We're back to the dreams again.
Ruby's eyes narrowed as she stared at her surroundings. This was strange, she decided.
She was somewhere she had never seen. She on a lone tower, fog surrounding her. A quick glance at her clothes showed that she was in her normal battle attire, although crescent rose was nowhere to be seen.
She strolled over to the tower's edge, which was jagged and crumbling. She looked down to see only more fog below her. Wisps of it drifted upwards past her into a gray sky.
Somewhere, it clicked that she was dreaming. The realization itself wasn't that much of a surprise to her. Her dreams always had a similar atmosphere to them, and this one wasn't any different except for the fact that it was one she hadn't visited before.
Her eyes widened as the traces of fog started to turn gray and then into the ashy black of smoke.
The smell of fire and death clogged her senses, and she had to remind herself that none of this was real. The smoke was billowing up, shutting off her view of the sky.
Cries rang out around her, some sounding achingly human, while others had an otherworldly undertone to them.
Ruby backed up into the center of the tower, struggling to find her balance as a tremor shuddered through the stones beneath her.
A gust of wind followed, carrying a much more nostalgic scent, one that reminded her of the forests at home when the leaves started to turn amber.
As if to echo her thoughts, a cascade of maple leaves fluttered through with the wind, stalling and drifting to the ground around her. With a curious stare, she tentatively nudged one with her finger. To her shock, it crumbled beneath her finger tips, scattering into specks of bright orange dust. She nudged another with her boot, to the same effect.
Soon, one leaf after another turned into the same dust, even without her touch, moving outward in a chain reaction. She would usually be in awe at the sight, the soft glow of dust surrounding her as it swirled into the distance. But the growing pit of dread in her stomach said otherwise.
A shuddering roar broke the sky, and silver light flooded her vision as the earth trembled beneath her.
She woke up slowly, blinking away the residual feelings from the dream. With a start, she realized that silent tears were making their way down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away quickly, staring at her hands in confusion.
That was odd. Her dreams were unchanging, generally static, if with minor differences here and then.
She sat up in her bed, curling her knees inward for comfort.
It was probably just stress. The Vytal festival started tomorrow, and it would be team RWBY's big debut in front of the entire world. She never was one to be comfortable under the spotlight.
It didn't mean anything. Just a byproduct of anxiety that had nowhere else to go.
It didn't mean anything.
Maybe if she repeated it enough, she'd start to believe it.
I will never let my weird headcannon die. So for all who skipped over my explanation of it in chapter 9, you better go reread it, because it will be showing up again.
Also, a quick snippet of my thoughts when writing this.
Me: I should write something nice and fluffy, maybe team CFVY.
Also me: But what about the angst? And the dreams? And the dream angst?
Me: *already has 400 words written of said dream angst* Well fuck, you're right.