Dark and damp was the cave, with not a speck of light to be found, the dripping of water the only sound . So absolute was the darkness that you could scoop out a chunk to take home. The air, trapped in the deepest crevices for millennia, had grown stagnant and stale. Such was the state of the cave eons ago, such was the state it expected to remain in for eons to come.
So imagine its surprise when the darkness receded.
Stalking forward with torch in hand was a short, masked figure. Light brown chitin, mahogany cloth, and a pair of goggles covered her face. A black shirt laid beneath mammalian pelts fashioned into a crude cuirass. On her left hand was light yellow gauntlet textured like pottery, contrasting with the bronze colored behemoth on her right. A pair of pauldrons of the same material as her left gauntlet guarded her shoulders and upper arms, jutting out to the sides and over her wrists. A tattered red skirt adorned her waist, beneath which was a pair of brown cloth pants. She also wore a pair of boots: what were they made of? How did they look? With several coats of mud, it was difficult to tell.
As the adventurer trekked deeper into the cave, one thought rang through her mind.
"Groosss... why did it have to be so wet?" She hoped this quest would be different from her usual fare; an open air jungle temple, a town made of crystal, even braving Red Mountain again would've been better than another dark, smelly, muggy, wet, and slimy cave! "I swear, half my time is either spent in these things! Did I anger some kind of cave god years ago? Hmm, that would explain a lot..."
She shook the thoughts from her head. "Okay, calm down," she said, voice echoing off cave walls. "You're the Nerevarine, you've been through way worse than this! At least this cave isn't filled with the undead, robots, or LAVA!" The Nerevarine stopped before dragging a hand over her face. "I jinxed it, didn't I?"
As she continued down the cavern, she couldn't help but think of the past two years. So much happened! Fulfilling an ancient prophecy here, stopping internal corruption of a local guild there, with a dash of deicide for good measure. As her thoughts continued, she slowed to a stop, pulled of her bronze gauntlet, and stared at her light gray, ashen skin.
Yes, a lot has changed.
Eventually, the cave opened up and she found herself in an unnatural room, perfectly rectangular with sharp corners to spite the passage of time. An immaculate square tiled path led to a raised platform, on which was a stone arch. Though that didn't really do it justice, did it? Engraved with images of the sun, moons, stars, and roses, it was a work of art trapped deep within the bowels of Nirn.
"Thank Azura!" She sniffled and rubbed tears from her eyes. "Finally, I found it. I can go home." She wondered how everyone would react. No doubt there would be tears of joy shed from all once she managed to explain herself, but would her her family even believe her when she tells them where she's been? The wonders she witnessed, the horrors she slew? Of bandits, undeath, and gods? What of herself? She changed so much, would they even recognize her?
"Of course they will!" Though her posture gave off confidence, her voice carried a twinge of the doubt she tried to brush aside. "Welp! No time like the present! Okay, on three. One. Two. Three!" In the blink of an eye she rushed towards the arch, disappearing the second she passed through. Thus the cavern returned to the stillness of before, dark as the night and quiet as the grave.
Yet if one were still there, beneath the stench of stale water and limestone, they would smell the faintest whiff of roses.
Chaos. That was the only word to describe where she found herself. Heavy rains pounded in her ears as images grey clouds and strange lands passed through her vision. She hadn't been there for more than a minute before something, someone spoke from everywhere and nowhere.
"Much has been taken from you; a mother, a sister, a childhood. Yet fortune favors you, my child, and some shall you reclaim."
"In a circle of stone and relics, surrounded by darkness on all sides, the Sun's child shall meet Moon-and-Star, their destinies intertwined once more. "
"Fear not, for I am watchful. You have been chosen."
Yang Xiao-Long jolted awake, gathered her bearings, and looked around the auditorium she spent the night in. Her sleeping bag was in the middle of an sea of students, each one sleeping, conserving their energy for the day ahead.
Beacon Academy: one of the most prestigious huntsmen academies on Remnant. Only the cream of the crop get a chance here, and today's initiation will separate the wheat from the chaff. No doubt most went to bed anxious for the day ahead, wondering if they would stack up to the competition. Some of the sleepers were likely dreaming of a victory they considered inevitable, a result of confidence healthy or otherwise. Yang might have played the role of a braggart before, but regarding her combat skills not a single boast was false.
Having a dad and an uncle who taught at Signal did help keep her honest.
Shaking her head, she glanced at the rising sun, found no point in going back to sleep, and grabbed her hygiene bag to start her morning routine. After getting dressed and spending the better part of an hour getting her hair just right, Yang gave herself a once over in the mirror. Underneath a light brown duster she wore a yellow tube top with a stylized burning heart printed on the left side. Black short shorts were framed by a light brown half skirt, the same emblem stitched to the right side and pink and wavy on the inside.
Her socks were orange and asymmetrical; the left reached above her knee and the right just above the rim of her boot. A purple bandanna was tied around her left calf, around the knee. Black fingerless gloves complemented the yellow metal bracelets she wore at all times: Ember Celica, her prized weapons.
To your average citizen she looked the very image of a huntress; bombastic, stylish, and radiating power. Yet Yang knew her outfit was incomplete. From her bag she pulled out a worn red sash and tied it around her waist like a belt. For two years now, no matter her outfit, no matter how much it clashed or stood out, Yang always wore the sash. Red, Ruby's favorite color...
She bit back the tightness that threatened to pour out her throat. 'No. Now was not the time. Focus on initiation, for your lil' sis.' She turned to the door once she collected herself and walked onward to the first day of the rest of her life. "Best to just jump right into it."
"AAAAAAHHHHHHhhhhhh..."
Professor Ozpin, Headmaster of Beacon Academy, sipped his mug of hot cocoa as his students were launched through the air. Some would tell the gray haired professor such an act was unnecessary. He would reply that it's cheaper than a bullhead, a test of the ever vital landing strategy, and far safer than the old catapult. Really, what was there to complain about?
With his black suit and green turtleneck, the professor looked over to his assistant. Wearing a white blouse, black leggings and skirt, a purple cape that ended in curved arrows, and high heels, Professor Goodwitch was as strict as she looked.
"I still think the launchpads are excessive, Ozpin."
The man adjusted his small black glasses. "Glynda, would you rather waste bullhead fuel?" That shut her up, and the two returned to their 'observations'.
Initiation was a time to test the mettle of the their students, an opportunity to adjust the curriculum if certain proficients were noted across the school year, and of course where teams and partners would be formed. More than that, though, it was a chance for the two professors to relax and watch the chaos.
Running a school is hard, stressful, and preparations for the start of the year tripled those troubles. The two exhausted all their energy, patience, and coffee to bring this day around. Thus Ozpin and Glynda always oversaw initiation, witnessing the inevitable conflicts that arose between students, as a relatively simple, relaxing task. Glynda could swear how it was to notice any potential trouble makers until the cows came home, he knew she enjoyed it for its own merits.
Some students got along amicably; Ms. Valkyrie and Mr. Lie in particular were getting along a little too well, and Glynda suspected they made sure they would be partners. She saw it as a violation of the sanctity of the rules, while Ozpin was more interested in their creativity. On the other hand Mr. Winchester and Mr. Bronzewing were engaged in typical teenage bravado, butting heads and arguing. A common flaw, one the school was well equipped to handle.
And then there was Ms. Schnee. Most students made eye contact with another within the first ten minutes, fifteen at the latest. After thirty minutes of searching, Weiss had made eye contact with multiple students, yet every one already had a partner. The scroll showed the SDC heiress, dressed in white and growing impatient. Where once brush was carefully navigated or avoided, now she hacked and slashed with abandon. At times she looked tempted to use her fire dust to burn the undergrowth away, just so she didn't have to deal with it.
Both Glynda and Ozpin felt pity for her, and hoped she would find a partner soon. They were about to change their focus when a bush in front of Weiss shook. She readied her rapier and took a combat stance. Out of the bush came the most oddly dressed individual they ever saw. Face covered in cloth with goggles over the eyes, her outfit was a strange mishmash of leather, cloth, hide, and chitin of all things. Ozpin couldn't tell what the pauldrons were made of; was it some kind of pottery? The only bits of metal the figure held were a gauntlet and...
"A scythe?" There weren't many scythe users out there; the weapon being bulky and awkward, it took years to be decent with one, and don't even think of mastery! The only one alive Ozpin knew was Qrow Branwen. That last thought gave him an strange feeling in his gut, the same gut telling him answers to these strange feelings lay in that strange, armored figure. "Glynda, please turn up the volume." Soon their conversation became clear.
"-insane?!" The teachers flinched at Schnee's intense voice. "Do you even hear what you're saying?!" At this, the stranger took a step backed, hands raised defensively.
"Okay, I know it sounds kind of sort of crazy." The voice was feminine and young, perhaps too young for initiation. "But-"
"But what?" Weiss Schnee took another step forward, rapier stretching closer to the neck. "You really expect me to believe you just wandered into the Emerald Forest duding Beacon's initiation? I spent hours taking note of all applicants for this year, and I-"
"Beacon?" The stranger asked with disbelief, before her voice became manic. "We're at Beacon Academy! Oh, thank Azura! I always wanted to go here! I trained really hard with my uncle but then I wound up in the Imperial City and-"
As she rambled and Weiss's puzzlement and worry rose, the two professors basked in befuddlement. "Azura? Imperial City? Ozpin, are you familiar with these terms?"
"No. I am not. Based on context they are most likely a figure of worship and a location respectively." He took a long, deep sip from his mug. "Aside from that, you know as much as I." Glynda was left dumbfounded; Ozpin had been around for a long time, and during that time he's been around. If the stranger spoke of terms even he didn't know...
She was shaken from her thoughts by Weiss's frustrated groan. "Stop. Just, just stop." The babbling stranger ceased as Weiss offered to shake her hand. "Crazy or not, you're the first person I saw who didn't have a partner already, so like it or not we're stuck together until we get back to Beacon."
"But you're the one who complained?"
"So in light of this evidence," Weiss ignored, "it would be best for us to work together, complete initiation, and explain the situation to Headmaster Ozpin. Do we have a deal?"
The hide bound girl looked at the heiress's hand uncertain, but within a moment shook it with passion and firm resolve. "You can count on me... you."
"You don't know who I am, do you?"
"...I live under a rock?" She offered weakly, at which Weiss shook her head.
"Weiss Schnee."
What followed next was the utterance of two words. It was nothing more than the stranger's name, offered in courtesy as Weiss offered hers. Neither could tell those two, simple words would shake cliff-side observers to their core. Glynda nearly dropped her scroll, and Ozpin dropped his mug. The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place at that moment, yet the picture it showed was all but impossible.
"Ruby Rose," said the dead girl walking.