It wasn't long before Hazel truly began to live out his days in a haze, anger slowly growing in his chest to the point where he couldn't contain it anymore. The glass bottle of his soul was on the brink of shattering and destroying everything in its immediate vicinity.
It didn't matter who got hurt, anymore.
Ozpin had let his sister die.
Hazel had nobody left in the universe.
He'd made himself live out the week since his face to face meeting with Beacon's headmaster. It had been difficult but sadly all too necessary. He'd been recommended therapy that he couldn't afford.
Going to a support group he'd been able to afford though.
It hadn't helped.
Instead, he only learned that children were thrown headfirst into a broken system that would only rob them of their lives and their freedoms. An old woman there had looked at him like he was the most pitiful creature that she had ever seen in all of her days. A man had talked about how his son had died a decade prior.
When it had been Hazel's turn to speak, he'd been so angry that he couldn't get a word out.
And then he'd left, barely halfway through the meeting.
Life turned into a horrible loop.
Get up, eat, go to work, eat, go to bed. Wash, rinse, repeat.
It quickly became apparent that Hazel just had nothing to live for anymore. The only sweetness that his life had ever known was gone and it was because of the negligence of someone powerful that could have undoubtedly acted and intervened before things went that far.
Gretchen hadn't needed to die.
None of it had needed to happen.
She was too young.
He was too young to be alone in the world like he was.
And yet he was supposed to carry on like normal.
What was wrong with people? How could they not see how he was suffering?
Somewhere in the haze, something just snapped. Hazel didn't know what it was, or when, or why it happened specifically but it happened. He didn't know what drove him to go to work, to steal dust out of the supply room before he went home for the night.
He didn't know what drove him to clear out his fridge.
He didn't know what drove him to pick his way out into the middle of Forever Fall.
He didn't know why he couldn't make himself turn around and go back to Vale, back to the apartment that was a poor excuse for a home.
Or maybe he knew exactly why, and just didn't want to face the ugly reality of it.
Maybe what he wanted was for the grimm to come breathing blood down his neck, maybe he had taken the Dust because he wanted to make it seem as though some token effort had been put up to prevent a death that he wouldn't let himself feel. Maybe the reason that he'd cleared out his fridge was because it was a mere courtesy for whoever would go to his apartment when they realized that he was gone.
Maybe the reason that he'd gone to Forever Fall was because he wanted to die there.
Like his sister had.
Because maybe that way there was something that resembled poetic or good in the world.
Or maybe, he just didn't know what else he was supposed to do. He didn't want to live out a sham of a life like he had been anymore.
So he found a rock in the woods, spread his coat over top of it, and he sat there.
He sat there for hours and just waited for the grimm to come. He knew what his plan was, to use his semblance and plunge the Dust into his flesh like the pamphlets at work specifically instructed people not to do. He would put up his token resistance, just enough that it looked more like an attack and less like the act of suicide that it was.
And then he'd just let the grimm have him and try to keep his semblance going for as long as he could.
If he got lucky, he wouldn't have to feel a thing.
If he could have given Gretchen that same courtesy, he would have. But she was gone and she didn't have his semblance.
He didn't actually know what his sister's semblance was.
If she even knew how to use it, even.
Everything that Hazel had thought he'd seen in her, was something else. It was always something else.
The hours passed by, too slow and torturous for Hazel's liking.
Nothing came.
More hours passed by, same as before.
Nothing came.
Hazel curled into a ball on the rock and let himself sleep.
Even still, nothing came.
When Hazel woke, he felt just as bad as he had when he'd fallen asleep. He took to pacing around the forest, shivering against the cool morning air but never bothering to use his semblance. He was going to need it when the grimm came.
He wanted it to be painless, when he died.
Gretchen hadn't had that benefit. Their mother hadn't had that luxury. Their father hadn't had it either.
But he did, and so Hazel intended to use it.
He lost track of time, and didn't allow himself to even consider checking it for the fear of what would come if he did. Hazel needed the lack of awareness, if he gave himself too much he would find himself losing his nerve.
Above all else, that was the major thing that he couldn't allow to happen.
If he didn't do it, he'd end up going back to a shitty apartment with nothing to live for. It would only be a matter of time before he was out there in the forest again, waiting for the same outcome that he was already looking forward to.
But where were the Grimm? Where were those beasts that fed upon negative emotions? That came when tears were shed, or when words were shouted in anger?
He was actively seeking his own death— he should have been like a drug to the grimm.
But still none came.
Nothing came to ease his pain in the only way that he could see anymore.
After some time Hazel was overcome with sheer rage. He slammed a fist into a tree and felt the wood splinter under his skin.
He felt no pain.
Something in him just snapped. Hazel didn't even know what it was but something was just gone and it wasn't until his hands were bleeding that he realized that he'd just gone berserk and beaten the wood so badly that it had begun to ruin his hands in the process.
Hazel was breathing hard. There were hot tears beaded in his eyes and this feeling that he was just nothing.
All at once, he collapsed to the ground. He laid there in the leaves, sobbing into them because he simply had nothing else to do with himself.
Why couldn't the grimm just come for him?
He wouldn't even fight them. He just wanted them to come so that it would all end.
Again the time passed and Hazel made no effort to keep track of it.
He only laid there.
It was minutes to dusk when he heard the first of the growling sounds. Hazel lifted his head, only slightly and felt sick relief when he saw the red eyes glowing amongst the trees. They were waiting for him.
They were finally coming for him.
Hazel closed his eyes and let his head rest against the forest floor, bringing up his aura and feeling that familiar nothing wash over him as his semblance took hold.
But the grimm didn't touch him.
They circled him, they stared at him, but they did not move to attack him.
"I can tell that you are awake, my child." A female voice said from somewhere at Hazel's side. "Pretending to sleep will not fool me."
Hazel cracked his eyes open and looked back over his shoulder. There was a bolt of black fabric which could only have been a gown directly within his line of sight. When he let his gaze travel upward he saw something….
Something amazing.
Something which could have come from another world entirely.
Something which only could have come from another world.
Slowly, he pushed himself upright and turned to face her, putting his back to the trees. The grimm drew in closer— beowulves, all of them. But none attacked. None snapped their jaws at him or tried to claw him to bits like the stories said.
The woman stood there, her white hands folded together against her stomach. Black veins covered the appendages.
"What…" Hazel began to ask. "What are you?"
"That does not matter." She said, as she lowered herself to crouch beside him. Hazel looked from the black silk of her gown to the leaves. She was going to get it dirty. "What matters is that you are here."
Hazel swallowed his fear. He wouldn't let her know anything.
"Who are you?" He asked instead, not sure that any answer would be enough.
"My name is Salem." She replied. "You've been calling for my creatures."
Hazel looked from her— Salem to the grimm at her side. When she lifted a hand, one of the beowulves came to her and nuzzled its bone head under her touch. Like an obedient pet responding to its master's call.
When she stared at him, it was with oddly gentle red eyes.
"Why do you seek them?"
Hazel said nothing, but he balled his hands into fists. There was something seriously wrong, and he didn't know how he was meant to handle it. "Because—" He started, only to be silenced with a slight wave of the woman's hand.
"You seek your own death." Salem stated. There wasn't a question to be asked— nobody would do what he had done if that wasn't what they were looking for.
Hazel supposed that his lack of protest against the statement said all that needed to be said.
She eyed him. "Why?"
"My sister died."
"A pity." She replied. "How?"
"She was a student." Hazel offered as little as he could. "At Beacon."
Salem seemed to take on more interest right then. As soon as Beacon had been mentioned, she was reaching out and offering Hazel a hand. He didn't take it, only used his own arms to support himself better where he rested.
But when she spoke, it was almost an affectionate coo. "Your sister died at Beacon?" She asked. "And how old was she?"
"Sixteen." Hazel admitted.
Her head cocked to the side. "And you?"
"Sixteen." Hazel replied. "We…" Talking about her in the past sense was so wrong that Hazel hated everything about it. "We were twins."
"My sincerest condolences." She said softly. "What is your name?"
"Hazel."
"Your sister?"
"Gretchen."
Salem sighed softly and looked past Hazel's shoulders, up at something so far away that Hazel could have wondered whether or not she was able to see through the trees. "Was Ozpin teaching her?"
"He was there." Hazel growled, balling his hands into even tighter fists. "And he did nothing."
Salem smiled softly. "And what would you do to him?" She asked. "If you could."
"I just want justice for her."
"Be more specific." Salem said, standing tall. "An eye for an eye, perhaps? I can feel your rage. It's pouring off of you. Rage, and sadness. Hate."
Feel?
It was then that Hazel realized that this Salem may have been more grimm than he'd originally thought. Was that how she'd known to come for him? She could feel him?
Salem drew in close though, even offered him a hand so that he could take it in his own and accept her. Something about the idea of doing as much felt wrong to Hazel, but he didn't know that he wanted to bring it up.
Mostly, he was upset, and sad, and scared because he was on the edge of losing the nerve to do what he'd come out to the forest to do in the first place.
She eyed him. "You came here to die." Salem stated it as matter-of-factly as possible. There was no room left for argument. Even if there was, Hazel wasn't going to dispute it. But he was losing his nerve and he didn't know what he was supposed to do if he went back to Vale. He'd done a good job of trying to burn every bridge there. "Do you wish to see justice for your sister?"
He swallowed. "Yes."
"Then you should come with me, child." Salem said, her fingers still extended to him. "I believe that I may have the keys to what you seek."
"How?" Hazel bit back at her. "How is that possible?" All at once he raised himself to his feet, even though he felt unsteady as he did so. He towered over Salem, and yet he still felt impossibly small when he was beside her. She just had an aura about her that was so strong that it was just impossible to try and ignore. "I want my sister back. How can you help with that?"
Salem eyed him. "Would you like to hear a story?"
"What good would a story do?"
She blinked. "I think that once you heard it, you would understand." Salem answered him. "Because there is a way to get your sister back."
"That's—"
Salem offered him her hand once more. "If you are willing to listen, you and I have much to discuss. I believe that the two of us could come to an arrangement which would be mutually beneficial."
Against his better judgment, against every cell in his body screaming at him not to do it, Hazel took Salem's hand.
When she led him away from the forest, Hazel nearly broke, but he carried on with her.
When she sat him down and began to explain her story, he didn't know that he could believe her.
Days began to pass by Hazel, but the haze in his mind began to clear bit by broken bit. He stayed close to Salem, and didn't even consider going back to Vale for a second beyond those sudden, sharp spikes of anger that he would get which told him to return there to find Ozpin.
No clear image of what he would do there ever formed in Hazel's mind, just that he wanted Ozpin dead.
And then Salem brought him to the pool of life, the domain of a dead and long forgotten god.
And then she brought him to the pools of grimm, the domain of another forgotten god.
It was then that she made him her promise, to give him back his sister, to let him have a life again without people pulling children to their deaths.
The only thing that he had to do was swear himself to her.
Knowing that he had nothing else, Hazel went ahead and did just that.
When he made his promise, Salem smiled and for just a second, Hazel could have sworn that he'd seen Gretchen smiling on beside her, bright and impossibly sweet with eyes like honey and the warmth of home.