A/N: Hello! This fanfic is a fan sequel/crossover with Jupitermonkey4's Painting Penance, and also a continuation of my own Christmas fic, Weiss Christmas. Long story short, I was tired of waiting for Jupe to write Painting Presents, the Christmas sequel to PP, so I decided to do it myself (Insert Thanos meme here).

I also decided to make it a grand showcase of all the worldbuilding in the entire Penanceverse, such as Old Order, and this was written with Jupe's own input into the world and some finer details. As such, everything about Quiet Quotidian is canon compliant to his stories, for now at least, depending on how Jupe writes things out, but fingers crossed.

This is chapter 1 of 2, since the total is going to be roughly 12,000 words, and this is meant to be a relatively light reading.

So yeah, hope you enjoy this as much as Jupe did, and as much as I had writing it. Merry Christmas, everyone!

Weiss Schnee, leader and mayor of Lastion, was buzzed. The buzzing in her ear from the cheap whiskey she had bought was all she could do to push back against the date. While in Lastion, it was a day for celebration, celebration of her, she couldn't stand it.

They cheered and thanked her every year for what she had done, once upon a time. Thanked her for feeding them. For giving them warm clothes. Clean water and the equipment to purify more. For the building materials to start off fresh. They called it a miracle, they thought her magic.

She was magic, once upon a time. She was once the second heir to a tradition that stretched back a millennium, gifted with an ability stemming from the God of Light himself. She once stood alongside her peers of the other great traditions and cautionary tales, the superstitions and holidays of ye old. Now, Weiss was the last. All that remains of a secret society that went out in a whimper, while the rest of the world went out with a bang.

Weiss took another gulp. When a certain taste hit her, she spat it out. She glared down at her bottle. Her secretary had put an egg in it. A feeble attempt at being festive.

He didn't even do it correctly, it was just a raw egg scrambled in with her gin. Hamson Glint was young, boyish at age twenty, and was now, to her consternation, her secretary. As Lastion grew from a refugee camp to a settlement, then into a bustling town, it became apparent that the mayor could not do all of her own paperwork.

Hamson was young, he grew up in a world without huntsmen, without kingdoms, without robot armies nor magnanimous battles, no movies nor holograms. He grew up in a world without eggnog. Yes, he'd heard of it, but he'd never had it.

His children wouldn't even know of the word, when the time came. Outside the window, Weiss could see a single bright light. Atop the singular conifer that grew in the town square, atop it was a snowflake that glowed, the single point of light in a town with little access to electricity. Christmas lights were no more, and neither was tinsel. Adorning the tree were old scarves, too tattered to provide warmth, below it were scraps of parchment, conveying the town's wishes and thanks, to her, to each other, and to the gods.

She wasn't thirsty anymore.

Weiss put the bottle down and just tried to sleep on her desk. Maybe she had enough alcohol in her to give her a dreamless sleep, one that wouldn't be filled with faces she couldn't remember outside of her nightmares. Her desk was warm. Made of a rich oak, it was one of the first pieces of carpentry built in Lastion itself and not salvaged from dangerous ruins. It was warm from her own body heat, the sharp edges worn away over the years. She'd slept on it before, and quite frequently as the town grew.

She curled up in her sweater, made from fleece grown in a far away settlement that Lastion traded with. As she kept still, her heat radiating out and into the fabric, she could feel herself drifting away.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and the buzzing in her ears grew dull and silent.

There.

She jolted up. No.

No. It couldn't be.

Her power was gone. Her semblance was gone. She gave it up to keep everyone safe. It couldn't be back already.

It had only been—

How long had it been? Weiss had forgotten. Years now. Hamson was young back then, only a toddler, bundled up in sheets—

Weiss shut her eyes. She couldn't do this. Not again. It was too painful. Her heart ached, a pain that she pushed away with work and drink.

How many had died? Her friends, family, peers, even her enemies? It was easier to count those who were alive. They didn't talk, but as the mayor, she heard whispers, rumors and new legends, idle gossip about interesting folks. Jaune was alive, somewhere, Yang too, in Vacuo of all places, living through her own endless task. The world continued to spin, and spin it did, tearing everyone apart. They were all just remnants, dying embers of an old world, flung apart by the wind.

Why did alcohol make her a poet? And a publisher? She will never live down those sonnets and songs that have spread throughout the settlement.

She wanted to sleep. Sleep and miss all of Christmas. Wake up on the 26th, ready to brave the continuing winter.

Even the names of the seasons were painful.

What would her sister have done? Deliver gifts. What would her brother have done? Deliver gifts. What would Ruby have done? Deliver gifts. What would—

"Oh for crying out loud. I'll do it," Weiss grumbled as she massaged her temples, pushing back against the pounding headache she was starting to develop.

She stood up from her desk and held out her hand, "Sack."

An ethereal white sack appeared in her grip. Weiss felt the soft texture, the silky-yet-not-silk the fabric was made of. Uncuttable, indestructible, yet weightless and flowing.

"Suit. Hat," Red and white enveloped her, a warm red coat, matching trousers reaching down to her ankles, and black boots covered her feet. A red hat appeared on her head.

Weiss glanced at her wall mirror, where she practiced speeches and prepared for dignitaries, "Looking good," she whispered, "Looking festive."

Her mind began running with thoughts. She would have to find a rooftop.

—

It was cold outside, as expected for December in Lastion. A light snow was beginning, but no storm this week. There was naught any wind, and as such, the only sounds were her own.

Her boots crunched the light snow beneath as she climbed up the roof. She sighed. She was warm underneath her suit. She sat down. It had been a long time since she felt the thrum of power, the ringing bells in her soul. It was the same as before, as if it had never left.

But Remnant has changed. The cities and kingdoms were gone, new villages and settlements have sprung up. Things were so different, it would take a miracle to visit every—

No. It wouldn't. She shivered. The list in her head, the one of every single child who believed, and every child who didn't, as well as their families and the people around them, it was so short.

It wasn't even divided by region, there was only one category: "Remnant".

A mental count confirmed her suspicions. The number of households she would need to visit was not even a third that of Vale back before Beacon. Back then, her family split up the world's gift deliveries by kingdom and territory, doling out a quarter each, and still having to rush a bit.

Now, now she could visit every single home in the world, all by herself, with time to spare.

She took a deep breath, "Let's get this over with. Sleigh."

A glowing snowflake appeared on the roof tiles below. The light of her symbol felt too bright for her eyes, so she glanced away and into the night sky. From the snowflake glyph, her sleigh grew. It was pure white and ethereal, giving off a glow that calmed her despite everything. Two white reindeer, ghosts that were never alive, were summoned as well, their reins leading to the sleigh.

She walked up to them, her loyal steeds she hadn't seen in so many Christmases.

"Hey there," she fondled the soft white fur of the left reindeer, "Sorry for not summoning you in so long."

They neighed silently, yet pawed at the ground, anticipating flight. She gave a soft smile, "I will, I will. It's just, I'm a bit out of practice."

She climbed into the sleigh, and with her sack next to her, she gripped the reins. Another practiced breath, "Mush."

The reindeer began trotting, pulling the sleigh along, as if they can sense Weiss' hesitation. She frowned. The roof was too small, they were going to crash at this rate. She flicked the reins, shouting, "Faster, faster!"

They built up speed as they approached the edge of the roof. Another flick, forceful and yet determined. The reindeer leapt into the air. There was no crash, no failure. The sleigh was flying. They were off.

"Woohoo!" her lungs filled with the winter cold air, a wide grin settled on her face and she steered her steeds in the direction of Lastion's closest neighbor.

—

Remnant had changed in the years Santa was gone. Weiss knew it, she had lived through the kingdoms' fall, the final attack by all the world's Grimm as Salem drew her last agonized breath. Only odd settlements and villages survived, and in each village were only a handful of children.

That first village took her twenty minutes, as she got hold of her bearings once again, but by the second, she was finishing in record time. From her sack, came the familiar boxes and wrapped gifts, tailored to the wishes of the good little children who believed.

She could sense them, those that didn't, and to her surprise, they made up only a small fraction of the whole, almost the same as it was sixteen years ago, before the fall. Before she chose to use her powers and lost them, to save Lastion from starving to death.

So much death back then. So much blood and horror. Ruined cities and crashed airships, broken homes and destroyed robots, abandoned mines and bloody lifeless bodies. Red blood in the white snow, surrounded by the green trees of the forest. The first days after the end were the worst.

Eventually, after the shock was over, and mankind rebuilt, things stabilized. With so much of the Grimm dead, new fertile lands, never before farmed, became available. Surplus took years to achieve, and famine was always a possibility everywhere, but comfort in full bellies came back faster than anyone could have hoped. With so many gone, every last able hand was needed to toil, and every last person, able or not, was fed.

That was what Weiss knew, for none of the children had true wish for candies, grain, or water. They wanted toys, dolls, other odd gifts Weiss had only passing familiarities with. It was happier. It was better than Mantle was, in the days of old.

A deep breath. Weiss remembered her childhood, when her mother would show her and Winter how to deliver gifts. How she was careful and shyed them both away while delivering to Mantle. When Weiss was older, she mulled over the list of gifts for Mantle, and wondered what she could have done to help.

She nudged her father every year before she left for Beacon, just after New Year's, but even the influence of the SDC had its limits. It was during that time that Weiss learned something she never told anyone, not even Ruby.

There was a workaround, something Weiss could do, a little pick-me-up that strained against her power's restrictions, but didn't remove them. So now, for every house she visited, for every child that believed, and every child that didn't, she would leave them at the very least, with a singular Dust crystal.

It wasn't much, in the old days it was worth less than a laborer's day salary, but now, with the mines closed forever, they were worth so much more. Once, receiving a Dust crystal meant you were naughty. Now, it was a bonus with every present. Anything to help brace against the frozen temperatures of the north.

Within such a short time, she was almost done with all of Solitas. All that was left was this one village near the southern coast, one Weiss vaguely recalled being known for its hot springs. As she went house by house, she paused at a pair of names that popped up in her mind.

"Carrizal and Vermilion Winchester…"

She landed on the roof and made her way to the chimney. It was a modest house, single story, thatched roof, excellent architecture for something built post fall. She shivered, but not from cold, before sliding down the brick chimney, sack in tow. Still warm, and a soft glow came from the fire at the very bottom.

Peeking out from above the barely lit flames, Weiss could see a living room. It was rustic, wooden floors and handmade rugs thrown all around. Wool socks hung from the fireplace, where she saw them from behind, and a table was set out just for her.

She crept quietly, and stepped down onto the worn rug. She sighed when there was no creaking, but nevertheless carefully pulled the presents from her sack.

Under her breath, she whispered, "For Carrizal, a wooden rocking horse, for Vermilion, a set of coloring books, crayons, and glitter."

There was not a tree in the house, so underneath the stockings would have to do. She placed them next to the fireplace, but then, "Ah!"

Her bad luck hit again. Some of the glitter got on her and tickled her nose. She was out of practice.

"Ah-ah!" Weiss held her nose, tears welling up as she tried to hold on and let it abate.

"Ah…" she sighed in relief. The sensation was gone. Then her sack slipped from her hand and fell to the floor with a loud thud.

"Put your damn hands up and turn around. Slowly," a man barked at her from behind. Weiss slowly raised her arms up. Drat. In all her years as Santa, this hadn't happened before. She really was out of practice.

"Ah well," Weiss began to speak as non threateningly as she could, "This is going to be awkward."

She carefully took a step. Then another. She turned around one-eighty degrees and looked at the man, both their faces illuminated by the dim glow of fire, "Hello Cardin."

The man was slack jawed, most of it hidden beneath his bushy brown beard. His jaw then clenched, and he swallowed. Cardin looked her over, from her outfit, to the hat, to her face.

His dry mouth opened, "Weiss?"

She coughed, "I'm usually better at this. Well, I haven't done this sort of thing in years."

"Years. It's been almost twenty years. And now you, you're here," he was trying to wrap his head around it.

"So uh, how do I explain this," Weiss coughed a bit. A bit of glitter must have gotten into her throat.

"I think—are you, er, part of the Quotidian?" Cardin asked.

"TThat saves a lot of time," Weiss said, "How did you hear of it? We're, we're all but gone now," she said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

"I learned from Velvet. It was Easter, all those years ago, and well," he scratched the back of his neck. He placed his weapon, a large hatchet, down next to the fireplace, "I didn't think I knew more than one. There weren't that many holidays to go around, and after everything…"

"No, there weren't. But you knew three. Blake was, as well," Weiss said.

"Ah. Is um, she doing okay?"

"She died, back then."

"Oh. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. I'm sorry about Velvet."

"Ah, yeah. Thank you. Did anyone else…?"

Weiss closed her eyes, "A lot of us died in that final battle. But, I know Yang and Jaune are alive, somewhere out there."

And there was a chance she'd see them tonight.

"Oh, that's good to hear. On my end, I met Ciel, that Atlas chick my team fought in the Vytal tournament. Besides her though," he shook his head, "I worked as security for a while, around this region, for caravans and the like, before I met my wife and settled down here. I farm, and do some ranching. It's different from hunting, but I like it."

"That's good to hear," Weiss said.

"Thanks. Oh, where are my manners?" Cardin sheepishly grinned as he pulled a wooden stool out for Weiss, "Do you want some water? Or, actually, we have milk and cookies set out, my wife and daughter made them for Santa, er, you."

"Just some milk," Weiss smiled as she sat down, now next to Cardin who was also sitting in his own dining chair, "I've got a long journey ahead tonight, and I wasn't expecting my Santa powers to be working this year."

"I'll bet. Even knowing Santa was real, I'll admit, you were the last person I'd expect to be him," he chuckled and he handed her a glass.

"It's the family business. How are Carrizal and Vermilion?" Weiss smiled as she accepted the glass of milk.

"They're great. Wonderful little tykes. That rocking horse is going to be great for Carry," there was a twinkle in his eyes.

"Good to know I haven't lost my touch," Weiss took a sip.

"It is. Thank you for the presents. And it's good to see you. It's good to know others from Beacon are out there. I wondered, for the longest time," Cardin sighed, "So, if you're Santa tonight, what do you do the other 364 days of the year?"

"I'm leading a small settlement up in Solitas. You've probably never heard of it," she shrugged.

"Well, there's these new maps that came out a while ago, so try me."

"Lastion. I helped found it."

"Oh that place," Cardin stroked his beard, "Some of my potato shipments get sent there, I think. That's not surprising though, you, leading Lastion."

"Oh? Why not?"

"Well it's pretty important, ain't it? It's trading all over the world, even though it's so far up north. A lot of the trade networks were established by your town, or solidified with merc support. It's stable and getting big, which is better than any of the warlord territories in the east, or the tiny pockets out west. You're doing a bang up job, nothing less from our class's top student," he laughed.

"Oh, we didn't even graduate, don't put so much stock into it," she said.

"Hey, you spent your whole life learning to run a business, making trade networks is a leap forward. Running a whole town is even better. Don't be so down on yourself, you've done great."

"Th-thanks," Weiss rubbed her eyes. Her sleeve was wet now.

"Any time. It's good seeing you. I know you've got stuff to do, and even more busy back home, but if you're ever in the area, you've got a place to stay, alright? Same for Yang and Jaune too. If you ever see them again, tell 'em I said hi."

"Will do," Weiss said, finishing up the last of the milk, "Thank you for the refreshment. I'll be off."

"Don't be a stranger."

"I-I won't," she said, as she climbed back up the chimney.

Weiss flew south down to Sanus, stopping by village after village, going around the former Vale kingdom's outlying territories. From the skies, she could sometimes make out Beacon tower off in the distance, at the edge of the horizon, the giant petrified Grimm still perched atop it.

Just talking with Cardin again was enough to make her yearn for the good old days, when all they had to worry about was grades and the occasional White Fang attack. When she was with all her friends, and everyone was alive.

An even older memory tugged at her, and she began humming an old song she wrote, "Baby! Stay awaaaay from my milk!" she sang out into the wind.

It was the stupidest song, about the stupidest thing. Young teenage Weiss, hoping to grow as tall as her sister, complained about her brother stealing the milk she needed to grow up and drinking it for himself, in song form. She was so embarrassed by it, she asked the Achieve-men to sing it for her in her stead.

She hoped they wouldn't agree. To her eternal dismay, they did. And now, if the occasional bursts of the song all over Lastion were any indication, it would be her eternal legacy.

As she drifted down to Angort, a village that was beginning to become a bustling town, she noticed a few names.

Arc.

She hoped she found Jaune. It would be nice, seeing two old friends in one night.

—

Autumn Arc, née Cinder Fall, fell asleep near her fireplace. It was just for some last minute decorations and preparations for the holidays, something she absolutely did not procrastinate on, no matter what Jaune said. She probably should have asked for help, seeing as she only had one arm, but even after everything, she still had her pride.

She had finished though. Yes, she did immediately drift off to sleep as she finished, but she finished. Sleeping in bed or sleeping on a chair next to the fire wasn't too much different, although she preferred Jaune over the fire for warmth. Jaune cuddled better.

Because of that difference, Cinder shifted between sleep and half-awake more often than usual. And because of that, she was immediately awoken and acted when she heard the sound of someone entering through the chimney.

A red hat poked out, followed by a white haired woman. Her blue eyes glistened in the flickering light of the fire. Which made them perfect targets for Cinder's attack.

"Gaah! My eyes!" the intruder fell out of the chimney, landed on the flaming logs, then harmlessly flopped onto Cinder's new rug. The intruder pawed at her eyes, keeping quiet nonetheless, as though she was considerate for those sleeping one room over.

"What hell stuff did you throw into my eyes?" she hissed.

"Pocket sand and twenty year old glitter," Cinder said, circling around the perpetrator, "Now intruder, what are you doing in my house?"

"I'm just— pleh!-spe!— delivering presents. I'm Santa Claus," she spat out, her eyes still closed, "Gods, it's going to take at least ten minutes for the eye cleaning power to take effect."

"The what power?" Cinder frowned.

"The eye cleaning power. You know, the power all of us magical beings have. It's what makes the eyes glow," she said.

"What do you mean, 'us magical beings'?" Cinder tensed.

"Well, I sense maiden energy in you. You're a maiden. I can tell, I've met a few," her eyes stung, even when closed.

"I… am a maiden, yes," Cinder couldn't put her finger on it, but the woman before her looked familiar, "And that does lend credence to you being Santa Claus, although I didn't know you survived the fall."

Santa smiled, eyes still closed, "I'm surprised too," she tried to stand up, but once she got onto her feet, she started wobbling. Cinder grabbed her arms and led her to a chair.

"Well, since you are Santa, I suppose I should be treating you with hospitality to make up for the unneeded self defense," Cinder pulled out a nearby plate, "I didn't believe in you myself, but my husband and kids do. Here's a plate of cookies."

Santa reached out and grabbed the plate, "Thank you. That's actually part of why I'm here. Your husband wouldn't happen to be Jaune Arc, would he?"

Cinder tensed again. She could feel some maiden power leaking out through her eyes, "Yes. He's my husband. My name is Autumn Arc."

"Nice to meet you, Autumn. Now it may sound incredulous, but I actually knew Jaune, back before he moved out here."

"Did you now?" Cinder raised an eyebrow, and also looked up and down this Santa character, sizing her up. What exactly was her relationship with Jaune?

"Oh, we went to Beacon Academy together, in Vale. We were huntsmen-in-training, same year, different teams, though our teams, what was the word, hung out together a lot," she bit into the cookie, "Mmmm, this is good. Just like how Jaune made it back then."

The connection was made. White hair, scar over her eye, the approximate height and voice. This was Weiss Schnee. Gods, didn't Cinder stab her once?

"Oh did you? Funny that, he talks about it all the time," Cinder tried not to say anything, "Would you like some milk? There's some out for you already."

"That would be lovely," Weiss tried her hardest not to rub her eyes, "How is he?"

Cinder handed her the milk, and stayed quiet for a moment. Eventually, she answered, "Lovely. He's lovely. He's kind, caring, funny, and a wonderful father."

"Ooh that's right," Weiss put the milk down and reached into her sack. She pulled out a small pile of gifts.

"Here you go. For your whole family. Jaune believed in Santa before, but for some reason there wasn't a gift for him this year," Weiss gave a cheeky smile, "Considering the gift I gave him once, I can see you've got it covered."

Cinder narrowed her eyes, "Got what covered?"

"Oh you know, just talk between girls," Weiss started giggling, "I dated him once, years and years ago, because he wanted one date with me as his Christmas wish. It's hilarious in hindsight."

"Ha ha," Cinder parroted. She glared daggers at Weiss, her new (old?) rival, who remained blissfully unaware as her eyesight was still foggy.

"Well, we rekindled it a little bit a few years down the line, but I won't kiss and tell. It's in the past anyway. He must be so happy being with you to go without a Christmas wish."

The fire in Cinder's chest almost smothered completely at that. She couldn't help but blush, "I suppose so."

"You're lucky you know," Weiss said out of the blue, having downed all of the milk, "A happy domestic life, powers every day of the year with no rules restricting it, kids even. Let me tell you, you're lucky. Be thankful for it, okay?"

Weiss took another cookie and bit into it, "Especially the maiden bit. You don't know how lucky it is to have consistent powers all the time without having to conform to rules that leave people starving or in danger. You get to control what to do with your power. You have a choice in your fate."

Cinder took in her words, "Even so, is it not reassuring to know you have a set role in life, a destiny planned out for you?"

"Ha!" Weiss snorted, "As if. The powers are restrictive, can't do anything self serving or wildly game changing. I always wanted more from the infinite sack of wonders, wanted to do something with it, something big and ambitious. Never could, or else I'd lose the power for years and years. Stupid rules made by the stupid god of light."

"That does sound frustrating," Cinder said.

"Not even the half of it. I always wanted to do more. Wanted to do more good beyond just handing out a few gifts every year, something that was already being taken care of by capitalism of all things. But I didn't. Status quo, gotta keep it up, or else I lose my powers. Everyone in my family, all the time, Schnee semblance included," Weiss sighed.

"I get what you're saying. I shouldn't take my powers for granted. They should be used to their fullest extent," Cinder said wryly. She had used her powers to its fullest before, as Salem's agent, as would-be warlord, and now here in Angort, growing crops.

But was there even more she could do?

"Even then, you have to learn what your balance is. Using your power for good, and using it for yourself. It's difficult juggling between helping others and self care," Weiss said, "I spend a lot of time working as mayor."

"As in an actual mayor of a town, or is that the most humble title a warlord can have?" Cinder asked.

"An actual mayor. I helped found the settlement, and I gained the town's trust with leadership, planning, good ideas, and granting infinite food and supplies for one Christmas," Weiss replied.

Cinder frowned, "But you just said you couldn't."

"Yeah. For the longest time, I had to keep up the status quo, the old order, as it were. The institutions I lived in that granted me privilege and standing: kingdoms, huntsmen academies, business, the Quotidian, all of that. But when the fall happened, suddenly it was all gone. There was no more old order, it was only me left. I got to make the decisions, I could decide what was the new way of things," a smile crept on her face, "For once, I used my power to make food, clothing, shelter, Dust, drinks, tools, everything we could think of to help the settlement.

"For two hours, I made as much stuff as we needed. No superficial toys or candy, not at the beginning. Christmas was good and all, but the children and adults were cold and starving. As the clock struck midnight, my powers blinked out of existence. So did my semblance. It was my semblance too, no one else in my family survived. The new order was here, and for it, I decided sixteen years ago exactly, to hell with privilege. Why should I have something when others can't?"

"You had power," Cinder said, matter-of-factly, "With power, you get what you want, that's how the world always worked, before and after the fall."

"And all I wanted was to help people," Weiss said. She looked at Cinder, her own eyes lightly shimmering as the particles began to disintegrate, "Do you really believe in that, might makes right?"

"I did, once upon a time," Cinder said as she stood up, dragging Weiss up too, "But I've done a lot of things, learned a lot of things, that challenged that view. Come on, let's go outside. I've got to show you something."

"Sure," Weiss said as she was dragged out the front door and into the windy cold.

The outside of the house was a bit shabby. The paint was chipped and most of the wood worn, but it was rustic inside and out, well maintained, and most importantly, homely. Right in front was a shop space, selling wares ranging from maps and paintings to fresh produce and toys. But what drew Weiss in was the sign hanging in the front.

Painting Presents.

"I remember now," Cinder said, "Jaune said the name was inspired in equal parts. First part by me, a painter, and the second part by a friend. He said that he always struggled with being kind, even though to me it looked like it was second nature to him. He said he used to be selfish and boneheaded, but after years of maturing, and a singular, incredible moment of generosity and sacrifice, did he learn to be selfless.

"He lives selflessly to this day, and when I met him, here in this town five years ago, he kept to it, living like it every day. And then, he taught me how to be selfless too."

Weiss looked at her, but Cinder turned away. She kept talking, "I used to be a selfish person. In some ways, I still am. I've done terrible things, hurt a lot of people. Even tried my hands at being a warlord, once. I don't think I was ever cruel, but there were many things I've done that I regret."

She took a deep breath, "Jaune and I, we learned to let go. It was tiring, carrying our pasts on our backs. When we finally learned to throw it out, keep the happy and good bits for ourselves and learn to leave the rest behind, that was when we could start over again, come together and love each other, raise a family. Be free from our burdens."

It spilled out of her, she couldn't stop it. But now, she was done. And she felt even freer than before.

"I—thank you, for that, Autumn," Weiss spoke over the rustling wind, "Thank you. It feels great to know how everything is, once you finally leave the old order," Weiss smiled, beaming out as she looked at the sign, then at the sky, "I feel like I can finish everything I need to do, and walk into that new age with the rest of the world soon. It doesn't seem so alien and distant anymore, if someone like you can do so too."

Cinder smiled, "Merry Christmas, Weiss Schnee."

"And a Happy New Year to you, Autumn Arc."