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Without further ado, I think they might actually talk this chapter.
Start Chapter 7
The last thing Cinder can remember is agony.
Agony, surely, and regret.
Regret because her entire life had led up to that moment. Because everything she'd done, everything that had happened to her, everything she'd lost, and had stolen from her, and brutally fought to reclaim, had come to that one moment, in the bowels of Beacon, as she'd laid claim to the Fall Maiden's power.
It should've been the moment where everything changed. Where Cinder could just…
Just be free.
And yet it hadn't meant a thing, had it?
Because the light had been there. And it had stared at her like it had always wanted to see her, like it had always cared for her, and never forgotten her… and then it had run. It had run because she had made it run.
What does it matter, then?
What does it matter that she's become the Fall Maiden, that she's brought Beacon to heel beneath her? That her plan has gone off without any major hitches, that everything has finally gone exactly as it should… it means nothing.
She just feels empty.
Physical feeling returns to her slowly. She's never really been this out of it before, she thinks, but then again, a young girl with glowing white eyes has never knocked her out and frozen a gigantic Grimm wyvern through some weird power in front of her before either, so to be fair, that tracks.
Still, given she'd been knocked unconscious in enemy territory, standard fair is to pretend to still be asleep and try and gather as much information as possible. Unfortunately for Cinder, standard fair, too, had sort of gone out the window when she'd gasped awake like she'd just barely broken the surface of the water in time, avoiding drowning by the slimmest of margins.
She's panting like a dog, her ears ringing with this horrid high-pitched squeal, when something finally manages to break through.
"Are you alright?"
Cinder turns to look towards that voice, and–
And she's not really sure how, but somehow the boy looks exactly how she'd always thought he would.
Short, shaggy blonde hair, with a pair of azure eyes that gleam like the ocean on a sunny day. He's looking at her with worry; actual worry, not feigned for his own gain, or any other sort of thing.
He's just… soft. Younger than her, certainly, but that's hardly that much of a problem. He's not exactly a child. There's a warm feeling washing over her that she initially thinks is just the satisfaction of seeing him, but she realizes a moment or so later that there's an orange sort of film over her vision.
Over her…
Over her vision, which is being processed by only one eye.
Cinder tries to reach up, to touch her left eye, which she cannot feel, but her left arm isn't responding either. When she turns her face, she finds her breaths quickening, her chest rising and falling violently as she realizes the extent of her injuries.
As she takes in the stump of her left arm.
She feels pathetic, with the way she's so openly weak in that moment. She should be above the maladies of her youth, of that panic and fear, but she's never been hurt quite like this. It's all she can do to not scream, or, well, it would be, if she'd been capable of that, either.
Except she can't speak. She tries, but her voice doesn't come.
And suddenly she's a little girl again, struggling for breath and clutching at her heart. Trapped in a supply closet that's been labeled her bedroom, roaches and spiders crawling their way over her, spindly legs, mandibles clicking, and she's trapped, the door's locked. She can't breathe. She tries, but she can't, and she realizes she's probably having a panic attack, which is absurd, because she's Cinder Fall, she's not supposed to be capable of such a thing, she'd killed that part of her that cried back then, slaughtered it, and left it for dead, having no need for it, not anymore, because she's free now, and–
"It's okay!" His voice is a little higher than she'd expected. A little more boyish, a little more naïve, like even after everything, after all that she's done to him and his friends, he's still…
She wants to struggle against that, that ease with which she just wants to fall into the light before her, but she can't even breath, and she's–
"You're okay. Focus on your breathing. L-Look at me, I… breath with me, okay?"
She can't meet his eyes, but for some reason, the film running across her skin, causing her to glow an iridescent orange, like the color of flame in the night sky, translates his breaths. She can sense the way he takes a long breath in, and she manages to follow along with it.
"Everything's okay. I promise. I know you're scared, but… I-I'm right here. So just… breathe with me."
And somehow she's trying. Legitimately making an effort to follow along with this hapless fools rhythm. It takes a while, maybe five or ten minutes, before Cinder's breathing evens out enough that her monocular vision can refocus.
She lets out a horrid, rasping breath, that's halfway between a wheeze and a sob, as she manages to regain her full faculties, and she looks down to find her single hand gripping her sheets hard enough that her knuckles are bone white, and she can feel her muscles straining in her clenched hand, can feel the way her body is crying for relief, for her to not abuse it any further, because it's so clearly been pushed beyond where it even–
And Cinder's eyes key into the other presence in the room.
Greying black hair, a stubble along his chin, a sword called Harbinger slung along his back. Cinder's single eye widens, and without even meaning to she reaches across and presses her little light against her. She glares daggers at the man standing away from her bed, flexing almost subconsciously the entirety of the Maiden's power that now dwells within her, pretending as if she has any strength within her breast at all.
Surprisingly, there is more than she'd expected. Perhaps it has something to do with the film around her body, the way she'd glowed that scorching cinnabar. That's good, then. She can at least put up some resistance to try and protect her light.
She won't let him be harmed, not even by one of Ozma's eyes. No matter what it costs.
Instead of attacking, or anything else she might've expected, however, scarecrow just laughs, like what's just happened is the funniest thing in the world.
"Hah. Well. This may be easier than I thought."
Her little light twists in her grip, and she allows him to move away, his face a bit red as he awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck.
Cinder wants to speak. She wants to throw barbs at the man in front of her, perhaps provoke him by mentioning the death of his master. Force him into making a stupid mistake that she can capitalize on and punish him for it.
But she quite literally lacks everything she'd need to do that.
Her body is in no real shape for a fight, even if her aura has recovered thanks to that odd orange film. Her voice is absent entirely, missing in action for whoever knows how long. And, well…
Getting into a fight here would almost certainly involve her little light.
And she'd never want that. Not… not that.
"Well then," The infernal bastard speaks, with this annoyingly smug smile on his face. "I suppose I should clarify some things for you, Ms. … Cinder Fall, was it?"
She tries to be intimidating in that moment, to make the man regret his mocking words, but she can't do anything other than weakly growl, which only earns a laugh from the Branwen.
"Man, I gotta' say, I'm likin' this whole no talking thing you're doing. You should stick to it; I think you've found your–"
"S-Stop it!"
Both Cinder's and the crow's gazes are drawn to her little light, his fists clenched at his sides, and an almost pouty look upon his face. Cinder can't help thinking that he's trying his best to look menacing, but given he's got the countenance of a golden retriever, he can't quite manage it.
"She's… she's hurt. You shouldn't be saying things like that!"
Branwen raises a single eyebrow as he looks at her light, making this disbelieving expression. "Kid, she's a terrorist. She killed a good few hundred people in the last forty-eight hours."
Cinder's not really sure why she flinches when the man says that. She shouldn't – it's true, after all, and she's never once been ashamed of what she's done – but…
When she looks her little light's way she finds herself wanting him gone. Wanting him to not hear the man's words. She doesn't want him knowing the truth about her, doesn't want… she doesn't want…
"I know that…" Her little light bemoans, his voice shaky and weak, and it's all Cinder can do to look away, to try and not have to face the things she's responsible for.
To run, the only thing she's ever been any good at.
"I… I know that, okay?"
"Kid… look, I–"
"But even still…"
For some reason, Cinder looks back at that, and sees the way her little light is shaking, quite literally trembling, as he steps just the smallest bit closer to her.
"If… If I don't stand up for her, then… then no one will."
Cinder feels something in that moment that she doesn't think she ever has before. It's like there's a hand inside her chest, gripping at her heart, squeezing it, strangling it. It's all she can do to choke out a breath, and she's lucky it's an inaudible thing, because she knows above all else that she's so horribly weak in that moment, and she can't afford to face them, neither of them, like that.
"Alright kid." Branwen sighs, a tired thing. "I'll lay off the mocking, that work with you?"
Cinder can't help some small confusion in that moment, because there shouldn't be any reason for him to. Her little light doesn't exactly have any real leverage here, nothing to use against him, but…
"Y-Yeah. I… s-sorry, I–"
"Nah, don't apologize. You're doing a good thing, even if the person receiving it doesn't deserve it."
Cinder tries to sneer, but she's not quite able to make her voice, or her facial muscles for that matter, manage it.
"Alright, well, Cinder Fall, As of now, you can't speak, so you've got a bit to recover enough to do that. Once you can, you're going to spill every last ounce of information about your little 'Fairy God Mother'," Cinder's breath hitches. "I take it you understand your scenario?"
She manages to nod, even past the way her jaw clenches with fury.
"Good. We're heading out, then. Rest and recover your faculties. You'll need them." He says, and Cinder can't help but feel like that counts as mocking just the same as what he'd been doing before, because even if it's less pointed, less direct, she wants to strangle the life from that damned man's eyes regardless. "Kid, let's go–"
"C-Can I stay!?"
Cinder isn't alone in being shocked at that.
"What?" Branwen mutters, looking at the kid like he's crazy.
"I… I just…" her little light doesn't say anything else, though apparently Ozma's eye is able to analyze that without much difficulty regardless.
"Kid…" He sighs out, before shaking his head and letting out a low groan. "Fine, fine."
Cinder's shock must show on her features, for the Branwen actually snorts when he looks her way.
"You can stay here a little longer, then, kid. Don't do anything stupid, please?"
"I uh… I won't?"
"Right…" The other man mutters, and Cinder can't help feeling he doesn't quite believe her little light, before he turns to regard Cinder with uncertainty. "I don't think I have to tell you this, but don't hurt the kid. If you do… well, let's just say your accommodations are going to get a helluva lot worse, and we'll be extracting that information a bit more roughly, 'm I clear?"
Cinder just nods, unable to take her eyes off of the boy, who in turn can't seem to find it in himself to look towards her.
…Even if she's not sure why Branwen is allowing this. After all, she might be weak, but she's one of the most dangerous people on Remnant, quite literally second only to Salem. And there goes Branwen, leaving a perfectly good hostage just… standing beside her.
Even if Cinder would never use her little light like that. But he can't know that; he can't know…
Cinder's single eye widens, and without even meaning to she reaches across and presses her little light against her.
"Hah. Well. This may be easier than I thought."
…Or, Cinder realizes, perhaps he can make an educated guess.
"Alright, well… against my better judgement, and, likely, the judgements of quite literally everyone else in on this little plan…" The man just groans. "I'm heading out. Don't die, kid, that'd be a pain in the ass to explain to Ruby when she wakes up."
Against Cinder's expectations, her little light just laughs.
"I'll make an effort not to?"
Branwen gives a nod, and, with one final look back, exits out of the operating room.
It's perhaps Cinder finding anything but the boy within the room to focus on, but she notes that the space they're locked within is an almost sterile white in color. White tile floors, white walls, white ceiling, bright white lights that illuminate everything in the room in a harsh pastel glow.
She hates it. Cinder's always been far more comfortable in the dim light of dusk, of the world at sunset, the fiery oranges contrasted with the almost ashen grays.
"It wasn't true."
Of course, the little distractions Cinder is trying to find for herself can't last forever. She'd known that, but she'd tried regardless. She's finally forced to meet the gaze of the young blonde boy in the room with her, of her little light, who's been with her through thick and thin, through everything, even if not physically, and…
And he's got this little defiant look on his face as his lips purse together. He looks almost frightened, like he's standing before some great big Grimm, against the wyvern Cinder had summoned, for instance, and yet, even knowing he can't defeat it, that he'll likely die, he's raised his sword and shield regardless.
She wants to find such a thing foolish, and yet…
"That… what Qrow said… it wasn't true." Her little light explains, a steely flame in his gaze that feels almost antithetical to him. "You… you do deserve it. To have someone do good things for you."
And Cinder's just floored. Her eyes are wide and filled with some foreign emotion, and she knows she can't let him see, she can't, she won't, so she stares down at her sheets, running just as always, and finds herself noticing the stump of her left arm in her peripheral.
Cinder had always prided herself on her appearance. She'd been beautiful – such a thought had never been conceited or narcissistic, it had merely been the truth – the kind of woman who'd drawn every eye the moment she'd stepped into a space.
But now… now her body reflects her heart, doesn't it? This ugly, misshapen, deformed thing. Half her face, gone. An eye, gone. An arm, gone.
She's disgusting now. Doesn't even have her appearance to make her seem anything else.
Cinder idly wonders if Emerald would still even want to look at her, or if her very appearance would appall her on principle.
She doesn't know if she could blame the girl if it did.
She's not expecting a laugh from the boy to be what breaks her out of those thoughts, but it does a good enough job. She looks back up and sees him rubbing at the back of his neck, turned away from her.
"I uhm… I wanted… I used to think of stuff I'd say if I met you, y'know? I… I had so much to say, so much I wanted to do, and now it's… it's all gone. All of it. The moment I saw you it was like it disappeared into the very back of my head, and… I just…" The boy's laughing, this feeble, mirthless thing. Cinder knows how he feels, given she's much the same. "I'm sorry."
Cinder can't help some small befuddlement at that. An apology? To her? Does he not know who she is? What she's done?
No. He does. He does know, and–
And he thinks she deserves it anyways.
How hopelessly naïve.
How hopelessly…
"Oh, right, uhm… I'm Jaune." Her little light says, smiling a bit lopsidedly. "I just realized you've probably never actually heard my name before."
The worst part is that she has. Jaune Arc. Partner of Pyrrha Nikos. The woman chosen to be the Maiden by Ozma. Intelligent, but ineffectual; weak in a straight fight. She had a dossier on him on her scroll.
And to think, there he is in front of her, taking on the role of her little light.
She can remember passing by him in the middle of Beacon, just barely missing one another, passing each other by scant inches, by nothing. She can remember thinking while chatting with that Ruby girl who'd come to stop her that the boy before her hade been unimportant; unworthy of even a thought from her.
How droll the Gods must find this.
It's clear neither of them really have any idea of what they're doing here. Her little light, even if he's chosen to stay, flaps his gums without any real purpose, seemingly unsure of just what to do or say, and Cinder would find herself in a similar boat if she, well, could say anything.
She's almost glad she can't. At least she can't make a fool of herself this way.
Thirty or so minutes pass then. Jaune walks her through her injuries, through the little notes the doctors have left behind for him.
"Qrow isn't quite sure what did this to you. I uhm… I think I know. My friend Ruby… there was something that happened… I'm not quite sure how, but I think she was the one responsible."
Either the boy in front of her is an idiot, or he is simply far too trusting. To tell her, Cinder Fall, the identity of the person who'd robbed her of her body, of her beauty, is borderline homicide.
"I'm sorry about that. I know… well… Ruby's uh… well, she's my best friend. Me and her are pretty close, and… and I don't know why I'm telling you this… hah… I'm uh… kinda' rambling, huh?"
And yet he just smiles over at her, like he's not set his friend up to be murdered in her sleep, and it's all Cinder can do to shake her head, wanting to sigh, or scream, or some other manner of frustrated outlet. Because…
How can she? How can she kill a girl who brings such an easy smile to his face?
Gods, when had Cinder's life become so endlessly complicated?
Eventually, as the hours tick by, and nothing has occurred between them, it apparently becomes rather clear that neither of them is going to make any headway in… well, anything.
"I uh…" Jaune clears his throat. "I should probably head out, honestly. I really want to just stay here, but… well, I've got some stuff to do. Gotta' write a letter to my parents, check up on Ren and Nora, and then see how Pyrrha's doing–"
He cuts himself off, but Cinder can see the way that he glances at her out of the corner of his eye. There's an uncertainty there. A raw, almost terrified thing, and Cinder bites down on her lip as she internally thanks her own hesitation.
Because had she fired that final arrow into Nikos' chest… had she snuffed the life out of that little girl… then how would he have looked at her? Would he have even been able to? Could he have faced her after that?
No. She imagines he couldn't have.
She can't find it in herself to blame him for that, either.
"I uh… I'll be back first thing tomorrow! I'm… I think I'll be visiting a lot." The boy seemingly realizes something, his eyes widening for a moment. "O-Or if you don't want me to, I can always not! I'm uh… I'm just kind of guessing – I shouldn't, gods, you know what they always say, when you assume, you make an–"
A hand on the boy's wrist has him stopping, and her little light gets this small look of shock on his face in that moment. Just a tiny realization.
Cinder looks away. She can't bear it. She just…
Just squeezes the hand that she's holding in her own, reaching across her own body with her single remaining arm, and tries to reassure the boy that if there's anything she wants right now…
It's him.
"Ah… okay." Her little light gains some confidence in that moment, nodding to himself. "Okay. I… I'll be back first thing tomorrow, then!"
Cinder just nods.
And then he's pulling away, and Cinder has to bite down on everything within her to let him. To not try and reach out, to grip the tiny warmth of his palm in her own and cradle it against her breast, to try and smother that warmth with her body, to try and take it for herself, because Cinder's never been good at sharing, not once, not ever, and she so desperately wants to just take, take, take everything that he can give…
But she knows she can't.
And so, she lets her little light go.
"Uhm… I…"
The boy hesitates at the door, turning back to look at her, and Cinder just…
She smiles. It's a wan, weak thing, but…
Jaune seems to get it. He smiles back at her.
"I'll see you tomorrow. G-Goodnight, Cinder."
And then he leaves.
It's funny. It shouldn't mean anything. A simple bit of sentiment. A pair of tiny words. They shouldn't…
"First thing in the morning, you're up and awake. Sweep first, then mop, if you mop immediately, then you'll just be trailing dirt and grime across the hotel, and you'll be punished if I find such a thing happen."
"My, my. Well, Cinder Fall, I expect great things from you. I hope, for your sake, that I will not be left disappointed."
Cinder holds onto the sheets that cover her. They're rough and coarse, medical blankets, and yet even so, they're better accommodation than anything she's ever had before. Excluding, of course, the bedroom she'd briefly partaken of in Beacon, pretending to be a young student from Haven.
For some reason, Cinder's allowing her mind to wander, then.
What would it have been like, had she really been a student of Haven?
Would she have been the top of her class? Or struggling, perhaps barely keeping up? No. No, even in this imaginary scenario, Cinder cannot see herself as someone who would allow failure, not even from herself. So, she would of course succeed. She would come to Beacon for the Vytal festival at the top of her class, a valedictorian, and…
And maybe she wouldn't be so caught up in her own head that day in the Beacon cafeteria. Maybe she would be able to look up, and into those gleaming azure eyes. Maybe… maybe they would've met then, instead.
And maybe things would've been simpler then. Maybe they could've simply been together as teenagers, awkward and fumbling for entirely different reasons, and not…
Not what they are.
But that is not the world Cinder lives in. Not the world Cinder Fall inhabits. Not now and not ever. She…
She is cursed. Hated by the gods. A slave in her youth. Then a servant to an evil witch. And now… now an international terrorist, feared the world over.
She is Cinder Fall.
She's never once been allowed to just be Cinder.
Never once.
And so, when the boy calls her that… it's…
Cinder shakes her head, trying with all her might to immolate such thoughts from her mind.
She cannot allow this to change her, no matter how badly she wants to. Because whether or not the boy wants it to be so, she is within enemy territory. She's wounded, horribly so. Her voice doesn't work. She's down an arm. She's…
She's weak.
Though, well… perhaps that's not much of a statement. She's herself, after all. Both Cinder and Cinder Fall.
So, she knows more than anyone that she's always been weak.
End Chapter 7
I don't know how it JUST occurred to me that 'little light' is what Sylas calls Lux in LOL, but it only just did. Eh, I'm going to say I still came up with it on my own on accident.
Speaking of LOL, it's that time of the year again where I start talking about Professional League of Legends again! CLG is my current NA favorite team, they're just so fun to watch, but at the same time, I'm rooting for EG? So it's hard to say who I want to win the 3rd spot at worlds. Today CLG vs TL play (That starts at 4 EST today, so if you wanna' tune in, it should be like an hour and a half after this gets uploaded? It's a fun esport, definitely worth the time to watch!)
League segment over, back to the story.
Anyways, that was this week's chapter! Cinder's in enemy territory, but finally allowed to see her soulmate for the first time. They're... well, they're understandably both a little unsure of what to do.
Maybe that shall improve? We'll certainly see!
See you all next week for the next chapter!
