A/N: Are you ready for a depressing chapter, masquerading as fluff? I don't think you're ready for it. Let's go anyways.
We're almost done vol. 2 now- only one chapter to go. Let me know your thoughts on this update!
Laws of Attraction
It was only when her body began to convulse under the freezing water did Pyrrha snap out of her stupor. Immediately, she dried herself off and wandered back to JNPR's room. However, when she finally took a moment to look around the dark room while hanging up her towel, she realized that the only other person in the room was Jaune. His snores hung lightly in the air, the bundle under the sheets shifting every once in a while peacefully. The other two beds were completely empty.
Wrapping a blanket around her shoulders, she stumbled her way to the lounge. As expected, Ren was wearing his usual apron as he portioned out cookie dough onto a baking sheet, Nora sitting at the island where she could watch him with a gentle smile.
Sighing, Pyrrha rubbed her eyes, smoothed out her bangs, and pulled the most relaxed smile she could onto her face. "What are you two doing up?" Pyrrha whispered, tiptoeing into the room and closing the door behind her.
Nora's face lit up, the smaller girl immediately gesturing for Pyrrha to join her. The redhead complied, sliding onto the stool next to Nora. "I wanted a snack, so I got Ren to come make one!" Nora replied cheerfully.
"That's what I'm good for," the boy muttered tiredly, although his expression contained no trace of annoyance. "And you, Pyrrha? What brings you here?" Ren kept his eyes trained upon the cookie sheet as he spoke.
"Bad dream," Pyrrha admitted after a moment. "Just needed a breath of fresh air."
Ren hummed noncommittedly as he finally placed his tray of goodies into the oven.
While he worked, Nora nudged Pyrrha's side playfully with her elbow. "So, Pyrrha," she said, voice low and teasing, "polarity, huh?"
For a moment, the redhead simply stared at her in confusion. When the memory of the previous day's conversation on Semblances came back to mind, she mumbled, "Oh, yeah. Were you confused about it?"
"Nope," Nora replied, shifting her stool closer to Pyrrha's. Leaning in close, she whispered in the taller girl's ear, "So that means you can move around metal and stuff, right?"
Despite all of her previous fears and discomfort, Nora's mischievous expression was enough to bring a smile to Pyrrha's face. "Technically, anything with a magnetic field," she affirmed, curious to see where this was going.
The shorter girl clapped her hands in delight, practically bouncing in her chair. "That means you could technically take Jaune's armour and, let's say, pull it 'closer'?" Her grin was almost manic, sniggers barely contained as she awaited Pyrrha's response.
The redhead blinked at her, jaw dropping slowly as the words sank in. Finally, her cheeks flushed bright pink, any semblance of composure falling away. She was absolutely mortified.
She buried her face in her blanket-covered arms and squeaked, "Why are you like this, Nora?!"
Nora giggled, "Do it! He won't notice until it's too late, just get him alone and tear it off-"
"Why would Pyrrha do that to Jaune's armour-" Ren cut in, utterly baffled.
"Because, you don't need armour if you wanna cuddle-"
Pyrrha screeched, "Nora, I swear-" Horrified, Pyrrha lifted her eyes for a brief second, only to hide her face once more when she saw terrified understanding creep onto Ren's face, his gaze flitting between Nora's smug smile and Pyrrha's beet-coloured cheeks. Pyrrha cursed herself for how undignified it all must look, cursed herself for not being able to retain her normal calm- but how was she supposed to be collected in this situation?
The boy dropped the oven mitt he had been holding onto the counter, his normally reticent eyes growing larger in shock. "No," he breathed. "Pyrrha, do you…?"
At this, Nora burst into laughter, clutching her stomach tightly. "Of course, Ren, you doofus! Why'd ya think I try to get them alone together so much?"
Ren's movements came almost to a standstill, the boy crawling around the island to the other side of Pyrrha as if he were moving through honey. Eventually, he pulled out the stool to Pyrrha's left with trembling hands, collapsing onto it. "I don't want this information," Ren mumbled quietly. He looked almost hollowed out, utterly scandalized, unsure of what was going on. "I'm going to pretend I didn't hear it."
"Why?" Nora whined playfully. "It would be so cute! She can use her polarity to-"
"Not another word, Nora," Pyrrha begged, burrowing her head into the large blanket to hide. She had never acted so childishly before, but at the moment, all she cared about was getting away from Nora's teasing eyes.
In the middle of their debacle, the lounge door creaked open. "What's everyone doing up?" Jaune mumbled, rubbing his eyes as he stepped into the room. "I could hear you all down the hall."
Pyrrha unwrapped her head just enough to peek out of the blanket. Jaune, wrapped similarly in his own comforter, shuffled over to the remaining stool by Ren. Clad in his footy pyjamas, his pouting lips and bleary eyes turned him back to the childish figure Pyrrha had met back in September.
Rather than continuing her tirade, Nora innocently asked, "Hey, Jaune. Are the buttons on your onesie metal?"
The blond cracked a yawn, snuggling into his comforter as he lay his head onto the counter. "Yup, why?"
Pyrrha felt the other girl wrap her arms around Pyrrha's shoulders. She whispered, "You know you want to-"
The beeping of the oven's timer for the cookies stole her attention away from Pyrrha's soundless cry, the taller girl then hiding away in her blanket after the words wouldn't come out. She could feel Ren moving away from his seat, footsteps padding to the other side of the island. She ignored the sound of Nora complaining about the cookies- Ren refused to let her eat any until they had cooled- and instead focused on cooling down her burning cheeks and finding any form of composure.
Ren's stool beside her squeaked, and she felt a head settle against her left shoulder. "Pyrrha, are you gonna have any?" Jaune's sleepy voice reverberated through her.
The blush didn't go away, not with him this close. So, she sighed heavily, resigning herself to hiding within her blanket while Nora prattled on to Ren, the boy noticeably silent after his earlier discovery.
She did manage to split a cookie with Jaune, though. It was delicious.
After everyone had settled down and enjoyed Ren's cookies, quiet returning to the group, Pyrrha was almost content; almost able to forget the taste of ash in her mouth that had brought her to the lounge in the first place. Not quite, but almost.
What a horrifying dream that had been. For her own psyche to use her father's most precious words against her, to repeat the mantra which he had embedded into her soul whilst wearing the visage of a burning monster in that nightmare… it was too much. As JNPR wandered back to bed at last, her thoughts kept drifting towards those words which he had taught her when she was a child.
It had been twelve years since he had unlocked her own Aura and Semblance using those same words.
I miss you, she repeated over and over again as she settled back into crisp new sheets.
As if warded away by her whole-hearted pleas, the nightmare didn't return, and she finally slept.
Despite their antics that night, the four of them managed to regain some semblance of normalcy the next day, albeit all members being more tired than usual. Thankfully, their spirits were immediately lifted upon entering class that morning. Projected at the front of the class was a long list of team names and members from each academy.
The list of competitors for the Vytal Festival was finally released.
Near the top of the list for first-year students sat Team JNPR, thanks to Nora, Ren, and Pyrrha. The spot right below them was Team RWBY. A few spots below them was Team SSSN. And, near the bottom of the list, sat Team CRDL. To Pyrrha's distaste, Mercury's team also made it into the final roster. Other names popped up on the list, but they paid it no attention. Despite the matches themselves being based solely on skill, the opponents not separated by years, only eight initial entry spots were dedicated to first-year teams, so to see all of their friends (and some not-so-friendly faces) be selected to compete was quite a feat.
After the attack in Vale, however, no one in the room was surprised. Rumours of how participating in the battle guaranteed a spot for them all in the Festival came up over and over again amongst the students who weren't so lucky as to get into the tournament. No one minded the rumours, though- looking at the average midterm scores, it was clear that the performance on those tests had mattered, and JNPR had all (surprisingly) done quite well.
"We're going to actually compete?" Jaune whimpered, face ashen and drawn as he sat in his seat. Unlike the rest of their group, he was utterly petrified at the thought of fighting in front of an audience.
Pyrrha squeezed his shoulder reassuringly. "And we're going to do well," she promised solemnly. "You've improved so much, so don't fret."
"And Pyrrha's never lost a tournament!" Nora cheered. "We're going to wipe the floor with the competition!"
"Just stay calm, Jaune," Ren added quietly, although Pyrrha couldn't help but groan internally when she saw his eyes darting nervously between her and Jaune.
I still cannot believe Nora told him, she thought, exasperated- but soon, the lecture began, and they had no choice but to settle down.
Deep down, she was over the moon at being selected for the Vytal Festival. Although she had never doubted that she would be chosen- it wasn't exactly her first combat tournament, after all- the thought of having something to do, something to occupy her mind, was perfect.
She didn't want to think about anything relating to her dream anymore.
Preparation for the festival was incredibly busy. Over the next three weeks, training intensified, both in-class and out. Practice matches during combat lectures with Professor Goodwitch finally moved into doubles and four-man bouts, since the setup for the combat tournament used those groupings. Everyone who was competing began to also meet outside of classes to train in earnest. The air around Beacon seemed to crackle with nervous excitement constantly, and soon, classes were put on break entirely so that the professors could set up the stadium in earnest.
It wasn't just the students who were wrapped up in the anticipation. The tournament was an international one, after all- visitors from all around the world began to flock to Vale, buying tickets for as many matches as they possibly could. Hordes of fans from each school began to fly in as well, family members and friends of combatants coming to cheer on their loved ones who were about to fight on the world stage.
"Maybe Dad'll come?" Ruby pondered one day over breakfast.
"Nah," Yang waved her hand, "he'll be way too busy at Signal. He is a professor, after all."
Ruby pouted, then elbowed Weiss. "Is anyone from Atlas coming?"
The pale girl harrumphed, turning her nose in the air. "Do you really think that the Schnee family can afford to send its members to see a silly little tournament?" she scoffed. "We have far more important matters to deal with."
Not even bothering to dignify her with a response, Ruby turned to Blake.
"No." The Faunus girl's response was curt.
Ruby sighed, then turned to JNPR. "Nora, Ren?"
"Nope!" Nora replied cheerfully. "It's okay though!"
"Jaune?" Ruby's demeanor was quickly changing to one of irritation. "Is anyone from your family coming?"
Jaune chuckled dryly. "I doubt my family even understands how important this thing is," he admitted. "I sure didn't a year ago."
Finally, the younger girl's attention turned to the quiet redhead seated at the end of the table. "Pyrrha?"
She was ready for it. Her mask was in place, her smile fixed, perfectly pleasant. "Who knows?"
Thankfully, Ruby accepted that answer, simply pounding on the dining hall table they sat at childishly. "But we're a big deal," she moaned. "We made it! Shouldn't people be more excited to see us fight?"
"They'll cheer for us, little sis. Don't worry about it!" Yang soothed her.
Pyrrha tuned the rest of the conversation out, focusing on her dinner. She hoped with all her heart that she wouldn't have to think about her mother cheering for her for the rest of the tournament.
Unfortunately for her, life was never very kind, and the little black box had been silent for far too long.
At last, the Vytal Festival was set to open on Monday morning. The students were all given time to rest, and they took the opportunity with gusto.
Friday evening was quiet after dinner. Pyrrha cancelled her usual training with Jaune, and the blond seemed more than happy to take a break. His ever-growing nerves had reached new heights as the day finally approached, and having the time to himself seemed to be more than a little necessary.
Instead, Pyrrha simply walked around campus. The early March air brought with it the end of winter, the end of early sunsets and dark mornings- the sky was still alight as she wandered around the perfectly manicured gardens throughout Beacon's grounds.
Her Scroll buzzed in her pocket. Opening up her messages, she winced when she saw the sender, the one-phrase message accompanying it foreboding in its vague silence.
Come to the docks to greet me.
Immediately, the muscles in her neck and shoulders tensed, palms growing slick, knees wobbling slightly. Her heart leapt into her throat, and no matter how much she tried to swallow it down, her breaths were short and ragged and blocked by her fear. Wordlessly, she jogged to the docks at the end of Main Avenue, staring at the cobblestone path resolutely. The visitor docks were different from the main area used by professors and students. She swerved onto that branching road, ignoring the curious looks she received from her peers who milled about the main moorings.
This side pathway was totally empty aside from one passenger ship parked upon one of the unloading stations. Pyrrha paused when she saw it, closing her eyes. It had been six months since she had seen the woman face-to-face- and in their separation, their relationship had changed irrevocably.
How am I supposed to face her?
She grit her teeth, but there was no choice but to keep going. Taking a deep breath- in, out, 1, 2- she reached into the bottom of her gut to pull on the most convincing smile she could, mustering up the strength to straighten her shoulders, fix her hair, and walk confidently to the airship.
A familiar head of short-cropped red hair wandered out of the ship and onto the central path. "Pyrrha!" her mother cried, the woman dropping a large suitcase by the wayside in favour of holding out her arms. "Pyrrha, sweetheart, come here!"
Automatically, the girl walked over and allowed the woman to embrace her.
"Oh, it's been so long," the woman cooed. Her face was vibrant with life and energy, a far-cry from the two-dimensional image Pyrrha had spoken to for months through the CCTS screen. "You've lost a bit of weight! Make sure that doesn't equate to strength, okay? It's good for advertising, you look lovely, but make sure it doesn't detract from your performance."
"What are you doing here?" Pyrrha breathed, trying to ignore the immediate comment about her looks.
"I chartered a quick ship from Vale. Miserable city, really," the woman tutted her tongue. "I don't understand what all the excitement is about. However, I have something that I needed to give you before the tournament!"
Pyrrha squirmed. The woman's touch felt foreign upon her body, and she soon stepped away from her mother, putting some distance between them. It was uncomfortable- before Beacon, she would have always stood by the woman's side. "I didn't realize you would be coming all the way here to watch the matches," Pyrrha said quietly. "I was expecting you to stay in Mistral."
Immediately, her mother's expression dropped, wide green eyes darkening into apathy. Tension filled the air, so thick that it nearly snapped within the few feet separating the two.
Pyrrha gulped, blinking away the tears stinging the backs of her eyes as she took in the utter lack of expression from the elder. Is this who she's always been? I guess things really are different now.
Raising her chin haughtily, the woman picked up the suitcase and walked past Pyrrha, not bothering to wait for her. It took the younger by surprise- usually, the woman would have looped her arm through Pyrrha's, put her proudly on display. Now, the woman walked towards a bench alongside the path with a purpose, leaving Pyrrha behind. All the blood drained out of her limbs, and Pyrrha's feet initially refused to move as the smaller woman's back drifted farther and farther away.
Why am I so cold?
Taking a deep breath, she forced her suddenly-sluggish body to follow, catching up to the woman eventually despite the growing sense of foreboding and dread.
As she finally entered speaking range, her mother commented, "On Monday, after the opening ceremony, there are some reporters who would like to speak to you." The woman lifted the suitcase onto the bench and slowly undid all of the latches holding it shut. "You've met them before- they've spoken to you in the past, during your time at Sanctum."
Pyrrha searched her memory, but no clear faces came to mind. All of the people who had interviewed her in the past had just blurred together over time. "I see," she replied simply.
"Since you're a favourite of the tournament, they're going to give you a spotlight moment!" The elder stopped fiddling with the suitcase for a moment just to clap her hands, superficially cheery once more. "It's going to be amazing," she beamed. "You're going to do so well. Oh, and I've got the perfect gift for you to celebrate your victory!"
"Mother, I haven't won anything yet-"
The woman clicked her tongue. "Nonsense. You will win, just as you have always done. And this time…" She finally finished opening the case. Rather than containing her belongings as one might have assumed, the suitcase instead was inlaid with velvet cushioning, protecting its contents from the journey. Removing the cloth covering the contents, she announced proudly, "…you'll be using these."
Glinting brightly in the evening glow, a golden sword and shield rested within the case. Not a trace of red could be seen. The falchion blade held a slight curve, tapering down to a more traditional pommel and hilt, unlike the xiphos Pyrrha was used to wielding. The shield was completely circular, lacking any adornments other than a small flame motif, similar in shape to her circlet, which spiraled from the outside into the center faintly.
Chest puffed high, her mother asserted, "You've been using your old weapons for far too long. I was able to use some connections at Sanctum to make new ones for you!" Turning back to Pyrrha, her eyes flashed, lids lowering pointedly. "So you can get rid of your current ones."
Pyrrha's entire body went from cold to absolutely numb. She could no longer feel anything- the shape of the weapons in front of her, glowing golden in the twilight, imprinted itself into her eyes, the outline burning into her heart. Her breathing deepened, the rate rapidly growing until she couldn't hear anything but her own thunderous heartbeat and ragged breaths within her ears. Yet, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the weapons laid out before her.
She wants me to get rid of Miló and Akoúo.
She faintly heard her mother ask, "Pyrrha? What's wrong?"
"Nothing." She continued to shiver.
Her mother frowned, scoffing in disbelief. "Why aren't you celebrating- wait, what is going on, Pyrrha?"
She couldn't stop herself. Trembling openly now, Pyrrha collapsed onto the bench, hanging her head between her knees. Everything was cold, everything was painful- the lid of the little black box in her heart pulsed, filling with acid, melting open from the inside out.
She wants me to say goodbye to him.
For just a moment, everything felt light, warm. Nostalgic. She closed her eyes, letting the memories which suddenly resurfaced wash over her. It wasn't like her to reminisce, and yet, it felt right.
Back when the tragedy had taken place, she had been so young- she had expected her father to come home after his mission, just like always.
She had just been a little girl. Now, she understood that. There had been no way to explain to her at the time why her father wasn't coming back, why the forge was so damn cold all the time. There had been no way to explain anything until she grew a bit older, until she found news articles herself speaking of what happened that fateful day. Those articles had painted a bleak picture of the man she had always idolized, the man who had held her when she cried, the man who had praised her for using her Semblance- the man who had helped her make the weapons which she would one day use to protect the world.
Life had never really been the same since she found out that her mother believed, that the world believed, that her father had died running away from battle. That the Huntsman had died abandoning his men, his mission.
She had never believed it, not once. How could she? Nearly a decade earlier, when he had been preparing to leave for that mission, she had repeated his mantra in front of him. He hadn't known that she'd carved the words into the core of her being. Hearing them leave her young, innocent, hopeful lips had been overwhelming. It had brought so much pride to his face.
For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.
The lightness faded. Everything hurt.
He told me he would come home again. That he'd always be there to protect me.
The lid exploded open, the heat and the pain and the wind in her ears searing her, and she retched dryly as the voices inside began to scream in delight.
Panicking now, her mother dropped to her knees, grabbing Pyrrha's shoulders. "Pyrrha? What's going on, speak to me!"
Her touch stung more than any flame ever could.
Slapping her hands away, Pyrrha stumbled away from her mother as fast as possible. "You came here to tell me to get rid of my weapons," she gasped. "You want me to get rid of Miló? Of Akoúo? How could you?"
Instantly, the woman was back on her feet, anger rolling off of her tiny form in waves. "Don't talk like that to me, young lady," she hissed. "I bring you a gift and this is how you speak?"
"This isn't a gift," Pyrrha sobbed, wrapping her arms around her torso, trying to shut out the You never deserved him! You don't get to have a family! ringing through her ears. "This is a purge- you're trying to get rid of all of Dad's stuff, aren't you?" Her words tumbled out faster and faster, face burning in humiliation. "You want to get rid of him- but why? Why are you doing this? You know how much his metalwork means to me! Especially now-" her voice choked on a sob that lodged itself in her throat, and she coughed, angrily wiping tears which were now free-flowing, "-now you want me to give up the last thing I have left of him? You already destroyed his workshop!" She took another step backwards, focusing all her efforts on staying balanced, staying upright, when every fiber of her being just wanted to collapse. "I wasn't there to say goodbye to him. Why would you take Miló and Akoúo away from me too?"
Suddenly, a stinging pain erupted from her cheek, her head snapping to the side without warning. Her mother glared up at her, hand still held aloft. "Do you need me to slap some more sense into you, Pyrrha?" the woman whispered icily. "You do not need anything from him. I will not have you representing our family like this."
Pyrrha drew her hand up to her cheek, the skin smarting from where the slap had landed. She could feel the hysteria, the disbelief, the pure outrage, flooding into her. "What 'family', Mother? What kind of family is this? What family tries to erase someone? I've never complained. I've put up with everything you said, everything you did. I held my tongue for all this time, but… I won't let you do anything to Dad. Even if what you say is true, and having him in my life will destroy my image, why should I care? I don't care about my image, so why do you?" Suddenly, she felt so empty inside. She was so, so tired. "I don't need you to be my manager. All I've ever wanted was your love."
Another slap to the cheek. "I've done nothing but love you, you ungrateful child. After he-"
Pyrrha whimpered, "No. No matter what you say, Dad was family."
"No," her mother replied bitterly, "he certainly wasn't part of mine."
The girl sighed, letting her hands drop limply by her side. She clenched her fists, trying to summon any strength left in her, but there wasn't any left to expend. "In that case," she whispered at last, "I'm not, either, am I?"
"Nonsense," the woman spat. "You're my flesh and blood. That man? He ran away. Are you telling me you'll run away too? That you're too weak to handle your responsibilities, that you're a coward? Do you have any idea how hard it was to raise you after that-"
As she listened to the woman's tirade, Pyrrha's tears grew hotter and hotter until they were scathing, burning searing trails down her sore cheeks. "Have you ever thought," she interjected desperately, "that maybe, just maybe, he ran away because he knew there was no way to win? Was it the right thing to do? I don't know, Mother! I was a child! But maybe he ran because he wanted to see us again- see you again. He loved us! Didn't you want to see him, too?" She took another step back from her mother, shuddering, biting the back of her hand to contain the sobs which wanted to tear through her body. "I thought you loved him, too-"
"Maybe I did love him, but that was before he left me alone!"
Those words sent a chill up her spine, more powerful than any blow the elder could have inflicted upon her. Freezing in place, Pyrrha slowly raised her eyes to look at the woman standing before her.
She didn't recognize her mother. For the first time in her life, instead of the domineering woman she had always known, Pyrrha saw just how tiny the woman was. Her mother's shoulders, thin and frail and weak, trembled and folded in on herself, the elder closing herself off from Pyrrha. Her mother slowly stepped backwards until she hit the bench, tumbling onto the seat and hanging her head low. In front of the younger's very eyes, the woman brought up a balled-up fist, so pale and tensed and small, up to her mouth, biting taut knuckles to stop the trembling of her entire body.
She's scared.
And just like that, all of the noise, the anger, the grief flooding Pyrrha's body, vanished. Instead, she let herself collapse onto her knees, looking up at the terrified, tiny woman shaking upon the bench in front of her. This wasn't the woman she knew.
But… maybe this is all she's ever been.
As her eyes traced her mother's outline against the rapidly setting sun, horrified comprehension began to fill her mind. The woman seated before her wasn't a Huntress. She wasn't a fighter- Pyrrha's father had been the warrior, while her mother had simply been a civilian, a stay-at-home mother.
She didn't know how to defend herself.
When her husband had died, she had not been a soldier who could brush off death. Instead, she had simply been a tragically-young widow with a little girl and no other family members, forced to contain her grief lest the Grimm attack her child.
When his corpse had been returned to them so they could hold a funeral, and the news had spread that he had supposedly left his troops to die, the other Huntsmen and Huntresses of the community had taken back all of their praise for him. Just as they believed he had abandoned his soldiers, they abandoned his memory.
They abandoned his broken widow and daughter. And so, his widow forced herself to abandon her love in order to regain their favour, in order to ensure that her daughter lived well and prospered as the Huntress she was born to be.
Pyrrha reeled from the thought.
Suddenly, the woman stood up. Hurriedly closing the suitcase, she dragged it off the bench and unceremoniously began striding back towards the vessel which had brought her to Beacon.
"Wait, where are you going?" Pyrrha cried, chasing after her.
Without looking back, the woman replied, "Keep your father. If you want to hold onto a bloody memory so much, more than me, the woman who fed you and raised you and protected you, then goddammit child, keep him. It has nothing to do with me."
She protested weakly, "Mother, wait, you don't have to-"
As they reached the door of the ship, the woman turned back to look at Pyrrha, expression utterly blank. In the softest, most strained voice Pyrrha had ever heard, she whispered, "You underestimate me, Pyrrha. I'm used to being alone." With that said, she boarded the ship, leaving Pyrrha behind on an empty dock, cold and empty and alone.
Abandoned.
The redhead didn't know how she made it back to the dorms. Just as she had after her nightmare from weeks earlier, she found herself awake only after the icy water hit her in the shower. Gingerly, the girl wiped her face, leaning against the walls of the stall as the cold raised gooseflesh over her whole body. She was utterly exhausted, mind both empty and far too full with the events of the evening.
I don't believe that Dad ran away. I'll never believe it. No matter what anyone says, he must've retreated after realizing that the Grimm were too much to handle. There's nothing wrong with fleeing to fight another day.
And as her mind wandered, as she dried herself off and got dressed, she thought tiredly, But no one listens when you're dead. No one will believe in you.
She checked her Scroll absentmindedly. No messages. She tried sending a message to her mother. No response.
Because I didn't want to say goodbye to Dad… am I no longer her daughter?
Her footsteps echoed through the empty corridors of Beacon, tapping between the rows of weapons lockers. The sound was eerie next to the crushing silence.
If the Grimm were too much, then it's my job to be stronger than that. To prove that I can fight anyone in my way. To make sure no one will ever be able to say the same thing about me. And then, when they finally listen to me, I'll be able to change the history written about Dad.
As she pulled Miló and Akoúo into her hands from her locker, as she clutched them to her chest and ran her fingers across the embossed metal, the deeply engraved, stylized V upon the hilt and handle – the symbol of the house of Vulcan – she breathed in deep. In, out… 1, 2…
"I will never run."
She promised.