Chapter 5: Blueprints
Blake leaned on the wall beside one of the photocopy machines and stared at the blinking light. It indicated the machine would start producing the papers she had sent off to print from her laptop not too long ago. Good. Her patience was already wearing thin.
In all, it had taken Blake approximately a full work day of research to essentially find nothing. Three whole documents. Forty-two pages. And out of those forty-two pages, only about five paragraphs were even close to relevant. After teaching her three-hour Ethics class yesterday afternoon, Blake had gone home, settled in front of her laptop, and spent a few hours trying to find anything in Beacon's extensive database that was remotely related to the concept of switching bodies. The results had been mostly unfruitful and unsatisfying. In fact, there was nothing on switching bodies, specifically. However, the sum information she gathered at least gave Blake a starting point with regards to what questions she could ask Yang.
Yang. She had sounded uncomfortably nervous—but kind and very genuine—on the call they'd had back on Thursday. Blake hadn't been any more confident, honestly. Their worlds had collided, it wasn't great, and now they were stuck with this impossible dilemma.
One author Blake found had written about control-based semblances—such as the power to exert one's will over another's, be it mental or physical, but these two were never mutually exclusive to a single individual. There were other semblances Blake had taken interest in while she was looking into the topic, like creating illusions or influencing dreams or even teleportation or transformation—which were all, again, never mutually exclusive to a single individual. While these subjects were compelling, they did not lend much—if any—insight into body-switching. In most of these cases, anyway, the circumstances would have involved the ruse of a third party—because Blake did not know Yang and had neither the will nor the ability to purposefully do this to the blonde, and Yang did not know Blake, who was not paranoid enough to suspect that Yang had the will do to this, either—but the Faunus highly doubted an exterior force would have any reason to do this to two random strangers as well. So, interesting as it all may be, the information was rather useless.
Searching for semblances had led Blake to reading about aura next, as the two were intrinsically linked. More than a few people were able to sense others' auras—feeling their presence and knowing where they were spatially within a certain radius of themselves, and some people were even acutely gifted with this sort of sixth sense—but this was not on the same level of intrusiveness as the body-switching problem. In fact, the body-switching problem was more like…not only sensing another person's aura, but traveling all the way to it and then kicking it out and taking its place. That wasn't alarming at all. Either way, nothing in Blake's research had indicated that a person could switch auras with another, much less learn to do so. Moreover, Blake had never sensed Yang to begin with, so some sort of unintended learning was also out of the question.
Inevitably, reading about aura—which was still a great mystery to even the most versed scientists—had Blake looking into speculations, case studies, and even legends that may or may not have been true. She disliked trying to find answers in such anecdotal and mostly baseless information, especially with regards to her current predicament, because there were some writers pushing the possibility of soul-mates, that certain auras could be fatefully pulled towards each other. That, Blake believed, was definitely not what was happening here. After all, she and Yang were switching bodies—not falling hopelessly in love with each other. The situation was much more bothersome and disturbing than it was welcome and wonderful.
And it was making Blake feel very frustrated. She did not want this. Blake valued her privacy, valued what little control she had worked so hard to have over her personal life, and as nice and harmless as Yang seemed, Blake did not like the violation. Because that's what this was. It was a violation of her life, of her body. It was unpredictable, and nobody seemed to know anything about it.
She had gone to bed in a bit of a bad mood last night, woken up early on a Saturday, went through her usual morning routine, and then made her way to Beacon. With the few hours she had left before she needed to take the next airship to Vale, Blake had continued her research in the academy's library. Beacon's electronic database contained a wealth of information and most of the relevant books and journals could be found in there, but, clearly, it seemed Blake had to resort to more traditional means of looking things up when the rest failed her.
Unfortunately, she still did not find anything that specifically pertained to switching bodies. She did, however, brush up on her knowledge concerning consciousness and selfhood and figured this may help with teaching her Ethics class down the road. She then moved to a different part of the library and picked out an old tome on psychology, lost somewhere on one of the back shelves, in which she found curious facts and thoughts about various mental illnesses, such as dissociative identity disorder and schizophrenia.
Blake had immediately put the book back where she found it. This was ludicrous—except she wasn't laughing.
Nevertheless, she knew none of this research had been a waste of time—if anything, it helped eliminate certain possibilities and had given Blake time to process the circumstances and organize her thoughts. She felt calmer. Annoyed, yes, but no longer so anxious. But also slightly anxious—because, sadly, the more possibilities she ruled out, the clearer it became that she and Yang were actually switching bodies, and it still didn't make an ounce of sense.
Blake's mind came back to the present moment. The photocopy machine had just gone silent. It was done printing. She sighed and uncrossed her arms, stepping away from the wall and going over to grab the copied documents. Blake neatly put them into a folder, which went into her shoulder bag, and proceeded to check the time on her scroll.
There was an hour left before noon. She had to leave now if she didn't want to be late—and she didn't want to be late. The sooner she and Yang could figure this out, the sooner they could make it stop. Blake felt nervous meeting her in person—this had nothing to do with teaching or networking, so she was out of her element, and for all intents and purposes, she had no answers to present, which meant the conversation was bound to be awkward. And she had to do this now.
Blake left the quiet safety of the library, stepping out into the day's heat and on to the path that led her home—or, rather, the path that would lead her home. While she did wish today's meeting had never been made, and that instead of going all the way down to Vale she could stay in with Silver and grade homework, Blake was resolute. Confrontation had never been her strong suit, even when she was in the White Fang and confronted issues in a damaging, self-destructive way. But Blake knew all too well what happened when she ran from her problems—she had been down that road far too many times before. In every case, the things she ignored caught up and reminded her of just how bleak and furious the world was and how she could never truly be free from the monsters of her past.
If Blake didn't face Yang, if she ran away one more time, she would be right back at square one. Except square one didn't exist for her anymore. Menagerie wasn't home, her parents weren't around, and all the friends she had made likely saw her as a traitor. So, the only option was to deal with the situation and find a way to fix it. With this in mind, Blake pressed on, passing the trail that led down into the forest village and walking up to the front entrance of the academy.
It was a Saturday, and the few students who weren't having fun in the city were either milling about somewhere indoors or out by the fountain or colonnades, basking in the sun and being rowdy, super-powered teenagers. It all reminded Blake of Haven, except it was warmer here and more students were willing to go to the nearby town. But, at the same time, Blake felt her experience as a teacher was much different from her experience as a student. Before, she was an outcast, yet no one paid her any mind, just like she wanted. Now, Blake could feel the air chill around her and the mood sink wherever she walked on campus. She was a new teacher, so the students probably didn't know her well, but Blake had been where they presently sat. Teachers exuded detention, and students could see them from a mile away.
As she passed the entrance's fountain, Blake saw students halt their conversations and hold them until she passed—which, judging by their glances at her ears, they knew to be a long time. Blake pulled her bag's strap tighter against her chest. This wasn't what she wanted here—to be both ignored and the center of reviling attention. She wanted to be a good teacher, and she wanted her students to like her—and, currently, this was proving the case in the classes she taught—but seeing these students she didn't recognize shy away and want her to pass as quickly as possible was far from ideal.
Blake would not put her head down and draw more attention to herself, but she made her strides longer and her frown a scowl. She did not look at anything in particular—all she knew was that her airship was ahead of her and, adding a couple dozen minutes, Yang was beyond that. It was a means for her to stay confident, to push aside all these anxieties keeping her from the confrontation ahead. But this was all a mistake. Through her troubled, anxious daze, Blake failed to see a man walking out of the airship just as she was entering, causing them to collide and both to stumble back a few feet.
Before Blake could shake off her stupor and the self-critical thoughts that followed, she heard the man laugh. "Oh, hey, Blake!" She looked up and saw Dane Sycamore, putting his lean arm through the second strap of his backpack. "Funny running into you here. Sorry about that bump! Are you heading down to Vale?"
Obviously, Blake thought. But she had to shake this off quickly. She was forming a habit of thinking ill of Dane, even going so far as to compare him to Adam by way of her nightmare, which was completely unfair and inaccurate. Instead, she pulled the sleeve of her loose shirt down, as it had caught under her bag's strap in the impact. "Uh… Hi," she said. "Um, yes, I—Yes, I'm going to Vale."
Dane beamed. "Sounds like a lot of fun! I just came back from my sister's baby shower. Got to see my nephew for the first time in a couple years. It's gonna be her second, and my nephew, her first, wants to be just like his uncle, so I got him a BB gun and watched him chase the neighborhood kids around the backyard." He sighed wistfully, shaking his head and smiling. "Oh, kids. I'd like to have a couple someday." His brown eyes found Blake's, and he seemed to smile even brighter. "What about you?"
For a moment, Blake was unimpressed. Her low panic had turned to mild frustration, and all she could do at that moment was blink at the professor. He was being way too forward.
But, fortunately, it seemed Dane had meant something else by his question. "Where are you heading out to?"
Blake had misinterpreted his question—judged it in the middle of its asking, really—and she felt almost apologetic for that. She wasn't entirely sorry, though, as Dane did have a short history of showing interest in Blake, and she knew enough scumbags to know how deceivers talked. It was always the honest question followed by a mollifying second.
Nevertheless, Dane wasn't those people—or, at least, Blake had no reason to think so. He was neither Adam nor a creep. Though he may have been insistent at times, Blake didn't feel the need to fault him for that. If anyone was at fault, it would be Blake and her apparent inability to shut advances down. She looked away, deciding she owed him a courteous answer—one that, for safety's sake, had to be a lie, unfortunately. "I'm going to meet a friend."
"Oh." Dane's expression faltered for a moment, but he kept his smile up. "A friend?" It didn't shine like it used to. "Well, that's good! At least you're getting out there and socializing. Good for you! So, what are you two planning on doing today?"
Politeness and courtesy were Blake's goal, but her eyes continued to wander towards the slowly filling airship. "We're probably going to talk about things and have lunch."
"I see."
There was a painful moment where neither professor moved. Blake tried looking for opportunities to shuffle around Dane, but he was standing so directly in front of her and creating two perfectly even spaces where students could—and frequently did—pass through on either side. For the moment, Blake was stuck. She didn't try meeting his eyes, and, honestly, he didn't try meeting hers, either. It became a waiting game where the winner was chosen when someone achieved a goal neither had set for themselves or each other. This is to say, there were no winners here.
"Well," Dane said, putting on another fake smile and making his posture perk up accordingly, "I ought to let you go. I hope your day goes well! And if you need me for anything, you know where I live. Just, uh, don't be afraid to knock, all right?"
"Sure," said Blake instinctively, taking the first opportunity she had to skirt around Dane when he moved slightly to her left. As she did so, Blake turned and gave him a small wave with the hand that didn't clutch her bag and secret research. "I hope you have a good day, too. We'll talk again soon."
The last Blake saw of Dane that day, he was waving at her as she entered and moved further into the airship. To some others, this might have been sweet: a nice, confident, family-oriented hunter and professor putting effort into making a woman feel welcome. Blake didn't want to be ungrateful, but, at the same time, this was not what she wanted right now. She didn't want to date someone she worked with. She didn't want to live so close to him. She didn't want him to know every detail of her life. And, more than any of this, she didn't want to let him down. Dane probably was a nice guy. But he wasn't what Blake was looking for, and she had bigger problems to deal with, anyway.
As she found a seat in a lonely corner of the airship—facing away from the school—Blake could still hear the way his tone changed when she mentioned meeting a friend. She could still see his posture droop when she may or may not have made today's meeting seem like a date. His feelings for her might not have been strong, but they were there, and Blake felt like she was hurting him somehow. But she did not want to think about this, as it was not her problem that he had built up false hopes—she could set or not set clear boundaries all she wanted, but, at the end of the day, his emotions were his to deal with, not hers. She instead held her bag and research to her chest and hoped Yang and the complete weirdness of their situation together would put things into perspective like they had done before.
The airship would take off, Blake would not look back, and her mind would stay resolute on the conflict before her. She would meet Yang—the woman she was switching bodies with—and she would not run from this problem, too. Truly, here went absolutely nothing.
Punctuality had never been Yang's forte. For as long as she could remember, she had always arrived to events or missions or appointments or obligations with only seconds to spare. She wasn't as bad as her former teammate, Auburn, who had a tendency of fixing her hair right up until the last minute…of an hour after an event's start. Yang, at the very least, always arrived, and that was reason enough not to care about being tardy. However, today was different. Today, Yang made sure she was the most punctual she had ever been—one whole hour early.
Blueprint Café was a pretentious little coffee shop just down the road from the harbor. In fact, Yang could see the airships now from where she sat on the café's patio. Just across the bay, and above the harbor terminal's mirrory structure, the ships were drifting and circling and gleaming in the rays of the summer sun. Unfortunately, the distraction provided by the harbor was limited by the ever-shifting wall of humanity that blocked Yang's view of the nearby waterfront. Hurried shoppers with full bags and ravenous appetites were scurrying this way and that through the open-air mall, of which Blueprint was a part, bumping past each other in search of the things they craved or stopping in the middle of the foot traffic to take pictures with one another. But even with the distraction, Yang's leg jittered beneath the table. Her ears tried to hold on to the sea's calming waves while she gazed through her sunglasses at the promenade before her, towards the pick-up and drop-off point at the end where a stream of busses dealt with the steady flow of customers.
Today was the day. Noon was coming any minute now. But Yang saw no sign of Blake.
"Excuse me, ma'am."
Yang, a little startled but refusing to show any signs, tilted her head back and found her waiter standing right behind her. Not creepy at all. He was a young-ish, tawny-haired guy who thought he was pretty suave, which was par for the course with Yang, honestly. Not that Yang minded the attention, but Yang was taken, and she kind of got tired when otherwise normal guys didn't get the implicit message of "Please stop, please."
"Would you like me to bring you some more water?"
Yang had sipped maybe a quarter of her second cup. She didn't really need a third refill yet, but this guy seemed to be on his toes, trying to make sure Yang wanted for nothing. In a way, she appreciated it. But in another way, today was just not the day for this. "Sure," she said, deciding to let him stay occupied. "And could you keep the crackers coming? I think it's still gonna be a while until my friend arrives."
He leaned around her and took the cup. "Sure. I'll be right back with that."
It was at this point, as the server began walking back into the café with Yang's only source of hydration, that the blonde realized she had left herself with a plate half-full of saltines and no means to quench her ever-growing thirst. On top of this, Blake—the girl she was somehow switching bodies with—which still seemed completely impossible—was going to arrive soon. Hopefully. Or, really, not hopefully. Yang was nervous, to say the least. Her leg kept shaking and she couldn't help herself from biting into another cracker. This was a mistake—everything about this situation—and Yang's mouth felt drier by the minute.
A new bus pulled up at the mall's faraway pick-up and drop-off curb. Yang narrowed her eyes and looked for a black-haired, honey-eyed, black-and-white-wearing cat Faunus in the crowd that poured out. Truthfully, she was eager to see Blake. It would be completely weird but also…thrilling. Yang had been Blake, and seeing someone else control that body would be like some eldritch abomination being wrenched from the grotesque depths of the uncanny valley only to meet and greet Yang on a breezy, sunny summer day. Which was cool. But, at the same time, Yang totally didn't want to see Blake right now because she wasn't prepared to deal with something this abnormal. It had been two days since they called, and Yang still hadn't collected her thoughts on, well, everything.
The bus closed its doors and drove away. In the stream of people that had exited, Yang could not see Blake. She ate another saltine. Dry but wonderfully salty.
Yang honestly had no idea what would happen when Blake arrived. It would definitely be awkward, as evidenced by their call, but Yang imagined there being a lot of wheel-spinning, too. Yang was too anxious—Yang anxious! It was ridiculous!—about being thrown into this supernatural and wholly invasive predicament while trying to make a good impression on this girl who was forced to deal with her. Yang wanted to know all the whys and hows and whos and wheres and what-can-be-dones, but those questions seemed so low on her list of priorities right now, sitting here at this table as she was. She just wanted to make things less awkward as soon as possible.
Fortunately—and Yang was surprised she was thinking this—the server returned. He did not stand behind Yang like he did before, instead setting down her refilled water and a new plate of packaged crackers, which Yang immediately went to work unwrapping.
"Can I get you anything else?"
Yang shrugged, only glancing at him out of courtesy. "Not really. Can't think of anything."
He nodded with a slight smile. "Well, if something crosses your mind, let me know."
Once again, she watched him walk back inside. He seemed nice enough. He'd definitely have a shot with someone, but his aim was a bit off. Yang sighed. Every little stressor was being amplified by the upcoming meeting. Yang had half a mind to leave, half a mind to stay, and not a single complete thought about the situation that could possibly soothe her.
She turned her eyes back to the faraway curb, watching another bus leave. Behind it was someone's black SUV, and Yang almost paid it no mind, but when it pulled to a stop and the back passenger door opened, Yang shivered.
A girl was exiting the car, and although Yang had her suspicions about who it probably was, the girl's back was facing her, so Yang couldn't be sure. She saw long black hair, a flowing long-sleeved shirt, and the girl was currently leaning into the SUV in what appeared to be a heated argument with the driver. Yang witnessed her snatch a bag out of the back seat, shut the door, and stand there in apparent frustration as the SUV zoomed away. For a moment, the girl simply watched the car drive off, combing a tired hand through her hair. Soon after, though, Yang's doubt about who this was became a certainty. Head turning first and the rest of her body following after, Blake was smooth—despite her obvious unease, she looked cool, collected, and focused. Like a freaking fashion model or something.
Yang realized her jaw had dropped a little. She was torn between being awed by Blake's approach—the raven locks fluttering in the wind, combined with a strong and elegant, almost prowling gait, made it seem like something out of a movie—and feeling nervous because she was soon going to face her in a few moments, this girl who already seemed peeved and concerned. But as Blake neared and her traits became distinct, all Yang could do was stare, stress briefly forgotten. It was like seeing her for the first time—bright golden eyes, form-fitting dark-wash jeans that accentuated the sway of her hips, and punk rock boots that seemed soundless in the mass of people. And those ears. Blake was all feline grace and silent intensity, and Yang swallowed hard. So, that was how her body was made to move. Wow.
The Faunus, with cat ears flicking atop her head as if in constant search of something, hugged her leather shoulder bag against her and began slowing down, walking close to the fence that separated Blueprint's patio from the promenade. Her eyes scanned the patrons, checking each table for what Yang assumed to be Yang, and as those golden orbs drew nearer to where the Yang sat, Yang could not contain her small, scared, and excited smile. Their eyes met. Yang felt a rush of giddiness, the origin of which she was unsure of, as Blake's gaze lingered on her.
But then Blake's gaze passed over. Her hunt continued while Yang was left with her disappointment at not being recognized for once in her life. This was kind of an achievement, sorta, if not completely soul-crushing.
The blonde thought about eating another consolation cracker, but she quickly figured that sitting around and moping wasn't exactly her style. Woman of action. Yang stood from her seat, causing it to skitter back just a little, and turned to face Blake. She had meant to say something like "Hey, Blake! Over here!" but, apparently, the sudden movement and noise was enough to catch Blake's attention.
Their eyes met again. Yang propped her sunglasses up on top of her head, and she could see those two pools of shimmering gold without an interfering shade between them, and she saw them staring almost disbelievingly right back at her. She smiled.
Blake paused. She blinked. "…Yang?"
"Blake!" It was at this point that Yang actually waved. It was really energetic. "Hey! I got us a table over here. Come sit down!"
Blake glanced at said table, and then nodded. As Yang sat back down, Blake walked out of sight. The next few seconds were incredibly nerve-racking as the blonde waited for the Faunus to come around and join her, fingers meanwhile drumming on her lap. Her leg continued to jitter. Finally, though, Blake arrived and eased herself down in the seat in front of Yang. Yang could not help but stare.
"I'm not usually late. I'm sorry." Blake removed her shoulder bag and leaned over to set it down between her feet. "My driver got lost."
Upon hearing that smoky, captivating voice again, Yang found herself focusing on Blake's mouth and how it formed the words. The line separating her upper lip from the bottom was reminiscent of a cat's, somewhat drooping and then upturning slightly at the corners, and they were composed of rich ridges, beautifully heart-shaped. Yang was even more enthralled. "It's no problem," the blonde said, maybe a touch breathily. At the very least, the excuse—or what Yang had caught of it—explained the argument and frustration.
"I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long?" Blake arched an eyebrow, her gaze lingering on Yang's, searching.
The nerves came rushing back, and Yang stopped staring at Blake's mouth. "Nope!" she lied with an awkward chuckle. "Just five minutes or so."
Golden eyes looked down at the saltine wrappers piled on Yang's plate. Before either of them could comment, and as Yang became embarrassed, the server from before seemed to magically appear beside their table. He cleared his throat and leaned a little closer to Yang, saying a bit uncomfortably, "Ma'am, I'm afraid that if you don't order anything else other than water or crackers soon, we will have to ask you to leave. You've been here for the better part of an hour."
Yang blinked and then shrunk into herself, embarrassment turning to mortification. "Give us five more minutes. We'll order."
He beamed, nodded, and then gave Blake a bit of a weird look before walking away.
Lilac met inquisitive golden—honey…amber? All three? Yang smiled sheepishly and tried in a small voice, "I'm not usually early. Especially not by an entire hour. Promise."
Blake's lips seemed to twitch. "I suppose there's a certain irony here. We're also matching clothes, almost."
Yang immediately looked down at herself. Because of her cast, she had been forced to wear an open-back halter-top that tied behind her neck—something that Ruby had reluctantly helped with—and she was wearing jeans, too, but Yang's were very short and a lot bluer. She once again took in Blake's attire. They were essentially wearing the same colors and material, but Blake was…much more conservative. Yang laughed a little. "Who do you think wears it better?"
Blake's collected façade seemed to crack a bit. She hesitated, her gaze suddenly glancing somewhere that was definitely not Yang's eyes before quickly jumping back up, and then she regained her composure. "Maybe you should look at your menu."
Yang was mildly stunned. Had Blake just…checked her out? The brawler shook herself, once more reminding her stubborn brain that she had a boyfriend—who she happened to like very incredibly much and who had upheld their partners-in-crime relationship today by helping Yang escape the confines of her home. Plus, Sun would pick her up after this meeting. And, like, maybe before Yang went back to prison, they'd go to his place for a bit. And do stuff.
So, yeah. Yang had to keep her brain in her head and out of her pants. Plus, Blake very well could have not been checking Yang out at all—her glance had been pretty subtle and too fast to ascribe any certain meaning to. With a small shrug, Yang picked up the menu she had not even touched since arriving an hour ago and quickly started scanning the dishes Blueprint Café served. She regarded Blake. "You can order something, too. I got this."
Blake slowly shook her head. "I can pay for both of us. Don't worry about it."
Yang narrowed her eyes. Nuh-uh. She had a whole lot of repaying to do to this girl, and it would start right now. "You saved my life. Let me pay." It was a low blow, honestly, but Yang wasn't letting Blake spend money on her.
To this, Blake merely raised her eyebrows—both of them this time—and then sighed. "When you put it like that…"
"Are you not gonna look at the menu?"
"I already know what I'm having."
"Oh. Okay." There was a pause, one in which Yang's eyebrows creased more and more. She mustered up her courage. "Do you come here often?"
Yang winced. That definitely could have been a pick-up line, except she did not mean it like that at all.
However, Blake didn't seem to think anything of it. In fact, her gaze seemed to be drawn towards the water further off to their side. "Yes. The view is nice."
Yang inhaled a little sharply. That wasn't a pick-up line, either, for sure. Blake hardly seemed like the type. Instead, Yang looked over at the water, too, but found her view yet again obstructed by passersby and shoppers and tourists. She heard Blake sigh once more, and Yang met her stare. "What's up?"
Blake met her stare, too. "Early Sunday mornings are less crowded. It's better to relax then."
"You could have scheduled our meeting for tomorrow."
"We're not here to relax."
Yang became quiet. Blake wasn't biting or impatient, but it was clear she wasn't here to make friends, either. At least, probably not. She looked vaguely uneasy, cat ears leaned backwards like that. And Yang had learned enough from this girl's pet cat that backwards ears meant bad mood—or just…not-good mood.
"Want a cracker?" Yang wondered, offering one with a hopeful smile. The situation was awkward and strange, certainly, and she understood why Blake would be reticent about being buddies, but Yang wouldn't be discouraged so soon. They were pretty much forced to interact with each other thanks to destiny—or whatever—and Yang figured it would probably be easier if they could at least get along and be on the same page.
Blake stared suspiciously at the saltine Yang was offering, but then she took it, cat ears leaning up some. "Thanks."
Yang beamed.
The server returned just then, a notepad and pen in his hands. He smiled pleasantly at both girls. "Have you decided?" he asked, specifically looking at Yang.
Yang's eyes widened and she looked at the menu again, scrambling to find something that looked remotely good. She'd been so focused on Blake that she hadn't even picked her meal yet, despite having told the waiter that she would.
Unexpectedly, Blake came to Yang's rescue—again—with, "Um, I'm going to have a glass of water—and jasmine tea." She seemed to swallow with difficulty, trying to not talk with crushed cracker in her mouth.
The server turned to Blake, leaving Yang off the hook for now. Yang gave Blake a thankful look and continued searching her menu while the Faunus finished her order.
"Glass of water and jasmine tea. Anything else?" he scribbled on his notepad quickly.
"A bowl of your cream of mushroom soup and a garden salad."
"Coming right up." The server pivoted to come back to Yang. "And for you?"
Yang looked up, putting the menu down and slamming her hand on it. She had finally found what she wanted. "I got it! I'mma have a club sandwich. Toasted, please."
He grinned at her. "I see you've adapted."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
His grin faltered. "Nothing, ma'am. I'm just glad I didn't have to ask you to leave. I'll bring your orders as soon as they're ready." He glanced at Blake again, still giving her a weird look—which she returned this time, funnily enough—took their menus and also Yang's plate full of empty cracker wrappers, and walked back into the café.
Yang slumped her shoulders, being careful not to move her casted arm too much. All things considered, she found that she was happy to be here with Blake, somehow. "You're my hero. Literally."
"I didn't do anything."
"Sure you did." Yang smiled again and then, feeling a little self-conscious and not knowing what else to say, took her sunglasses off her head and began fiddling with them a little, trying to close the temples with her single hand.
There was another pause, but it felt less uncomfortable this time. Blake didn't seem like the kind of person who talked a lot, and Yang suspected that she probably appreciated moments of silence sometimes. Maybe the pauses didn't have to be avoided at all costs. Maybe they could be relaxing, even with all the noise around. Eventually, though, Blake did say, "I did some research on what's going on with us."
Intrigued, Yang immediately perked up. She managed to close her sunglasses' temples and wondered, "What did you find? Anything conclusive?" She hung the sunglasses on the loose V-line of her halter-top and found Blake's traveling gaze.
…Which was currently not looking at Yang's face. Again. Blake promptly looked back up, this time realizing she'd been caught and—lo and behold—broke character entirely, her face tinging pink, cat ears going from straight to flat on her head, and taking a sudden and mighty interest in the tablecloth. She cleared her throat. "I'm sorry. That was indiscreet of me."
Honestly, Yang was a lot less bothered than she probably should have been. So far, Blake seemed like the goal-driven, aversive sort, and Yang didn't know her well enough to prove otherwise, so Blake might not have been staring for the reason Yang assumed. Either way, she knew what getting caught felt like, and it wasn't like Yang was completely innocent in this—she had been ogling Blake before Blake even knew Yang was there, after all. Blake's reaction was cute, anyway—reassuring, even, because it made her more relatable—and it was tempting to make a joke, but Yang decided against teasing. Maybe she would if they became more familiar, but the situation was already tense, and she didn't want to add potentially hurt feelings into the mix. "Hey, don't fret it. What did you find in your research?"
It was Blake's turn to give Yang an appreciative look. Still appearing mildly uncomfortable, she reached down and unzipped one of the compartments of her bag, retrieving a folder filled with papers, which she handed across the table to Yang. The blonde took the folder, put it on the table in front of her, opened it, eyes then widening a little as they scanned the first sheet. She started flipping through the pages one by one, not actually reading anything yet and finding certain paragraphs had been underlined, a few arrows drawn here and there with short notes connected to them.
"You found all of this? How many pages did you print?"
"That's…nothing." Blake sounded slightly confused. "Forty-five pages of mostly nothing. I highlighted the paragraphs that might be relevant, but I couldn't find anything directly related to switching bodies. There was only information on events that were almost similar to what we might be dealing with."
Yang slowed her skimming. When Blake had said she would do research on their situation, Yang had imagined the Faunus would search the internet and print a few pages from super helpful links she had quickly uncovered. It seemed Yang had grossly underestimated her. "Where were you looking? How long did this take you?" She laid a surprised regard on the other girl.
Blake still looked a bit puzzled. "I got the information from Beacon Academy's database. I work there. It took me several hours of research. Why is that important?"
Yang blinked, and then she grinned. "You work at Beacon? Eyy! That's where I got my hunting license. Do you know Professor Goodwitch?"
Blake narrowed her eyes. "I've met her. I just started teaching last week. But I don't see how that's related to our problem right now."
Bummer. Blake didn't want to small-talk. Still, it was interesting to know that the girl sitting across from Yang was a new professor—at Beacon Academy, no less. Yang's grin faded, but she kept a smirk up and nodded. "Right. It's not. Sorry, I get distracted kinda easily. It's just…yeah, I was that kind of student. Got in trouble a lot." She kept looking through the documents Blake had provided, a few words and sentences catching her attention here and there, and Yang continued, a bit absent-mindedly, "There's one thing we have in common—Beacon. Not sure it's enough to explain anything, though."
"Maybe. At this point, I wouldn't want to disregard coincidences. You've never seen or heard of me before, have you? Anywhere you might know me from?"
Yang looked up at Blake, tilting her head a little as she tried to remember if she might have seen this raven-haired girl before. It seemed to Yang that she would definitely recall such a…well, person. "What's your full name? I mean, if you don't mind me asking."
"Blake Belladonna. Yours?"
On impulse, Yang extended her hand with another grin, "Yang Xiao Long! Nice to finally meet you."
Blake stared at Yang's hand for, admittedly, an awkwardly long while before she extended her own hand and met the embrace. The Faunus' grip felt strong and practiced, but her hand was surprisingly soft and smooth. Yang found herself letting go reluctantly, and maybe a bit too soon, and rubbed the side of her neck. "You have, like, really nice hands," she admitted.
There was a moment where things happened and people did stuff, and, in that time, Yang knew not what she had said. And then she did. And then her eyes widened. Um.
"Sorry about that!" Yang said, backpedaling in as much of a hurry as humanly possible. "You, uh, really know how to give a good handshake, don't you?" What did that even mean? Blake must have been so confused. Or extremely weirded out. Or maybe both!
Blake, though, shook her head. Her lips twitched again, and Yang realized that Blake had a tendency of fighting off smiles. "It's…okay. Don't worry about it. At least something could be learned from that."
"That I'm a major creep?"
"That you're real."
Having said this, Blake then turned and looked off to Yang's side. Their waiter approached, carrying a platter. Blake and Yang smiled courteously, if not a little interruptedly, at him as he placed the small tea plate and cup in front of Blake and then her glass of water. He informed them that their food would be out shortly and, after a moment of prolonged eye contact with Yang, he went back into the café. And with that, the awkwardness was gone.
Of course, it was replaced by another kind of awkwardness, but at least Yang didn't have to worry about hands anymore. She smirked a little, trying to pick up their previous conversation. "That I'm…real? Did you think this was a dream or something?"
"Not precisely," Blake said. She shifted her posture a little so she was sitting up straighter. She picked up her tea and brought her lips to the cup's edge, testing it and quickly wincing. With a calming breath, she set the cup back down for the time being and regarded Yang. "I definitely wanted to make sure because I still had my doubts, but…" She sighed. "For all I know, you could still be a figment of my imagination."
Yang furrowed her brows. "Did you, like, not just see me talking to that waiter who also talked to you?"
"I did, but… If my mind could possibly conjure you, it could just as easily conjure another person who could interact with you."
There was a pause, wherein Yang considered Blake's words with great intellectual awe and confusion while Blake's gaze moved back to the safety of the waves lapping against the nearby gravelly shore.
"I mean," the Faunus said distantly, "I know you're real now. The…handshake helped prove that much. But it was still something I needed to be wary of, as this predicament we've found ourselves in is far from normal."
So, Blake was being cautious. And Yang… Well, it wasn't that Yang wasn't being cautious, per se. She just…wasn't being cautious. Comparatively. Yang had come to the conclusion that this whole body-switching thing was real because everything felt real when they switched and because there were physical ramifications to their switching—exhibit A being this cast and sling that rested across Yang's chest and coordinated quite wonderfully with her outfit. But Blake had been more skeptical. Like, conspiracy-theory skeptical. But, at the same time, not conspiracy-theory skeptical. She had basically brought a research paper and a half to this first meeting and was still unsure of Yang's existence—which was definitely weird, but Yang had to admire the dedication this took.
In fact, Blake looked a little wary as she met Yang's gaze again. "If you don't mind me asking," she said, voice guarded, "I was wondering what your semblance is?"
For whatever reason, Blake didn't just doubt Yang's existence—which Blake definitely did, even though she said she didn't—she also felt threatened or something by some potential Yang might have had. This was unfortunate, and, feeling this way, Yang made sure to relax her posture back into her seat, smile softly, and seem as reassuring as possible. "I take damage, I absorb it, then I throw the energy right back at whatever attacked me. I'm like a big, yellow sponge. But with, like, boxing gloves."
Blake's expression visibly darkened upon hearing this explanation. She did not seem offended or put off or anything, but there was a definite pointed look she gave Yang. It was like instead of reassuring her, Yang had actually made the situation worse. Somehow.
This sent Yang into a mini, well-concealed panic, which she believed could be fixed by even more information and reassurances. She continued, "Also, I'm really warm. And whenever I get punched or hit a lot, my hair lights on fire. It's not as big of a problem as it sounds. I still smell all right when it happens—not like burning hair."
"You…absorb damage."
"Yup!"
"And you release that held energy on your foes?"
"Well, kinda. The energy just fuels me. It can make my punches hurt more, sure, but it also makes me faster, sturdier, or generally stronger. I used to be a lot more power-focused with my aura and semblance, but that ended up screwing me over too often. So, I've been focused on maintaining my shield and using extra energy to hit harder only when necessary. These days, I'm going for longevity, not quick finishes."
Blake looked down at the table, released a small sigh, and looked back to Yang. She seemed less on edge than she did before—still distrustful, but this was progress! "Okay," the Faunus said. "So, you absorb energy, but you don't just lash out with it."
"I can," Yang offered, "but it drains my aura a lot quicker and usually ends with me being super tired and needing to retreat. I use it as a boost now, not a crutch."
Blake nodded. "Okay. I can accept that."
Whatever that meant. Yang hadn't known she was trying to give Blake an acceptable explanation. Okay. "So, what's your semblance?" Yang asked, hoping to ease Blake's unease and the weird, suspicious tension that had formed in the air between them.
Blake shook her head again, sighed again, and looked to Yang again—Yang who kept smiling because she understood this situation was still new and unsettling in some ways. "I…" Blake began, unsure of where she should go, "I create shadows. I mean, I shape them. I can make them appear, make them tangible, and shape them into whatever form I need. Usually, this comes as shadow clones of myself."
"Oh!" Yang grinned. "So, you're like a ninja?"
There was a long silence led by the Faunus, who currently held a very flat expression that Yang found particularly discomforting, and this discomfort led to an echoing feeling of awkwardness, which led to a want to strike any remotely offensive thing she might have just said from existence. But at the end of this pause, Blake simply quirked an eyebrow. "I'm sorry," she said, "I don't think I understand what you mean."
This did absolutely nothing to quiet Yang's anxieties. Goodness, the things this girl did to her heart. "It's just that…you know… Shadow clones and living in the forest and using the darkness to your advantage and being completely edgy…" Yang's voice trailed off as she saw that Blake still wasn't reacting. Yang was just burying herself deeper, it seemed. She scrambled for a change of subject.
Fortunately, she didn't have to scramble for long. The waiter appeared again like some sort of saving grace, no longer creepy like Yang had assumed he was, carefully putting Blake's cream of mushroom soup in front of her and setting the garden salad next to it. Blake thanked him and then regarded Yang as the plate with the club sandwich was put on the table, too.
"Thanks," Yang mumbled, deciding that eye-contact with anyone was totally overrated right now. She really had to get a grip.
"My pleasure. If you need anything else, just holler for me. My name's Mike, by the way."
"Cool. Thanks again, Mike." Yang finally glanced at him, only to see that he was grinning at her before he turned and left with a satisfied nod.
Yang was left alone with Blake again. Lilac eyes watched in silence as the raven-haired girl methodically placed a napkin on her lap and sprinkled a bit of pepper over both her soup and her salad. Yang stared down at her own meal, then at her white shirt, then at her casted arm, and let out a small sigh. She could definitely try cutting her sandwich with her fork, but for all intents and purposes, she would probably have to use her hand to eat. Yang really hadn't thought any of this through. It was so frustrating. She was spending her time giving Blake a bad impression, both back on the call and now here in person.
"Do you know if your semblance follows you into my body when we switch?" Blake eventually asked. She had been stirring her soup a little, and now she took a cautious sip from her spoon. It was steaming.
Yang snapped out of her daze and hesitated. "Uh… I think so. I mean, it was still keeping me warm and I didn't feel any different from myself. I mean, other than…the other stuff."
"The other stuff?"
The blonde tried cutting into her club sandwich with her fork. It didn't promise effective results. The sandwich kind of just squished in on itself and one of the tomatoes started sliding out. Blargh. "Yeah, like… I felt like me still, but I had your night vision and heightened senses..." Yang paused. Blake waited, as if knowing there was more. There was, although Yang didn't want to say it. But she finally relented after a moment, guiltily, "And you really like tuna, which I don't. So, that was weird and completely not me. But otherwise, it just kind of felt like I was me but in someone else's house…and skin."
Once more, Blake seemed puzzled. She sipped at her soup again, giving Yang's words some thought, but then she asked, "How do you know I really like tuna? Those cans in my fridge could have been for Silver… Um, my cat."
Ah. So the beast was called Silver. That was far from evil. In fact, wasn't silver rumored to be an evil-repellent? This last thought caused Yang to wonder if that was why Silver had initially wanted to attack her… Or maybe Yang was actually a werewolf. That would be cool, and anything seemed possible at this point. Anyway. She cleared her throat. "I don't know," she said, keeping the amusement from her voice. "Your body craved it. So I ate a can, and it helped me—well, you—calm down. Were you having some sort of nightmare or something?"
Blake looked troubled. However, she did not express what was on her mind nor did she answer the question. Yang gave a slight shrug and decided to let her process the information, going back to unsuccessfully trying to cut her sandwich. Not only was she probably coming across as dumb and painfully awkward to this girl, but Yang was even struggling to eat normally while trying not to crush her plate with too much strength—or, at the very least, she was trying and failing to eat with some form of table manners.
"Yang? Do you…need help with that?"
Yang's eyes widened in surprise. She looked up and met Blake's—even more surprising—concerned gaze. But Yang couldn't accept the help. This was embarrassing enough as it was. She had taken care of herself pretty much all her life just fine—she could figure this one out, too. Maybe she would just eat with her hand. That's what sandwiches were meant for anyway, right? "No, it's okay. I can just…" The intensity in Blake's eyes made Yang go silent. Lilac looked down. "Um… Yes, please."
It was strangely difficult to push her plate over to Blake—not because the plate was too heavy, but because Yang was simply mortified. She hated this cast so much. She wanted out of it and to be autonomous again! She wanted to be smooth and confident like she usually was and not this puddle of foolishness that made everything even weirder than it had to be. She felt like Ruby, honestly, and that was the worst.
But Blake did not seem annoyed, and although she occasionally glanced at Yang as she took her fork and knife to cut the club sandwich into smaller, much more manageable pieces, her expression wasn't judgmental or impatient in the slightest. "I'm sorry about your arm," she said, and she sounded sincere. "I know how painful that fight was for you."
It was the kind of comment that would have normally made Yang want to argue or deny its veracity, but considering the circumstances, it was actually a really nice thing for Blake to say—because Blake did know how painful it had been. She had been there. "Thanks, Blake. This is pretty embarrassing…"
Blake slowly shook her head. "Don't be embarrassed." She cut the last few pieces and handed the plate back to Yang. "Make sure you rest. You'll have the use of your arm soon enough."
Yang stared down at the pieces, feeling strangely cared about. She took her fork, but before eating, she said again in a bit of a small voice, "Thank you."
Blake's cat ears leaned back briefly, eyes cast downwards, but that was her only reaction to Yang's gratitude. She sipped at her soup while Yang used her fork to take a bite of her own food. There was a short silence, but the pauses were beginning to feel natural already. "It was kind of the same thing for me," Blake said after swallowing.
Yang raised her eyebrows, questioning, trying to remember what they had been talking about before the whole…kindness thing.
Blake was fast to clarify. "I mean, I felt like myself, but I no longer had my night vision or my regular senses. It was a little…disorienting and nerve-racking, if I'm being honest." Blake looked uncomfortable, and she added more quietly, "I don't mean that in any sort of derogatory way. It's just…"
"It's okay," Yang reassured her, a smile forming on her lips. "I didn't take it like that. Don't worry." She paused, giving Blake's words some more thought. Blake was right, though. She was a Faunus, and Yang was a human. It was cool for Yang to have experienced what being a Faunus was like, but for Blake, it must have felt…well, like less. Like she was missing something. Plus, Yang had a broken arm, so that would have been even more distressing. Yang's smile slowly faded. "This whole thing is really messed up, isn't it?"
Blake acquiesced with a motion of her head, closing her eyes for a moment. She opened them again afterwards, and then took a spoonful of her cream of mushroom soup. "So, apart from eating tuna, what else did you do while you were in my body?"
Yang swallowed another bite of her sandwich. With mild difficulty. Whatever happened, she couldn't mention the boob-touching—which was causing Yang more and more shame with every second that passed interacting with Blake. "Erm, I just basically walked around your house and talked with your cat. Explored, tried to figure stuff out. Basically the same things you did. I found your number on your fridge." Yang gave this a second thought. "Unless you did other stuff you haven't told me…"
Blake took a drink of her water. Yang found herself watching the Faunus' throat as she gulped, but lilac quickly returned to golden when Blake set the glass down and shook her head. "I only made it as far as your living room before I spoke with your father and decided to go back to your room. On a different note, did you have access to any of my memories?"
This question prompted Yang to try and recall if she had remembered anything unfamiliar or if she had knowledge of stuff she shouldn't. "Off the top of my head, I don't think so. I really was just…me. I mean, I feel like I could concentrate a little better in your body. That might be one thing."
Blake nodded slowly. "That might make sense. I didn't notice a difference when we switched, but I think that may be because I didn't think it was entirely real to begin with—and I was already distraught about everything else." She seemed thoughtful, as if trying to measure something out, and then added, "So, we don't have access to each other's memories, but what you're saying implies that some of our brain chemistry stays behind…"
Yang raised her eyebrows and shrugged a little. She ate some more. "I guess so? I don't know. Do you think it's going to happen again?"
"We don't know what's causing it to begin with. If I knew the trigger, I could find a way to both determine when or if it's going to happen, and we could also maybe even find a way to prevent it."
With this explanation, it occurred to Yang that Blake was probably even smarter than the blonde had given her credit for. At the very least, Blake was demonstrating some pretty logical reasoning, and that was more than Yang could say about herself. This girl was kind of remarkable.
Yang watched as Blake took the final spoonful of her soup and moved on to her salad. "Well," Yang said, wanting to add something to the conversation, "who do you think we could ask about this?"
"I don't know, Yang." Blake shook her head. "Right now, I'm not focused on asking anyone else. I want to gather as much information on our situation as I can and make sure we're not completely crazy. If we do the right research and we still can't figure this out, then we can seek outside help."
"I bet Ozpin would know."
Blake paused for a moment, looking conflicted. Then she sighed, "Maybe. But I'm not in a position to ask right now. I'm still new to my job, and bringing up the idea of body switching without any sort of evidence would not reflect well on me. Maybe when we have a better understanding of it."
Yang didn't get that. If there was a guy out there who could provide helpful answers, why wouldn't they go ask him? But whatever. Blake wasn't ready for it, and doing so might affect her job, so Yang would be patient—which was absolutely fine because she also agreed with gathering more information on their situation first. But still. Blake struck Yang as the stubborn sort, just a little bit.
She meant well, though—Yang was certain of that. In front of Yang were the few remaining pieces of her cut-up sandwich, and, looking at them now, Yang still felt a twinge of embarrassment and gratitude. First saving her life, now saving her stomach; what couldn't Blake do? Yang smirked some, sliding a piece of her sandwich around the plate, and when she looked back up, she found Blake looking at her quizzically. The smirk broadened into a smile and Blake uncomfortably looked away. Yang felt so awkward but so grateful and amused, too.
"So," she began again, earning Blake's uneasy expression. "We don't know what's going on. We don't know what's causing it. We don't know where to look for information. And we don't know if it's going to happen again. But in case it does, I think we should be prepared." Yang set her fork down and leaned against the table. She had been making a bad impression so far. Now it was time for her to show she was actually a nice, decent person, sort of. When she set her heart to it, at least. "So, ground rules. I wanna make sure I'm not stepping on your toes while I'm inside your body, and I wanna know if you have any boundaries you need me to respect in case anything happens. It's your body, after all, and I'm pretty much a guest you never invited."
Blake's chewing slowed. It didn't stop completely, as the Faunus looked like she was mulling over what Yang had said, and Yang found it impossible to eat while she did so. Yang just waited for Blake to piece her thoughts together, and, after a minute, those striking honey eyes turned on Yang seriously. Yang swallowed hard.
"Well, there's the obvious," Blake finally said. "Don't destroy my things, ruin my relationships or reputation, disrupt my work, harm my body in any way, or otherwise take advantage of me."
Yang tried very, very hard not to react guiltily to that, doing her best to nod to every single item on that list. This was probably a good thing because it showed Blake that she was listening; however, at the same time, this proved to be a completely bad thing as it opened the door to a huge block of instruction that Yang had no choice but to nod along to for a few moments.
Blake told her to not feed Silver any tuna unless she was being really good—which was implied to be a once-in-a-blue-moon scenario—and to not let her out of the house for any reason. Something about chasing bugs and getting lost and being a feeble little baby. Yang was also told to go to bed no later than eleven every night, even on weekends. She was told not to befriend any of Blake's students, drink alcohol at any point ever, or generally interact with anyone, as such an action would tarnish Blake's mystique (or, as Blake said, her reputation). Yang eventually asked what would happen if she needed to shower or clean up, reminding Blake of how they had switched while Blake was super sweaty after her nightmare. Blake's response was something between "Absolutely do not" and "I will take care of it when I get back." Yang made sure to note this and never, ever think of messing with Blake's body again.
Lastly, Blake had devised a protocol for when they switched bodies, and this was the first thing Yang genuinely nodded along to. "If we switch bodies," Blake had said, "we should immediately try and contact each other. It is important that we stop what we're doing so as not to interfere with each other's lives and move to a location where we can be secluded and noninvasive. Ideally, we should try and meet up so we can monitor each other and make sure we don't do anything the other would find disagreeable. But if that isn't possible, we should try to isolate ourselves and wait until we switch back."
"Good deal," Yang agreed. "Though, uh, how should we contact each other if we're switched?"
Blake blinked for a moment before furrowing her eyebrows and searching for an answer.
"Maybe," Yang offered, "we could give each other our scroll passwords so we can call if we switch." Blake seemed pleased with the idea—or as pleased as an edgy, somber cat Faunus could be—and was about to speak, but Yang made sure to add on one little thing. "Also, don't look through my pictures. I mean, you can, but, like, don't. Because there's stuff on there that…uh, only my boyfriend is supposed to see."
Blake blinked again. "Uh, okay… I wasn't planning on going through your stuff, but duly noted."
"And don't look at my text conversations with him."
"I promise you, I won't."
"Okay. Good," Yang said with an amused smirk. "So, my passcode is 3896, just FYI." It was easy enough for Yang to remember, being that it was Ruby's birthday, and she imagined Blake with her super-developed brain wouldn't have a tough time with it, either. But, just in case, Yang added, "When I get home, I'm gonna write that on a note and put it on my mirror or something in case you forget. And don't worry about doing whatever with my scroll. I don't actually care. Just make yourself at home…but, like, don't be weird about it, too."
"I, uh, okay. Sure." Blake rubbed her upper arm. "I'll do the same. But I'll just write it down then. I don't feel comfortable saying my code out in public."
"Cool cool."
Yang found herself rubbing her upper arm, too, right above her cast. It wasn't that she felt nervous right now—in fact, she was surprised this meeting was going so relatively well—but she definitely felt a little on edge. Right now, she felt obliged to tell Blake her own ground rules. The problem was, though, that Yang didn't really have any. Blake seemed like a trustworthy sort. Yang couldn't imagine her doing anything reckless or harmful when they switched bodies, so warnings of that nature seemed pointless and perhaps even distrustful…which Yang realized probably meant little to Blake, considering they just met. But whatever. Yang trusted Blake not to do anything crazy.
"So, look," Yang finally said, figuring that talking first and thinking later might work, "I don't really have a lot of rules I need you to follow. Maybe just make sure to not push away my friends or family—not that I think you'd do that, but they kind of expect me to be a certain type of happy and confident, and, even for me, that's a hard mask to wear all the time. I mean, I am happy and confident, but you and me will have to play a character for them sometimes—an amplified version of me. Sex jokes, tons of high fives, ready to do anything. I'm not always my regular self around everybody."
"…Understood," said Blake. "I will try to keep things as they are."
"And—don't get me wrong; I mean this in the nicest way possible, Blake—but please try to stay away from my boyfriend. I don't want him catching on to this switching thing while we're still trying to figure it out, and I don't want you being caught up with him trying to hit on you while he thinks you're me while you're really you but in my body… That didn't make sense. But yeah. Just make sure to avoid my boyfriend whenever possible—like that isolation rule you mentioned."
Blake's brows furrowed, and Yang blamed herself for this. If there was any confusion, it was caused by Yang not making sense—which, in Yang's defense, was kind of tonally perfect considering that very little was making sense and that they were only doing the best they could to figure these things out. Nevertheless, Blake asked, "I want to make sure I get this straight so I don't disrupt your life. Do you want me or not want me to interact with your friends and family?"
"Do interact."
"Okay—"
"But only if they interact with you first. If they don't, try and scoot under the radar and, as you said, find me or isolate yourself."
Blake asked, "And you want me to act like you, but not you?"
"Yes? I thought I was pretty clear on that."
"I'm not… Well, okay. And then what do I do if your boyfriend interacts with me?"
"Try to get away before he can," offered Yang. "But if he does, just go with the flow. But, like, no kissing him or anything—not that you would, but me and him have a pretty touchy-feely relationship. And don't try and put him off or anything, but definitely try to make it seem like you're busy or something and that you have to go somewhere else."
Blake closed her eyes for a moment, nodded calmly, and looked to Yang. "I think I understand," she said. "Assuming we do switch again, I will try my best."
Yang smiled at her. "Don't worry. I get the feeling you'll be okay."
This, in turn, caused Blake to look down at her salad and smile a little, too—just a little, but Yang was completely enraptured by that small show of emotion. It wasn't the kind of smile that made the room light up or made all eyes turn on her, but it was discreet, concealing a secret that immediately drew in those who knew to look for it. And, probably, there was no secret at all, but Yang still wanted to know. It made her want to smile, too, and that was pretty great.
Deciding that she wanted to see more of this smile and, potentially, the range of emotions it could display, Yang continued, her own smile broadening. "Also, since you're kind of a guest in Casa del Yang, I wanna make sure you're as accommodated as possible. When I get home, I'm gonna clear out a drawer in my bureau and make that yours. I'll put a note on it so you know which one it is. I'll even go out and get some new clothes for you in case you ever find yourself needing to change. Plus, I'll get some other stuff to make you feel welcome.
"But first I've gotta ask a few questions before I go out and do all that. On top of the extra clothes, do you need me to buy any special soaps or toothpastes for when you're in my body? Or what about another toothbrush? I can imagine having to use my toothbrush would be pretty weird, and—"
"Yang," Blake interrupted, her smile gone.
Yang's chest constricted and her good mood vanished. "Yeah? Is something wrong?"
"No, it's…" Blake exhaled slowly. "Thank you. That is incredibly kind of you to offer. But you don't have to do that for me. This situation is already bothersome for both of us. You don't need to accommodate me on top of everything else."
"Nah!" With a dismissing wave of her left hand, Yang's good mood returned. "It's really, really no problem. I promise, Blake, this'll go a lot easier for me if I don't have to worry about you freaking out in my body. Just give me a list of things you might need, and I'll be sure to get them. It really isn't a problem."
Blake was visibly at a loss. "Uh…" she breathed, staring at her salad with great intensity. It seemed she really didn't want Yang going out of her way for her—which was endearing, but Yang hadn't been lying about the offer. Finally, though, Blake relaxed in her seat a little, apparently giving in. "All right. That means a lot, Yang. Thank you. Do you want me to give you some mon—"
"Nope! This is the least I can do after you saved my life." Because not only was it a debt Yang could never repay, but she also had to make up for being a pervert. Yay. But still—it made her happy that Blake seemed to appreciate the favor so much.
"Okay, fine, but you can't use that line as an excuse for every kind thing you do for me," Blake relented, but she was smiling again—with her eyes this time, an almost affectionate twinkle between those long eyelashes, somewhere behind the amusement, and Yang took a moment to remember she had to keep breathing.
She grinned. "Deal."
This last exchange allowed them to settle into a comfortable silence in which Blake finished her salad and Yang finished her club sandwich. They soon moved on to asking each other about any medications they may require or any on-going health problems or allergies they may have, but this was only to find out that they were both two young and healthy adults who did not need any special kind of care or treatment.
Blake was drinking her tea now while Yang sipped at her glass of water. There was something Yang wanted to bring up, one last thing she felt was necessary to share with her companion. "If it's all right with you, Blake, I think I will tell one person about this body switching issue—just because I may need someone else to confide in. I know she'll be a good ally for you if it comes down to it."
Blake was quiet, holding her cup of tea with both hands, patiently waiting for Yang to continue.
It was really strange for Yang. She was so used to being teased or interrupted by others—not because they were being mean—quite the contrary, in fact—but Blake was just…so respectful. And it didn't feel like it was out of obligation or politeness or even timidity—Blake just seemed genuinely deferential. It was…really different from Yang's other relationships. Again, she had to snap out of her daze. "I want to tell my younger sister Ruby. She lives with me and my dad. I might have to spend some time convincing her that all of this is even true, but that girl isn't gonna tell anyone else, I swear."
Blake nodded, mulling this information over. She took another sip of her tea, and then briefly sucked in her upper lip. "I'll allow that. I think it might be a good idea as well."
Yang smiled, glad that they were on the same page and that they had pretty much come to an agreement for the whole everything about their circumstances. She was no longer so nervous about the situation, and knowing more about Blake definitely helped.
It was also right about then that their waiter—Mike—appeared again. He grinned at them, especially at Yang. "Were the meals to your liking?"
"Yeah, thanks," the blonde responded, and Blake echoed a similar answer.
"Did you want anything else? Desert, maybe?"
Yang glanced at Blake, checking to see if she wanted anything.
Blake shook her head once and said to Mike, "No. We're fine, thank you. You can bring the check."
"Sounds good! I'll just take your plates, and then I'll be back in a jiffy." Mike took Blake's plate and bowl first, and then when he reached down to take Yang's he subtly—but not subtly, really—winked at her. And then he left, Yang rolling her eyes as he walked off.
Blake's gaze followed Mike into the café. "Is he…bothering you?" she suddenly wondered, eyebrows creased in concern.
Yang immediately set a much kinder and more amused expression on Blake. "I mean, yes and no. He's just not backing off. It's kinda annoying. Sorta. But whatever. We're leaving soon anyway. How's your tea?"
"Oh, um." Blake blinked into her cup, looking at it as if it had appeared in her hands out of nowhere. "It's good. And…thank you for meeting me here. I'm glad we could discuss all of this. You were…very helpful."
This made Yang beam. It made her happy that Blake had been able to draw something useful from their conversation—at least Yang had been good for something in all of this. "I'm glad we could talk about it, too. And thank you for all the research you did. I'll take a look at it once I get home and text you if I think of anything else." As she said this, Yang made sure to close the folder and neatly put it to the side, somewhere she could grab it once she left. "I'll also be sure to get you some grey and black clothes, just in case." Her smooth charm returning, finally, Yang winked.
Blake only shook her head, but there was definitely amusement in her eyes again. "I'd appreciate that. Thank you. I also think that we don't need to see each other regularly, but if anything comes up, we should absolutely contact each other. And if it's anything we should talk about in person, then we can arrange to meet up again. Is that okay with you?"
Yang nodded. It was more than okay with her. "Yup. That suits me just fine."
Shortly thereafter, and once Blake had finished her tea, Mike came back with the bill. He set it down on the table, and then gave Yang a look. "Do you want any more water?"
Yang was about to retort, but it was Blake who spoke instead in a suddenly cool voice, "Excuse me. Mike, was it?"
Mike pivoted towards Blake. "Yes?"
"My friend here has a boyfriend. Please keep the tone professional. Thanks."
Yang stared at her, mouth a little agape, surprised by the intervention, and Mike seemed equally distraught. He took a step back. "Yeah, sorry. How will you be paying today?"
"Lien," Yang replied, but she found herself inexplicably grinning at his expense. She took a rapid look at the check before standing slightly and getting her wallet out of her back pocket. She sat down again, pulling a few lien cards out of the leather folds and giving them to Mike. He took them, nodded his head, wished them a pleasant afternoon, and then left.
Yang met Blake's gaze. "That was pretty wicked. Thanks, Blake."
But Blake merely shook her head once more, and then she took her bag and draped its strap over her shoulder. "It's nothing. Thank you for paying for the meal. And for everything else, Yang." The Faunus stood up, and she took a few steps past the table, but then she stopped. Lilac met golden, and Yang just stared for a few seconds, enthralled again, until she realized that Blake's hand was extended towards her.
"Oh! Heh, whoops." Yang immediately stood up, too, and gripped Blake's hand, once more finding the soft but firm contact. She also noticed she might have been an inch or two taller than the Faunus. If ever they met again, this would be an unstated point of pride. "So, see ya around, Blake?"
The raven-haired girl nodded. "See you, Yang. Take care." She let go, and Yang did, too.
"Bye!"
And then Blake was gone, black hair flipping over her shoulder. Definitely like a fashion model. Or like a top secret agent.
A few heartbeats went by. Yang suddenly let out a huge exhale and slumped back down into her chair. Wow. That had been intense—like she had just fought wave after wave of Beowolf pups, in so far as it was exhilarating and exhausting and stressful but also completely easy and natural at the same time. Sure, the conversation had been pretty awkward here and there, but, overall, Yang had rarely met anyone who captured her attention so much. Blake was just so mysterious—intimidating, almost. However, Yang's fears were mostly assuaged and the prospect of switching bodies with this girl was no longer so much of a concern. Despite the intensity and aloofness she exuded, Blake was a good, respectable person—that much, Yang could tell for sure, and it was obvious the Faunus would not treat Yang badly. Blake had already shown a lot of consideration towards Yang today, she had already put a lot of work into researching what was going on, and for all intents and purposes, they were now both better equipped to face the situation if it were to happen again.
Yang would definitely make sure to do her part, too. She would accommodate Blake and give that girl the executive treatment for if or when they switched next—scroll passcode, toothbrush, clothes, and more included. Maybe Blake wasn't looking to be friends, but Yang certainly didn't want to make an enemy out of her. Whatever happened would happen, and today had proved that they were both in good hands.
Finding that she had built up a sweat, either from the heat or the stress, Yang retrieved her sunglasses from their accidental power-play position and donned them again. Through the brown shade, Yang thought she could see Blake going back to the drop-off curb in the distance, but, really, Yang couldn't. That girl was a shadow, and the crowd hid her quickly. Nevertheless, Yang was sweating and figured she was done with being outside for the day. She could go shopping for Blake's spare clothes now since she was at the mall and all, but today had been a bit too much already. She could always come back later. Right now, she just wanted to spend some time with Sun. She missed that hunky slab of boy-meat.
Yang pulled her scroll from her other back pocket and dialed Sun's number, bringing the device to her ear. As the line rang, Yang amusedly looked out at the crowd, watching them take pictures of the distant, shimmering airships taking off and landing, and chatting about the bunches of bags they carried into and out of shops. Yang had no idea what she was going to say to her boyfriend when he picked up. All she knew was that, sweat or stress or not, today had turned out much better than she had expected.
The line connected and went quiet. There was a pause. "Hey, babe!" came Sun's voice. "How'd your girl time go?"
Yang grinned, figuring out her correct response.
"Moooooom!" she whined, causing the patrons around her to look at her funny. All she did was snicker quietly, keeping her façade strong. "Can you pick me up nowwwww? I'm ready to be picked up!"
"Sure thing! I'll be right over."
"And make it snappy, babe. I gotta get back to prison soon, and I'm kind of feeling like a conjugal visit."
The call abruptly ended on her. Sun was coming.
There comes a point in every RWBY author's life when money becomes a problem. No, I'm not talking about the incurable gambling debts we all have. I'm talking about REMNANT ECONOMICS. This is a problem because an author has to walk through the steps their characters take and understand how they are done, yet with RWBY's money, NOTHING FREAKING MAKES SENSE.
YOU HAVE THESE LITTLE PLASTIC MONOPOLY-MONEY-COLORED CARDS, BUT THEY'RE CASH, AND WHEN YOU PAY FOR STUFF, YOU HAVE TO PULL OUT MULTIPLE CARDS. ARE THEY LIVING IN SOME KIND OF LAST-MINUTE-GIFT-BUYER'S FUTURE WHERE THE ONLY VALUED CURRENCY LEFT IS GIFT CARDS? AND THEN THAT DOESN'T TOUCH CREDIT OR DEBIT CARDS. WITH THOSE, YOU'D HAVE A PLASTIC CARD THAT GUARUNTEES THE STORED VALUE OF A BUNCH OF OTHER PLASTIC CARDS KEPT BY A BANK THAT TRADES THOSE PLASTIC CARDS TO EARN MORE PLASTIC CARDS. LIKE, WHAT? HOW IS THIS SUSTAINABLE? OR IS THIS JUST SOME KIND OF REALLY HIGH-LEVEL CRITIQUE OF THE DOLLAR?
I DON'T EVEN KNOW, MAN, BUT IT'S FRUSTRATING TO WRITE BECAUSE IT SEEMS SO STUPID TO HAVE YANG PAY FOR A SANDWICH BY GOING, "HERE, TAKE TWO PINK CARDS, A GREEN, AND FIVE AND A HALF BLUES." BUT SOMEHOW, IT SEEMS WORSE FOR HER TO HAVE A DEBIT CARD OR SOMETHING WHERE SHE KNOWS SHE ONLY HAS TWO AND A HALF PURPLE CARDS LEFT IN THE BANK.
Anyway, I'm going to go drown my frustrations by writing the next chapter. I hope you all have a splendtacular day.