Chapter 2
Little Talks
Ͼ
It was a little after four in the morning. Sleep had found the heiress for some few hours (about three if counting), and while it had been good and restful, it had not lasted. No, for she awoke to a dark room whose ceiling she did not recognize and in which the only sound to be heard was an antique alarm clock ticking away in one corner. Until Ruby Rose—that lovable oaf—snored quietly into her ear.
Weiss looked over. Even in the dark she could make out the faint contours of her friend's face. Lids shut tight and eyes rolling lazily beneath, lips parted ever so slightly and soft snores escaping. A picturesque study in peaceful slumber if ever she'd seen such.
Gently so as not to wake her, the heiress cupped one hand over Ruby's cheek. It was incredibly warm and pulsed with life beneath her touch. Humanity rested under that caress, deep in a portion of the heiress' heart she had forgotten of until only recently. And oh, how it felt so keen. Then, without much thinking, Weiss moved that hand up and brushed the errant locks from Ruby's forehead. One simple, innocent kiss she planted there…
Then she leaned her own forehead close enough to touch and shut her eyes, hoping for maybe another hour of sleep.
Ђ
Six o' the clock rolled around in its own good time. About fifteen minutes later, Ruby's antique clock—which was quite on its last leg, being nigh unto a hundred years old—decided it was finally time to do its duty. The thing rang loud and piercing, rousing both women from their cozy slumber.
The heiress was groggy and dull, having not had her requisite minimum of seven hours. Also due to the subject matter of her dreams. Oh, they fled almost the moment her icy-blue eyes fluttered open, yet the image of a field was burned into her mind quite well. Lilies and monkshoods with a beautiful door sitting in the midst of them. No hinges and no frame.
Ruby however, she awoke feeling as though she'd been tenderized by a runaway truck of some sort. Perhaps an ice-cream caddy? Whatever one might venture, she felt stiff and sore. Crying through one's first hour of sleep will do such things even if the sleep itself is rejuvenating. Strangely though, her mind felt truly rested and recharged. She too had had dreams you see, and they were quite pleasant despite going mostly unremembered. A final image did stick though…
Of a man clad in an ivory-white robe, glowing as ten-thousand suns and whispering words of great comfort.
But beyond their funny waking, little else about that morning was strange. They roused themselves and chatted a bit, blushing here and there as they thought of this, that, and the other. A simple breakfast was made—by Weiss, strangely enough—consisting of a microwavable pastry and a banana for each of them. These were consumed amidst more small talk. After that, a shower for each, and after that also, they dressed and left.
Quite an unremarkable morning, all things considered.
Ђ
They managed to catch the last train to the MTU that would see them there in time. And though they rode in silence for the most part, once or twice they goofed about. Not much and not for long, but enough so to elicit laughter from Ruby and earnest smiles from Weiss. Call it cliché or call it droll, but love was indeed blossoming in the verdant soil of their hearts.
Once deep friendship, now a relationship spoken and committed to. Hallelujah? Hosanna?
But when they arrived to the school—whose cold, grey stone façade bade strong feelings of entrapment—an even murkier air hung about than the norm. Thankfully, they managed to slip by, an aura of good kinship between them, without that grey mire taking hold.
Two people watched them from a balcony, beneath the gathering storm clouds overhead. Icy-blue eyes and emerald-green…
Ͼ
When Weiss took her seat—Ruby shuffling in beside her, still giggling about something to do with 'getting good' as she put it—Winter was nowhere to be seen.
The classroom was abustle though. Only half the students were left from what she'd seen the last Spring, at the start of the year. Exams and strict grading procedures used to determine one's worth were indeed nothing to be sneezed at, as the culled student body clearly attested to. Looking to her right—and seeing Ruby's distracted gaze pointed to the empty lectern at the room's front—Weiss found herself grateful.
For one thing, that her friend (girl?) had made it through; for another, that her time and effort had played some small part in that. This thought was fulfilling in a way.
Now aside from the heiress' thoughts on the silver-eyed maiden gazing into the ether, not much else preoccupied the typically calculating mind of Weiss Schnee today. Sure, she was a wee curious why her elder sister had yet to show for class. She also wondered a bit why everyone seemed so bustling and busy despite this being the last week of their first year. It was almost done now, so why did it feel like something more yet lay on the horizon?
Aside from the next year of course, but judging by the bits of hushed conversation she caught, Weiss assumed that was not the subject of her fellow students' talks…
Ω
"You're late for class, Miss Schnee."
Winter looked over, leveled a truly horrid glare on the man beside her. Well, she had to look up to mete that glare, but this little fact did nothing to assuage its effect. No sir, never think it; Winter Schnee had icy eyes that could kill at a glance, say true.
But Levi Ansleif, standing at least a foot over Winter's head, showed no sign of fear from that gaze. Rather he looked unabashedly full of himself, as though only he were privy to some grand inside joke. A tidbit of delicious gossip mayhap, or a juicy morsel of insider info. In his wide grin were unreasonably straight teeth, perfect in a manner that seemed inhuman. In his emerald-green eyes, clear conceit and no small helping of disdain for the Schnee beside him.
"You may be my father's personal lackey," said Winter, "but I'll take no sass from you, Mister Ansleif. Do keep that in mind, won't you?"
Without awaiting a reply, she turned and left the balcony for her office. This took her through an archway concealed by one of the bookcases flanking the fireplace within, presently opened up and turned aside. Levi followed her, bending his head down and grasping the top of his hat. He looked like an old gunslinger from Vacuo, back in the early days. Minus any gun.
"Prithee, forgive mine errant tongue," he said. "I hath accosted the Lady Schnee, and for such am woeful sorry. Can ye pardon mine transgression, Ma'am?"
As though the sarcasm in his tone weren't enough, the snickering Levi followed this with nearly had Winter drawing her blade. Rarely was she known to so lose herself, but this strange fellow always seemed to have a knack for ruffling her feathers. Why had Jacques ever hired him in the first place? Furthermore, why was she stuck dealing with him?
"Do you have the papers I requested or not?" she asked, exasperated and wanting rid of the buffoon.
"Of course! Think nothing other, won't you?" He howled a laugh, startling Winter. "Come, come, let us to thy desk retire, there to sign and pass decree on paper, with quill and fine ink!"
By Dust and all the gods, Winter was far beyond done with him. But if she was to play her part in aiding her sister's ascendance—for Weiss's was not the only heart set on righting the Schnee name—then she would yet have to bite her tongue. There was also another matter to contend with, one that, since seeing it at the funeral, had yet to enter her mind without bringing acid up from her stomach…
"Here they are," said Levi, producing a manila envelope from his duster.
Why he'd worn such a thing in this weather was at first beyond her, but once the clouds outside began to gather, Winter thought she should've worn something similar. Neither here nor there though, that.
She took the envelope, shot Levi another hateful glare and opened it. Inside were nine sheaves, each at least ten pages thick. Winter removed the first and began to read over it. Indeed, it was exactly as she'd requested. And furthermore, the oaf Levi (for once in a while) had not played some fool's game with her. There were nine copies of the Request for Transfer document, nicely bound and unmarred by their trip in his coat.
"Spiffing good job," Winter said to him, an air of haughty disbelief in her voice. "I'm actually a bit surprised you managed. Now then, if there's nothing else you need, you are welcome to leave whenever you see fit."
Winter rounded her desk and sat down, then shot Levi one last scornful glower. He did not seem to take the hint, or perhaps he was merely trying to push her buttons further. There was some ulterior motive to this man, Winter felt…
"Anytime you please," She said again. "Such as now, perhaps?"
And with that, it looked as though a fire lit behind Levi's emerald eyes. He removed his hat—revealing a sprawling length of charcoal-black hair—and gave a sweeping bow. Right heel planted with toes pointing up, left foot cocked out to the side, right hand pressing hat to chest, and left arm swung out wide. Then he straightened up, put his hat back in place, and left without another word.
Winter resumed reading over the documents when (probably halfway down the hall by then) the raucous echo of Levi's laughter pierced her door and startled the daylights out of her.
"Imbecile," she muttered, trying to find her place again.
Ђ
It was nine o' the clock by now and still no sign of Winter. Weiss was visibly seething—partly embarrassment and partly flat out anger—but with a playful poke from Ruby followed by a disarming grin, most of that went away. Gone, poof, abracadabra.
"Jeez, Ruby…" she sighed. "Nothing fazes you short of the world falling apart, does it?"
"Nope," chirped Ruby in return.
And indeed, it seemed the last night had had much the desired effect. If the contents of that letter—or yea, the very death of her sister—still hung over Ruby, it did not show. Much unbeknownst to the heiress in fact, it was that very letter that had improved her friend's (girl?) mood so drastically.
Still though…
"Gracious, where is she?!" Weiss turned back to look at the empty lectern. Then the desk left of it.
"I don't think I've seen your sister late once," Ruby commented absently.
"It's very unlike her," Weiss agreed.
"Is it that worrying though?"
The heiress looked at her friend (girl?) again. No disarming, charming grin this time. She too looked a wee concerned.
Off at the front—just barely audible to Weiss's keen hearing—no less than twelve classmates were discussing the absent Winter Schnee. One even had the gall to crack a joke about it, undoubtedly made brave by the subject's absence. Weiss barely held herself from chucking something at him, be that an eraser or pencil or even a small book of some sort. Now that wouldn't do; no, not at all.
"It's concerning precisely because it's so unlike her," Weiss answered at last. "If she's this late, she's either dead or dealing with something of grave importance. I just hope that something doesn't involve me…"
Presage comes in the funniest packages sometimes. Ruby though, she only heard the passing jest of Winter perhaps having expired. This stuck a thorn in her mood quite immediately.
"Don't even joke about that," she said.
"About what?" Weiss tilted her head, clearly confused. Then, when it dawned on her: "Oh, Winter being dead?"
Ruby nodded.
"You know I didn't mean anything by that, right? It's just, I can't think of much else that might keep her from her obligations."
"Yeah." Ruby sighed. "It's best not to tempt fate though."
The heiress opened her mouth to respond, but found herself stopped.
At the front of the room, quite loud and quite sudden, the door flung open and in walked Winter. By the look of her, she'd been on that punching bag in her office again—that, or perhaps something more amatory. Flyaways hung loose from her usually maintained ponytail and her face was a reddened, vaguely sweaty mess. Her breathing looked a bit strained as well.
"Listen up class," Winter boomed. "This may be your last week of the year, but I'm not going to tolerate any laziness. We've got papers to fill out and announcements to deal with, so buckle down and concentrate."
She looked about the class, and when one young man huffed at her statement—the same chap Weiss had heard making the earlier joke—Winter just about went ballistic.
"You there." She pointed at him and he cocked one eyebrow. "Lucius, wasn't it?"
"Yes Ma'am," answered he.
"Stand and approach the lectern, young man."
Poor Lucius did as he was told. With every step one could see the false bravado escape him, as sails deflating in a doldrum. When he finally came to stand before Winter's lectern, one could see an ever so slight shake to him.
"Hand these out," Winter commanded. She pushed a modest pile of paper to him.
Lucius took them and did so.
"Now then." She cleared her throat. "This week isn't to be all tedium and monotony. As you will see in those pamphlets, there is in fact a celebration being had for all of you."
Lucius eventually made his way to Weiss and Ruby, far at the back, and handed each one of the pamphlets. To Ruby he gave also a smile, but to Weiss he gave an almost jealous glare. She met his glare with her own cold gaze and the man went on, handing out the last few and keeping one for himself.
Weiss set to reading the pamphlet and Winter went on.
"I won't waste any time and simply call it what it is." For a moment she stopped, looking almost embarrassed. "The MTU will be hosting a First Year's End Dance," she said at last.
Lucius, finished with his task, took his seat as inconspicuously as he could.
"Young man," Winter said, "did I tell you your task was done?"
With a grimace, Lucius stood again. He approached the lectern once more, all but shuffling this time.
"Let me have your flier," she said, and he handed it over. "Good, now you may return to your room and pack your things. As of this moment you are expelled."
A hush fell across the room, thick as midnight fog over a harbor. Weiss thought her heart would stop; Ruby felt her jaw would drop off her face.
"Excuse me?" Lucius said, flabbergasted.
"Your idiocy is excused," answered Winter, "and now, you may leave as I said and prepare to go home. You're done here."
All the color left the poor man's face, but he seemed to have better sense than to argue with her. Rather, he returned to his seat and collected his things, then left the classroom without further fuss. Winter was sure she'd be hearing from both his father and her own—Lucius was the son of one of the company's bigger shareholders, after all—but for the moment she didn't care. Perhaps her expulsion would be overturned ere the month was out.
But still, she didn't care.
"Now then," Winter resumed, addressing the whole class once more. "About that dance: It is white-tie and attendance is voluntary. Though, I would suggest you all do so, as there will be more than a few important faces there. Beyond that, all else you will need to know is in the flier."
The hush among the students turned into a quiet, murmuring tumult. Smacking yet another stack of papers on her lectern, Winter silenced that too.
"Lastly, you have these to fill out."
She left her lectern and began handing out the new stack in person. Starting at the front and working her way side to side, Winter eventually made her way entirely through the room. Except for her sister and Ruby, that is.
Weiss briefly considered drawing her sister's attention and pointing out the oversight. After that display with Lucius though, she found herself hesitant. There was surely no way on Remnant she would receive the same treatment, but then again…
"Um, Miss Schnee?"
By every god and saint, that was Ruby's voice, wasn't it?
The heiress turned her gaze, slow and anxious and absolutely horrified, to see her friend's hand jutting up in the air. Waving about too, as though she were still in primary school.
"This isn't the time, you dolt!" Weiss hissed, trying desperately to stay quiet. She even poked Ruby's side in attempts to dissuade her.
"Yes, Miss Rose?"
But she was too late; Winter had deigned to hear Ruby out.
"We…" Ruby struggled a moment, then said, "You skipped over us with that last handout…"
Not wanting to but unable to stop herself, Weiss turned her gaze to the front of the classroom. Winter stood behind her lectern once more, but surprisingly looked as if nothing were amiss. She even had an almost friendly smile across her frazzled features.
"I will address that later, Miss Rose," she said. "For now, let's get through with the class, shall we? You and Weiss may see me afterward to discuss it then."
And suddenly, every eye in the classroom rested on the two women sitting at the back. Weiss felt their (curious most, some ireful) stares, but Ruby seemed to pay them little enough mind. The raven-headed beauty merely sat down, quite relieved to have dodged Winter's wrath. As for where that wrath stemmed from or why it was so uncontrolled, such musing was beyond her.
"You've got to think things through better," Weiss chided.
"Dodged a bullet there," Ruby mused, mostly to herself.
Weiss poked her again, garnering her full attention this time.
"That was a bullet you fired at yourself," she said.
Up front, Winter Schnee was quite engrossed in her announcement regarding the papers she had just passed out. All eyes returned to her, listening intently, and left the two at the back from their focus. As for those two, their attention was on one another. Something Weiss would never have allowed herself to do before…
Which is to say, being distracted so in the middle of class.
Ͼ
Not much else of interest happened in the muster-class. Winter explained the subject matter of the second set of handouts, but she went mostly unheard by Weiss and Ruby. They spent that time at the back chatting in hushed voices with each other. First it was the near miss with the wroth Schnee up front, then it was simpler things that bore little significance to their academic concerns. Small talk if you will.
Winter noticed this—and seethed inside—but did nothing to curb or otherwise interrupt it. In some small part of her she was actually a bit relieved to see her sister had made such a close friend. In that same small part however, she was quite furious where that friendship had gone.
But let us not jump to conclusions about that, hm?
And so, another half hour passed. Ten o' the clock rolled around and the unusually long muster-class finally ended.
A good number of students simply packed up and left, on to do whatever it was that needed doing to further their careers at the MTU. Some few stayed behind and picked the teacher's brain for opinions and suggestions, mostly involving the advanced tracks they would be eligible for the coming year. Weiss might have been one of those doing exactly such, were it not for the silver-eyed maiden sitting beside her.
Much was changing and with frightening speed. Yet, this did not frighten her.
Winter Schnee though, she noticed. With her eyes on her questioning students and a good portion of her mind on answering those questions, she left her peripherals to watch her sister (and that other) at the back of the classroom.
Eventually though, even the few that stayed behind to ask questions left. Weiss, Ruby and Winter ended up being the room's sole occupants.
Ruby was in the middle of telling Weiss why she thought advanced math was useless to psychology when Winter spoke up.
"Miss Rose," said she, "do you not appreciate the finer mental arts?"
Hearing her name, Ruby faced the front. It was then she noticed the emptiness of the room. She did not, however, fully hear her teacher's question.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" she asked.
"I said: Do you not appreciate the finer mental arts?"
Winter stood from her desk and walked to where her sister and Ruby sat. She pulled a chair out from the row in front of them, turned it around and seated herself.
"I'm not sure I follow," Ruby said, rather bashfully.
The elder Schnee sighed, then said, "Math in all its forms is an art, Miss Rose. We use it to express our understanding of existence in a quantifiable manner. Whereas the artist may paint a picture to express her understanding of the world, I would create a formula to tell you exactly why—for example—your attendance and success here is such an unlikely scenario…"
She finished her statement with a very serpentine, venomous thinning of the eyes. A look that said, in no uncertain terms, 'I hope you are catching my drift.'
And for a miracle, Ruby certainly seemed to.
"It amazes me too," she said. "But I really can't take much credit for it." She looked to Weiss. "If it weren't for your sister, I'd have flunked out in the first semester."
Despite her foul mood and countenance, Winter could hardly keep back a smile at that. It was wan and thin, but a smile is a smile.
"I had planned to see you both, one at a time, in my office," Winter said. "I suppose this will do though, if the two of you don't mind the less… private atmosphere."
Weiss looked about.
"No one's here but us," she said.
To that, the older Schnee pointed up. The heiress followed and saw the black orb jutting a few inches from the ceiling. Perhaps it had never occurred to her to look, but it was no surprise at all to see the thing. CCTV was likely the least of the security measures employed at such a prestigious academy after all.
"There's audio recording as well," Winter said. "All over the place. You wouldn't believe what I had to do to rid my office of it."
She cast her gaze to Ruby and said, "I have academic matters to discuss with the both of you. There is, however, something more personal I would speak of as well. Whether we do that here or there, I leave up to the two of you."
Ruby clearly had no inkling what she was on about. Weiss sported a deer-in-the-headlights stare and suddenly reddened face, however. The heiress knew, oh say true.
"We've no problem taking a little walk," Weiss said. She turned to Ruby. "Right?"
A nod was her response.
"Very well then," said Winter. "I'll go on ahead. Why don't the two of you grab something to drink on your way? I've a feeling there's much talking to do."
"Palaver?" suggested Ruby.
Both Schnees gave her quite the funny look. At first, neither recognized the word. After a moment, though…
"A fan of King as well?" asked Winter.
Ruby nodded.
"This isn't some Vacuan spaghetti-western," said Weiss.
"It's a good word, though," Ruby said, looking away and twiddling her thumbs.
Winter stood and returned the chair she'd been using. She made to say something as well when a sudden observation caught her attention.
Was she grinning? Hell, was she on the verge of laughing?
Judging by the tightness at the corners of her mouth and the tickle in her bosom, it certainly seemed so. Unfortunately, describing the feeling of surprise this gave her is beyond the lexicon of this storyteller.
"Fetch whatever drinks you like and head to my office," said Winter. "Weiss can show you the way."
And without another word, the elder Schnee left. Her footsteps were hurried and harsh on the marble floor, echoing loud in the now silent classroom. Both women watched her go. Neither thought much about her odd gait as she went.
"Café?" offered Ruby.
"I believe so," answered Weiss.
Thus, they went.
ϴ
Perhaps it was true, that ages-old adage. A time for peace and a time for war; a time for plain-speaking and a time for the backwards tongue.
Winter mused on that as she walked down the long hall, heels clicking loud and hollow all the way. The bronze sconces cast her shadow playful, making it look to dance and jig. It grew long behind her then came suddenly forward, bouncing and bobbing until it petered out at her feet and fell behind once again.
But her mind was not on that playful shade, skipping and jiving in a contorted reflection of its master. No, for Winter Schnee's thoughts were on something else. Something soft and whispered, and during the best of circumstances only partially grasped in understanding. Most of the foul mood left to her by Levi had now departed. To the point she almost regretted the expulsion of Lucius, the poor daft sod. Almost, but not quite as she was sure it would be overturned.
Now though—approaching her office in absent thought—the elder Schnee found herself in deep recollection that bordered on a daydream. In that recollection, a man's steel-grey eyes burned, his stubbly face grinning ear-to-ear from across a barroom booth. The smell of whiskey and hops hung on the air of that memory, tinted slightly with the acrid aroma of cigarettes and crowded with the cacophony of a popping scene.
"I wasn't enough for you though," she whispered to herself, the door to her office only some few yards away. "Not enough to forget your ghosts…"
She reached the door and opened it, stepped in and shut it behind her without a thought. Before crossing the room and seating herself at her desk however, she cast a glance to the punching bag now knocked into the corner.
It was ripped open at the seams and spilling out most of its stuffing. A testament to her martial prowess if one needed any. Even the chain up top had popped a few of its welds, almost every other link now gaping open and threatening to drop its burden if stressed further. At the top though, there still sat a photo taped to the leather. One of a man, his steel-grey eyes glaring intently at the photographer.
It had not been she.
Acting on an impulse for one of the few times in her life, Winter approached the bag. She reached out one finger to the photo, touched it briefly and withdrew. Then she reached out once more and snatched it off, pocketing the thing with nary a consideration why.
Winter Schnee went to her desk after that. To sit down, pour herself a drink from her private decanter, and think her thoughts whilst staring at the stained-glass window behind her desk.
Ђ
They went to the café, Ruby and Weiss. Arrived in good time too. Just well enough to catch the dissipating crowd of post-muster, who had all ordered their poisons and either finished or taken them along. Only some few remained when they entered the small establishment; maybe seven if counting. Barring, that is, any utilizing the lavatory and therefore hidden from sight.
At the front counter a barista was busy mixing together a few mocha-what's-its and cappu-do-dads. No one was in line though (meaning these were likely for the remaining customers), so Weiss went up to place an order. Ruby made to follow her at first, but stopped on hearing a chime from her scroll.
She fished the device from her pocket and flipped it open.
"Good morning, Ma'am," said the barista. Her nametag read Marissa.
"Hello, Marissa," Weiss answered in kind.
A brief flash of surprise crossed the barista's face. Of course she knew who Weiss was—in this place, few didn't—but she was caught quite off guard to be recognized by a Schnee of all people. In her surprise though, she did forget the nametag just over her left breast.
"Uhm…" Marissa muttered, stunned. "M- May I take your order, Miss Schnee?"
Weiss smiled, said, "Two Atlesian, please. One black and one with sugar and cream."
That smile threw her off a little more, but poor Marissa managed to retain her wits. She entered the order into the register.
"I'll bring the bill with the drinks, Ma'am," she said. "Please, go on and make yourself comfortable."
And with another smile—a thank-you-smile, so far as she could manage—the heiress did exactly that. It was only upon sitting at her now favorite spot by the window that she noticed Ruby, still by the door and ticking away at her scroll.
Weiss tilted her head curiously and watched. After a moment, Ruby finished whatever she was on about and pocketed the thing, then began looking around. The heiress waved her over.
"Sorry," Ruby said, pulling out a seat and joining her friend (girl?).
"Anything important?" Weiss asked.
"Oh, just my boss." Ruby removed her scroll again, flipped it open and read through her message log. "I sent him a mail yesterday. Guess he was too busy to respond right then, but he just got back to me."
Ah yes, Weiss did recall that Ruby had not exactly been capable of working her job recently. Surprisingly enough though—despite being the key instigator of their present circumstances together—the heiress had thought little and less on the Siren's Call of late. Now that it was back in her mind again, a powerful blush crept across her face at the memories concerning it.
"Will you still be…" Weiss halted mid-sentence, frazzled quite suddenly. "Do you plan to keep paying your way with that?"
Ruby looked up from her scroll, gave an earnest smile.
"Gotta do what'cha gotta do," she said.
With that, Ruby went back to her message log. The heiress however, she fell into her own head for a bit. Wondering things, thinking things, and generally musing over her current affairs. An apartment—two bedrooms and a joint bathroom, fair sized kitchen and a veranda—briefly found its way into those musings. One of the ones she had turned down on coming here, when still considering which living arrangements to partake of.
Before, that is, her father's own suggestion won out.
"I think I'll have to meet with your sister another time," Ruby said, pulling Weiss from her thoughts.
"Our teacher?"
Ruby looked up from her scroll and nodded.
"Unless it's something I can't miss," she then added.
Weiss thought about that for a moment. As she did so, Marissa came to them, coffees in hand.
"Here you are, Miss Schnee," she said, then sat the cups in reach of both. One was clearly marked 'sugar,' the other marked 'plain.'
"Thank you," Weiss said. She then handed Marissa a Lien bill and added: "The change is your tip."
When the barista opened her mouth to offer thanks, Weiss held up a hand. She took the hint and left them, only looking at the bill upon returning to the counter. Her stomach nearly did a flip on seeing it was a hundred. For a tab of fifty, no less.
The heiress paid it no mind however, returning instead to Ruby without hesitation.
"She said she had something personal to discuss with us," said Weiss. "I think it would be best you didn't miss that."
Ruby looked at Weiss for a moment, then to the coffees. She took the one marked sugar and popped the top off, blew on it a few times and tried a sip. Not too hot as it turned out, so she had a bit more.
"Weiss," she said.
"Yes?"
"Is it too soon to say I trust you?"
The heiress, stunned, tilted her head again. Like a curious puppy.
"Not if I may say the same," she answered at last.
Ruby had another sip, nodded to herself and entreated: "Then would you handle this for both of us?"
A brief silence passed. Weiss took her own coffee and tried it, momentarily recalling that strange man in Patch while the flavor caressed her palette. His name escaped her for the nonce, but the image of him might never. Still though, at least he hadn't spoiled her taste for her favorite coffee as she had feared he might.
"Are we on the same page, as far as what this might involve?" Weiss asked, peering at Ruby over the lip of her cup.
"I can be airheaded, Weiss, but I think she's caught onto something. Just keep in mind, if worse comes to worst…"
The heiress held up her free hand, palm out, and a grave expression Ruby hadn't seen in some time came over her.
"I meant everything I said to you, Ruby Rose, and not a damn bit less. More even, if I think about it."
"This could get really bad," said Ruby.
The heiress nodded, said, "I'll not be deterred."
Ruby couldn't help the smile that poked free. Heart aflutter and blood aflame, sudden and powerful, she could only let that wide grin shine through.
"I'll deal with this," Weiss went on. "You go see to what lies on your plate."
"Thank you," Ruby answered. Then, on thinking about it, asked, "Wanna catch a movie at my place after?"
Weiss spared this question no thought, for it truly bore none.
"That sounds wonderful," said she.
They held a little conversation from there, but nothing else of import was said between them. All in all, their sojourn to the café took some fifteen minutes. When they were done, the women went their separate ways; Weiss to her sister's office, Ruby to answer to her own ghosts.
And off in the heart of Constance, grand University City of the Schnee Dust Company, a man sat on a train headed for the Olympus Heights Hotel. His mahogany-brown eyes—for which he'd been given his name—were closed and soft snores escaped his slack lips as he waited out the train's journey.
Ͼ
The heiress ordered another coffee—and gave another unreasonably generous tip—before heading for her sister's office. The trip there was dull and echoed loud in every sense of the phrase. Her footsteps and her worried thoughts, let us say. The coffee steamed and gave off its acrid aroma, tickling her nose every once in a while when it found her.
Those funny sconces flickered quite mesmerizingly, casting their playful light upon her and making the heiress' shadow dance about. This went ignored though as Weiss's thoughts were squarely on the 'personal' bit of conversation Winter had hinted at. What had she found out? Furthermore, what did she plan to do about it?
As she went, Weiss's attention was briefly pulled from that musing. She passed by the one door that stood out from the rest in the long hall, at the end of which her sister's office sat.
The heiress stopped and turned to the door, feeling a powerful pull from it. She even walked right up to it this time. Close enough to admire the fine scrollwork of the brass placard just right of the door, identifying the room beyond as the 'All-World Conference Room.'
And in an instant of nigh-hypnosis, Weiss Schnee reached one shivering hand out for the crystal doorknob. Beneath this nob—carved with such detail and so tiny as to be inhumanly made—a motif almost seemed to glow. It was either a bullet or a tower, she couldn't be sure which, and around it coiled a rose. The rose climbed up and around the tower/bullet, wilting and drooping down at the top so as to lay across the opposite side.
Then she came to, blinking a few times before withdrawing her hand. Strange that, she thought.
With a huff and a shrug, Weiss forgot the funny door and its funny motif beneath the knob. She went on down the hall, deciding she might come back on a less pressing occasion and have a looksee within to satiate her unbidden curiosity.
All the same though. The knob wouldn't have moved so much as a millimeter.
Ђ
Ruby left the MTU in a bit of a hurry. Although, it wasn't as if she was in any pressing rush. She did want the present conundrum sorted out. Yet, her fellow in the matter certainly wasn't pressing the issue.
On her way, she continually read the message. Short and succinct, just as Mahogany had ever been since she'd met him.
'Olympus Heights, and bring your appetite,' was all it read.
Once, then twice, and finally seven times upon reaching the concourse of the train station. Ruby read it again and again, not entirely sure why she did so. Perhaps it was because she felt dishonest for how she'd parted ways with the man. Or perhaps it was because, should he decide to fully let her go, she would be facing a very tough decision in the near future. Either way though, Ruby was fully aware that reading and rereading that message would help none of these matters.
Yet still she did, even as the train sped on toward the Olympus Heights on the other side of the city.
Ͼ
"You may enter," Weiss heard echo from within.
It startled her a bit. She hadn't even knocked on the door, only having just reached the end of the hall. Maybe Winter merely guessed her arrival?
Oh, but what did that even matter?
The heiress took a breath and righted herself, then opened the door and entered. The same office as she remembered greeted her. Warm and modestly lit, this time by only the fireplace and the rather powerful incandescents on Winter's desk. It did seem less out of sorts this time. Except for the punching bag, which sat backed into the far corner to her right and looked ready to fall apart at a slight gust of wind.
"Come have a seat, won't you Weiss?"
She looked over, to her sister's desk sitting at the foot of the stained-glass window, and marveled briefly at the sight.
Winter Schnee looked as Weiss had never seen her before. Collar undone and hair let loose, hanging surely down to her stomach beneath the top of the desk. The woman was a picture of stressed relaxation. Which is to say, the state of one who has forced themselves to cut loose and be calm, despite clearly having the world on their shoulders.
And after that brief moment, Weiss did as she was asked. She crossed the room and seated herself in one of the simpler seats in front of the desk. Said not a word.
"Will Miss Rose not be joining us?" Winter asked.
Weiss only shook her head.
"I see."
Winter reached beneath the desk and retrieved a crystal decanter. An amber liquid sloshed lazily within, its sweet smell filling the room the moment she removed the stopper.
"Grandfather's favorite," Weiss mused aloud.
"Indeed. Would you like some for your coffee?"
The younger Schnee hesitated, certainly considering the notion, before shaking her head no.
"More's the pity," said Winter, pouring her glass full again. "Well then, should we just have out with it?"
"What would it be?" Weiss asked, one eyebrow rising.
Winter took a deep breath, released it slow and calm. She looked to be reciting some sort of soothing ritual in her mind. Lips moving oh so slightly and eyes slipping quietly shut. Then, a moment later, the elder Schnee resumed herself.
"It's been a while since we met here," Winter said.
"So it has," Weiss agreed.
"I suppose it's my fault, really. I shouldn't be so torn up about it…"
The heiress thought about simply letting her go on. She decided not to, though. Best to have out with things.
"This is about Ruby and I, isn't it?"
Weiss was tentative, nervous even, in her delivery. Her voice quavered and carried none of her usual bravado with it. But from her sister came a look most unexpected, of kind concern and worry. Always she'd thought Winter to be only another shadow from which she must remove herself, if ever to ascend the family.
What, then, was this?
"I know what your endgame is," Winter said, apparently ignoring her sister's question. "I also know why you're so hellbent on claiming the company for yourself."
Winter reached down below her desk once more. This time she withdrew a picture frame from one of the drawers and set it face down on the desk, just before Weiss. The younger Schnee took it, turned it over, and after only a moment of gazing upon it felt herself ready to toss either it or her breakfast.
"Father's priorities never involved the wellbeing of his family."
The heiress touched one of the figures in the picture as she said this. A young boy, perhaps no more than seven when the portrait was made. His features were fair as cherubim and his eyes the brightest blue one might imagine. Bombardier's eyes one might say, though a shade or two lighter. And despite his undoubtedly young age, the lad's hair was whiter than the freshest winter snow.
"He called on the best doctors, Weiss," said Winter. "There was simply nothing to be done. Some diseases cannot be fought off…"
Weiss slammed the frame back on the desk, shattering the delicate glass.
"He could have at least mourned Whitley!" she yelled.
And in another unexpected show of humanity, Winter reached out for her sister's hand. Gently and calm, with familial love in her touch, she laid her hand over Weiss's.
"You're the heiress, Weiss," said Winter. "There's no one left now but you."
In the suddenness of all this, Weiss had forgotten what she was there to discuss. Here was a memory confronting her which she had no interest in remembering. Oh, she had certainly mourned the boy's passage. Yet she had no want to dwell on it. To that end, she had no inclination to recall it at all.
"What is your point here, Winter?" Weiss asked, beginning to seethe on the inside.
Carefully, Winter slid the frame from under Weiss's hand. She kept it pressed to the desk—scratching the mahogany terribly—so as not to leave bits of glass behind. Furniture could be repaired or replaced; wounded flesh was much harder to mend, as she well knew.
"At the funeral," Winter began, "I saw you and Miss Rose. I followed the two of you—worried, mind you—into the woods. On the cliff… I saw…"
Now, the heiress had expected this. In quite a few ways. Premonition or presage one might say, but also the hard reality that very little escaped the knowing reaches of her family. Yet still, finally confronting it brought acidic fire to Weiss's belly. A sudden and violent want to vomit, followed quickly by a pining for anything with ethanol as its primary constituent.
"How much did you see?" Weiss managed to choke out.
"More than enough," Winter answered.
"And who have you spoken to of this?"
Whilst awaiting the answer, Weiss suddenly recalled the odd man from Patch. With his garish getup and his conflagrating mannerisms, Levi popped back into her mind's eye. As too did his words to her…
Isn't it disgusting when people pretend they know what's what?
Yes, those had been his words. Now here they were once again, dancing through Weiss's mind to haunt her as they had then. Did that spook have something to do with her father, perhaps? Or with Winter? Did he know too?
"I said what I meant…" Weiss muttered to herself, shaking the memory from her mind. She'd not heard Winter's answer.
"What?" Winter asked.
Weiss looked up from her cup of coffee. Though she'd been fraying a bit at first, she now found herself calmer. The gaze she gave her elder sister was collected and willful—the old Weiss Schnee, repurposed if you will.
"I won't be rude and I won't be deceitful," said Weiss, "so if you'd do me the same, I would speak plainly about this. Will you do that, sister?"
Winter smiled. She could hardly help to do otherwise. Not just for Weiss's statement, oh no, but for the sincerity she heard in her voice. Sister, eh? Perhaps there was something salvageable there after all.
"That sounds just fine," Winter answered. "Then let me be frank: I'd like to know what's between you and Miss Rose."
The heiress took a deep breath and released an equally deep sigh.
"I suppose you could say we're dating," said Weiss, very matter-of-factly.
"I was afraid of that," responded Winter. "In the interest of openness then, let me tell you I've neither called you hear to accuse nor to judge. I have asked you here—and it really is a shame Miss Rose cannot join us—to warn you, more than anything.
"You're the heiress, Weiss; you are all that's left of the family to head the company once father retires or steps down. But as I'm sure you know, that is in no way a guarantee. Your place is not promised and is most certainly not provided without measure or condition."
The heiress adjusted in her seat, taking a more relaxed position. She surely wasn't relaxed—far from it even—but worried this might be a longer conversation than she'd expected. Then again, what had she expected? To simply confront her elder sister and have some sort of powwow about it all? Some revelatory monologue that would be the last word on the matter?
"Please, Winter," Weiss began, "just let me know what you want to hear. What is it you want so this can be done with?"
"Like I told you, Weiss: I've only summoned you here to warn you."
"And do you think these things are not concerns I've already confronted?"
Weiss looked to puff up a bit as she asked this. Winter, in turn, only sighed and took another sip of her liquor. Vacuan Amber, ole Granddaddy Schnee's favorite…
"I'm sure you have," the elder Schnee admitted, "but won't you humor me, at least? I had wanted to save this conversation for your graduation, but considering present developments I feel it cannot be put off. May I not have that bit, at least?"
And now, the heiress had to force herself to take a long look at the woman across the desk. Hair down and collar undone, coat removed and draped across the back of her posh chair. Now that she was looking, Weiss also noted the saber and pistol lying on the ground behind and left of the desk, discarded as if entirely unwanted. No, this was not the Winter she'd always assumed to know. And by the look of utter, naked concern on her face, Weiss felt the request for confidence might not be wholly off base.
"I can't remember the last time you spoke to me like this," said Weiss. "Hell, I'm not sure you've ever spoken to me so frank and equal…"
"A time for war and a time for peace," said Winter.
"A time for lies and a time for truth," answered Weiss.
For a time (maybe a minute or two), the sisters Schnee just looked at one another. Across the mighty mahogany desk. In the flickering light of Winter's office fireplace. Behind the stained-glass window, the gathering storm clouds finally opened up and rain began to pound the decorative panes with raucous force. It clicked and clattered, but neither woman paid it any mind.
A time for habit and a time for change…
"Why?" asked Weiss.
"Why what?"
The heiress shifted again, took a sip of coffee, then said, "You're acting like you genuinely care about me. You're acting as if you aren't going to sell me out for brownie points with father. Worst of all though, you're acting as if this has been your modus operandi all along. So I ask: Why?"
Winter chuckled. It lit her face—pushing closer and closer to forty—with unearthly youth and vivacity. Like an elixir had been poured over her. 'Twas surely a wonder she didn't have men killing one another to be after her…
"You're absolutely right to be suspicious, Weiss," Winter said. "I really can't—and won't—blame you, but I still have to ask for your trust here. I wish I hadn't seen what I saw, but I did. Now, I've words of warning to give, but I cannot do so if you will not give me your listening ear."
"Then speak," said Weiss, and nothing more.
The elder Schnee cleared her throat, had one last draining gulp of her Vacuan Amber, and laid her spirit bare. Lots of that going around these last few weeks, it seemed.
"Father is suspicious," Winter began. "He hasn't done it yet, but you're going to be watched soon enough. Since Miss Rose is with you in this, I wanted to share that with both of you—but if you trust her enough to commit to such insanity, then I suppose my faith is in you to relay this and in her to understand.
"What my true concern is though, is that you keep this under wraps long enough to finish up here. That is, assuming your endgame is the same as I once knew it to be…"
Winter leveled a questioning glare on Weiss. Without missing a beat, Weiss only nodded in response. 'Yes,' that nod said, and with due gravity.
"In that case," Winter went on, "bear in mind how father is apt to react to this. I'm sure you've not spoken with him enough in recent years to know, but neither do I doubt you've suspected such: that he wishes you married off, to have a proper successor to the Schnee name."
"Oh, I picked up on that some time ago," said Weiss.
"Then it goes without saying how this would… upset him, having his last true chance at an heir taken away. And though I doubt it comes purely from malice, the point remains that—while you are striving for company headship—you're only another pawn on his chessboard."
The heiress nodded, saying: "Yes, and pawns ought not to think for themselves, correct?"
"Correct indeed. So, do keep this as tightly lidded as you can."
"I won't say I've dwelled on it this deeply," said Weiss, "but I've certainly considered everything you just brought up."
"And is she worth all that risk?"
Weiss took only a moment to consider her answer. Not the meat of it, mind, but the delivery. In the end, she settled on short and sweet.
"Yes," the heiress answered firmly.
Again, Winter found herself unable to withhold a chuckle. And again, the heiress marveled at her sister's beauty in the firelight. Orange and gold hues lit the jovial contours of Winter Schnee's smiling, laughing face; cast fiery cascades along the silver tresses that flowed freely down her shoulders. Why had this side of her been hidden for so long? Weiss wondered that, but also found herself exhuming a truth in the same thought…
This must be why Ruby was so hurt to lose her sister, Weiss mused.
"There may soon come a day, Weiss, when you have to choose one to cut loose and one to hold close," said the elder Schnee. "I hope not, but I'm sure enough it will be so. Until that day though, I implore you to enjoy this bond the two of you seem to have forged. It's something you'll never find again, even if these feelings come to you from and for another."
"What does that mean?" the heiress asked, honestly confused.
"It means," answered Winter, "that no matter what, no two loves are the same. I'm assuming that's about the gist of what the two of you have for each other, no?"
To that, Weiss only nodded.
"Then I've said my piece on the matter."
And with that, Winter reached for the decanter once more. This time when she offered the Vacuan Amber to her younger sister, Weiss was quick to relent and have a splash in her coffee. Would probably taste like hell, Weiss assumed, but there was sure to be more to the conversation yet.
And oh, how right she was…
α
About half the way through the train ride, the storm clouds overhead opened up and Ruby was nearly lulled to slumber by the sound of if beating the train's top. A hollow clatter mixed wonderfully with the low rumble of the engines, bringing her back to Patch. Back to the old days, spent with her sister and father, where summer rains would be waited out with stories by candlelight and naps beneath the soothing deluge rattling the tin roof.
But it did arrive in due time, that slender train. Just after noon that was. A delay here and there had slowed the progress, but upon messaging Mahogany once more, Ruby was relieved to find he still awaited her.
So, she stood and disembarked onto the concourse. Above her sprawled the megalithic closed cradle of the Olympus Heights Station, gilded ceiling twinkling in the flickering braziers atop its massive supporting columns of marble. She had to take a moment to look up and admire that ceiling; the paintings of olden hunters and huntresses locked in epic battle with primeval Grimm, their exploits now committed to legend.
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Ruby looked over. Beside her stood an incredibly tall man, his head crowned with a black rancher's hat. He wore what looked at first like a priest's robe to her, white collar cinched tight at the top. It was only on a slightly closer look that she saw it was a duster, as a gunslinger from Vacuo might wear.
Then he, too, looked at her and smiled, revealing gorgeous white teeth beneath nigh-glowing emerald eyes.
"It's my first time here," Ruby answered, a bit disarmed by the eerily handsome stranger. "And yeah, it's gorgeous."
The man looked up at the ceiling, and Ruby joined him. One particular effigy caught her eye as she did. It was of a woman in a flowing emerald cloak, sword raised high in her left hand and shield hugged close in her right. Her eyes were inlaid silver and shone most bright in the light of the braziers.
"Scarlet," said the man.
"Her?" asked Ruby, pointing to the warrioress.
The man nodded, saying, "Aye, she's quite the mythic one. Scarlet of the Hundred Roses, first bearer of the moonlit eyes…"
Hearing this and becoming entranced quite immediately—partly from the man's eerie aura and partly from her own imagination—Ruby nearly forgot why she was there at all. If not for the ringing of her scroll, she might have indeed lost herself to daydreaming.
She pulled the device from her pocket and looked at the message.
"Sorry," she said, "but I've got something I need to do."
"'Tis fine, fair lady," answered the man with a shallow bow. "We've all our ghosts to attend."
With that, the strange man made to leave. For a reason she would not know until the very end, Ruby reached out and clutched his sleeve, stopping him. Curious, he turned to her once more.
"I'm Ruby," she said. However, it felt like it wasn't quite her own consciousness speaking.
"I know," responded the man.
"Who are you?" Ruby pressed. "You seem very… familiar, somehow."
"Just a wandering scholar," the man answered. "My name isn't worth knowing."
He said no more, and before Ruby could press further he tugged his sleeve from her grip and departed. His garish black cowboy boots clicked loud as he went, almost as the clopping of a horse's hooves. She watched him go, feeling her senses return, and was racked with a violent shiver. But she paid this little mind, now having mostly come back to herself.
Instead, Ruby turned and resumed her approach to the mighty doors of the Olympus Heights. Business awaited her within.
α
The restaurant was dim almost to the point of sightlessness. In that dark, the sprawling size of the place seemed all the more monolithic. Much like those Weiss had taken her to not a few times now, only terribly cold. Dark and concealed, intimate yet strange.
How perfect then, considering who she came to meet.
Ruby walked into Eden's Bounty with these thoughts in mind. Both forefront and subconscious. The first feature she noticed aside from the dark was the reception area. It was almost cozy, being such a small pocket next to the wide-open sea of tables beyond its little half wall. In that pocket of a reception was (oddly enough) a receptionist. A comely woman, dressed in a tux and calmly gliding her jaded eyes over a clipboard of some sort.
Beyond the receptionist, the sea of tables stretched too far for Ruby's eyes to discern in the dim lighting. All were made of black oak with burgundy tablecloths on top. At the center of each was a single black rose in a small vase and a candle, burning some odd fuel that turned their flames green. Copper, as Ruby recalled, had such an effect, but whether that was the case or not was beyond her ken. At some tables sat lone executives and important personages, whereas others held the occasional pair or trio. One large table near the edge of her vision had a group that looked to be six or more, but none of them spoke. The place was an absolute hush, save for the muted clinking of tableware.
"May I help you?"
Ruby looked over, to the podium on her left, and saw it was the receptionist addressing her. Heavens, she must look like a tourist, being so awestruck.
"Uh, yeah," said Ruby. "I'm here to meet someone."
"And who might that be?"
Ah yes, a name might help. To that (the question and her own thought), Ruby could hardly help a weak blush.
"Mr. Saxton?" she half asked, half answered.
The receptionist, already looking tired of her, returned to peering over her clipboard. Upon looking closer, Ruby saw it to be an electronic pad of some sort. Of course it was—what else would it be in such a high-class place?
"I see. Mr. Saxton—Mahogany—table for two." The receptionist looked up at Ruby. "He's right this way, Ma'am. Seated in a private booth. Please, follow me."
Without waiting for a response, the receptionist went.
Ruby followed and they entered the sea of tables. Weaved in, out, round and about them. Despite the mammoth look of the place, it took them only a minute or so to reach the back, where the receptionist opened up a pitch-black door and motioned for Ruby to enter.
"He'll be right inside, Ma'am."
"Thanks," said Ruby, and on she went.
The receptionist did not follow, but instead shut the door behind her and returned to the front. Ruby found herself alone in an admittedly short stretch of hallway, one that was unfortunately dark and almost totally impossible to see in. She could make out the outline of the wall on her either side however, and by this felt her way through.
It struck her as odd how the place was set up. Then again, the woman held few misconceptions about understanding the minds of the opulent and affluential. If anything, she assumed their thoughts were impossible to understand without being the same.
Thinking this as she took careful steps down the dark hallway, Ruby was relieved to notice a bit of light ahead on the left. Soft and flickering, she came to see it was one of the candles just as the sea of tables sported. Not green though; this one was a rich red, almost like a traffic signal.
"Hello?" Ruby called into the booth. "Are you there, Mister Saxton?"
"I told you," thundered a friendly voice, "it's Mahogany. My father was Mister Saxton, and bless us all that he's long dead."
Ruby chuckled, and quite suddenly felt all the trepidation leave her. Without a hint of hesitation, she went on in.
It was a cozy spot, albeit about as dark as the rest of the place had been. Even despite the rich crimson of the lone candle at the table's center. But Ruby spotted Mahogany immediately—sitting back-to-the-wall as he ever did, a paranoid habit he'd declined to tell her the source of—and went to take the seat across from him. Positioned just in front of an unlit aquarium it was, which startled her a tad upon noticing.
"Good to see you, Miss Rose," Mahogany said. He offered her a smile that, despite being friendly, was quite twisted and sinister.
"Likewise," Ruby agreed. "But please, if you're Mahogany then I'm just Ruby. Miss Rose has been gone for a while and I miss her a lot."
"My pardons for dredging up sour memories." The man offered a shallow bow of his head. "Do please sit though. Get comfy, our meals will be here shortly."
Surprisingly enough, Ruby found it rather easy to get comfortable. There was something about the man that always managed to settle her, despite his disconcerting mannerisms. Probably how he talked her into working for him in the first place.
"So, tell me," said Mahogany, "what's on the mind of my star employee?"
For a moment, it felt as though she might not be able to answer. But Ruby found her courage and motivation on remembering Weiss—and their many fruitful talks of late—and said her piece.
"I came to talk about that, actually."
"Being my best attraction?"
"Sort of. More like, being employed at all…"
Sudden and violently loud, Mahogany threw his head back, wrapped his arms about his stomach, and bellowed laughter the likes of which Ruby had never heard. It sounded quite like thunder in the midst of a raging sea-storm. Nearly shook her bones. Thankfully though, it hardly lasted; before a minute could pass, the mountain of a man sat up straight once more.
He leaned into the red glow of the candle and said, "Speak your mind."
So, she did.
"I lied to you, Mahogany," Ruby said. "I asked for an advance in pay, but I had no intention to come back."
"I surmised as much." He sounded absolutely disinterested.
"Yeah, I saw that in your eyes. So, I'm here to ask: do I still have a job?"
The man smiled again, and in the light of the candle Ruby could see just how awful his teeth were. Bent and broken and jangled, though the terrible yellow of them was indistinguishable against the red glow. They were quite the contrast to the rest of his chiseled, handsome features.
"Tell me first whether or not you've satiated your ghosts, Ruby."
"I have," she answered assuredly.
"Then why wouldn't I have a place for you? Considering you still want it, that is."
Boy, how she wished to have some water or tea. Thoughts were beginning to crop up and swirl about her head now. Of Yang and her letter. Of Weiss and their budding relationship. Worst of all though, of the promise she'd made to herself to come clean to Yang, in the elevator at the hospital. Sure, Yang probably wouldn't have given her any guff about it all; she'd always been supportive and aware that, sometimes, one had to eat the crow before the turkey.
But that was gone now, wasn't it?
Yet, for a miracle (more than a few of those today), Mahogany seemed to read at least a few of these thoughts on Ruby's face. The gentle contours and shifts of expression were made clear as daylight by the glow of the candle, and he was nothing if not observant.
"Listen up, lassie," said he, slipping into the accent of his homeland. "Before you go sayin' anything about it, let me put it to ya this way:
"Since you started 'ere, I've seen almost twice the bodies flooding in for each o' your shows. I've had lasses with twice the skill and years in the limelight, but only a handful has ever jumped the numbers like you 'ave. Now, I do feel a bit nasty for dragging you into this—even if it's 'elping ya through schooling and whatnot—but as a business decision, it's been one o' my better ones."
Ruby opened her mouth to speak. Mahogany, in return, lifted one mighty hand and leveled a humbling glare on her. She said nothing.
"If ya wanna keep dancin', I'll not be crying you off. That'd be like cooking my golden goose for taking a nap, if that makes any sense. So I says: if ya want to keep at it, you're absolutely still employed. If, however, you decide that dancin' through this university ain't your style no more, then it won't be I holdin' your feet to the fire."
When Mahogany fell silent, it felt as though the air left the little booth. The words he left hanging seemed to have a gravity of their own. And in the silence, Ruby was quite surprised to feel a dampness on her cheeks, crawling slowly chin-ward. Salty and stinging, her vision began to blur with the quiet, tranquil tears.
"I don't know what ghosts you think you've rested, lass," said Mahogany, "but I cannae believe they are done with you. So, here's my thought on that matter…"
Ruby wiped the few tears away and straightened up. Mahogany, silent for the moment, produced a silver box from his breast pocket. He opened it up and withdrew a small cigar, took the candle from the table and lit it. Then, with a bellowing puff, he went on.
"Why don't you have another wee advance—we'll call it a severance if this goes tits-up—and go think things through for a bit. The club's under renovation right now, so there's little reason to worry 'bout it anyways. And should you decide you'd like to have at it again, you can come back (on your usual schedule) when the next schoolyear starts.
"How's that sound, then?"
The mighty oak of a man reclined and eyed Ruby knowingly. At first, she couldn't think what to say. She could only marvel at the offer. Was he serious? If so, why was he being so lenient and generous?
Yet, try as she might, Ruby could sense nothing in the way of malice from Mahogany. If anything, he was simply kind—creepy and unsettling, but kind.
"We'll make it a whole month's pay," the man added, before falling silent in wait.
She thought about it. The windfall would certainly help get the next year's essentials started up. Books and tuition front-pay, plus there was the matter of restocking scholastic materials. Add to that her empty fridge and pantry and Ruby found herself honestly tempted by the offer. Perhaps not quite enough to offset her distaste of receiving pay without work, but getting there.
Then, remembering Weiss and how she'd been the recipient of their outings thus far…
"Can I give you my answer now and still get that bonus?" Ruby asked.
The man snorted a chuckle.
"'Bonus,' you say?"
"Let me keep some of my pride…" Ruby said, looking away.
"If you say, so it be," said Mahogany. "Fine then; you can have your… bonus, and give your answer now. If you feel up to it."
Ruby returned her gaze to Mahogany. The cigar clutched in his right hand had quickly become little more than a nub. And while she watched, he took another massive puff, dragging off maybe a quarter-inch before her eyes. It glowed bright and smoked wildly, lighting the cloud he sighed out like a star glowing in a haze of cosmic dust.
"I want to make my own way through here," said Ruby. "So if you'll still have me, then I'll keep dancing."
"And that's your heart talking, lass?" Mahogany pressed.
"It is."
Mahogany took one more puff and mashed out his cigar, then leaned in close and rested his chin on interlaced fingers.
"You're welcome aboard. But heed me this: following your heart is well and good, but be sure the bastard don't mislead you. 'Tis a tricky thing, the heart. As apt to lead us to damnation as salvation."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Ruby.
The oak of a man sat up straight and gave one more, bellowing guffaw.
From the corner of her eye, Ruby noticed a light approaching from down the hall. It was small and weak and pointed at the floor, lighting up the path as it bobbed up and down. Finally, a man emerged from the dark of the hall, his hands occupied by assorted trays. These he sat down—next to Ruby—and opened their toppers before setting out plate after plate on the table between Ruby and Mahogany.
"Bon appetit," was all he said before disappearing back into the hallway.
"This place is too goddamn stuffy for me," said Mahogany, watching the waiter go. "Lights dimmed or entirely off, creepy staff saying next to nothing to ya. It's enough to make a sensible man sick, so it is."
Ruby looked over the plate before her. Despite the glow of the candle, it was far too dark to make out what exactly it was. By the outline, it looked like rice and vegetables with a tiny cube of some meat. Perhaps meatloaf?
"I've been meaning to ask, actually," said Ruby. "Why is it so dark in here?"
Mahogany had already begun to dig into his own meal. Upon Ruby's question, he ceased just long enough to answer her.
"They say it makes the cuisine taste better if you can't see."
And so, it was in this manner that their meeting devolved: from serious rendezvous to simple chitchat over a businesslike shared meal. It went on as such for the next hour until both were finished.
When all was said and done—meals eaten and desserts passed up—Mahogany led Ruby out of Eden's Bounty and back to the Olympus Heights proper. He then said his farewells and started to leave, when out of nowhere, Ruby called his name. He'd only gotten perhaps halfway across the foyer.
"Mahogany!" she yelled out, drawing looks from the few guests around them.
He turned her way.
"Thanks!"
To that, he only gave another smile—still twisted despite its kindness—and left.
Ruby's train ride after was quite the contemplative affair.
Ͼ
As for the heiress, she left her sister's office somewhere around five in the evening. More than a little besotted too, were one to be honest. Red-faced and a tad dizzy, but aware of herself and mostly composed. At least, enough to find her way out of the MTU and to the train's cradle beyond.
There, Weiss boarded the express line headed for the district where Ruby's apartment lay. And she rode in quiet, nervous (and somewhat drunken) silence. All the while, jealously and worriedly clutching an envelope to her chest. Manila it was, and quite thick with papers within.
Once just before the train pulled into its terminus, Weiss opened it to peer within. She read only the first line before shutting it, more than a little anxious what the looming conversation might bring.
Request for transfer, the document header read…
Ђ
It was seven o' clock when Ruby heard a knock at her door. She'd just finished whipping up a simple dish of rice noodles and veggies. Stir-fry if you will, and quite delightful to the nose. Looking over the humble meal, Ruby sighed with contentedness before leaving it to answer the door. And lo, 'twas Weiss she saw standing in the doorway. Much soberer now, yet still red-faced and slightly given for breath.
"Are you alright?" Ruby asked.
"Fine," said Weiss. "May I come in?"
"Of course!"
Ruby stepped back to clear the way. The heiress, in turn, stepped into the cozy, pleasingly scented abode. Ruby shut the door and followed her friend (girl?) into the living area.
Now, the heiress' mind was still on the package in her arms. That and the conversation with her sister that had consumed nigh unto the entire day. But when she saw the little foldable table set up in the middle of the living area—with a single, white rose in a simple vase and a flickering candle beside it—her heart did skip more than a few beats. It stuttered and thudded, threatening to still in her chest.
"Don't laugh," said Ruby, stepping around Weiss to head for the kitchen nook. "I just wanted to do something to thank you. For everything you've done for me."
"Gracious, Ruby…" Weiss sighed. "Where'd you find the time?"
To that, Ruby could only chuckle. She set the plates full of stir-fry on the table and turned to the heiress.
"You know what time it is, right?" she asked.
Weiss, realizing she had no idea, freed one hand to find her scroll. But Ruby was quicker, answering her own question before the heiress came near to finding the device.
"It's a little past seven," said she. "The day's almost done."
With that said, she went back to setting up the last of the candle-lit dinner. Weiss, meanwhile, found a suitable spot on Ruby's desk to lay the manila envelope before taking herself a seat at the little table. Or trying to, at least, as Ruby pulled the chair out to offer before she could.
"Milady," Ruby said, smiling coyly.
Weiss giggled a bit and took the offered seat. Her heart was racing, but she felt ever so at home and comfy despite this. Sure, the situation was far unexpected, but it certainly wasn't unwelcome. There was almost a sort of exotic feel to it, having a dinner set up like this.
In short time, Ruby took her own seat—after, of course, setting out drinks for them both—and their meal commenced.
Oh, it was wonderful to the heiress, that simple meal. The food was certainly nothing to rave about, and the drinks were only sparkling mineral water and juice, but the emotion behind it set the whole experience a cut above. It was clear in every bite that someone had made this food with another in mind; each taste held the feel of consideration.
Then, Ruby spoke, and in the candlelight Weiss found herself smitten anew with the silver-eyed vixen across from her.
"It's been a crazy year," she said.
"You can say that again," Weiss agreed.
"Hard to believe where I am," Ruby went on. "This whole place—the school, the city—feels so unreal sometimes… But I'm very thankful to be attending…"
Ruby stopped mid-bite—fork raised with noodles coiled about it—and looked up from her plate. For a moment, she simply let herself regard the heiress. Admired her refined beauty in the dim, flickering glow of the candle. Watched the funny way she tilted her head. Giggled when, after a time of her silent vigil, Weiss began to shift as if nervous.
"I'm especially thankful for you," said Ruby before resuming her meal.
Oh boy, Weiss was sure her heart had gone still.
Ђ
They had their meal, those two roses, in calm camaraderie. Before the flickering glow of the candle and with the sound of a gentle rain tapping the window, they talked of this and that and the other.
Ruby told of her meeting with Mahogany in the Olympus Heights. She explained how odd the man was, yet how unsettlingly disarming it was to be around him. Like a second father, she said more than once, though she shouldn't be so blessed. She did neglect to mention her bonus—of course, for why spoil the surprise—but did emphasize she would still be doing her thing. And let it not be unsung how she hinted at the relief she would feel should Weiss continue to attend.
The heiress, on the other hand, told only the bare minimum regarding her meeting with Winter. Until Ruby asked directly, that is.
"So, did our teacher have anything important for us?"
Weiss, fidgeting a bit, said, "Yes, in a manner of speaking."
Their meal was done now and Ruby had bussed the dishes, so naught remained between them but glasses of fizzy juice-drink and a muted aura of romance. Both were enjoying it plenty, but Ruby was more than a little curious about the meeting. It distracted her from the calm, refined beauty of her relaxed girlfriend across the table.
"She said she wanted to speak to both of us," said Ruby. "Sorry I left you to do it yourself. Do you mind filling me in?"
But rather than answer, the heiress sighed. She set her glass down and stood from the table.
With careful, almost hesitant steps, she crossed the room to Ruby's desk and retrieved the envelope. If asked, Weiss likely couldn't have explained why she felt so anxious about it all. Perhaps it was the feeling of having hidden something from Ruby? Whatever it was though, it affected her a bitter and ponderous mood quite immediately. And when she sat back down to the table—manila envelope in hand—Ruby noticed her odd demeanor.
"What's that?" she asked.
To which, Weiss only offered the envelope. Ruby took it and opened it up, pulled out the papers and tried to read. In the dimness of the room though, this was nearly impossible, so she stood to have the lights on. Weiss, however, beat her to them.
"Read through it," said Weiss. "I'll explain whatever you wish after."
So, the heiress sat and waited.
Ω
Let us not drag it out, but to say that Ruby only took some ten minutes to read over the sheaves of paper. Though in all honesty, the top piece said all that needed saying.
The following is procured at the request of: Winter Schnee. For the purpose of facilitating transfer to the student: Ruby Rose.
Set into the muster-class designated 117 Sierra, this form will allow transfer to another muster-class of the student's choosing. Submission must be filled out and returned in triplicate, one copy to be made out to current designation, 117 Sierra, and one to designation of desired muster-class. Student must also retain one copy for their own records, the purpose to be verification upon request by faculty.
Beyond this, most of it was legal garble Ruby did in fact gloss over. But one particular bit caught her eye at the end, stating:
Right of and authority for transfer given by: Axter Levaleis.
Once finished—and fully curious—Ruby looked up from the papers.
"What's this all about?" she asked. Her tone was halfway between worried and suspicious.
The heiress, now nervous beyond measure, sighed.
"Remember how your sister got you in here?" Weiss watched Ruby nod, then said, "Axter—my old tutor and friend—asked me, through Winter, to tutor you when your grades started flagging. Remember that?"
Again, Ruby only nodded. Her silver eyes were quite intense now, regarding Weiss in a manner the heiress could not read. They looked studious almost, and also somehow hurt. Or was that anger?
Or, perhaps, was Weiss only imagining these things?
"I didn't do it out of the kindness of my heart," Weiss went on. "When we first met in fact, I really despised you. You were so annoying and so carefree—I couldn't help but feel insulted at the way you seemed to take this whole place as a joke. But…"
The heiress trailed off. Her nervousness had now become a sort of nauseating shame, and the caringly prepared meal in her belly was turning sour.
"So, Axter was the reason we started hanging out and studying?" Ruby half asked, half stated.
"Yes," Weiss answered, looking away.
A moment of silence, then Ruby said, "I'll have to thank him if I ever meet him."
The heiress looked up suddenly, her head whipping so violent it seemed it would pop off. Not an instant passed and she could feel hot, wet streams coursing from her eyes.
"I don't really care how it came about, Weiss," said Ruby. "I'm just glad we did start associating. I mean, I kinda wanted to be your friend from the start. Something about you just seemed so… awesome. Mysterious and aloof and collected, you looked like nothing could get at you. And like I said, when I noticed it was you coming to watch me dance…"
At the mention of this, Weiss felt the dampness of her tears—short-lived though they were—replaced by a burning heat beneath her cheeks. And when she opened her mouth to speak, naught but a whisper came for it, unintelligible and devoid of actual words.
"I'm going to guess this is in case I wanted to move to a different track, right?" Ruby asked, motioning to the papers.
Weiss only nodded.
"In case, say, I felt I didn't need your tutelage anymore?"
Again, a simple nod from Weiss.
"Then, can I assume we're in the same classes if I just ignore these?"
Weiss nodded one last time, and when she did she noticed a most intense glint in Ruby's gorgeous eyes.
She watched the raven-headed vixen stand and head into the kitchen nook. When Ruby returned, she had a fair-sized glass bowl in her hands. This she sat on the table, beside Weiss, before picking up the sheaves of paper once more.
"This is my answer to that," said Ruby, and held them over the candle.
It lapped at the bottom-most corner for but a moment before they caught. Ruby held them there, watching the fire climb, until she was sure the job was done. Satisfied, she dropped the blazing papers into the bowl and turned to the heiress.
"Don't mistake me, Weiss," she said. "You might have confessed to me first—and I'd be lying if I said this wasn't sudden and new and nerve-racking—but the answer I gave you by the lake isn't going to change.
"Maybe this is all too fast, and maybe we're just grasping at straws in the dark, but I wouldn't trade your friendship (or more) for anything else in the world…"
Before Weiss could say a thing, Ruby leaned in close and the heiress' world burst into color. Surprise, if'n ya kennit, and a rainbow of elation behind that simple action. A humble gesture, an unsung commitment. Given by flesh but composed by the heart. Spoken not with words, but by the soft arcana of contact…
A kiss, lasting long enough to rob both of breath.