Silent, Watery Serenade
Summary: Patch is a lively lakeside town surrounded by woods, the hometown of Ruby which she never visited for years. There's nothing strange or out of ordnance there, maybe excluding Weiss, the silent outcast who watches the forest and works odd jobs for townspeople. Summer days roll and Ruby finds herself more and more tangled with unexplained circumstances that revolve around her—and Weiss.
A fragment of my attempt at suspense-ish piece, sets in vague normal world AU.
Warning: Slightly graphic lewd scene
Ruby stared in awe.
Unkempt, off-center but gorgeous white ponytail swished lazily in accordance of the summer's breeze. Feminine face line framed a look of cool solitude and a single gash of scar, housing a pair of eyes of frozen blue that melted her eyes into pool of quicksilver that rippled with lustful anticipation.
A pull on her waist and she found her lips in a dance of a kiss. She hoped to taste the trace of meal, lipbalm or anything the pale woman had, but what came back to her taste buds was the sweet-sour aftertaste of milk and a dash of chocolatey sweet—the reminiscent of unhealthy breakfast she just had.
A tasteless kiss like a ghost, gliding across her lips, jaw, rolling down to the slope of her neck.
She was quiet but studiously kissing every subtle curves of Ruby's neck. Something other than just a craving for physical intimacy, perhaps a lustful devotion. Moist cracked lips glided against her skin just felt otherworldly velvety, rousing low rumbles of moans from the base of her throat. Satisfied with the descent, the kiss hiked up again and went home to Ruby's waiting lips.
Her fingers grasped tightly on the lapels of checkered blue flannel shirt, happily drunk in the tongue that slithers into her warmth. Her moans were drowned into their throat as they swam deeper to their welling carnal need. Deft hands that shirked off her unzipped hoodie wandered both above and below her tank top. A set of pale slim fingers pried open the defense of her jeans and slipped deep and beyond.
Her breath hitched and quickly evolved into strings of moans.
The soft gurgles of water walked hand in hand with her moans. They made love by the lake's side, and how the lake loved their intimate show of affection.
Deep pumps, fast zips, slow rakes. All were given to satisfy her needy walls, her silent snow-haired lover breathed soundless chant of subtle tantric worship all over her skin.
The waters somewhere rolled deep, ghostly tendrils writhed and reached as Ruby felt the pleasure clawed up her flesh. Grappling upon her, cool, slippery, hot, bewitching. Climb, climb, climb, higher and higher to the peak of flesh pleasure—
Then Ruby found her breathless self being supported by a pine's trunk, its rough bark pressed against her clothed back.
Had she just been having erotic daydream, right in open woodland wilderness?
She didn't keep the tally, but this was hardly the first time her consciousness fell spontaneously to the erotic fantasy of Weiss.
It shouldn't have been that big of a concern for her; the age of twenty was the onset of young women's turbulent tide of libido, and the snow-haired female was nothing short of attractive attributes. That, or she indeed inherited her late mother's blasphemous sex drive.
It didn't matter whether she enjoyed it, nor the reason behind it. No sane person would have subconscious sexual seizure in a forest with a hunting rifle on her hands.
There was a loud rustle behind the bush and Ruby jumped, aiming her rifle at the incoming beast—
"Ruby?"
The white-haired woman came from the depth of the forest. In her hands were two large bear traps, already disabled but lost nothing of their vicious looks.
Ruby put her rifle down and smiled an apologetic look.
Why were they here again? Ah, yes, Ruby felt like going for a hunt and Weiss was with her as a guide for her safety since Sheriff Ironwood put on the notice of hazardous traps lying around the woods, and no one knew every nook and cranny of the forest as well as Weiss.
Flannel shirt with tartan blue pattern, dirty white undershirt and shoddy dark denim; a mundane if not tacky choice of clothes not worth for attention, but the one wearing them was the object of her lewd trances and those brought back vivid images of her latest sensual musing.
What a mess of indecency her mind was.
"I lost in my own thought for a while. Sorry to make you worried, Weiss," she piped with squeamish grin.
The snow-haired shrugged and put the bear traps into the burlap sack she brought.
The bear traps. So huge and vicious—Ruby could felt her flesh and bone easily grinded into pulp only by the sight of the sharp edges of the traps' teeth. Only divines who could save her life once she was bitten by the metal contraptions.
And the thought of tens of them still lying among undergrowth below, waiting for anyone—for her—to gullibly step into their jaws flushed the entirety of her hunter's courage out of her system.
"I-I think I've had enough. Let's go back."
"Enough?" Weiss frowned. "You haven't shot even a single bullet."
"Yeah, but I guess I've lost the vibes already?"
It was a half-assed excuse, but that wasn't a total lie. With the amount and ferocity of traps that lied around, coupled with her inept knowledge of the lay of the land, Ruby felt like the hunted instead of the hunter. She needed both her life and complete set of limbs to get her engineering degree, two things those bear traps would happily feed on.
Ruby waited for a response.
Weiss stared—or perhaps, glared—at the lake, before mumbling "follow me."
They trekked away from the lake back to Sherriff Ironwood's cabin, which had been Weiss' de facto den since long time ago. Ruby had long ignored the existence of her rifle, letting it hanging on her shoulder as both of her arms was busy clinging on Weiss. Holding onto Weiss' arm shamelessly gave her more safety than her skills with hunting rifle might offer, with the hostile unseen eyes and teeth of the forest stalked beyond the bushes and foliage.
Ruby set her rifle down and rested herself on chair on the porch. She watched Weiss went back from the large shed slash taxidermy workshop, the sack was discarded and an axe occupied her hand.
There she was again, chopping firewood for her stockpile. Why would she need that much firewood for summer's warm nights, or how those puny-looking lithe arms could slam an axe vicious enough for flawless wood chops—that had been Ruby's topic of amusement as for late.
Weiss was perhaps the closest thing you got for a definition of woodsman in this modern era. The snow-haired woman spent majority of her time in the forest, living off of commissions of stuffing deer, wolves and other games' hide with mannequin, or in more bizarre occasions, with the dried skulls and bones of the same animal. Her taxidermy craftsmanship was nothing to laugh at, proven by her peerless mounted beast that graced Mayor Ozpin's office—the eerie red-eyed wolf, looking so full of life and ready to pounce on her.
Even with her deep admiration towards wolves, that particular white-furred thing had too much fury wriggling on its dead red eyes that she dreaded entering the mayor's office ever again.
Ruby was once there, in the middle of pungent waft of chemicals twice foul than in any labs of her university, watching Weiss studiously sewing the seam of a stuffed wolf's belly and mounted a stag's head. Careful work of fingers and acrid reaction of chemicals fused flawlessly, forcing the beasts, or rather the remnants of them, to live yet another life unmoving and unliving.
She was glad she never had the luxury of watching Weiss skinning the hide right from an animal's whole carcass. Not with that cold unwavering blue eyes.
Woodchopper's strength that sculpted those arms and taxidermist's precision stored on those fingers, the uncanny recipe that surely would make Ruby writhe and moan in bed—or wherever they were doing it.
The sound of axe chopped through the wood's flesh stopped and Ruby found Weiss was staring at her.
And to think a mere stare could arouse Ruby this much—
"Something's wrong, Weiss?"
When the blue of her irises met the silver ones, her already jaded eyes hardened. She let out a noise Ruby suspected as a growl before her arms lifted up the axe again.
"Stay away from the lake."
Weiss' last swing was particularly violent, as if she was chopping something not for the sake of firewood—but for a killing.
Something that popped when I play too much Bloodborne, reading some Lovecraft's short stories, with some Wayward Pines influence here and there (?). I don't know, really. Just thinking it's cool to see Ruby still the Chosen One getting the spotlight, but in rather twisted lighting. And Weiss as the very opposite of wealthy spoiled brat she's commonly written as (a.k.a poor lumberjack Weiss).
And yes, lumberjack Weiss! Can you even *pfffft* imagine it?