Vengeance Is My Name
Chapter Thirteen
When Blake awoke, it was dark. Her mind instantly snapped into wakefulness, a daring plan in her mind that she honestly wasn't sure was going to work.
Yet, it was worth a try.
Inhaling deeply, she sighed softly as the scent of Yang filled her nose. The girl was a perplexing mix of scents. Blake could catch hints of lavender and other wild flowers, mixed with the familiar smell of worn leather and tart soaps used to cleanse skin and hair. It had been a while since Yang's last bath, but the faint odors still lingered on her skin. Just beneath the layer of perfumey soaps laid the more familiar, comforting scent of Yang herself, the sweat and dirt mixed into her skin combined with the other things that made up the distinctly unique smell that was Yang.
It was comforting.
It was familiar, protective, and comforting.
Blake pulled her face away from Yang's chest where it had been tucked, mindful of her ear cradled carefully between the pillow and Yang's throat. The ear was beginning to throb painfully beneath the bandages, and she knew she would have to have Yang help change it, preferably sooner than later.
Yang's arm was tight around her waist, and Blake bit her bottom lip a moment, pondering her next move.
Gingerly she wrapped her fingers around Yang's wrist. Yang was devoid of reaction, so she lifted Yang's arm off her hip, setting her arm down alongside the bed.
Yang shifted, her hand grasping the blanket as she pulled herself closer to Blake, but Blake was quicker. Sliding backward across the bed to the edge, she grabbed a pillow she had thrown by her feet last night and slipped it between herself and Yang.
Yang's searching hand found the pillow, and thankfully she accepted it as a replacement for Blake, clutching it possessively and burying her face in it.
Pushing herself fully off the bed, Blake stood slowly to avoid waking Yang. A glance toward the window showed that it was dark outside as it was tucked up against Yang, and she was grateful for the cover of night.
Her eyes had long ago adjusted to the low light conditions, and she glanced around the room that she had been pacing throughout last night.
So engrossed in her thoughts last night, that her look around the room seemed as if it were the first time. She didn't remember half of the items in this room, but as she spotted what she was looking for, she took it as a bit of good luck finally coming her way.
Padding over to the desk tucked in the corner against the far wall, she stepped over the sleeping Zwei, curling her nose up in disgust as he snuffled lightly.
There. That's what she wanted.
She stopped in front of the desk, where a small stylus and a vial of ink laid next to clean, white stationery.
WIth one hand, she picked up the vial. Pushing gently upon the lid with the pad of her thumb, it noiselessly popped off, nearly clattering to the top of the desk before she caught it mid fall with her free hand.
Heart hammering in her chest as adrenaline spiked through her, she stayed stock still as her ears surveyed the room behind her for any movement.
There was none.
Setting down the lid and the vial of ink, she picked up the stylus with her left hand. Dipping it carefully, she pulled the stationery toward her, contemplating her choice of words. After a moment, she lowered her hand.
Yang - I've gone North. I'm sorry. Goodbye.
Signing her name underneath with an unnecessary flourish, she quickly capped the ink, laid down the stylus, and picked up the paper.
Another large step over the sleeping dog, and she carefully deposited the slip of paper onto the bed beside Yang. Stepping away from the bed, Blake moved over to the clothes she'd left in a pile near the wall beside the door, pulling them on with an efficiency borne of many nights spent in a princess' room.
Without a backward glance at the sleeping blonde, Blake pulled open the door just far enough to slip through, reaching back through the gap to grab her rapidly slimming bag. Pulling it out, she carefully closed the door, wincing as the latch snapped a bit louder than she intended.
Her ears standing at attention and turning toward the door, she listened for a moment.
Not even Zwei had stirred at the sound of the door.
What a terrible dog. We could have been robbed and killed and that damned thing wouldn't wake up.
Shaking her head, she moved on silent feet toward the front desk, both sets of ears alert to the slightest of sounds.
That goddamned thing had always favoured Yang anyway, in the short time it had been with them. Not that she cared, she told herself. If the smelly mutt wanted to slobber all over Yang, why should she care?
Like a ghost, she appeared from the shadows, approaching the front desk wordlessly. The young boy there was reading a book, head bowed and unaware of her advance. With silent feet, she stalked forward, keeping her gaze resolutely on him as she studied him for any sign of movement.
She stopped at the front desk, no small satisfaction welling up in her at her undetected approach, and rather than interrupt him, she watched him read for a few minutes.
He hummed softly to himself, then leaned back in his chair. Raising his head a bit, he reached down to his lap to turn the page. He must have caught a glimpse of Blake from the corner of his eye, for he jerked up with a start, nearly knocking his book to the floor.
Instantly Blake raise a finger to her lips, indicating silence. She reached across the desk, and the boy slid his chair back, a look of consternation crossing his face.
The boy probably thought he was being robbed, Blake thought. Wordlessly she grabbed a stylus and some stationery, and quickly scrawled a note upon it.
Room 112 - Blonde girl still sleeping. She will check out in the morning. I'm paying now.
She slid it back across the counter to him, and spun it right side up for him. As he lowered his gaze to the paper - suspiciously flitting back up to eye her- she dug into her pocket and grasped a handful of coin.
Silently she deposited the clinking items onto the desk, and then raised a finger to her lips in a shushing gesture once more for good measure before stepping back into the shadows. He watched her steadfast until she reached an exit, pushing the door open and disappearing into the early morning air.
It was all a bit melodramatic, she thought, as she broke into a silent jog, but it was necessary. Silence was golden, and her mission success depended on evasion.
Her bag slapped against her back in a comforting rhythm as she set a brisk pace, ignoring the dull, persistent ache in her ear in favor of focusing on the feeling of cold pre-dawn air tickling her throat.
As hot as the days were this time of year, she thought, the nights could get uncomfortably cold. Only the most suspicious of individuals moved at night, and that was exactly what she was counting on.
Further up the street, two guards languidly meandered down the street, making idle chit chat as they patrolled.
The streets here were wide, with small, squat shops taking up residence on either side. Far from the uniform monotony of the last town they were in, this town had a more artistic feel to it. Shop owners were free to decorate and paint as they pleased, and this was evident in the dulled out plethora of colors that covered the buildings on either side of Blake.
Blake stalked the guards from several yards away, keeping to the darkest shadows with an eye on convenient hiding places in case they decided to rapidly reverse direction.
She stalked with baited breath until they turned a corner, and she breathed a light sigh of relief. Taking pause behind a shop sign rutted into the ground, she swivelled her ears behind her, listening intently for any signs of pursuit.
There was nothing.
Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she stood up, and hurried along her way.
It wasn't long until she reached the northern edge of town, and here she stopped. Standing in the darkened shadow lent by a tall metal-smithing shop, she studied the building across the street.
It was a single story shop. It sold flowers, if the sign hanging on the locked front door was anything to go by.
At least, she thought amusedly, she assumed it was locked.
Although maybe it wasn't?
Who would want to steal flowers?
Giving her head a shake, she dispelled the distracting thoughts.
Out of the two candidates, the shop she was standing by offered clear advantages.
A taller roof, a noiser environment, and a far better sightline to the forest's edge to the north.
The forest that separated them from Citadel.
The forest that separated her from Weiss.
At that thought, her heart ached painfully, as if to remind her that she still mourned her separation from her girlfriend.
She didn't need the reminder, however. She'd never forgotten. It was on her mind constantly, plaguing her thoughts from the moment she woke up until the moment she drifted off to sleep.
Her left hand found the handle of the sword mounted to her left hip. Yang had been right when she'd said that Blake would get used to the weight of a sword at her hip.
She smiled ruefully. She wasn't sure she'd feel right without a sword now, even though she could easily remember a time when she couldn't imagine wearing one.
Tossing that thought from her head like so much trash in the wind, she glanced up at the roof far above her head. Right now it shadowed her from the light of the waxing gibbous moon, but thankfully, whilst her stay upon the roof would have her illuminated in moonlight, up there, she was safe from searching eyes.
The fact that it was a metal smithing shop was a bonus. With hammers clanging, and forges roaring all day, no one would be able to hear her light footsteps upon the roof as she moved about, surveying her surroundings from her vantage point.
It was perfect.
Releasing her grasp on her sword, she let her hand fall to her side. Stepping lightly around a small pile of blackened firebrick, she began walking the perimiter of the building, studying it closely as she tried to find a way to scale the steep walls.
The red brick was rough to the touch, but overall uniformly smooth. The building was well constructed, and there were precious few out of alignment bricks that would offer a decent hand or foothold.
She turned a corner, and disappeared down the dark alley that separated this building from the one beside it. Eyes studying her target, she was unaware of a stack of a small pile of fire-blackened metal, tucked into the shadows of the building and hidden by the darkness of the alleyway.
Her foot made contact with it, and sent the small pile of discarded metal skidding across the ground, clanging and clattering noisily in the dead air and nearly making her jump out of her skin.
Blake froze instantly, ears ringing with the unexpected noisy assault they had just endured. Taking a deep breath and holding it, she strained her hearing to it's limits as she listened for anyone approaching.
Silence stretched out, ringing loudly in her ears. After a moment, she exhaled softly.
She was in the clear.
"Hello?"
Fuck!
"Anyone there?" A deep voice called out.
Fuck fuck fuck!
Eyes wide, Blake glanced around, panic setting in as she heard a smattering of footsteps growing swiftly closer.
The alleyway she was in was narrow, and completely devoid of any obstacle able to hide her. In seconds, an armed guard, possibly two, would turn the corner and spot her instantly.
... Or would they?
Leaning down, Blake grabbed a handful of dirt from the ground. Straightening up, she drew her sword and ran the dirt along the blade, dulling the shine and muting it's gleam. Holding it in her right hand, she raised it high above her head, then pressed herself flat against the wall of the metal smithing building. She was dressed all in black, and right now, this was her best chance at survival. If the guards came within striking distance, she would aim for an incapacitating strike with the flat of her blade.
Not a second later, the same two guards from earlier - or so she assumed, they all looked the same in the darkness- rounded the corner she'd been hiding behind only moments before.
They walked slowly down the pitch black alleyway, side by side with hands on their swords, ready but not yet drawn.
Blake pressed her back hard against the wall behind her, mentally willing herself to blend in with the brick. Her sword was held up overhead, ready to strike, the flat of the blade pressed against the wall behind her.
Hopefully these humans had poor night vision...
"C'mon mate, this is a waste of time." One of them spoke, his tone dismissive.
"Probably an alley cat or som'thing."
They were about fifteen feet away now, blurring into the edge of Blake's vision as she dared not turn her head to look.
"Aye, yeh figure?"
"Aye. These morons always stackin' mounds of steel behind their shop. Waste of time investigating anything down here, if'n ya ask me."
"Fair enough." They paused, and Blake held her breath. Her ears strained in the silence to pick up any indication that they'd spotted her. The muscles in her arm trembled, but she held her sword tightly against the wall for fear of having it rattle against the brick.
"Right. Nothin' ever happens 'round here anyway."
Blake listened as they spun in place, boots scuffing against the ground as they retreated.
Her heart pounded in her chest as her lungs ached, and she dared to finally exhale as they traipsed away, painfully slowly.
Inhaling as quietly as she could, she lowered her sword and slowly sheathed it. That was an incredibly close call, and she'd do well to avoid such mistakes in the future.
Adrenaline was running high as she realized how close she had come to discovery. Not that it was wrong to be out at this time of night, but skulking around the back alleys of a metal-smithing shop was quite suspicious, and would warrant detainment and a visit to the holding cells, at the minimum, until they could ascertain whether or not she was a threat.
That was a delay to her mission that she simply couldn't afford. Not with how critically sensitive the next part of her plan was.
She slowly counted to ten, and when she heard no sign of the returning soldiers, she dashed further down the alley, taking extreme care to watch her footing from now on.
Finally a stroke of luck, she thought, as she reached the back corner of the building. A rudimentary ladder had been anchored to the wall, and lead to the roof.
Blake suspected that it was for inspecting and cleaning furnace ducts and flues, and she gave the ladder a hardy shake before daring to step foot upon it. If it were loose, it would bang, creak, and moan during her ascent. If it were very loose, it was possible it could break while she was on it, sending her plummeting to the ground below.
She absolutely could not risk further injury.
The ladder seemed secure enough to her, she thought as she tugged aggressively on it. It didn't yield to her sharp tugs, so she tentatively placed her left foot upon the first rung.
Pulling herself up with her hands, she slowly transferred her entire weight onto her left foot.
It held, and made no noise.
Swiftly she scaled it, her enhanced vision allowing her to see easily in the dark of pre-dawn.
It took only a few seconds to reach the top, and she hauled herself over the ledge with ease. Landing on silent feet, she surveyed her surroundings for a moment before choosing an edge and making her way toward it.
The roof structure beneath her feet was solid, and made no noise as she crept along it. In a moment she had made it to the corner of the building, and from here she could comfortably survey the street below.
The street that lead from the town into the forest, heading due north.
Settling down onto the roof, she made sure to choose a comfortable spot to sit as she leaned her back up against the low parapet. She was in for a long wait, after all. She might as well be comfortable.
Pulling her legs to her chest, she hugged them tightly as she leaned her cheek upon her knees.
With nothing to do except wait, and no one to talk to except herself, she quickly found herself lost in her thoughts.
She missed Weiss.
Even to her own mind, her thoughts seemed as if she were reading the same page of a book over and over. Yet, she couldn't help it. Weiss was the only one who had ever bothered to care for her in her life, and that had to count for something.
... Wasn't she?
Blake's thoughts turned to the blonde she had left behind.
Yang cared for her, or so it seemed. The girl certainly acted like she did, anyway.
Blake had initially been very distrustful of Yang, although not openly. She'd held her distrust in reserve, letting it guide her actions but not her words. After all, Yang had seemingly waltzed into her life unannounced, and declared herself Blake's friend and temporary care taker.
Who did that?
Blake shifted slightly as cold began to penetrate the fabric of her pants.
Who did that sort of thing, with no ulterior motive?
That was Blake's original line of thought. However, Yang, over the course of the last little while, had proven Blake quite wrong.
If Yang had a hidden agenda, it was well concealed. Despite all appearances to the contrary, Blake had held on attentively to Yang's every word. She sifted through them for lies, contradictions, inconsistencies in stories.
She'd found nothing.
Blake had started believing Yang. She'd started to believe that Yang was an honest girl who'd done what she could to save another person's life, and hung around said person not out of any misguided sense of duty, but just out of the desire to make sure that person was okay.
It seemed like Yang was just a good person.
And that thought terrified Blake more than any con artist or thief ever could.
Coming from the streets of Nova, she knew full well how to deal with thieves or con artists. She would have almost preferred it, somehow.
Because the thought of dragging an innocent soul like Yang into a fight she had no part of, with the near-inevitable outcome of death, make her feel sick to her stomach.
Yang was... what did she think of Yang, exactly?
Blake pondered the question a moment.
Yang was eccentric. Yang was loud, she was brash, she was quick to act without thinking.
Yang was annoying. Yang was air-headed, and possessed very few, if any, street smarts.
Yang was also thoughtful. She was smart, and caring. She could be surprisingly observant.
Yang was a wonderful friend.
A dull, thudding pain slashed through her ear, turning her thoughts back to her injured appendage.
The day she got the wound, Yang had been so gentle, so tender in her ministrations. Despite the immense pain, Blake could feel that Yang was being as gentle as she could. The expressions that contorted Yang's face were evidence that she sympathetically felt every stab of pain that Blake felt, and Blake had felt terrible for forcing that sort of burden onto Yang.
Yang had never once expressed any sort of reluctance or despair when it came to caring for Blake. Yang had thrown herself fully into the role of supporter and carer, despite Blake's repeated attempts to disuade her from such.
It was very sweet of her to do so, and Blake genuinely appreciated the help.
Leaning her head back until it rested against the edge of the parapet, Blake closed her eyes and tuned her ears into the sound of the street below as thoughts of Yang flitted through her mind.
When Yang awoke, it was abruptly and with a freezing sense of unease. Instantly she turned over to the side of the bed Blake was on, finding nothing but a slip of paper underneath her searching hand. Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, a rush of adrenaline making her skin tingle as she looked feverishly around the room, disoriented and confused.
"Blake?"
She called out the girl's name hopefully, even as she grabbed the paper and brought it to her face. Turning it right side up, she peered at the carefully written letters.
She read it twice, then three times, before sighing quietly.
So Blake has just up and left... ?
With a burst of angry energy, Yang slammed the paper between her hands, crumpling it up into a ball with much more force than necessary. Throwing the paper across the room, her anger was not mollified as it struck the opposite wall harmlessly before fluttering to the floor.
If anything, it only intensified her frustration as she threw back the blankets, jumping out of bed.
That stupid girl...
Yang mentally cursed Blake's actions, wondering what could be the driving decision behind them.
"Stupid Blake!" She snarled, and Zwei jumped up from his spot on the floor, tilting his head at her questioningly.
She knew there were probably all sorts of reasons why Blake would want to go it alone, a lot of reasons she'd already expressed.
But Yang had thought they'd moved past that, and agreed to travel together. Blake had certainly been appreciative of her help, so what had changed?
Zwei whined softly from across the room, and Yang glanced at him.
"I don't know, Zwei." She replied to the unasked, imagined question.
"I don't know why she would up and leave us."
Yang wasn't sure what it meant. Why Blake would do what she did.
That stupid idiot is going to get herself killed. Yang thought derisively. Grabbing her clothes angrily, she turned toward the bathroom, intent on showering her anger away and cursing Blake to hell and back.
She paused, however, when the note on the floor caught her eye. Dropping her clothes, she moved toward it, picking it up off the floor. Carefully unfolding it, she smoothed out the creases against her leg before bringing it up to read it again.
Her eyebrows dipped in confusion as she read it over and over again.
Yang- I've gone North. I'm sorry. Goodbye.
Something wasn't adding up, Yang realized, as she dropped the note on the bed and picked up her discarded clothing.
If Blake wanted to lose her, why leave a note?
That didn't make sense.
What made even less sense was Blake telling her where she'd gone.
Why advertise where you're going if you don't want to be found, Yang asked herself.
Unless it was a diversion?
No. That made even less sense. Citadel- and thusly, Weiss- was still her main goal. And that was all to the north. So to lie about it made no sense. There was no reason to say she was going north, and then head in a completely different direction. She was definitely heading north.
Yang eyed her sword leaning against the foot of the bed.
Her grip tightened on the fabric of her clothing.
Someone was stalking them, and Blake didn't leave that note for no reason.
Something was going on, and she would find out or die trying.
Yang was going to go track Blake down, and get some answers.