Yo, going to go ahead and post the second chapter of this little 'ole story I've been writing with my free-time, typically after work at around 1-2 in the morning. Dark Souls remastered coming out soon is what sparked me to start writing this, and I actually have the first five chapters complete. I'm not the type to hold chapters hostage in some sort of vain attempt to get reviews/follows/favorites or whatever, so they'll all be getting posted soon. Probably going to post the next chapter in two days, as I still like to do a final proof-read. Things can get a bit mixed up format wise, too, when I import to this site from word document.

Anyways, hope whoever reads this enjoys it. I've dabbled with writing in the past and always find myself coming up with different ideas, thus never finishing the stories I write. It's the reason I'm posting this on here: ideally, knowing even a few, or if this grows more popular, a lot of people are looking forward to updates, it'll keep me working on it and my mind focused.

There are plot divergences planned, else there wouldn't be much a point of writing this thing. It's a buildup, though. I've never really liked stories that take a 180 degree turn from canon without warning and no real good reason early on. I don't entirely love how this chapter came out, and I thought about adding more between Sibyl's journey to Vale, but couldn't come up with a reason to add anything. It would have added nothing to the story except words, a bit of fluff, and a marginally smoother transition.

Until next time, friends. Review or not, up to you, just hope you enjoy.

Edit: Again, thanks to my beta ekaterina016 for correcting many of my mistakes. Rest of the chapters will be updated accordingly as he gets done with them, and I'm applying what he's correcting to that which I am currently writing. Thank you.

Sibyl took another sip from his drink, a far cry from the method his new traveling companion, Qrow, had taken to using to consume the alcoholic beverage. The manner in which Qrow drank was more akin to how Sibyl chugged Estus when he felt his life fading, not in measured sips, but long gulps. It was uncanny, really, how similar the two were.

It was but one of many things he and the strange hunter had in common. By 'many', the undead meant around four or five, among them being Sibyl had often received comments he smelled awfully similar to the essence of Estus, undoubtedly because he consumed it far more than any other undead. It's an unfortunate fact of his particular resurrection, one bringing endless pain to everyone involved, really.

Similar to how he had the aroma of Estus, Qrow smelled strongly of alcohol. He'd only managed to identify the smell about halfway through their long journey to the tavern, unused to the odd stench invading his nostrils. It was a rarity in Lordran, primarily because no one was sane enough to appreciate the effects it offered.

He'd only had a few drinks before with Siegmeyer, a particular brand partial to the undead and the ingredients their condition required in order for the alcohol to have any real effect outside of a bitter taste.

Perhaps Qrow was undead as well, as the alcohol he was consuming at what had to be record pace seemed to have no effect at all. While possible, it was much more likely he had simply conditioned himself against it. Well, far be it from him to judge; everyone needed a release. He made time to draw on occasion, usually when he found a bonfire.

The undead was more concerned with the fact he had decided to use a drunk as a guide; he never had been a good judge of character. At least Qrow had been able to navigate to the tavern, but given his drink of choice, it wasn't too much a surprise he knew where to find more of it.

"…anyway, don't ever tell a woman they're getting grey hairs. Especially if that woman's Glynda." Qrow paused, eyes glossing over briefly at the memory. "Yeah. Never."

Sibyl took another sip of his drink, hoping it would have some sort of effect. If it did, he might be able to tune out most of Qrow's insufferable talk. He talked more often than Patches, but with only half the charm.

He, of course, realized it was intentional. Qrow was trying to loosen his lips and intoxicate him. A useless endeavor, without prior knowledge he was an undead. Sibyl certainly wouldn't reveal any information, either. It had been his hope that given enough time, Qrow might realize it, but the man either enjoyed drinking too much to care it was having no effect on him, or he kept convincing himself the next drink would be the one which finally got the Chosen Undead to show some reaction.

The stories were somewhat entertaining, if seemingly far-fetched. "Very amusing, Qrow. I'm forced to stifle my laughter, lest the rumbustious sound bother the other patrons." The tavern was completely empty outside of them two and the tender, of course.

The self-proclaimed hunter tapped his fingers on the table in a series of three for a moment. "…alright, this isn't working. How the hell are you not a bit tipsy? Even I'm starting to feel it."

Rolling his eyes, the undead leaned forward across the table. "I've had enough of these childish games, Qrow. You attempt to loosen my lips with alcohol, an amusing, if fruitless endeavor. And yet, even now exposed, you will not answer my Velka-damned questions!"

The hunter rose two hands in the air, a universal sign of surrender. Good. Maybe a few of his questions would get answered.

"Fine. Game's up. Ask away."

Sibyl took a calming breath, clearing his throat and dismissing the anger which had festered up inside him. There was no point in getting flustered. Qrow was simply trying to do what was best for himself: get as much information on him before giving his own. Patches had always been of much the same mindset, and he and Sibyl managed to maintain an almost-friendly relationship.

"I'm in dire need of getting back to Lordran; simple directions would do wonders. If you're unable to provide them, all I can ask is if you know someone who can."

Qrow paused, fingers still tapping against the table. "Never heard of a Lordran, Kid. Gonna' need more details than that."

Sibyl resisted the urge to roll his one good eye out of its damn socket, lest he become truly blind. "Lordran? You've never heard of Lordran, Land of the Gods, home to the capital city, Anor Londo? That Lordran?"

He remained quiet, staring blankly ahead. Slowly, his head inclined, and Sibyl felt all patience he had mustered up dissipate.

"I thought we were done with these games, Qrow! If you will not take this seriously, I will simply-"

Qrow held up a hand in an attempt to stop the upcoming rant, which the undead reluctantly did. He did not appreciate being jerked around, treated like a fool. He had enough of that for three lifetimes, and if the human in front of him thought he could get away with it, he would be in for a serious surprise.

"I am being serious. If it's supposed to be common knowledge, it sure as hell isn't. Where's it located? Mistral? Atlas?"

Not 'common knowledge'? The Land of the Gods was not common knowledge? Absurd! Completely, utterly absurd – he was seething just thinking about it. Not to mention those other places he named, 'Atlas' and 'Mistral'. They were not kingdoms he had ever heard of, at least none of the big ones which were 'common knowledge'.

Either himself or Qrow should have known what the other was talking about, but neither of them did. While obscene, he had been taught to never dismiss the impossible. Damn it… this was beginning to become a bit too similar with his recent venture to the past. Nothing was making sense. How had he not heard of Lordran? Either he was a sheltered individual, or he was simply stupid.

Qrow struck him as neither.

"…I simply ask, then, that you get me to someone who has an idea of Lordran."

Qrow scratched at his chin. "Listen, I may not be able to help you, but I know someone who can. Name's Ozpin, runs Beacon Academy in Vale." He reached forward, grabbing a napkin and a pen from inside his jacket. His wrist moved, writing words as he continued to speak. "I can tell you're getting a bit tired of me, so I'll just send you on your way with this." He passed the napkin, folded inside of another napkin as some makeshift envelope. "Give it to Glynda, she'll handle everything from there."

He pocketed the note, nodding in thanks. At least Qrow had been of some use…

"Also, uh… maybe get something to cover up that eye of yours. People out here? They don't give a damn and mind their own business, but once you get in the city, there'll be questions."

He had already planned on covering up his infected eye; the only thing stopping him being the fact he was going to retrieve the material from inside his bottomless box. It was dangerous and foolish to simply show he had a magical object such as that on his person, doubly so in the presence of someone he had met mere hours ago.

"I will do so. Until we next meet, Qrow." Giving a brief wave over his shoulder, he left the tavern, retrieving his axe from its position leaning against a wall near the door.

He should reach the kingdom of Vale by dusk; it was at the end of the road they'd been traveling on, one he would now walk alone.

The undead was hardly beaten up about that fact. Instead, he smiled softly. Sweet, sweet silence.

Qrow watched as Sibyl left through the door, a giant axe resting against his armored shoulder. He waited approximately three seconds after the door shut before reaching across the table, grabbing the drink which had been left behind. It was only half empty. Man, what a waste. Kids these days. No appreciation for anything, much less his thrilling stories.

Sure, he'd been caught red-handed in trying to get the kid drunk so he'd share some details he otherwise wouldn't. It was morally wrong, but also completely the logical thing to do in his situation. Sibyl was still in his right to be a bit cross about it, but c'mon! A brick wall probably had a better sense of humor, though whether it could handle its alcohol as well was up in the air. The kid could drink.

His face flattened a little bit, lips forming a straight line. A brick wall also made a helluva' lot more sense than whatever he had been talking about.

'Lordran, huh? A so-called Land of the Gods...' With a title like that, it had to be important from where he came from. It sounded like a gigantic kingdom, much the same size as Vale. Which was interesting, because Qrow sure as shit would have known about it if it was.

Nothing was ever easy. He couldn't have just found some orphaned kid – no, he had to find a fireball-flinging, axe-wielding mystery. Remnant had enough mysteries; he sure as shit didn't want to deal with another one. So, he wouldn't. It was that simple – the kid would find his way to Ozpin, then the caffeinated bastard could deal with it.

In the end, Qrow had done his job. He'd investigated what he was supposed to, pissed him off, and sent him on his way to be dealt with by the actually responsible people.

Given how well he dealt with Grimm, he should be able to make do with getting to and through Vale. Regardless, it wasn't his problem unless Sibyl never showed up at Beacon, in which case it would become his problem very quickly.

Things would be fine, though. He had faith.

And another drink to order.

Sibyl was quiet and still as he roamed the odd streets of Vale. He had entered through a large gate, connected to a wall which stood as high as the one surrounding the capital city of Anor Londo. The wall was not surprising; a great kingdom should have great defenses, after all, doubly so if the Grimm he had come across were a common threat across the lands.

He needed to learn more about them. A lot more.

Qrow had informed him the Grimm were a great threat to society, but given him being an alcoholic and his non-existent knowledge of Lordran, the undead would take such words with a good pinch of salt. That had been his initial thought at first, dismissing Qrow as a mad drunk, yet the longer he stayed in this place, the more he wondered.

It was not anything like he had expected. Nothing was.

When the sun had set on the horizon, giving way to the moon, he had fancied himself a look to the stars in an attempt to see any familiar constellations. While far from an expert on the stars, he should have been able to spot something familiar, and perhaps use it to find Lordran. He had, after all, once drawn them before during a particularly clear night amidst the Darkwood Garden.

However, he was left wanting. Nothing matched! He only saw a few stars he thought might have looked similar, yet they were simply too vague for anything concrete to be drawn from it. Things had only gotten more confusing from there; when the cloud cover, which had been consistent since his arrival, finally dispersed, it gave him a clear view of the moon.

It was not as it should be. Had the Knightess Fire Keeper of Anor Londo been around, she would have wept at the sight. A moon, not full and proud, but shattered and damaged. It even made him somewhat sick, and his charade as a Darkmoon Hunter had been as brief as it was fulfilling. He always had been more of a sun fellow.

Given that neither the stars nor the moon were anything familiar, he was forced to conclude he was far, far from Lordran. Perhaps so far as to call it some place new altogether, though he held out hope that it was not so. It was always possible he was in some place like the Painted World, albeit one which seemed to be on a much larger scale.

Unfortunately, he felt that line of thought to be a long shot, at best. It's much more likely was he was in an entirely new world. A startling thought to be had, yes, but it made the most sense out of all his options.

If there was a way here, however, there had to be a way back to Lordran. There had to be. He couldn't just allow his accomplishments and their sacrifices to be for nothing; he had to find a way back and into the Kiln.

Thus, his immediate destination was Beacon Academy, and so he ignored the trifling thoughts within his own mind. They could be dealt with once he had confirmed his suspicions, one way or the other. Besides, there was a chance whatever way he needed to find could be located there.

Of course, that required him to find Beacon Academy, which was remarkably hard. Perhaps Qrow ought to have given him clearer instructions, but Sibyl wrote it off as another quirk of the oddity who was Qrow. One thing equally odd as Qrow was people were out in this city so late, doubly so given the strange glances they kept sending him. He was half-tempted to remove the cloth he had wrapped around his eye. It would give them a justifiable reason to stare.

There were so many people, even at night! He was unused to it, given Lordran's near-complete desolation, with only a few sane souls scattered in it. Well, no one in Lordran were truly sane. They simply masqueraded as such, himself included. Anyway, there were dozens of people he had passed so far. It was very, very strange.

Their cloths were strange too, indicating that perhaps like Lordran, these people were walking on the edge of sanity too. He could hardly make sense of their clothing. It was as strange as anything he had seen, though he had never seen what some might be deemed as 'normal' clothes. What made sense were only the padded leather beneath the assortment of armors and the actual armors, given no soul was dumb enough to venture into Lordran unprotected… well, except for sorcerers.

He hesitated to call them arrogant, because Logan had been as far from that as one could be, but it had always confounded him as to why they refused to wear armor. Spells were only useful until one's torso was cleaved in half, after all. Perhaps they wore something beneath their robes? He had never bothered to check.

If they didn't, it made no sense to him, and perhaps played a role in how Seeker Logan has found himself trapped twice, in spite of his great skill.

He paused in the middle of the empty street, taking another glance above. Yes, the moon was still shattered. Or perhaps his mind was the thing shattered? It was something he had dismissed somewhat, the possibility of this all being a hallucination of his deranged soul-

Sibyl wasn't entirely sure why his back was suddenly on the ground, and why his legs had been swept out beneath him forcefully, nor why there was a great screeching nearby which grained against his ears like claws against steel. It was a sound he had trouble identifying beyond 'annoying'.

It was doubtful to him an animal could've made the sound; instead, he suspected a demon of some sort. Perhaps his Chaos Flame was acting as a sort of beacon for the demons? It might even explain why those Grimm had saw fit to attack him, if they perceived his power as a threat.

Rising back to his feet and ignoring the ache in his head after it had slammed painfully against the ground, he turned to whatever had attacked him and unsheathed his blade, a longsword of the Balder Knights. He had returned his Greataxe to his bottomless box long ago, feeling it unfit to use in the more confined quarters of a city.

Whatever manner of a beast saw fit to attack him would find itself skewered painfully or burnt to ashes. Maybe even both. He found the thing which had attacked him in a glance, yet it wasn't just the beast. There stood alongside it some blonde girl with beautiful, flowing hair which ensnared his attention much like the sun. Much as he wanted to stare and admire her, given the circumstances, he was forced to act.

Tackling her and shielding her body from the ground with his own, the two of them rolled back to their feet as he shoved her back, eyeing the strange… thing which had clearly swept out his feet. Why it seemed to have wheels was beyond him, but clearly it was reminiscent of the Bonewheel Skeletons. It was hard to make out its torso in the darkness, but he saw some odd design which clearly wasn't natural.

It hardly mattered. Just because something looked obscene didn't mean it wasn't a threat. He had made that painful mistake precisely once.

Growling in his own grueling voice, he kept his blade at the ready as he spoke. "Are you unhurt?" There was no immediate answer, so he spared a glance back towards the girl who had gone silent. The sight made him blink his one good eye. The busty blonde girl was giving him a blank stare.

Had she no fear? Was she a warrior herself? While she didn't look it, the beast which had attacked certainly didn't look like a threat, either. Though, admiring her form a bit more, she was leaner than most. She was an active woman, if nothing else.

"What are you doing?!"

He rose an eyebrow at the outraged comment, deciding a simple gesture towards the beast would be enough to explain his reasoning. When her eyes narrowed in anger, he realized he was not with his old, forcefully disbanded group of warriors, so words might be prudent. It had never been an issue with summons, either…

"I am attempting to confront whatever form of creature swept my legs out and was undoubtedly soon to attack you." He regarded the thing in curiosity for a moment, giving it a brief tap with his foot. "Though I admit, it seems the beast's own reckless attack was its own undoing."

A shame indeed, because he had been looking forward to venting his frustration on it, similar to how the Sacntuary Guardian had done when he first arrived in the outskirts of Oolacile. His current situation had left him dealing with even more stress than that event formed, somehow, so not having some beast or demon to cut into was a shame.

"The motorcycle?" The girl continued. It would suffice as a name. "If that is what you natives refer to it as, then yes."

Giving the creature one more prodding with his foot to ensure its death, he nodded and sheathed his blade. Turning towards the girl, he opened his mouth to check on her health – but the girl interrupted before he could get even one word out. "Are you insane? Why did you suddenly stop in the middle of the road when the light was green!? You nearly wrecked Bumblebee!"

Well, now she was just sprouting gibberish.

Oh. He had said that aloud, hadn't he?

The girl screamed, her hair lighting up in flames. Yes, in flames!

He'd never… What in Izalith was with this damnable place? Manipulative drunks, beasts of the Abyss everywhere, a shattered moon, and to make it better, now he came across someone with such extravagant and exotic abilities in using the flame!? While he could hardly see much function in hair catching on fire, he also didn't have much hair, much less the flowing kind she did. His was curly and messy and short.

Hers? It could be used as a weapon. Of that, he was sure.

Responding to what was definitely a clear threat, he summoned his own pyromancy, a great ball of red fire which shone far more breathtakingly and darker than her hair. He shifted into a combat stance, though he did not unsheathe his blade. Who knew how quickly his foe could strike with her own pyromancy.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, the girl across from him stopped, her hair losing its fiery quality. Sibyl saw through the ruse, not lowering his guard. He waited for her hair to reignite, for he to try and attack. It would come any second – of that, he was positive. Any second... after around six seconds, he realized he might be wrong – or she was just very committed to the ruse. That thought in his mind, he waited another three seconds before sighing in frustration. Why? Why would she act threatening and then suddenly just… stop? None here made any sense! This damn land was impossible. Body still tense, he tried to forcefully relax it, if only slightly.

"A Semblance?" She muttered the same damnable word Qrow had insisted his pyromancy to be, her stance losing its threatening form as the words left. It seemed her hair had not been a pyromancy, if she didn't recognize his own casts.

The concept of his pyromancy being a Semblance was a complete, utter nonsense. While yes, his pyromancy did come from the soul, it was not so binary as to be completely unique to him. Anyone could learn it, a far cry from these so-called Semblances which were entirely individualistic and far more varied.

"My pyromancy is no Semblance, Miss. Anyone can learn it, have they the drive to do so."

"Wait. Anyone can learn how to make giant fireballs like that?"

He nodded, vaguely annoyed, but more relieved he would not be forced to harm a girl so young. Whatever anger the girl had possessed seemed to fade as her hand, previously balled up in anger, moved to rest on her hip. Oh, no. He had seen that stance many a time before. Nothing good ever came from it, not from Rhea, nor from Quelana.

She smirked lightly, and he knew himself doomed. "Well, guess what, Hotshot. You're gonna' be coming with me, unless you want to be the one paying to fix the little accident you caused."

…he sighed, dispersing his fireball. She was threatening to get other people involved with whatever he seemed to have done wrong. He could hardly argue against her; he had no idea what he had done wrong. Given that, he also had no idea what the punishment could be. Be it light or heavy, it was not something he was willing to deal with at the moment regardless. Curses.

Huffing, but nodding, he crossed his arms as she moved back over to the slain beast. The blonde vixen picked it up, setting it upright and… made to sit atop it? Why? That made no sense – the beast was dead. If she had been riding it previously, she would ride it no longer.

She did… something, though again, he hardly knew what it was supposed to accomplish-

The beast suddenly roared to life, and he damn near fell in surprise. "Are you mad?!" He screamed over the utterly deafening, continuous roar of the beast. She gestured behind her, patting some part of the thing. A… seat? There was a seat behind her?

Blinking, he slowly approached. The roar had quieted somewhat, though it was still quite loud. Damn… he was going to have to get on top of that thing, wasn't he? Lowering himself onto it, he bit back a sneer at the girl who watched him sit with a smirk. He finally settled down, adjusting his bottom slightly to make it more comfortable-

Suddenly, the beast reared to a start. His first and only instinct was to scream and grab hold of the girl in front of him by the waist. He could hear her laughing as they moved far, far faster than he could even imagine.

"Woman!" His voice called over the engine wail. "Stop this damnable thing! Now!"

As if taunting him, they just went faster.

"Gwyn, damn you! Oh, by Nito's Tomb, is this how I will finally die?!"

He settled for slamming his face against her back and just holding on as firmly as he could.

It took all her willpower to not die of laughter as the boy stumbled off Bumblebee, breathing heavily and nearly falling over. That was what he got for jaywalking and causing her to crash! Really, he had no regard for safety. He was lucky the damage was superficial at most for Bumblebee, her, and himself. Mostly himself, actually. She was really glad he wasn't hurt, given that he didn't seem to have an Aura.

Not having an Aura made it all the more odd, the fact that his Semblance seemed so... strong? Conjuring fire seemed strong to her, anyways. But he hadn't called it a Semblance, had he? No, he implied anyone could learn it, which either added to him being insane or just incredibly weird.

He also dressed like a hunter, albeit an odd one. Really, who the hell was going for the whole knight look these days? Talk about old-fashioned. He definitely was a hunter, though. Most people didn't walk around with a sword, conjure fire, and have an injured eye covered in bandages without being a hunter.

Yet, all of that was some of the least interesting parts about him! He also thought her motorcycle was some sort of beast. He was clearly very sheltered, or he came from so far out into the Badlands he'd never seen a car or bike, which made figuring out what the hell he'd be doing wandering around Vale at night even more of a mystery. Altogether, he was about as weird a guy as she'd ever met, and that was saying something. She had met her uncle Qrow after all.

"N-Never do that again!" He continued muttering under his breath, something about their days coming to an end, glaring at the bike in outright hate.

She snorted, leaning forward with a teasing smile. "Aww, is Hotshot scared of a little ˜ol bike?"

He shook his head resolutely no before pointing at Bumblebee. "That thing must come from the depths of Izalith itself. Really, I have slain countless demons, but such a contraption is without a doubt the evilest thing I've ever bore witness to."

Demons... did he mean the Grimm? She wasn't exactly going to correct him on the term, but she did file it under note. Grimm sure seemed like demons to, uh... less civilized people? Was that rude to think so? Even if it was, she was more concerned with it being evidence towards her Badlands theory.

Also, what was Izalith? Some sort of Badlands hell, maybe? Eh, why did it matter.

"Say, uh... don't think I ever got your name." And really, that was a shame, because he was good looking. Curly black – or was it some odd shade of dark blue? – hair, nice and tall, and she could just imagine the bulging muscles underneath that armor, not to mention the bandaged eye made him look rugged. The only thing which really bothered her was how pale he was, but hey, no one was perfect.

Except her, of course.

Before she could continue her imaginations, a positively affronted look came on his face. "Oh! How very uncouth of me. My manners are quite lacking." He gave a deep bow, firmly ignoring her hands waving that this was all very unnecessary. "I am Sibyl of Lordran."

Alright! At least he kept it simple, though she had to wonder about the 'of Lodran' part of his introduction. It was definittely his home, but... who introduced themselves without saying their last name anymore? Offering a hand to shake, she introduced herself properly.

"Name's Yang Xiao Long, but you teach me how to fling fireballs and I may just let you call me whatever you want." She added a wink at the end, leaning in to show off her assets a bit more, but he simply rose an eyebrow in response to the teasing. He didn't even glance down at her chest!

"Why would I call you anything but your name? It is fitting."

Jeez... what a buzzkill. The smirk on her face fell. Maybe he needed some physical suggestions? Grabbing his arm and wrapping her own around it, she began walking towards the club where she was going to get some very valuable information from.

"And how exactly is my name fitting?"

He paused, rubbing one hand on his chin. He had a bit of a shadow, but nothing fully grown. "It simply is."

Well, that was a non-answer if she'd ever heard one, but the way he delivered it was... different. Very different, just like the rest of him.

It was actually refreshing, not having some guy fawning over her with either their eyes or endless compliments. She usually would have welcomed it, but in this case, it was annoying, since she was trying to get a response.

"Hmm... Why are we here?"

"My good pal Junior is going to give me some information."

He 'oh'd in acknowledgment, still giving no sign the sensation of the side of her bust against his arm was having any effect. Come on! He had to be feeling it, but no, all he had was a thoughtful if blank look on his face. Where was the fun in teasing without a reaction? Was he gay? If he was, more power to him, but still! Some sort of reaction had to be there. She had a nice pair.

As they entered the club, Sibyl took a long look around. And she did mean around:from the people to the DJ, from the dance floor to the flashing lights overhead. His good eye sparkled with wonder and confusion. So, he was new to clubs, too.

"What is that infernal noise?"

She smiled, releasing his arm and breathing in the aroma which perpetuated Junior's place of business. "It's music, Fireball."

An unconvinced eyebrow was raised at her words. "This? Music? Quite the joke, Miss Xiao Long."

He did have a bit of sass in him! She thought about snapping back, but truth be told, she didn't like it either. "Yeah. I don't really like it either. Oh, and call me Yang; none of that formal stuff."

He nodded, before following behind her like a hawk as she wandered somewhat aimlessly, sending a few glares at those dumb enough to stare at either of them.

He had a mean glare with just one eye.

Scanning her surroundings, she managed to find her target across the room. Approaching the counter with just the right amount of swagger, she captured the bartender's attention instantly. It worked every time. "Strawberry sunrise. No ice. Oh! And one of those little umbrellas." Giving Sibyl a glance, she waited to see if he wanted to order anything. A small shake of the head gave her the answer she was looking for.

Maybe he couldn't handle his liquor and didn't want to be caught ordering something 'unmanly'

"Aren't you a little young to be in this club, Blondie?"

Ah, so he finally said something. Yang turned to the man she had sat next to at the bar. Junior was tall – about the same height as Sibyl, actually, with black hair and a well-groomed beard. Spiffily dressed, too, for a criminal.

"Aren't you a little old to have a name like 'Junior'?"

He rolled his eyes, catching sight of Sibyl standing aside in his own extravagant wear. "He with you?"

Sibyl nodded, not bothering reaching out a hand to introduce himself. Instead, he lost all sense of tact and went right to the heart of matters. "Yes, I am. We come seeking information."

He stepped a bit closer to ole' Junior, giving him a piercing gaze with his one grey eye. "I am under the impression you will be able to provide it?" Well, maybe picking him up wasn't that bad of an idea! He had the tall and scary thing going for him. Nobody would ever take her seriously, at least until she kicked their ass, but Sibyl had all the markings of a threat.

"If you're here for information, I know damn near everything which goes on here in Vale. C'mon, I got a private table for business if you've got the money."

Sibyl gave her a look, and she nodded. Junior stayed a bit in front, eventually picking a table in the back corner of the room. Sibyl allowed her to slide in first – in fact, he didn't even sit.

Well, more room for her.

"Alright, what type of information are you looking for?"

Yang reached into her pocket, retrieving the picture of the woman who birthed her and just left. Not that anyone else needed to know that – it would stay with her and her alone. "I'm trying to find someone." She slid the picture across in front of him.

He gave it a look for a few moments. "Huh." Sliding it back to her, he stroked his beard. "Well, normally I'd ask for payment, but I don't take money if I don't have information to give. Never seen her, Kid."

"Oh, come on! They say you know everything. Don't try and jerk me around, Junior!" She could feel her hair flaring up in anger. She had already gone to other clubs, and they all told her to come to Junior to get the information. He had to know something, and she wasn't going to let him just scoot around it because he thought she was some dumb kid.

Sibyl leaned forward, putting his full weight atop the table and nearly breaking it. Yang would admit, it was a bit intimidating, especially now that she could see all the scratches on his armor underneath the flashing lights. "You truly know nothing?" Junior nodded, sneering lightly. "I don't know shit about that woman, and trust me, I'd remember seeing someone like her."

Great. Another lead which didn't actually result in anything of value. Just a big, fat waste of her time. "Now, I'm going to be nice despite your attitudes. Get the hell out of my club before I force the both of you out."

Yang's hair was still fiery, and she was ready to just reach across the damn table and slug him for the fun of it. It would have been a good venting of her frustrations – hell, kicking the ass of all the help Junior would send at her would have put her in a great mood.

But, just as she leaned forward in her seat to knock Junior out, Sibyl put a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. "Let us leave, Yang. This place continues to irritate me."

Annoyed, but not that annoyed, she resigned herself to leaving. She made sure to grab her drink first, though.

"Sooo..." Yang began, giving Sibyl an awkward stare, "About that fire stuff you were talking about."

They had already left Junior's, and Sibyl remained quiet all the while. It was an oppressive sort of silence, and she didn't like it.

"The art of pyromancy, yes."

Right, that was what he called it: 'pyromancy', which made enough sense to her.

Shaking her head, she tried to figure out how to word this. She didn't want to just outright ask for him to teach her; they hardly knew each other, after all. Despite how she acted, using her physical tools more directly than she had done so earlier was not something she was willing to do. There was a line she wouldn't cross.

It was a mystery as to how she was going to be able to learn from him anyways, what with going to Beacon as soon as she was. Yang might have been easy-going, but even she knew Beacon was going to be a lot of hard work. If she had to sneak out all the time to try and bond with Sibyl so he'd teach her, she might not even be able to maintain passing grades!

This was all assuming his pyromancy really could be taught. It was just a bit too obscene for her to believe right off the bat.

"What exactly is it?" She asked, ready to tune out his answer if it got uninteresting and use that time to think.

"As my first teacher told me, pyromancy is the art of casting flame, and to do so, one must be in tune with nature itself."

That was as vague an answer as she had ever heard. The only thing it really told her was the basic principle, which even she had been able to figure out when he summoned a stinkin' fireball. Again, though, she was using this to try and figure out how the hell she was going to get him to be her teacher. Nah, not 'teacher'. That was weird to call someone the same age as her, or at least, he looked like it.

Hell, if he wanted to, he could probably go to Beacon.

"…"

That was it. That was it! He could go to Beacon, then teach her while also being a student! All she had to do was show him to Ozpin, explain that he… uh, how was she going to explain him? 'Oh, he wrecked my motorcycle and summoned a fireball, so I kidnapped him and took him to Junior's club as I looked for information on my birth mother!' Right, like that would go smoothly.

Damn it. He was staring at her expectantly again.

"You're not exactly from around here, are you?"

"Something of an understatement, but yes, I hail far from here." What was with how he talked?! He sounded like something out of those stupid literature books he had to read. Sure, it didn't sound as bad as she used to imagine it like in her head, but still!

"Right. So, what are you doing in Vale, anyways?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Truthfully? I hardly know. I was directed here by a stranger, one in the so-called Badlands, to go to a Beacon Academy and meet with the headmaster, Ozpin."

Yang blinked, staring at him for a few seconds. "Wait. You're going to Beacon?"

He nodded hesitantly, scratching at the stubble he had on his chin. "If I can ever find the place… Really, I don't know why I even bothered listening to that drunk."

"…You took directions from a drunk stranger in the Badlands?"

A palm met his face near instantly, while Yang could feel her cheeks tinge red. "Yes. Not my finest moment, I admit."

"His name… it wasn't Qrow, was it?"

Sibyl's palm slowly removed itself from his face, and he stared at her with a raised brow. "Yes. Yes, it was. How did you know?"

She laughed, resisting the urge to simply leave. "That's… uh, that's my uncle."

"Oh." Sibyl was quiet for a few seconds, squinting at her in scrutiny.

"Anyways!" Yang leaned forward, smiling wide. She was eager for a change of subjects. "If you need to go to Beacon, then look no further, Fireball. You're not going to be living on the streets and starving when Mama Yang's around, nope!"

He regarded her silently for a few moments. "I will tell you the same I told Qrow when he attempted to loosen my lips with alcohol. Be frank with your intentions, Yang. Do not think to manipulate me into teaching you my pyromancies."

She sighed softly, staring at the weird guy in front of her with softened eyes. He definitely had trust issues, and oh God why did her uncle Qrow have to try and get him drunk!? It sure didn't help her at all. "Listen, Sibyl. I sorta' kinda' wanna' learn pyromancy from you, but I really am just trying to help you find Beacon. I'm a student there anyways, so it's not like I'm going out of my way."

His one good eye closed slowly. "Very well. I hesitate to say I trust you, but you've given me no reason to distrust, I suppose."

That was good, right? He wasn't trying to hold her threat about Bumblebee over her head like she had tried to do to him. Then again, that might just be how he was. He definitely seemed like a… practical type of guy.

"Perfect! Now, the ship to Beacon leaves in the morning, so we've got awhile to kill. You can stay over at my place for the night. Dad won't be back tonight anyways, so no worries there."

Now she just needed to get Ruby to promise and be quiet...

"Yaaang," Ruby hissed, likely believing herself to be a lot quieter than she was in reality, "You know you can't bring boys home!"

Yang had to resist the urge to roll her eyes. Ruby had dragged her into another room to say that? Of course she knew! That was the whole point of bribing Ruby to stay quiet!

"I know, but DDad isn't here, and you're going to keep quiet about this."

Ruby crossed her arms, huffing like a… uh, fifteen year-old. "Nah, uh! Not this time, Yang. You're not going to bully me into-"

"I'll buy you cookies."

She paused in her ranting, eyes widening at the offer. Yang already knew she had won; her sister just couldn't resist the chocolate chipped goodness. Oh, she'd try, but her resolve would melt in about five seconds.

Five seconds passed, and, well… coughing lightly, Ruby's chin turned up. "Well, I guess I won't tell Dad about this. But the cookies have to be from that bakery down the road!"

Checkmate. Smiling and rubbing her sister's hair into a frizzy state of disarray, she gave her a brief hug. "Oh, I knew I could trust you not to tell Dad. Now, uh… see you tomorrow?"

Her sister sighed, walking off with a small utterance of 'good night'. Eh, she'd handle the odd lack of enthusiasm in the morning. For now, she figured it'd be best to not leave the near-random stranger they had in their house alone. Tracking back into the family room where she'd left the one-eyed wonder, she found him standing over by the fireplace mantle, a picture in his hand.

She knew which picture it was. They only kept one up on the mantle, anyways. It was of her, Ruby, Taiyang, and Summer. Back when things had been simpler and a lot better.

"Your mother and father, I presume?"

She nodded, coming to a stop next to him. "Yeah."

He stared at the picture for a few moments longer before shaking his head. "Quite the family." His finger brushed over Summer's face, stilling briefly.

"Summer's not around anymore, but… we manage."

"Ah. My condolences, then."

She shrugged off the well-meaning words. They'd always irritated her to some degree, but it was just what people said. She wasn't going to let it get her down, though she couldn't resist the opportunity to learn a bit more about him. "What about you? Your family?"

He paused, setting the picture back down. "Never had one I could remember – at least, one of blood relation."

Oh, so he was one of those 'my friends are my family' type guys. She could work with that. "Well, what about them? The non-blood relatives, I mean."

He hummed sadly, glancing at the ground. "They've all passed on, I'm afraid."

Welp, that line of questioning had went from bad to worse. Maybe it was better to just not even talk to Sibyl about personal things? Nothing really struck her as happy about him. Who knows – maybe going to Beacon would help on that front.

Nodding absently at his answer in an attempt to starve off the awkwardness, she moved into the kitchen, grabbing a soda for himself and her. He caught it as she tossed it, looking confused as to just what the hell it was. Rolling her eyes, she indicated how to open it upon seeing his clueless expression.

"C'mon! You've never even had soda?"

He took a slow sip from it, savoring the taste. "Unfortunately. Goodness, this is delicious."

Heh. So, the Badlands boy finally enjoying the sweet city life? She had basically given him the tour, actually, now that she thought about it. A motorcycle ride, a club, a glimpse at some of the underground business of Vale, and now, he was having his first soda.

Not bad.

Plopping down on the sofa beside him, she put her feet up on the table. Unlike him, she was dressed in something normal. Her damn sofa cushions were going to cave in with that armor of his…

"You really need to change into something else."

He looked genuinely upset with her comment. "What? Why? This armor has been reinforced many times by a plethora of the greatest blacksmiths I have ever had the pleasure of meeting."

"Hey, no need to get so hot about it." Resisting the urge to snicker at her own pun, she continued on, "I'm just saying, you're going to ruin the sofa cushions."

He 'oh'dat that, looking down at the cushions he was sitting atop. "I see… perhaps you're right." Rising to his feet, he couldn't stop grimacing lightly as he saw the sofa seat fix itself to its right form.

"Actually… I, uh, don't mean to be rude, but when's the last time you showered?"

He looked at her with confusion, head tilting lightly.

'Oh, my God, he's actually having to think about it!'

"Forgive me, but I can't say I've ever been showered. Do you perhaps mean with gifts?"

Both her hands came up to cover her face. She almost laughed at the absurdity of it, but just stopped herself with the realization of how disgusting that was. "Bathe! I mean 'bathed' – when the hell is the last time you had a bath?!"

He sneered at her lightly, wiping at his nose and seemingly insulted. "Please, I am not some Blight Town ogre. I took a dip in the Darkwood Lake… err..." He raised a few fingers before shaking his head, starting his count over.

"Gods above… has it really been that long?"

His face was tinged red as he refused to meet her eyes. Well, at least she had made him realize it. Much as it was somewhat funny to watch him suffer, she decided to not savor it for too long. "Talk about losing track of time. Anyways, just follow Mama Yang and I'll show you the bathroom; you can clean yourself up."

He did so diligently, eyes staying stuck on the ground. Man, hereally was embarrassed about that, wasn't he? Not that she exactly blamed him – it was very embarrassing, not even remembering the last time he freakin' bathed without having to count on both hands. Moving into the bathroom, she held back a laugh as he had to squeeze through the door.

It was a bit tight with the both of them in there, but she just needed to show him how to turn on the shower and then the spacing wouldn't seem so bad. "Right knob for cold, left for hot. You just turn it like so, push this in, and ta-da!" Water spewed out of the showerhead, splattering against the wall and spraying them with some of the excess water.

She turned the knob back off, pointing at the conditioner and body wash, just in case he was that new to things. "You can borrow Dad's body wash and shampoo." All that was left was for him to change out of that bulky armor. Wait – did he even have clothes to change into? "Are you going to need clothes?"

His head shook in the negative, so she shrugged, gesturing for him to follow. "You can change in the spare room, just put your armor wherever."

"I thank you for the hospitality, Yang."

"Eh, you helped me keep my cool at Junior's. Its fine, just go shower."

Nodding, he closed the door, and she could only presume begin to get changed out of his armor. Standing outside the spare room for just a few moments, she sighed, heading back to the living room to finish her drink and maybe watch something on the television.

She zoned out, vaguely hearing the shower running in the background. All of this was working out pretty well… he was starting to be pretty grateful to her. And sure, she would have done most of this even if he couldn't possibly teach her how to throw fireballs, but given that he did know how to throw fireballs and could teach other people to, it had to be helping her odds.

It made her feel a little guilty, thinking about how she could angle all of this to get him to teach her… but c'mon! Who wouldn't want to toss fireballs? Hell, it would go great with her hair and her fighting style. Mostly the hair, though. Still, letting him use their shower was one thing; it would probably take a bit more to get him to teach her something as awesome as pyromancy.

They were going to be on teams at Beacon; she knew that much. She could already imagine their group – her, Ruby, Sibyl, and… the fourth person didn't matter; the group was already cool enough with just the three of them.

Maybe he could teach Ruby too? Her little sister had somehow gotten into Beacon two years early, so while ahead for her age, she wasn't as good as she would have been when seventeen. Beyond anything else in her life, Yang needed Ruby to be safe. If Sibyl could help with that, she'd be eternally grateful.

"Yang, you must keep introducing me to the oddities of Vale. That shower was splendid… I've never felt so spry."

Glancing over her shoulder, she blinked at what he was wearing. It was a black robe, hemmed with… gold? There was definitely some sort of gold chain wrapped around his waist, but she swore the hems of the robe were also highlighted gold.

"Huh. Think you could hook a girl up with a robe like that, Fireball?"

Chuckling, he moved to sit beside her, his hair looking a lot better than it had earlier. She noticed she had been right about his hair. It was tinted blue.

"It's something of an old antique. Not many like it which aren't in tatters."

"We could share – it looks pretty loose," she suggested, wiggling her eyebrows. His face scrunched in confusion, once again reminding her he knew as much about flirting as he did showers. "I think not. It's… well, it's one of my few comfortable sets. Best not to ruin it."

Things grew silent for a few moments as he stared at the television, mouth turning from a line into a frown. She decided to just turn it off before being forced to explain it as well. "So, think you're going to attend Beacon as a student?"

He played with the sleeve of his robe, twisting it lightly around his fingers. "Perhaps. Qrow gave me very few details on precisely what Beacon is, exactly."

That sounded like her uncle. "It's an academy where students go to become hunters. You do know what hunters are, right?"

He nodded. "Yes. Qrow explained the term to me. Humanity's protectors, he called them. They fight the threat of Grimm."

One less thing for her to explain. Thankfully Qrow had thought to answer a few things before trying to get Sibyl drunk. God, she couldn't believe he uncle had done tha- wait. No, she could. Qrow definitely had tried to get Sibyl drunk. "Yeah. Why are you going to Beacon, anyways?"

"…Qrow claimed the headmaster might be able to help me get back to my homeland, Lordran."

Lordran, huh. He had used it in his introduction earlier, too, so it was nice to have confirmation about it. She had never heard of it, not that it was some big surprise. Wherever he came from didn't even have showers, which meant it was either centuries old or very far away. Her money was on the latter.

Still, recommending he go to Beacon was about as good as a plan she could come up with. If the headmaster of Beacon couldn't get him home, no one could. "So, you're not planning on staying?"

"I have a duty to fulfill, Yang, though rest assured I do not think my return home will be a quick endeavor."

Duty to fulfill, huh. She wouldn't pry… yet. Instead, she was going to head to bed. The airship to beacon left early tomorrow, and she had to get up even earlier to look her best.