One purchase of a dozen spray deodorant cans, and a thorough spray in yet another alley later, I no longer smell dead. I just smell like deodorant, which is a step up from dead. While I was at the store, I also bought a zippered bag and a few scroll chargers, just in case. The bullhead to Beacon leaves early tomorrow, so I return to a darkened alley near the air docks. Twelve hours pass, during which I clear my head and watch the pedestrians pass by. Some smell wonderful, some smell like farm animals. Don't judge me. You try being a zombie and not noticing how delicious people smell. Anyways, twelve hours later, my scroll goes off, telling me to get on the airship to Beacon, so I lean away from the wall, loosening my joints, and listening to my vertebrae pop.
Soon, I'm on an airship, looking at the city below. I may not remember doing it before, but flying is amazing, watching the city go on in every direction. I hear a couple girls talking about the view. That's when it hits. 'Shit,' I think, feeling my stomach convulsing. Dead like me cannot absorb all of what they eat. Things like ligaments, fat, and cartilage just collect in our stomachs (If we still have them, anyway) and as we do not possess functioning digestive systems, we vomit up anything we don't absorb, so I was about to lose the rest of my 'meal.' I run to the nearest garbage can, accidently leaving some 'zombie vomit' on a blonde girl's shoe. I'm not too worried about that, A bite is necessary for infection. The worst that might happen is her shoe dissolving.
"Eww. Gross, Yang there's some on your shoe!" I hear the girl dressed in red and black cry out. You don't know the half of it girl, I can't imagine the reaction if she knew exactly what was in the vomit, but I know it would most likely be hilarious. The ship soon docks, and I finish emptying my stomach, stepping off to survey the scene around me. Beacon, is beautiful. Or at least, in my opinion. I haven't exactly seen a lot of pristine buildings over the past few years.
I hear an explosion, and turn in the general direction of the noise. There's the girl in red from before, a girl in black, and a girl in white that reminds me of my sixth-grade girlfriend. Ah, wonderful pieces of the puzzle that is my past. There is an argument, during which the one in white asks red if she is brain-dead. 'No, that would be me,' I think. The girls in white and black walk off, and Red flops down on her back, clearly unhappy.
Time to make a friend. I walk over and offer my hand. "Hey… I'm Jaune," I manage to say. I'm still a little rusty at speech, but I'm getting better. "Ruby," she says, taking my hand, cringing a little at how cold it is, and I help her up. "Aren't you the guy who threw up on the ship?" she asks. 'Shit, I need an excuse.'
A few minutes later…
"All I'm saying is that motion… sickness is a much more common thing than… people let on," I say. A bad excuse, I know, but it's all I can think of without getting sent to a doctor. It would not be fun to explain why my heart isn't beating. I tried, they always try to kill you.
"Look, I'm sorry! Vomit Boy was the first thing that came to mind," she says. I don't blame her, but living people would retaliate to a name like that… Right?
"Oh, yeah? What if I called you Crater Face?" I ask, still struggling with prolonged use of my dead vocal-cords. Luckily, Ruby mistakes this for being socially awkward, which I won't deny that I am, I haven't had a friendly conversation in years. Junior doesn't count.
"Hey, that explosion was an accident!" she retorts.
"Well, I didn't intend to throw up," I double-retort. This conversation is fun, but I hide my amusement. Not that it's difficult, being dead and all. "Anyway, the name' Jaune Arc. Short, sweet, rolls off the tongue… ladies love it," I continue. My speech is getting better.
"Really?" she asks. She doesn't believe it for a second.
"Probably not," I admitted. We walk a few seconds in silence. She speaks up again.
"So, I have this," she says, pulling a mecha-shifting scythe from behind her back, proudly showing it off. If I wasn't a walking corpse, I would have pissed myself. "Woah, is that a scythe?"
"Yep, and it's also a high-impact sniper rifle!" She was clearly an enthusiast.
"A wha?" I struggled to keep up.
"It's also a gun," she clarified. That clears it up. "It's my baby, Crescent Rose, I built it at Signal," she says with pride. "So, what do you got?"
I freeze up for a moment, then I remember, "I have this," I way, pulling out the cosplay sword.
"Ooh," she says, mildly interested. I continue.
"I also got this sheath that turns into a shield," I say, pressing the button changing the sheath to its shield configuration.
"Nice," she says, more impressed by the shield than the sword. "What's its name?"
Oh shit. I try to think of something convincing. An electrical signal follows the wrong neuron, leading to an unused area of my brain. "Crocea Mors." I don't even know what that was, just random syllables? A phrase with meaning? Either way, Ruby is contented. "By the way, where are we going?" she asks.
I panic, "I don't know, I was following you! Wait," I say. I turn around and sniff the air. It's hard to smell with all the deodorant on me, but I can faintly smell a gathering of students a small distance away. "This way," I say, and follow the smell.
Arriving at the hall, I marvel at the architecture. There was nothing like this back on Earth.
"Hey, Ruby, over here! I saved you a spot!" the blonde girl who's shoe I threw up on calls. When her eyes pass over me, they narrow infinitesimally. Ruby doesn't notice.
"Oh! Hey, I-I gotta go! I'll see you after the ceremony!" she tells me, running off to join the lilac eyed blonde.
'Great, now where will I find a nice quirky girl to talk to?' I think. I look over the crowd. There is a literal red-haired girl staring at me curiously. She shifts her focus when she notices I saw her, and I do the same.
The entrance speech was short, ending with instructions for sleeping arrangements tonight, another problem altogether. I own nothing but my bag and what I'm wearing, so no pajamas and no sleeping bag. Not that I can sleep to begin with, but eh, blending in. Time passed quickly, and I managed to remain undetected. We were assigned lockers to keep out belongings in. It's not like I would get uncomfortable wearing my armor, after all, I had been wearing it for a few days straight, but once again, blending in. I deposit the armor and the newly named Crocea Mors in my new locker. Students were ordered to enter the ballroom and go to sleep, so I entered, intent on finding a dark, out of the way corner to sit down in. Unfortunately, I was spotted.
"Hey, Vomit-boy, not sleeping tonight?" the blonde Ruby met up with earlier calls out to me. I sigh, if I ignore her, she will just draw more attention to me. Attention that I do not want. I walk over. "I haven't slept in 176 years, and I don't plan to tonight," I say, completely serious. I honestly have no idea where that number came from, but it sounds about right, counting the winters. She, of course, thinks that I'm just joking.
"Sure, you haven't. And you owe me a new pair of boots!" she shouts the final bit, her eyes turning a little red, as she shoves a boot in front of my face. Her boot looks like it was melted then subsequently set on fire, burned leather and melted rubber. I shrug, and reach for the dead guy's wallet, taking out 300 Lien, and giving it to her. The red instantly disappears from her eyes as she takes it.
"This enough?" I ask, getting a slow nod, and Ruby speaks up.
"That's way too much! You could buy multiple sets of boots with that!" Ruby exclaims.
I shrug, "Call it rewriting a bad first impression." The blonde girl speaks up,
"Call it rewritten, the names Yang, Yang Xiao-Long."
"The names Jaune, Jaune Arc," I say. Two can play that game.
Yang smirks a little, "You and I are going to get along just fine."
We talk for a while, then they attempt to befriend a black-haired girl who smells like a cat, so I use the opportunity to slip away. I find another dark corner of the room, over by a sleeping girl with orange hair and a sleeping guy with black hair and a pink streak. I lean against the wall, and watch as the white clothed girl gets into a fight with Ruby, and the black-haired girl blows out the candles. Why was she using candles in such a technologically advanced world? I may never know. I lay down and close my eyes to give the illusion of sleeping, and wait for morning. God, I hate waiting.