Weiss curled her fingers around the railing at the edge of one of the Academy's many rooftops, the cold metal seeping into her fingers as she stared out over the city of Atlas. The plethora of blinking neon signs, animated billboards, and taillights far below seemed to smear together into a vomit-like puddle in her mind, bringing with it a fitting taste of bile in her throat. Weiss narrowed her eyes as she gripped the railing harder, her ponytail swaying gently in the night breeze.
"…you're a hard woman to find."
Weiss' expression immediately softened at the voice, and she turned to find her sister standing behind her, next to a massive air conditioning unit. Winter Schnee stood clad in a white pencil dress and matching heels, her hair down and scroll in hand. As she approached, Weiss rapidly closed the distance and threw her arms around her older sister.
"Winter!" the smaller Schnee cried as she tightened her grip. "I've been wondering when we would finally get a chance to speak alone. I was going to try to come and find you, b-"
"Don't bother," Winter said icily as she returned the embrace. "My availability is spotty, and I've been forced to spend what little time I have mitigating the damage our father is doing to the twin cities. I'll seek you out where and when I can."
"I can't believe he's running for public office," Weiss muttered as she stepped back with a sigh. "Well… I can, I just can't believe he's apparently been successful thus far…"
"He has Mantle's economy in a stranglehold," Winter explained as she folded her arms across her chest. "It's simple, when you think about it. Our family controls over 75% of dust production in Atlas. Dust means lights, heat, vehicles, and job security. He's been slowly peeling the dust provided to Mantle back to create artificial scarcity and blaming it on the General. His story is that only he can convince General Ironwood to stop secretly 'taking' from the dust supposedly allocated for public works."
"And Ironwood has no way to deny it, given the secrets he needs to keep," Weiss realized. "Winter, we can't let him win."
"We may have to," the elder Schnee lamented as she moved to wrap her hands around the railing. "Robyn Hill may have the best of intentions, but she's young. Naïve. Full of misdirected anger that is spilling over into Mantle itself and poisoning the well. If she wins, the hatred toward the General will increase exponentially as she pushes for more and more knowledge, only to be denied at every turn."
"If he wins, won't the people still be fed up with Ironwood?" Weiss inquired as she moved to join her sister.
"…yes, but not nearly as much. Our father's motives are blatantly obvious- greed and influence. Once he has his seat, his grip upon the dust market will begin to relax, and the people will be at least somewhat placated. If he loses… he may well throw his support behind Robyn in hopes that she'll squeeze General Ironwood in his stead, simply out of spite. No matter what happens next, it's going to be bad for Atlas. If Robyn wins, it's going to be bad for Mantle, as well," Winter said with a sigh. She ran a hand through her hair before continuing.
"The anger of the people will boil over as we continue to allocate dust for the Amity project. We are taking more than our usual share to power construction upon the arena itself, but that's classified information, and Jacques can easily cover the difference. Even so… it looks very, very bad when Robyn is framing the situation for us. Not to mention… Jacques could easily make acquiring dust for our operation very difficult, if he wanted to."
"…so, you actually hope he wins," Weiss said, dumbfounded. "You're suggesting that putting a snake onto the council is actually more beneficial than seeing Robyn get elected."
"I am," Winter replied coldly. "But only because of Amity. Reconnecting the world has to be our priority right now, and to do that, sacrifices must be made. Robyn will get her time in the sun, but for the moment, we need our father to be a useful idiot for us. We simply placate him, keep him funneling dust to us in exchange for a seat, and do our best to limit his influence."
Weiss fell silent for a long while, her face falling to one of hopelessness as she looked out over the city below once again.
"…and he'll drag our name through the mud even more, all the while…"
"It's not as though it can get much dirtier," Winter pointed out as she tightened her grip upon the railing.
Weiss shifted in place, suddenly feeling incredibly uncomfortable.
"…you know… shortly after my arrival at Beacon, when our teams were formed, I was furious that I wasn't put into a leadership position. I thought I deserved it for all of the hard work I've put into both traditional and combat study, as well as my proficiency with dust, and… our family name. I… threw a tantrum when Ruby was chosen," Weiss admitted, only for Winter to give her a disappointed look. "But now, seeing everything I've seen since then, and being privy to information such as this… I never want that burden. I don't know if I could make unfavorable decisions for the greater good. Every major decision I've made since leaving that place has been for me… and that's exactly what our father does. That's the Schnee name, in a nutshell. You rose above it, while I… I'm still trying to learn how."
Weiss jumped slightly as she felt her sister's heavy hand upon her shoulder. She looked up, only to see that Winter's expression was one of fierce condemnation.
"You've chosen to fight for all of Remnant… and you've forgotten perhaps the most important thing about our family, Weiss. Jacques is a Schnee in name only- you and I are Schnees by blood. We define our namesake- not the public, and certainly not him."
Weiss nodded slowly, before shaking her head.
"…you're right, of course… but I still can't help but feel as though that name is a burden, more than anything. I had barely ever seen faunus before Beacon, and now traveling with Sun and listening to the damage our father caused to Ilia… I can't help but wonder just how many lives have been destroyed because of what our father has done. The thought of seeing him elevated as a supposed champion of the people makes me feel sick."
"I know the feeling," Winter admitted as she let her hand slip from Weiss' shoulder. "Working with the Aces for quite some time, now, I've gotten to know Marrow fairly well. His family was nearly destroyed by ours, and though he insists that he doesn't hold a grudge… that doesn't stop the feelings of guilt."
"Marrow's family…?" Weiss questioned, her stomach turning once again.
"It's… a long, unpleasant story," Winter said dismissively. "But he's told me time and time again that it isn't my fault, and that my willingness to work with him is more than enough to override any passive feelings of hostility."
"He told me much the same thing," Weiss replied. "He's a gentle soul, and one that I look forward to seeing more of."
"Hm," Winter considered as she turned her attention back to the city below. "He said much the same about you."
Weiss immediately looked up to her sister for clarification, though she found nothing as Winter kept her gaze firmly attached to the lights upon the ground.
"…I… I mean, I'm looking forward to getting to know all of the Aces, really," Weiss tried as she began to fidget with her hands. "Except Clover, from what I've seen…"
"Give him time," Winter advised as she pushed back from the railing. "Clover takes his job very seriously. He and I aren't so different, but if you asked someone else what they thought of me after one or two encounters, I doubt you'd be pleased with the way they described me. He'll open up to you, so long as you show him that you're committed to the cause."
"I hope you're right," Weiss said warily. "You're leaving…?"
"I have to," Winter lamented. "We'll talk again soon, but for now… just remember not to rush to judgment, Weiss. We've both been victims of that, time and time again. Don't do it to people you barely know, and especially not to your allies."
"Of course," Weiss replied with a nod. "I hope we can speak again soon."
"As do I. I'm proud of you, Weiss," Winter admitted as she reached the door back into the Academy. "Keep doing what you're doing."
As the door closed behind Winter, the uneasy feeling in Weiss' stomach continued to grow. She shivered softly before turning away from the railing and moving to sit beside the air conditioning unit for several more hours, alone with her thoughts.
"…alright, come on," Cinnamon insisted as she followed Tyrian down the wide, obsidian-walled hallway. The woman rolled her eyes at the light filtering through the red and purple stained glass windows that scattered upon the floor, casting the otherwise featureless black stone with menacing patterns. "Who did you lot pay to decorate this place? Having questionable morals doesn't mean you have to live like vampires."
Tyrian chuckled softly, his mechanical tail clinking and chittering as it arched behind him.
"You're quite critical, Miss Shoal. I can't wait to see how that goes over with our goddess."
"Swimmingly, I'd imagine," Cinnamon retorted as she moved to walk beside the man. "I know how and when to keep my mouth shut, if I'm before those who pose a threat to me."
"Good, good," Tyrian praised as the pair approached a large ebony door. Quite suddenly, the man fell behind the other faunus, his eyes narrowing. "And I'm not a threat to you, is what you're saying."
"You got it in one," Cinnamon mocked as she arrived at the door. "Though, truth be told, the hostility from me is more about being forced into this than anything else. I don't like having the lives of my people hung over me as a threat. Were this something other than strictly business, maybe I'd be more pleasant."
"Maybe you would," Tyrian agreed as he caught up and grasped one of the iron rings attached to the door. "And yet, I find it unlik-"
A tortured, pained wail echoed from within the room, shrill and desperate enough to cause Cinnamon to stiffen. Even Tyrian bristled at the sudden noise, and the pair looked at each other equally alarmed and confused.
"What in the hell…?" Cinnamon asked, her tone suspicious.
"…I have a theory, but it's unlikely," Tyrian said hesitantly. "Regardless, brace yourself. I think it's clear that she's not in a receptive mood."
"Delightful," Cinnamon grumbled as she gripped her own iron knocker and pulled the door open. As she wrenched the massive slab back and caught sight of the throne room, her grip around the ring tightened. The woman paused, all color draining from her face at the display before her.
Salem stood with her back to the door, her pale arms raised before herself. The remains of a long table and several accompanying seats were splintered and strewn about the room as though there had been an explosion. Where the furniture had once stood was instead a gooey, twisting mass of swirling black tendrils, each tipped with a white bone claw. Several of the tendrils reached for the high ceiling of the room, where a bleeding, short-haired woman in a red dress was suspended by her right arm. Multiple vicious hooks had pierced the flesh of the limb, effectively holding her in place as another tendril coiled around her neck, slowly growing tighter. Cinder Fall gasped for breath as she clawed at her throat with her left hand, which was formed of a similar claw.
"What?" Salem snapped as she looked over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. Upon catching sight of Tyrian and Cinnamon, she slowly turned her attention back to the dangling woman above her. "I see. You were successful, then."
For once, Tyrian hesitated as he watched Cinder struggle against the ever-tightening restraints. A slick trail of blood had worked its way down her arm and side, before beginning to drip from her bare foot into the mass of tendrils below her.
"…yes, my queen…"
"Is something wrong?" Salem questioned, her voice light and inquisitive as another hooked tendril dug into Cinder's bicep, eliciting a tortured scream.
"No, no, not at all," Tyrian reassured with a quick bow. "I've brought you Cinnamon Shoal. She's here to serve."
"Is that so?" Salem asked rhetorically. "Tyrian. Gather the others. Cinnamon and I need to have words."
"Right away," Tyrian answered with another bow.
Cinnamon stepped forward, her shoulders stiff as the heavy doors closed behind her. She sucked in a deep breath as Salem turned to face her with her hands folded before herself. A tense moment passed before Salem offered the other woman a humorless smirk. Cinnamon was the first to blink, though she said nothing as she waited.
"…the new High Leader of the White Fang," Salem mused, her tone honeyed and unconcerned. "Let's have a little chat before my other subordinates arrive, shall we?"
Cinnamon's eyes remained firmly upon Salem as she tried to ignore the sounds of panicked gasping from high above her. Slowly, she balled her hand into a fist to try to stop it from shaking, though she could still feel her clenched fingers trembling.
"…yes. Let's."
Author's Note:
Next up- villain time.
-RD