'Alright, correct your posture. Foot forward.' Weiss assumed a beginning stance. 'Not that forward.' Her foot moved back.
Sword held firmly in hand, she braced for battle, her entire focus on the edge of the cliff, waiting for her masked foe to leap up and engage her in a deadly dance of blades.
Waiting…
Waiting…
WAITING!
With a huff, Weiss stomped to the cliff edge. He had climbed a rope most of the way up, surely the last few dozen feet couldn't be that hard! (Yes, she knew he didn't have a rope anymore, but if he had the strength to speed climb a rope then surely he had the strength to pull himself up a rock!)
Peering over the edge, her face twisted into a grimace in distaste. He had barely made any progress! With how she had built him up in her head, she was feeling a bit cheated.
"Hello! Taking your time down there?"
The man shifted his his hands and feet to get a better hold of the rocks. Weiss felt some of her annoyance fade as she studied his form, 'He's clearly got muscles to hold on so long, but not a broad form, and what I can see of his face isn't too bad to look at either.' Yes, her agitation was slowly ebbing away as she studied him… until he opened his mouth.
"Listen, I appreciate a good conversation as much as the next guy, but this isn't exactly a cakewalk sweetheart, so if you could let me focus that would just be fantastic," he drawled with a mocking edge.
Weiss flustered, "Sorry!"
"Thank you."
She turned away back towards the rocky terrain and shuffled forward before stopping. 'Why am I walking away from him? I have a job to do!' About-face, and back to the edge!
"What would really be fantastic is if you would stop wasting time and hurry up!" she snapped at him.
"Well, you are more than welcome to try and help me get up there, but unless you have a rope or somehow weigh more than the twig you resemble, I would suggest redirecting your energies towards that lovely little virtue called patience and let me concentrate."
Weiss gave him a smile so sweet he could practically taste the poison it was laced with. "You know, I do happen to have some rope up here…"
The man stopped shifting along the rocks and gave her his most unimpressed look, already knowing there was a 'but' coming.
"... but-" called it, "-unfortunately I can't give it to you, since I am only here to witness and/or cause your imminent demise."
The man huffed, "That does put a bit of a damper on our relationship. A pity, too. Here I was thinking about exchanging friendship bracelets."
"Well, I also have a sense of honor," Weiss said, straightening out her figure somewhat to appear at least somewhat dignified. "So, I give my word as an Atlesian you will reach the top alive."
"You and your pals are holding an innocent woman prisoner, so you don't exactly have a lot of honor to start with, but then you go and tell me you're Atlesian! All you have done is assure me that the stick you have up your ass is something you were born with, so you will just have to wait." With that made clear, the man went back to looking for his next foothold.
Weiss had to admit he had a point, but she wasn't sure how else she could reassure him… unless…
Her straightened posture went slack, taking a breath to brace herself, she got his attention. "Look, I… I swear on the sword of my sister, Winter Schnee. You will reach the top alive."
"...Throw me the rope."
Weiss dashed back to the rock anchoring the rope, unwinding and rushing back to the edge to throw the rope to the masked man. He stretched his arm out to grab the rope, gripping it tightly with one hand before grabbing it with the other and pulling himself up with Weiss pulling the rope up as much as she could (which wasn't a lot, to her chagrin).
When the masked man had reached the edge and started gripping it in favor of the rope to haul himself up, Weiss abandoned the rope as well and gripped his shirt to help pull him over. The man cleared the edge only to immediately move himself further up and scramble to his feet, his hand reaching to unsheathe his sword.
"Not - Not until you are ready."
The man looked at Weiss in unabashed surprise before shrugging his shoulders, "Thanks."
He moved to sit on the nearest boulder and take one of his boots off, shaking it out to remove some pebbles that he had picked up. Eventually, he addressed the white-haired woman who couldn't seem to make up her mind about talking to him.
"If you have something to ask, then ask it."
Her mind made up for her, she came right out with it. "Do you know a woman with burns on her right side?"
He gave her his strongest what-the-f*** look, "Okay, I'm gonna need a little context for that one, if only because it's so random."
"My sister was killed by a woman with burns covering the right side of her entire body."
The man leaned back a bit in understanding, face (what could be seen of it) softening in sympathy, "Sorry, can't say I have."
Weiss couldn't help the self-deprecating chuckle that left her. Of course he hadn't, the odds of some random masked crusader knowing a woman that held herself like a noble… how desperate had she become?
"Nice sword you got there."
Weiss started, pulled from her thoughts at his words, and glanced at Myrtenaster. "Thank you, my sister gave it to me."
"The one the burned woman killed?"
She nodded, pulling the sword from its scabbard and, watching the masked man tense, lifted it so it lay flat in her hands, offering it to the stranger to hold, to understand.
He seemed to realize just what her gesture meant, and hesitated slightly before reaching out to grasp the grip and lift it.
"Beautiful work, and well balanced. It suits you."
Weiss smiled at his words, though her eyes glimmered in memory.
"Our father was one of the Atlesian nobles, a ruthless businessman who had married into the Schnee noble family by manipulating and stealing from everyone he could, while also making sure nothing could directly be tied to him.
When Winter and I were born, he was… disappointed. Atlas might be the most technologically advanced, but it is still very much a patriarchal system. What were two daughters but marriage alliances he didn't necessarily need when he could simply take what he wanted? Then, a few years after me, Whitley was born. The male heir he always wanted.
Winter and I grew up knowing that our father would sell us off in marriage to the highest bidder first chance he got, the only friends we had were each other and our butler, Klein. But when Winter turned 17, she decided enough was enough; she ran off to join the military, and I went with her.
Sure our father tried to get us back, but Winter was safe in the military, and the rather impressive amount of officials he had managed to anger or annoy were only too happy to help her officially adopt me behind his back. We were safe, and he was made a laughing stock by his runaway daughters."
Weiss paused in her story to take the sword back, examining it over again as she had done hundreds of times before.
"Winter taught me swordplay, and she eventually saved up enough to have this crafted for me. She gave it to me on my birthday, and…" Weiss's grip tightened on the sword, "that was the last time I saw her alive."
"Some noblewoman with burns on her right side had approached from the Vale side of the Vale-Atlas border and was causing trouble, claiming that some criminals had burned down her home with Atlas technology, a contingent of soldiers with her in order to get Atlas' attention. My sister was a part of the diplomatic contingent sent to talk to the woman.
When,,, when messenger arrived, he said that my sister had tried talking to the woman, but the woman had deemed my sister beneath her. She pierced her heart before she could even defend herself, and demanded to talk to someone with real authority. He handed me a bag of 10 silvers."
Weiss reached to her side and grasped an old leather bag, the clinking sound made from its contents hinting at just what was inside.
"'Recompense,' he said, for my sister's life. Ten silvers was all she was worth in that woman's eyes. Since then, I have sworn to myself that I would find that-that thing that killed my sister, I would look her in the eye, and I would say, 'Hello. My name is Weiss Schnee. You killed my sister. Prepare to die.'"
The masked man wasn't sure what to say when she was done. This woman, this broken creature before him, had just poured out her life story out to him as if a dam had burst in her soul. And she had been left behind by her companions with orders to kill him. How do they get from this point A to that point B.
"So… why take up in kidnapping?"
Weiss sighed, mentally shaking out the weariness that came from telling her story, but also feeling slightly better from talking about it. Yang already knew, so it was awkward to talk about it again, and Torchwick couldn't be bothered to give a damn.
"I've been trying to find the woman, but after 10 years of not having much luck, I'm starting to lose hope. Revenge doesn't have the best annual salary, and the benefits are practically nonexistent in the long run, so I'm with Torchwick to pay the bills."
"It's a living, I guess."
"Mhmm."
They sat there in awkward silence for a brief moment before the masked man stood, pulling out his sword as he moved a short distance away and closer to the stone ruins further away from the cliff.
"Well, hope you find that bitch someday."
Weiss stood, holding her sword in her right hand and followed him. "Are you ready then?"
"Well, you've been more than fair, so I better be."
The both stood a short distance apart, assuming ready stances, before Weiss gave a slight bow from her stance, "Begin."
For a brief moment, neither moved, each analyzing the others form.
It was Weiss that moved first, giving a few test swings towards her opponent to try and gauge his style. He simply dodged and blocked, little energy wasted in his movements.
'A master,' she thought, realizing this fight might be tougher than she anticipated, and all the happier for it.
He did as she did, giving a few test swings to determine her own skill, and coming to the conclusion that she too was a master. Except instead of being happier for it, his thoughts were leaning more towards, 'Aw shit, now I have to waste more time. Hope they haven't gotten too far away.'
Their testing done, they launched swiftly into combat.
If someone had been there to witness the duel between the two and was asked about it later, they wouldn't remark on the sheer artistry of the two or gush over how they adapted to each others styles. The first three words out of their mouth would be, "It was weird."
Weiss moved like she was a dancer in a past life, twisting and moving amidst the blocks and parries to try and prod at her opponents unarmored torso.
The masked man, in comparison… initially he looked like a drunken swordsman who was getting incredibly lucky. He moved as if every block and dodge was a drunken stumble that his sword happened to be in the way of.
At least, it was like that in the beginning. Then he decided to get more serious.
The air was suddenly filled with the sound of steel hitting steel, the sounds of the blades meeting then parting only to meet again was so rapid the sounds of the blows almost blended into each other.
"You are pretty good," the masked man remarked.
Weiss almost scoffed, "I would hope after ten years of training I'd be more than just 'pretty good.'"
The man twisted around a piece of ruin to try and catch her off guard, Weiss barely raising her sword in time to block.
"Okay, you might be a bit better than I am," she confessed, giving the man a smirk.
"That isn't typically something someone smirks about in a deadly duel. What gives?"
"Because I know something you don't."
"And what would that be?" his mind whirred with possibilities. She did have some extra time o examine the terrain. Was there a trap laid out somewhere? It would be hard to hide amidst the bare ruins, but not impossible.
"You see, I am not right-handed."
Instantly, Weiss shifted the sword to her left hand, and the difference in skill was noticeable. The masked man struggled to keep up with her blows, the graceful twists and turns of her blade almost dizzying and deceiving in her strikes. Back he went, trying to put some distance between himself and her blows, until he felt his foot reach the edge of the cliff over the sea. At this rate, he would either be skewered or take a plunge. But then…
"You know, there is something I had probably ought to tell you."
"Now would probably be the best time," Weiss agreed.
"You aren't right handed, but I am."
He passed the blade into his right hand, and then suddenly she was the one on the defensive. He pressed her away from the edge, bearing down hard on her, and her mind started twisting in panic.
That was her fatal mistake.
Her frantic swings became predictable and left her guard open, which the masked man was quick to take advantage of. He moved inside her guard, and in a simple move, had her disarmed and on her knees.
'Winter… I'm sorry…'
"Kill me quickly."
Her request made the masked man pause, studying her from his position where he had circled behind her. This girl was so skilled and, from what he could tell from his brief talk with her, a good if broken heart. She deserved more than this.
"I would sooner destroy a sculpture than kill such an artist as yourself," didn't mean he'd let her know the truth. She'd think he'd gone soft. Reputation and what not. "Unfortunately, I can't have you following me."
Weiss closed her eyes in preparation for the fatal blow, only to feel a brief moment of surprise at the hand pressing on her pressure point before darkness claimed her.
"Hope you find what you need, miss."
With that the masked man moved in pursuit of her companions and the kidnapped princess, putting out of his mind any lingering thoughts he had of the white haired woman who had, somewhat, won his respect.
Instead of 'masked man', should I just put his name? We all know who it is!
Reviews welcome!