Hey, got another one done. I took a break from writing the current chapter and the next to work out some excerpts from the future, that way I have an idea of what I'm leading up to. Sorry I had no way to let you guys know. I really need a Twitter or something. AFTAA is about not getting too complex with your writing. It's an accessibility thing.

I MIGHT revise the latter half of this chapter. I don't think I wrote that section really well, but I wanted to get this chapter out for you guys.

Also, Guys, I get it, you don't like that Pyrrha hasn't just jumped into Jaune's arms and proclaimed her undying, intense love for him. I get it. But have some faith and stick with it, it gets better because of the events of this and last chapter. People, in general, are pretty dumb when it comes to their own feelings when they're teenagers. Pyrrha's as susceptible to frustration as the best of us, and it would be quite frustrating to leave one Kingdom to not be famous and still be famous.

Enjoy,

-Phoenyx

"Blake. Do you have an idea of why Pyrrha's isn't a fan of me?"

"Yes." Blake tugged him to the ground at the sound of footsteps on the grounds. While he couldn't see them in the low light, he was certain they were all but invisible for the moment, so Jaune frowned at his current partner in crime. She gave him a lazy glance and pressed a finger to her lips. How did the dark not bother her? He sighed, but nodded, pushing himself up to follow her when the coast was clear. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him - He'd worked pretty hard to get into Beacon, latching himself onto a team of very pretty girls that all seemed to like him, and now he was sneaking out.

Life was all kinds of weird.

A curse slipped out of his mouth when his foot caught on something invisible in the shadows. Scowling in the general direction of whatever the object was, Jaune let the frustration bleed away. It knew what it did was wrong, there was no reason to be angry at it. Of course, it was likely an inanimate object anyway. No thoughts or feelings of its own. Maybe he should give it a kick for good measure, if only to have a bit of satisfaction himself. Instead, he glanced over to where the laborers were loading up another airship.

"If you're going to ask again," Blake shot him a quick look, crouched down behind a low wall. He followed her lead. "Wait until we're back in our room. If we get caught on here, we're probably going to be punished. If we get caught in the Forest, it won't be by a human or a faunus." Past her, the several men were unaware of their presence, and past them; Beacon Cliffs. Their way in… or out. Hopefully, a way in that didn't involve a long process of being flung through the air and trying to find a way to land without becoming a spot of color on the forest floor. The single reason he had even survived the fall was because of Pyrrha, more so because he hadn't even had an Aura then.

Which brought on a good question.

…Why had she saved him, just to dislike him?

It wasn't like he had been cocky or ungrateful. He'd done his best to be kind, despite her somewhat obvious frustration with his presence. She'd even seemed pleased when he'd mustered up the courage to compliment her once in fact! It confused him, but then again, so did most women. Strange creatures. Pretty creatures, but strange creatures. Pyrrha just managed to be stranger than most. Yang and Ruby were easy enough to get along with. Weiss was gorgeous, but he was quickly learning that she wasn't without her faults, and Blake was…

Well, Blake was moving. He hurried to catch up to her without making much noise, a quick and constant stop and go as they navigated the small maze of boxes and the roaming men working. Soon they were outright sprinting to the edge of the cliffs without anyone calling to them, and Jaune hesitated when Blake hopped over the edge. The casual decision of hers stopped him short. Trust. He steeled his thoughts and made to follow her, stopping again when he reached the edge. An experimental glance over, just in case, told him of how to make it to the bottom - slide and hope.

So, he cringed at the idea and hopped over the edge before he was spotted gawking like a lunatic.

It was an awful idea, he decided once he'd picked up speed. His controlled slide was nothing short of loud and painful within moments, and was just as fast to end. He rolled over the grass and dirt, lucky enough to miss a tree but not lucky enough to miss a bramble of thorns, all of which were far too happy to poke and prod him in many uncomfortable places. "Ow." Jaune groaned, relaxing into a pile of flesh, dirt, thorns, and no little amount of pain. "Blake, I'm just gonna… you know, gonna lay here for a bit."

"No."

"Okay." He took an offered hand and struggled out of the bramble, stopping when his crawl had moved him onto the ground a decent foot or two from the edge of the thorns. Blake looked down at where he was laying and brushing himself, an almost amused look on her face. "She dislikes you because you keep bringing up her fame." He struggled to his feet with her help, opening his mouth to ask a question and closing it when she held up a hand and rolled her eyes. "Not now, please. She is our friend, Jaune, I'm sure I'm not the only one who's noticed how comfortable she is with all of us. But every time one of us reminds her that she's a Champion, it alienates her. Yang and I have stopped, you're just way slow on the uptake."

"Oh." That… did make some sense. What was the saying about the simplest solution? Blake moved forwards, breaking the edge of the bushes and setting a hand on Gambol Shroud. Jaune made to follow, mirroring her action with Crocea Mors. "So, when you sa-"

"It must be very frustrating to be constantly reminded of the pedestal you put yourself on." Blake shot him a harder look, "Just like it's very frustrating to have someone talking while you're listening out for dangers."

"Right." He clamped his jaw shut, drawing his fingers across his lips and miming the action of locking them shut. Blake's frown deepened for a moment, before she rolled her eyes and turned to move again. He followed her, hand on his blade and his eyes darting to each shrub and tree trunk in turn. Still, he couldn't quite focus on the surrounding area, his brain pulled itself back to one singular subject; Pyrrha Nikos. It twisted itself around the problem and ached trying solution after solution, many of which ended poorly. He hadn't even known she was a big deal in Mistral until Ruby had told him... maybe that was the solution?

But he didn't talk, like Blake wanted. Not that it helped much, taking into account that he was much heavier footed than she. Somehow, each step would crunch leaves or crack a twig, while Blake was as silent as cat's feet. He glared down at his boots and deepened his frown, adjusting how he walked in an attempt to quiet himself. The efforts yielded no results, except for him nearly barreling over his teammate when she stopped short and put a hand up to stop him. He teetered on one toe, hopping three times and trying to set his other foot down without making noise. It failed, of course, but Blake didn't comment.

Instead she crouched down low and pushed into thick brushes, spreading two branches aside to make a peeking hole into the forest beyond. She glanced back at him, looking almost surprised that he was so close, then jerked her chin ahead. "There's the… what'd you call it again?"

"Blight."

"Right." She drawled after a beat, giving him another glance. "You'll have to tell me where you got that name."

"Just sort of came to me." He shrugged, grimacing at how loud the clinking of his armor sounded. Why did he wear it again? "Is it not good?"

"No, it works." Blake stared through the tiny bush hole she'd made. "So what are those things in the distance? The Blighted corpse should be there, but instead…" Her head leaned forwards. "Are those like… some sort of eggs?"

"Uh. That would be bad, right?"

"Probably."

"So we should do something about them."

"We should leave, tell the headmaster."

"What?" Jaune frowned at her, furrowing his eyebrows. "No, we're here now. We can just go, I dunno, pop 'em."

"Right." She drawled again, the same exact tone. Like he was an idiot. "And when that brings a lot of those Blighted back onto us?"

"C'mon, we're both capable fight… ers…" He trailed off at her raised eyebrow. "Okay, You're a capable fighter. I'm a good meat shield with a sword."

"Uh huh."

"A sword that not only cuts through Blight easy, but sets them on fire." His reasoning, while good, did little to convince Blake. So, he sighed. "Fine, go back and tell the Headmaster. But I'm going to go see if I can stop any more Blighted from spawning while you're gone."

"That is an awful idea."

"Yeah? Well, I'm the leader here." He was being stubborn now, and the worst part was that he knew she was right. But that defiant streak, the need to fix a problem, didn't let him relent. "So either go or don't."

He stood and pushed out of the bushes, holding his blade out and shield up as he moved into the forest. After a few seconds, something moved to his left and he suppressed a noise of fright, spinning to see… Blake. "Let's get this over with. Quickly. No use in being quiet." She sighed, rolling her eyes at him. "And put your sword down. You'll tire out your arm."

"Y-Yeah." Complying, Jaune dropped his sword and jogged forwards. Like she'd said; No need for subtlety. They crossed some fifty yards with ease, ending up with them standing on unstable, squishy ground overlooking five rather large pods... or eggs? "Woah." Jaune poked one, then jumped back when it pulsed in response. "Gross. So should we smash them?"

"It was your idea, your choice." Blake reminded him, lifting her scroll and aiming it at the pods. The scroll clicked several times before it disappeared back into her pockets. "I say stab at them and get ready to run."

"I'm not so sure about this."

"Neither am I. But it was your idea." She shrugged and dropped her voice to a mutter. "Should've brought Yang along."

"Okay… ready?" He lifted Crocea Mors and placed the tip an inch from the membrane. It almost seemed to shy away from the steel, the yellowish liquid inside seeming to glow in response. "Woah, see that?"

"That… looks like a Beowulf." Blake leaned to his side, her face an equal mixture of awe and disgust. She wasn't wrong, either. He could see the white mask, foggy behind a haze of off color yellow. Almost like puss. How gross. "What in Anima...?"

"We shouldn't wait around and find out. Blake, back up." He watched her until she complied, then stepped forwards and slid the blade business end first directly into the center of the egg. The reaction was instant. First, the egg deflated, or maybe melted was a better word, and erupted into a bright blue fire. The yellow substance inside spilled out over his hand and burned. He yelped and shook his hand, dropping Crocea Mors in the process. Next, the entire forest came alive with screeches and clicks.

Finally, Blake's eyes met his, as wide with fear as he was sure his were. Jaune dipped down and lifted Crocea Mors in his pained hand and turned to sprint away. Blake was ahead of him, her weapon out and at the ready. "I didn't expect that!" Jaune cried, dodging a stump. The girl ahead of him glanced back only for a second.

"They reacted fast." Said Blake, who leapt over a fallen log and looked far more graceful than he could ever hope doing so. "Like… Like… I don't even know."

"This was a bad idea!" Jaune pointed at her, recoiling in his run as he plowed headfirst through several branches. "An awful one!"

Blake gave him one incredulous look, her face furious and her voice firm. "This was your idea! Your! Idea!"

They are, as they would say in Vale, 'in a pickle.'

So we're gonna have some fun. Sorry for the cliffhanger, I don't really like to use them personally. I get their use, but I'd rather have the chapter end with any sort of resolution rather than a question. I couldn't find a way to fit the answer to the question 'why the hell are regular Grimm in Blighted eggs?' in the end of the chapter.

Anyway.

Advice for the Aspiring Author; KISS; Keep it simple, stupid.

I find it ironic that, as we grow as writers and storytellers, we tend to make things so complex that from the outside it's nearly impossible to follow. We love our high tier sentence structure, complex formatting, and we definitely adore our vocabulary. We think knowing what big words like lackadaisical, corpulent, and of course, lethologica(which is the inability to remember a particular word or name.) We LOVE big words, but a lot of us have this idea that it makes us seem smart, or makes us better writers.

I'll burst that bubble; It doesn't. Most of the time, you just sound pretentious. And it definitely makes your writing harder to read on all levels.

Simplicity is king in most things. In this case, you're going to impress me a hell of a lot more by conveying complex ideas and emotions with simple language. Simple sentences.

Lets use an example. In this example we're gonna ship the fuck out of Firewall(Jaune and Yang, yay!), and we're going to use a big word; mamihlapinatapai. It's a noun borrowed from another language that translates, roughly, to 'looking at each other hoping that either will offer to do something which both parties desire but are unwilling to do'. So here we go;

Jaune paused from his work, glancing up at where Yang stood over him. She leaned forwards and sat, her eyes locked unwavering on his - their gaze mamihlapinatapai. His heart hammered in his chest.

Now this isn't a great example, per se, because it mostly sounds forced when I reread it. But you get the idea; What does that mean? If your readers have to google a word, you're probably being too complex for your own good. So lets rewrite it, changing everything after 'unwavering on his';

Jaune paused from his work, glancing up at where Yang stood over him. She leaned forwards and sat, her eyes locked unwavering on his. He blinked once, licking his lips and swallowing in an attempt to wet his suddenly dry throat. That action broke the standstill as Yang's eyes flicked down to his throat, if only for a moment. He let his own gaze wander then, falling to her lips and back before she could catch him. In his chest, his heart thrummed a rhythm, threatening to overwhelm him. He needed to leave, or he could very well die.

I mean we know what happens next. Yang is a 'teach someone to swim by pushing them in the deep end' sort of character. But I digress.

It's not as polished and perfect as I'd like(since it's basically a rough draft paragraph), but the point stands that while the paragraph is much longer, you are brought into the life of the characters without it being broken by words that neither of them know. There's an intensity behind it that isn't broken by a sudden rush of... 'wait, what does that mean?' You can follow it, and while it's simple and easy to read, you can get every bit of information you need just by showing just enough for the imagination to take hold. I can picture the way they're staring as if I'd just walked in on them, the way Yang is sitting(and it's not even mentioned how she is. It builds a picture.