Anya's theme: monster by imagine dragons
Dead silence filters through the combat hall as two opponents prepare to face off. This is it, everything is all on the line for these two, the winner will get to attend beacon academy, and the loser will have to wait until next year or give up on their dreams of being a part of Vale's hunter corps. The tension in the room is thick; sweat clings to both of the competitors as they prepare for the battle. At one end of the hall stands a rather small girl, she stands roughly five foot two and is wearing a deep red heavy leather jacket over her slim shoulders. She wears a matching pair of red leather combat boots, with black leggings that cut off below the knees. Ending just below the knee is a pale blue skirt mated with her pale blue blouse. Her pinkish red hair is done up in a pair of pig tails, the few lose strands being held behind her ears by a stylish pair of tinted glasses. Her weapon is a large triangular piece of metal, sharpened to a wicked edge, scrolled down its blade is its name, Nightmare. Mounted along the top of the blade is the barrel of a massive twenty millimeter cannon, the rotating bolt of the weapon sits just before the handle of the sword where beat up old leather wraps around the grip. The weapon can most easily be described as crude and barbaric as if the builder was not fully sure of what they were doing when it was constructed.
The girl's enemy is slim boy standing just barley five feet eight, wearing a black long coat with a hood concealing his facial features. The garment covers his entire body and is closed at the front as if camouflaging a secret of some kind; his hands hold a simplistic bolt action rifle, its dark wood stock blending in with his black coat as he loads gleaming brass rounds into its internal magazine. The tension in the air is thick as the boy adjusts the black bandana obfuscating his features aside from his pale skin and pure black eyes. The fighters take their positions and wait for their mark, sweat beading on their foreheads as they shook with the anticipation.
BZTTTTTT
The ringer for the fight to begin sounds through the silent hall, both fighters bring their weapons to bear.
Crack
Pain shoots through her arm as the bullet slams against her aura, the limb falling limply to her side rendered useless by the shock of the blow. With a roar of anguish she charges her foe while attempting to bring her oversized blade to bear on her opponent. The blade drags across the floor, her small frame unable to lift it with just one arm. Her enemy pulls back; his simplistic rifle trained on her as he rolls the bolt, spent shell casing tumbling through the air to fall on the ground. With a screech she drags the blade in a wide arc over her head, only to have him simply side step the attack before continuing his retreat. His long black hooded jacket flares out behind him as he rapidly shifts into a roll before aiming his rifle again.
Crack
The round slams into her pale blue aura again, this time striking her leg. She howls in agony as she is forced to one knee, using her blade to support her frail weight. Her deep red combat jacket pools around her feet as her red combat boots try to gain traction on the tile floor of the combat hall. Her slim glasses fly from her face as she screams with rage as she tries to stand. Her body sakes with fatigue as she forces herself to rise, she has to win, this is her last chance.
BZZZT
The buzz of the bell rings throughthe hall, blaring loudly in her ears, announcing the end of the final trial. A teacher walks onto the floor to announce the winner. The teacher clears his throat as he begins to make the announcement, "in the bout between Samuel Smith and Anya Marin, I hereby announce that the winner is, Samuel Smith." Applause from the spectators floods the combat hall, but Anya can hear none of it. Her aura surges repairing her damaged limbs as she limps towards her discarded glasses. The lenses are shattered and now useless, just as she feels.
Making her way out the door, she trudges towards her locker. This was her last chance at attending beacon like her grandmother did. She had failed and there was nothing more to say. As she cleans out her locker, she can hear the hateful comments. Freak, creep, weirdo, these are just a few of the insults whispered by other students passing by. Her time at Signal Academy has seen more than one hateful rumor spread about her, though she has learned to simply ignore it. After she finishes cleaning out her things she takes a bus to vale international airport where she catches a ride home. Home, if it can be called that, she knows her parents fear her, her semblance is strange, though she shares it with her grandmother. But what would they know; an accountant and a nurse, only her grandmother, a legendary huntress, ever understood her. But that woman is long gone, she like so many others fell prey to the unstoppable onslaught that is Grim.
The ride home is uneventful, though the shame she feels presses down upon her with every breath. Before she knows it she is standing outside of her childhood home. The pressure is even tighter now, what will they say, and what will they think is it even worth walking up the last few steps to open the door. Before she can decide the door swings open, revealing her father on the other side, His face displays a worried expression as he eyes his daughter. "Welcome home honey, was your trip well?"
Anya trudges past him, the look of defeat clear on her face as she addresses him. "The trip was fine dad, though I did not make it into Beacon as I had hoped." As she says these words her shoulders droop with the fatigue of both her battle and the long shameful journey home. "I'm going to go upstairs for a bit, okay?" her voice hitches as she utters these words while climbing the stairway next to the door.
"O..okay dear, we will call you down for dinner when it's ready." Her father responds while paling slightly.
She enters her bedroom with a sigh, looking over it to see nothing has changed. The weight of her failure comes crashing down on her when she sees the picture of her and her grandmother on her night stand. She lets out a choked sob before fighting the tears back down. She may not become a huntress this year but she can train and try again next year right? Only it won't be the same, she failed; her grandmother certainly never did that. For a split second she is almost glad that her grandmother isn't here to see her, but she wishes she could hug her now and make all the hurt go away. For now though being able to see again might help, opening her desk she pulls out an old pair of glasses. They are large clear owl frames from when she was younger, kids used to tease her about these because of their size and old fashioned appearance.
Deciding that she needs to take her mind off of things she gets on her computer and begins working on one of her original stories, this one detailing a tragic tale of two lovers during the Faunas revolution. She pours her own pain into the work, letting herself get taken away as she types. Hours pass by and before she knows it she can hear her father calling her for dinner. Reality closes back in before she can blink, along with her sadness. Switching over to her blog she writes up a quick post telling her followers of her failure to get into Beacon academy and that she might not be posting as much do to her down mood. Getting up from her desk she descends the stairs to her family's dining room to join them for dinner.
Her mother greets her as he enters the room "Welcome home honey, I've made your favorites. How are you Feeling?" a worried expression paints across her face as she addresses her daughter.
"Thanks Mom and I guess I'm doing ok, just a little down." Anya responds with a small scowl while picking at her food.
"You know were proud of you no matter what, right dear?" her father says while looking at her concerned, her mother nodding in agreement.
"Besides maybe you can look into the police department or military forces" her mother suggests with a soft smile "or you could go into dust research, the Schnee Dust Company is always looking for new improvements in dust usage. "
"Yha, thanks mom, thanks dad. I'll think on it." Anya quietly responds, her shoulders drooping with the fatigue of the day.
After finishing her meal and taking a short shower Anya retires to her room for the evening. She lies awake in bed for what seems like hours, thoughts racing through her tired mind. The crunch of tires on the gravel driveway of her home echoes through the silent room, though she heeds it no mind. Through the wooden door of her room she can hear an extremely rapid knocking coming from the front door, though it sounds more like a machine gun than a normal person knocking. She hears her father's muffled voice, though she cannot be sure of what is said, conversing with an unknown voice going a mile a minute. After a couple of minutes she can hear her father coming up the steps to her room.
Knocking quietly her father speaks to her through the door. "Anya, are you awake" he whispers into the room through the door. "There is some one here who would like to speak to you"
Anya drags herself out of bed and pulls on her robe over her pajamas before walking out of her room. Her father stands outside, a pensive expression on his face as he looks down the steps to the front door. Looking down the steps she can see a young man appearing to be in his late teens at the threshold of the home. He is rather disheveled his yellow tie hanging loosely around the popped up collar of a partially tucked in shirt. The glasses on his nose are slightly askew; his hand is nothing more than a blur as he quickly corrects them. Anya glances at her father with an uneasy look before walking down the steps to talk to the odd young man.
As she steps down the final step the man begins to speak quite rapidly. "Good evening miss, are you the one who posts under the screen naming Wilted Flower 99".
The man's eyes are unreadable behind the glare off his round glasses, making Anya slightly nervous. "Uh…uh…uh… yesssss" she nervously responds, While pushing her index fingers together and looking at a most interesting spot on the rug.
The man's hands lunge out with blurring speed to wrap around her on before moving up and down at dizzying speed. "Oh it is most definitively a pleasure to meet you Miss Marin." The man stops shaking her hands and stands up straight again before continuing. "Your stories in the Faunas war and surrounding time are quite well researched I must say." The man clears his throat and produces a small envelope from his shirt pocket. "My name is Bartholomew Oobleck, doctor of history, and professor at Beacon academy."
Anya's head is still spinning from the hand shake as she looks up at professor Oobleck "sorry for asking but… aren't you a little young to be a professor for beacon academy?" she asks curiously.
"My my, I suppose I still have a bit of a, how would you call it, baby face" he responds with a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "No I am in my late twenties now, just aging well is all." He says with a full blown laugh. "But this is good, cautious but curious, good good. Now then on to business, I have been asked to personally ask one student to come to Beacon academy this fall. I do hope you will accept the offer." He says as he hands Anya the letter.
Looking at the professor as if he had grown a second head Anya takes the letter from his hand and begins looking it over. It's a letter of acceptance for Beacon academy; she can hardly believe her eyes when she reads the name at the top as hers. Looking back up at professor Oobleck she stutters out a coherent sentence. "B..b…b…but I failed the entrance exam today. Why would they let me in?"
Professor Oobleck smiles gently as he waves his hand. "Now now Miss Marin, I believe you have what it takes to do well at Beacon academy. Besides we need more people with an eye for history at that school, if you don't learn from the past you are doomed to repeat it." He bows shortly before saying his goodbyes. "I do hope that I see you in class this fall, have a good night"
Anya closes the door behind him and staggers back to her room, the shock of what has happened just now settling in. She is going to beacon. The scream of excitement can be heard clear through the community, reverberating through the clear spring air.