Disclaimer: RWBY is owned by Monty Oum from Roosterteeth. (8/23/13)

Miracles of Ancient Wonder

Chapter Two: Initiating the Initiation

Carissa woke up to rays of sunlight striking her face. At an unknown time, her sleeping position had shifted to lying on her back. Sitting up as she brushed brown strands away from her face, she scanned the sea of sleeping bags to see several other students rising with her, yawning and stretching their arms. The dark-haired girl was not among them, she observed with disappointment. For sure, she would be seen again. She pushed off the covers and folded them into a small size, lazily dropping them into her duffel bag. Looking at the windows, she blinked. The sun was only rising, the clear sky an amber tone that brightened her spirits for the upcoming test.

"I'm relieved to see some early risers." Miss Goodwitch's voice traveled down the ballroom, and all mutterings were ceased at her entrance. Her heels made light taps on the floor as she sauntered inside. Despite the early hour, the assistant of the headmaster dressed in neatness. "Bring your belongings and change in the washrooms. Then you will have breakfast in the dining hall."

Dozens of students shot up and grabbed their bags, hurrying after the blonde woman. Carissa was careful, stuffing the bedroll inside the duffel bag and slipping it onto her shoulder, trailing after her sleepwear-clad classmates. She didn't want to return to the ballroom to find her things being moved around; there were some belongings in her duffel bag that were meant to be kept under lock and key. She hadn't forgotten how important this was to her, even if her eyes were half-lidded with drowsiness. As she joined the ranks, she looked at every individual. At least half of them had static-hair, she noted in amusement.

Miss Goodwitch passed them down the hall as they lined up at the door before she left the site, leaving everyone to pour inside.

The washrooms were filled with the sound of rinsing teeth and washing faces, with the results of the floor damp and the air humid. There were separate rooms leading to stalls to change into clothes suitable for the Initiation.

Carissa was one of the several to take to the showers. She changed the settings to cold, with the chill waking her up considerably. She attended her daily routine before stepping out in a thick gray towel. Her hair hung over her shoulder as she borrowed a hair dryer from a tall girl with dark red hair, speeding up the process with combing it backwards. Clamping one hand on her towel, she stepped into one of the stalls, dropping her duffel bag on a nearby base, and dressed into undergarments. She went to slipping on a gray undershirt, her white-collared shirt with long sleeves with the vest. She pulled on gray pants, tightening it with a black belt. She added a pair of belt clips with ties on each hip that would hold her weapons together.

She worked her appearance on the mirror, parting her hair to the left with the comb, then stood back, evaluating herself.

I look like a walking tree…that's covered in soot.

On the other side, someone was knocking on the door as she put on her messenger back under her gray coat. She shifted the strap so that her bag hung like a one-sided backpack. "Are you finished?" a familiar voice called through the stall door.

"Almost done. I'm leaving now." Carissa replied, digging her feet into her boots, tightening the buckles at the calves before grabbing her bag. Standing up, she slid open the lock and lightly nudged the door open with her foot, to stare at the taller girl. She also had green eyes, only more vivid, considering as her own eyes were dark. She had a crimson towel covering herself, and a bag hanging over her shoulder, ornamented with bronze. It contained pieces armor inside, with tell-tale chinking noises as she shifted her feet. "Thank you for lending me your hair-dryer…did I get your name?" Carissa asked. Finally there was a chance to know faces. She didn't mind if there would be a one-worded response.

The girl seemed apologetic as she extended a hand. It was firm with the calluses, with a controlled grip as they shook hands. A spear-thrower, she could only assume, from the feel and the built. "Pyrrha Nikos."

"The top graduate of Sanctum?" Carissa received a humble nod. It seemed that there would be others like her, champions dominating their fields and entering Beacon…these were the best.

And they all wanted to help the world. It was comforting to see other skilled individuals with the very same agenda. "Oh, I forgot to tell you; I'm Carissa Aria. You do look formidable."

"That's how I appear, Carissa." Pyrrha smiled, but her attention was caught onto something below, and she gripped the top of her towel. "You…" it slid a bit more, and the girl took on a look of embarrassment.

"I'm holding you up, aren't I? I'm sorry, Pyrrha." Carissa sidestepped past the girl and out the stall.

"No, I'm sorry; I might have distracted you," Pyrrha's eyes widened with a start, as she swiveled to face her, "but you're right—we'll be late if we talk too long." She stepped backwards into the stall, locking it shut.

"Good luck!" Carissa called back, already on her way through the door. I'd like to talk to her more, if there was time. She slung her bag over her shoulder, and wove through the crowded washroom. She pushed through the door, and went down the familiar path until she reached the dining hall. It was lively, with scraping chairs, spoons and forks clinking as voices cascaded from the open entrance. It meant more people, a bigger crowd. "Beacon is like ten times larger than Signal." She said to herself. She was going to have to survive before she saw the upper levels.

She entered the buffet line, her mind racing. Every candidate in Beacon from the best schools had arrived, throwing in the variables of who would finish initiation as the most adept. If there were people like Pyrrha and the amber-eyed girl, then she knew this school was the mold for Hunters. Ozpin must have been well-equipped to roll out a challenge with so many mixed applicants.

She took a sleek tray and a plate, taking her place in line as more students joined her. She received a generous helping of pancakes with syrup lathered on top. She added a side of scrambled eggs and a bottle of milk, taking a ripe apple. Now, for the hard part… Carissa left the line and turned, almost sighing.

Everyone was scattered, with tables not entirely filled up, but still occupied. She bit her lip, and then went further into the rows, feeling eyes on the back of her head as she turned around corners, stopping at tables that were getting fuller by the minute. Worse, the ones who hadn't risen up as early as her were stuffing the place.

"How did they dress up so fast?" she muttered, before spotting an empty table. It was near the northwest corner of the lunchroom, and surrounded by windows. She picked up her stride and held her tray—she didn't want to ruin someone's clothes and get a ranting—and darted into one of the seats so fast, she almost sent her food flopping to the side. The chair did skid dangerously to the side, though, earning her a few stares.

Carissa examined the tray as she placed it at the table. She'd forgotten her utensils. In irritation, she bounced from her seat and turned to leave the table…

…and met light blue eyes. A girl with white hair stared back at her with a frown. A crooked scar was over her left eye, and her hair was aligned asymmetrically, the smooth ponytail positioned on her left. This girl had elegant attire that matched her appearance, with her necklace holding a single stone that swung like a pendulum. She held her own tray of food, the contents only more colorful.

They held the stare, both of them hesitant, until Carissa pushed her chair in, adjusting her collar. She hadn't realized it was unfolded. The girl maintained the stare, her eyes flying to the abandoned tray, her frown loosening. "Aren't you going to eat?" she asked.

Did they come along with the plate…? Carissa eyes flew at the table. "Nope." She said aloud by accident, and inwardly, she winced.

The girl's eyebrows furrowed, tilting more to confusion than suspicion. The scrutiny of her stare made Carissa avert her eyes. She gestured to the plate. "What I mean, is that…"

"I have a spare fork." The girl said, the frown gone. "Here." she stood up and deftly dropped the utensil at a height that didn't spread the food, or soak her sleeve into the syrup of the pancakes.

Carissa trailed off, stunned. She hoped she wasn't as predictable as she had felt. Maybe it was the motion. "Thanks." She said, and both of them pulled out their seats, quietly sitting down and working on their food. She carved into the pancake stack and pulled out a piece, slowing chewing to savor the meal. It was still warm. She cut out another, and felt the sugar kick in. The foods were prepared nicely, beneficial for whoever held the jobs as cooks and the students. In Signal, some students took shifts in making the food for every lunch break, resulting in the widest varieties, but they were all decent.

The girl was spooning a sauce into her mouth. Already the contents of her tray were half empty, with her sleeves pushed to her elbows. Up close, there was a slight tremor the way she handled her spoon, before she placed it on the plate. "I was wondering if you've heard of how the teams would be placed?" she asked.

"I haven't really…I believe they're permanent."

"Time will tell." The girl sighed, pressing her hands to her temple. For a split second, Carissa thought the girl traced the scar. The slight redness to the cut showed it was still new.

"What's worrying you?" she asked.

"The teams and the initiation. There's also this boy who won't get off my back." The girl shook her head, her earrings swinging.

"That's natural, as all first years—"

"First years, I'm confident that all of you will find your way to the weapons locker. After, you will travel to Beacon Cliff, where you will await instructions." Miss Goodwitch called from the podium behind them, her steely voice resonating across the lunchroom. "Tardiness will not be accepted."

"—when they do a field test, everyone's bound to be nervous." Carissa finished, refusing to be cut off.

"Maybe." The girl stared at her unfinished serving, but picked it up. "We should go to the lockers, just as Miss Goodwitch said." Before Carissa could reply, the girl turned with a flick of her ponytail, striding over to a trash can. On the back of her bolero jacket, there it was; the snowflake sigil on its back. The same emblem stamped on the box that Carissa received twice a year, filled with her preferences.

She had just spoken to the heiress of the Schnee Dust Company.

Carissa's mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed, hiding the fact that she was so surprised, barely containing the urge to drop her jaw. Pyrrha Nikos and Weiss Schnee. Certainly, there would be more renowned names walking the halls. She picked up her tray filled with the remains and followed the heiress toward the line for the food dump. "Wow." The word escaped her, and she hid a small smile that reached her lips, as she stepped behind Weiss. "Beacon is really something…"

Carissa stepped into the locker room, a sole number embedded in her mind. Rows of steel doors lined the tiled room as she quickened her pace, navigating the room with the quiet tap of her boots. She had waited for the crowd of students leaving to slow down to at least a pair of two, and then she entered, glad she wouldn't be hearing the clutter as the others retrieved their weapons.

She went down another aisle, following as the numbers became higher until she reached the number she remembered, 707. Pulling it open, she ran her eyes down the pile she'd stacked in a neat arrangement, making sure nothing appeared to have been taken or moved.

Satisfied, Carissa reached forward, pulling out the simple gray scabbards that held her twin blades, Sylph Catalyst, setting them on the bench nearby. Further, she took out a survival kit that she'd assembled a week before. It had pouches that held the items inside from bouncing. There was a thumb-sized sharpening flint that doubled as a fire starter, a pair of socks, and a roll of binding made for the hilts of her swords. She unstrapped the fold of her messenger bag and placed the latter inside, strapping it closed while shutting the locker door with her elbow.

Sylph Catalyst had been with her since the day she'd forged it at Signal Academy. Before then, she was beginning with the two-sword technique since she was ten, after gaining a fair skill of handling one blade and short swords. To this day, she could wield both hands with fluency. The metal of both blades were folded ten times for immeasurable durability, and she was glad for the nights she'd spent pounding away for the unique design. She unsheathed one of them from the scabbard to inspect any damage.

The blades had a light green hue to them, with a sleek grey cross guard that had the ends angling upwards. The hilt was made of dark green steel wrapped in inextirpable transparent binding, with the end of each pommel having an empty slot to insert a Dust cartridge or crystal.

Sylph and Catalyst were fraternal blades. Sylph was the longer and wider of the two, with a one-sided curve from the tip, with a pin-sized hole at the start of the blade, giving it a loud-whistling when swinging. Catalyst was shorter and narrower, with a barbed edge that would lock enemies in when grappling.

Both hilts had switches that would trigger Sylph Catalyst's second form. For that, she would review later. She slid Sylph into the left clip and Catalyst on her right hip, adding an extra loop to tighten the hold of the swords. Practicing her unsheathing, she removed Sylph with her right hand, vice-versa with Catalyst, in one fluid motion. She adjusted to the familiar feel, before trying out into her old stance. She pivoted her right foot to the rear, raising her right arm and angling the tip of the blade backwards, while keeping her left foot to the front, holding her left sword at the waist. It clicked perfectly. Pulling out the Dust cartridges from her messenger bag, she slid the slots under each hilt and placed them in, shutting it with a snap. Sheathing them, she gave one final look around the locker room before she would leave.

She needed the mental sanity to begin her trek, and the walk to Beacon Cliff would clear the doubts forming in her mind. It must be navigation…there is a reason we're being sent out of the academy…

A loud clatter of metal meeting the floor made Carissa turn around, startled. The aisle behind her had produced that noise, followed by a gasp and muttered apologies. "Careful with that," a girl voice's said. It was soft, almost like she hadn't spoken. "You almost stopped my heart right there."

"Sorry." A boy apologized. "Let me—" there was a loud crash. "Okay, maybe you should do that. It's slippery."

Carissa took a step, followed steadily by another one.

"It was great for you to help me find my locker, but I can handle the rest of this myself. Where are your weapons?"

"I have them on me." The boy answered.

"Besides the sword, what are those two rods for? Is there a mechanism for those—?"

"They're just the way they are."

"You'll have to enlighten me on that…"

Resigned, Carissa bolted out of the entrance. She wanted to arrive as early as she could onto the initiation and not risk missing any details. When was I ever late? The thought came to her. Thinking back to the all the time she'd spent in sessions, the answer was clear. She walked down the hall at a brisk pace, the gears of her brain turning. While she wasn't in the face of danger, she had to prepare for the challenges. Teams. There would be teams. But if she ended up alone…she swallowed.

That was going to be her downfall.

I finished this before reading the sixth episode, so I was surprised when I compared my OC's thoughts with Weiss when she was relying on battle theory. I managed to follow through on this chapter, although it's like a filler. As the next cycle of waiting for Thursday comes, I'll be sure to keep the plot as believable as I can. This is still a break out from my writer's block, so I'm checking my work as carefully as I can.

More original characters are gradually going to be introduced into the story, so note every detail!

Comments and criticism are appreciated; I like to know someone is seeing my work.