made her stomach drop.
Hundreds and hundreds of Grimm creatures flying around them, around the massive Nevermore they were riding.
Weiss turned to face her father with wide eyes and fear seizing her body. The man held her gaze with a poker face as he sat with one knee raised.
"It's about time we've had a talk, Weiss."
