Hope is not a dream.
Hope is not some baseless belief clung to by idiots; Cinder knew better than anyone that it sure as hell wasn't an idealistic fantasy.
Hope is the knowledge, the undeniable fact, that the world operates with some level of consistency. Somewhere in the chaos exists a set of checks and balances that only the most ruthless can recognise and exploit. To know that life is an unfair game that requires the swiftest of feet and the bloodiest of knuckles to even stand a chance at winning. To never give up playing despite that.
No matter how she was betrayed, no matter how hard the leash might tighten around her neck, no matter how much she had been burned, disfigured, and malformed.
Cinder would win.
Because hope is not a crutch or a delusion, it is a power.
A certainty.
Like Destiny.
Like... gravity...
Cinder feels the cold, wet ground come up to meet her as she falls, her broken body sliding to a stop amongst the black sludge and feral movements of Grimm. She wills her lungs to suck in the breath that was just forced out of her, barely resisting the overwhelming urge to vomit as she tastes just how vile the air around her is. Her one good arm claws away the muck from her face, enough that she can start to make out the blurry silhouettes around her from her prone position. The realisation chills her more than the mud.
They had fallen right into the river bed.
The claws and fists of the wild beasts could barely touch them as their weightless form zigzagged through the horde. Only when the wicked lash of half-formed Nuckelavee struck them had they been sent sprawling. It was not Cinder's first experience being transported by the little Huntress' sembelance, and just like every other time she loathed it. To be made helpless, to subject yourself to subjection for a time, was an experience Cinder knew all too well. Fear and intimidation were an effective use of power but a poor way of acquiring it. Sometimes one must play a bad hand purposefully so their opponent never expects the ace up one's sleeve. Being swaddled in Ruby's sembelance was different; it was being made into a passenger. Not helpless, but passive. The feeling of losing herself even temporarily sickened her to no end, and yet, what they all wouldn't give to be wrapped up in that safety now.
Cinder struggles to her feet, her eyes immediately drawn to the swirling pattern of red and steel in front of her. Ruby had been the first to recover and had already drawn her weapon. That damned scythe might have been the only object in this drained world as well maintained as their own immortal flesh. The same could certainly not be said for the uneven weave of red rags that made up the girl's cloak, the poor attempt at stitching already being torn into holes by the black sendiment it had absorbed as she rolled upon landing. The girl kept her steps light as her boots skirted and skidded atop the unstable ground; she almost looked like she was skating about the pack of Beowulfs that had gathered around them.
Ruby must have broken her aura from the impact; the bruises and scrapes around her face, visible through the holes in her stained white shirt, were refusing to heal. Ruby likely took the full force of the impact on herself. Ever the damned hero. Now they would need to drag themselves from this pit.
The twirling motion of Ruby's massive armament was even more unpredictable than the aggressive swipes of her opponents, the girl bending and ducking out of the way of its handle and blade as momentum carried it about her shoulders and around her waist. The whole display was false, initially seeming like a great monster being just barely kept in control by the uneasy movements of the petite woman. Yet, in an instant, two hands would grasp that monster, turning any random rotation into a powerful, reaping swing. Neck and limb were cleaved from their hosts in short, gruesome flurries; any counter or flank was avoided with modest uses of acrobatics in lieu of any respositioning gun shots. Cinder can't even remember the last time they had the luxury of usable dust. Even through the excessive motion and the puffs of ashe from disintegrating Grimm, Cinder could see them—those piercing silver eyes. Dull yet hyperfocused, studying everything with an unnerving calm. Pools of incredible age and fatigue resting upon a paradoxically young face. However, even the impressive display of experience couldn't hide the overall message of her attacks.
Desperation.
They needed to clear a path and move before any greater Grimm could pull themselves together. Cinder finally manages to scramble to her feet, mouthing a curse at how much exhaustion the simple motion has caused. Weakness was something she had spent so much of her life burning and beating out of herself, and yet it would always find a new way to manifest.
She can't even finish the thought before the sound of chittering causes her to reflexively summon a crude, blazing schimitar, turning with its point aimed squarely at the offending noise. Twin centinels burst forth from the grime, launching themselves into a spinning helix. They arch themselves into the sky before bearing down on her position. Instinct pulls her from the ground, one fluid leap bringing her above the creatures' backs as they crash uselessly into the spot she once occupied. She twists herself in the air, raining a barrage of slashes downward. Even against the chitinous armour, the counter is forceful enough to expose some of the glowing red flesh underneath.
She lands awkwardly on her bare feet, the shabby wooden sandals she entered the river with long since lost to the mud. The Centinels release an ugly squeal at her continued existence; too tangled and damaged to move, they opt to twist their twin heads about, launching globs of acid towards her. Magical power surges through her, erupting from the symbol on the exposed centre of her back. A blaze of fire with enough force to accelerate her forward through the mud. Her head dips out of the way of the first orb of acid as she charges the immobilised monster, the second catching her schimitar. She lets the weapon fall away, kneeling into a slide while simultaneously summoning a long spear in her now free hand. Once under the creature, she surges the spear upward at the section where the creatures overlap. The spear bursts through the Centinels' exposed undersides, a cachophony of gurgles and hissing disappearing into black smoke.
The moment of victory is short-lived; bone-white claws are rending through the smoke at her exposed blind spot. They trace slick, red lines across her upper back as their owner passes by in a leap. No Aura. She growls in annoyance more than pain, as if the burning in her heaving lungs and the shaking in her remaining limbs weren't enough of a reminder.
The Sabyr lands with a spin, facing her and charging again so fast that it almost trips over in the slippery mud. The momentary hesitation is enough for her to finish her anguished recoil, only capable of summoning a dagger before it's once again upon her. The following exchange serves to anger her more, having to strain so much to take down such a simple creature. A dance of deflections and riposting slashes carves across the Sabyr's head and front legs; it reels back to deliver an overhead strike.
In that moment, she can see it, her left arm raised with perfect poise. The simulataneous parry and strike are so smooth in her mind's eye that they could almost be considered a florish. And the next moment her phantom limb is gone, the lapse of judgement costing her a swath of flesh from her shoulder to her lower back. She lets out a hoarse cry before digging her dagger deep into the creature's eye in retaliation. The Sabyr whines and falls, stunned but still very much alive. The sight of the stupid beast still clinging to life infuriates Cinder. She raises a bare foot, trickles of flame dancing along it as she brings it down in a fiery stomp. The explosion disintegrates the Sabyr's head instantly—a smouldering, bubbling mess all that remains of its lower body. She leers over the desimated creature, teeth gritting in fury, the glowing white light regrowing the flesh on her back.
The pack is soon to follow, howling and racing at her. She shoots the filthy creatures a murderous glare, the edge of her eye erupting in orange flame, her weakened body barely capable of withstanding the fountain of flame about to erupt from her. The first set of bared teeth are almost upon her.
A loud clang rings out across the battlefield. The Knight's arm and shield cover her vision, the charging Sabyr slumping to the ground after colliding head first with it. Smaller Grimm were so aggressive that they often broke their own necks charging defences, but she hadn't seen it done one-handed before. She had to remind herself that the boy she had so often trunched in the past was no longer with them. They weren't the same people they once were and hadn't been for a long time.
"You need to move." His tone is curt, quickly turning to catch a second Sabyr in the chest with an upward swing.
She follows the instructions wordlessly, mentally scolding herself for almost losing control. Petty anger would serve no purpose here; they needed to escape. The whirlwind of black and red ahead of her was manoeuvring to clear a path forward; the sound of battering steel and plodding feet fell behind her, letting her know that their rear was momentarily safe. A temporary pocket of safety for the exhausted maiden. Just one element was stopping the three of them from charging the opposite bank.
Where was the puppet?
She wishes they could leave the toy to whatever fate it had gotten itself into, but she knew better. Sentimentality was so often a weapon Cinder had used against her enemies and now the very same irrationality held by her 'stalwart' protectors might doom them all. She scans her surroundings, trying to see through the oily black bodies. There, behind a wall of fur and frenzy, the colour orange matted with streaks of filth. It seems the little Robot has carved out a space for itself, trying to make its way back to the main group. She recalls briefly the way its predecessor once fought: a sleek flow of green and silver, a swarm of floating blades carving the air. Almost resembling a school of fish in their coordination. So different from the rigid, piston-like motions they now possess. The way her slashes and laser blasts carved regular shapes into the horde was closer to a disection than combat. Cinder knew better than anyone just how effective that rigidity could be.
How painful it was when that toy threw a 'tantrum'.
The shard of ice that shoots up her spine at the memory is pointless. She would deal with Penny when the time was right, when something permanent was once again a possibility. For now, the Android was an 'ally' that needed saving; if Cinder had learned anything in her life, it was how to bite back the bile in her throat as she performed kindnesses for the undeserving.
She lets a shaky exhalation carry all thought away, replaced by the spreading warm sensation of her powers. They'd probably need to carry her anyway, given how jelly-like her legs felt. She might as well use her remaining power for something productive. A much more controlled burst of orange returns to her eye, her open palm raised upward as she summons a red and black vortex on the ground between their position and Penny's. She closes her hand into a fist, and the rune pulsates faster and faster before erupting in a blinding explosion. It almost sounds like a schreech as the Grimm, once blocking their path, are reduced to chunks of smoking meat. What had once been such a simple demonstration of her powers was almost enough to render Cinder unconscious; adrenaline now the only flicker of resistance against the overwhelming sense of fatigue.
The Robot quickly makes its way back to the group, covered head to toe in black muck. They were all a mess. Visible relief washes over Ruby's face when she sees that they are all reunited. They had been somewhat fortuitous, already having made the majority of the rivers breadth before losing control. Thanks to the Huntress, a straight shot now existed to the slick incline of the river's other bank. Cinder doesn't even have the energy to resist when she feels Jaune unceremoniously toss her over his shoulder.
A howl that pierces her eardrums and makes her wince. Not some common beowulf, probably the Nukacklee from earlier. More complex Grimm meant the river's temporary halt was becoming unstable; the realisation is not lost for the rest of the group.
"Move, move, move!" Ruby is already charging, using her superior movement to move ahead, quickly dispensing of any stray Grimms that enter their path.
Jaune follows closely behind, with Cinder in his grasp. She can't imagine how he manages to keep his footing under their combined weight, but she imagines that experience with this exact situation has something to do with it. Penny at the rear, the Robot having to use its stringed blades as tethers to guide itself through the sludge.
Ruby is the first to reach the other side; the small, slippery cliff is easily overcome by using her scythe as a makeshift mountaineer's grip. She turns around once at the top, leaning her polearm's handle over the edge towards the rest of them. Jaune and Cinder were only a few metres away now. So close. Cinder would sleep like the dead after this.
The sound is so deafening that it momentarily blurs the edges of her vision. A scream so humanlike. She doesn't even have time to ponder what could make such a noise before she feels it. Every fibre of her being screams at her to give up. To give in and betray everything she had ever believed about herself and the world. Her own mind whispering at her to just lay down right there and die. She can't even register the pain in her side from falling off the Knight's shoulder. He was kneeling in the muck, no doubt experiencing the same need to give up as she. Behind him, she sees the Robot face plant right into the mud, not even twitching as it slides to a stop. Cinder could see the origin now—the shambling facade of human shapes huddled together like a nest of insects. A look at Ruby showed the girl wasn't fairing any better, trying desperately to maintain a grasp on her weapon.
The girl's grimaces with anxiety at the sight of the fallen Robot before quickly repositioning to the Knight. A wordless exchange takes place, Jaune nodding in a wordless vow. Cinder is barely keeping her eye open when the Knight once again picks her up, though this time the feeling of relief is short-lived when he tosses her limp body the few remaining metres to the bank. Cinder lets out a huff of annoyance, the sudden excitement at least energising her enough to let her catch her own landing. She quickly grasps the polearm handle, letting Ruby pull her to safety. Cinder lays with her back on the familiar grey sand.
She had made it.
Yet the way Ruby barely acknowledged her told her that she was currently the only one. Silver eyes grew impossibly wide. Cinder had seen the expression before; often times she had been the cause of it herself, but never since the end had she seen the girl so panicked. This was not the first time they had been chewed and torn apart by Grimm. This was not the first time they had been subjected to some horrifying new piece of geography. It wasn't even the first time that a plan had failed so thoroughly. In fact, it seemed every plan they had failed. Cinder understood the reason for the expression when her sight landed on the Knight carrying the unmoving Robot, quickly turning towards what had once been an army of Grimm.
They were melting, the newly created greater Grimm collapsing under their own weight into slooshing pools. The smaller pools rejoin the encroaching wall of liquid that was swallowing everything in its path, smaller Grimm and all. Their two remaining members didn't stand a chance, barely reaching the incline before being engulfed completely by the reformed river. Her mind turned to the brief words she had overheard from Jaune and Ruby's argument on the other side. Her mind settled on one word, trying to cut out Ruby yelling so harshly that her throat might tear.
Seperation.
Cinder knew that, if not for their immortality, this group might have tried to kill one another a dozen times over. She certainly wouldn't have put up with the rotten little Android's attacks if she had had any recourse available. Even those close to each other before the end, she could see now how they looked at each other. Maybe more than just herself had let a stray intruisive thought in. Ruby could hide it all behind a facade of friendliness and determination, but Cinder could see it. The will is fading. And yet, despite the way they irked each other, despite the air of discomfort that permeated even the most peaceful of times, they stuck together. Cinder had to be convinced and coerced into joining their little crusade. She was pivotal to the plan, after all. Yet why would the rest bother? Why did Jaune put up with Ruby despite her constant annoyance? Why did Ruby tolerate the sickness Penny forced on her?
Yet as Cinder stared at the sheer volume of dread painted across the Huntress' face, she could guess why they held so tightly to each other. They had been separated before. The girl had already learned about what happens to the human psyche when subjected to timeless amounts of isolation. This weird mix of hostility and dependency was the result. Anything, even being surrounded by people you hate, was preferable to that. Cinder understood that compromise better than most.
She wouldn't need to experience it again.
A golden light erupts through the surface of the river, burning with enough intensity to pierce the swelling miasma. Jaune had breached the surface, his self-boosted Aura straining desperately to protect him against the flesh-disintegrating properties of the Grimm River. Ruby is on her feet before Cinder can even process what she's seeing; her weapon now positioned out towards the Knight. He swims as effectively as he can with one arm, the other still somewhere beneath the surface. He manages to grip the very edge of the handle.
Cinder can see now that his other hand is holding something steel and skeletal. Penny had been submerged, but she hadn't been lost. Ruby tries with all her might to reel the two back in, but even this small hope is challenged. While the river wouldn't be reforming so soon, the presence of such an intense aura is enough to make it churn, fighting to pull Jaune and Penny back even as Ruby tries her hardest to drag them out.
It is a losing battle. The Knight's groans of effort turn into a sharp cry of pain when his aura finally shatters. Even with his head and torso above the water, everything below is likely being eaten alive. His grip begins to weaken on the shaft as the sensation starts to overwhelm his senses. Tears form in Ruby's silver eyes, the tips of her boots touching the surface as she gives everything in her power to bring them both back to her.
Her silver eyes.
Maybe...
No, the thought is ridiculous. Cinder can do nothing; she is only capable of meekly raising her head to watch the whole terrible thing unfold. It would be inevitable. The two would be lost, the girl would break completely until they were found again and once again, one of their plans fail spectacularly. Like they always did. Just another setback in Cinder's life. Another failure. Like every missed chance at attaining more power. Like how every ally who once swore allegiance to her would, inevitably, turn their backs on her. Break their promises to her. Like how she broke her own promise to never again let herself be controlled and abused by someone above her. To never feel another leash around her throat. Like the failed coup that led to her imprisonment. To her discovery. To her place at the end of the world. Another setback to add to the long list of setbacks that made up the story of her life. Cinder Fall. A name she chose. Tainted by the very first action she took as a free woman.
Hope is not a dream.
The orange haze returns to her eye as she crawls towards Ruby. It struggles to intensify into a true flame, but she knows how to summon it properly. She forgoes her own advice and begins to dwell on baser emotions. She thinks about all the times the annoying Android has assaulted her. Always at random times. Near the hill in that village, a scorching green beam almost tearing her leg from its joint. The look of intense rage that almost seemed to possess the orange-haired automaton rather than emanate from it. Someone else's anger. The dead shouldn't be so bold as to interrupt the lives of the living. Rage builds like a pressure cooker in her stomach. How dare she have to put up with it.
Haze flickers into flame as the emotion overtakes her, her body now laying at the struggling Huntress' side.
She thinks about the long list of betrayals, those she had made pay for their disobedience. The first betrayal, he had been so disgusted with her. She made sure that disgust drained away alongside the light in his brown eyes. And the latest, Emerald—a burst of energy brings her to one knee at the mere thought of the name. Ruby's eyes are already unconsciously glowing at the stolen power's close proximity. Emerald. That damn foolish girl, too weak and stupid to stick to the plan. Always a coward, always running. Cinder made sure to teach her one final lesson: that she was correct to fear, but who she chose to fear was what doomed her. Cinder knew what to fear.
Who to fear.
Salem. The name is pure acid. Her useless stump of a left arm is still twitching when she pictures the bone white woman. So damn pleased to finally have the Staff. No one could have imagined just what the Witch could do with such a weapon. What thousands of years of hatred paired with the ability to create anything could produce. No one ever truly understood her plan or their role in it. Vacuo was an afterthought; everything depended on Atlas. Everything relied on the Staff. Cinder always knew that she would need to betray Salem. One could not be an apex predator in a world without sheep. But the monstrosities that were produced in those last years of the war were enough to accelerate her plans. Enough to accelerate her failure—to be turned to stone by that pathetic pet she kept in the basement.
Cinder is on her feet now, her eyes locked on the girl in red as time seemed to stop. Her one eye's wild, fiery accent was only eclipsed in brightness by Ruby's own bursts of white.
One more push.
She thinks about the endless time they had spent here. How she had arrived. The last thing Cinder remembered was that the world was on the brink of something truly horrifying, and she was a statue. Then one day she was woken up, surrounded by three enemies in some forgotten cave. She couldn't help but grin when she lashed a summoned blade across the Huntress' neck. She expected the wince of pain and the stumble backward. Yet something was missing; where was the shock? That look of pure confusion every dying person had, like they couldn't imagine that reality would ever allow for their own life to end. Instead, she saw amusement, like a babysitter rolling her eyes when her ward disobeyed an order. No one moved to help her, eyes firmly planted on Cinder. Studying her. Then she saw it—the soft white glow. How the hell did they have it? What had happened to Salem? She could feel the question emerging from her barely functioning throat before Knight's blade in her thigh swiftly cut it short. Her own glow told her everything she needed to know. Curiousity fell away as dread set in.
She was immortal. Trapped in hell. Only one person could have put her there.
The final thought pushes her over the edge. Almost vibrating with rage, the flame is an inferno now, she can barely remember what her original plan was through the red fog. She wouldn't get a chance to before an explosion of white fills her entire cone of vision.
Burning is the only way she can describe the sensation engulfing her. Fire had always been a companion to Cinder, true and real, in a world so often filled with chaos. This burning was different; the agony was all too familiar. She had been destroyed by it before. Taken so much taken from her. Even without facing it directly, being in its presence was enough to overwhelm her. She can't get a scream out before collapsing, the final thing fading senses see is an armoured hand grasping a pale white one.
Blackness takes her.
"I didn't think it would be like that!"
The shrill, static-laced voice pierces through the fog, slowly returning Cinder's senses to her prone body. Was that Penny? Even for an automaton attempting to replicate true human behaviour, the way it said it sounded strange. Like someone had turned up its volume. She can hear other words spoken in response, desperate little whispers attempting to be soothing.
Cinder lets her eye flicker open, finally able to take in her surroundings. They were still at the river bank, and from her position, she could see the Knight lying prone like she was. His hands gripped his legs, and his whole body curled in anguish. From beneath his greaves, blackened by the river, comes the familiar white glow. He curls more and more as the light intensifies, his whole body shaking. Then finally, the light stops, and the hulking figure goes limp, sucking back in the mouthfuls of air that the pain had stolen from him.
"I didn't think it would be like that!" It rings out again, perfectly replicated in its sound. She turns her gaze towards its origin, spying Ruby bent over a kneeling Penny, hands on the Robot's shoulders. Ruby had removed her cloak, leaving her in a ratty white satin shirt streaked with filth. She's taken the barely holding together fabric and wrapped it around Penny, the automaton's clothing likely lost in its entirety to the river. Even hidden beneath the cape, Cinder can see light coming through the torn material. The unbelievable anguish of regrowing its entire body didn't even seem to faze the Robot. The being was merely staring at some far-off point with a blank expression. Cinder strains to hear the conversation, managing to make out some of Ruby's frantic replies.
"Penny, don't worry, you're safe-"
"I didn't think it would be like that!"
"Penn-"
"I didn't think it would be like that!" Ruby can't beat out her own wincing to attempt another reply. She shoots a look at Jaune, something unspokenly requested. Jaune responds as he gets to his feet, merely lowering his head and shaking it. The sign of defeat causes Ruby's eyes to squeeze shut, trying to drive some horrid feeling out of herself with a shaky breath. Eyes reopen, missing their usual determination but still filled with some modicum of acceptance. She drags the Robot to her feet, gently wrapping an arm around it and guiding it away from the river.
"I... I-I didn't..." Ruby shushes Penny's stuttering, giving the Robot a squeeze that Cinder thought might have been comforting if the recipient were alive.
An armoured hand grips Cinder by the upper arm, dragging her to her feet. Jaune is with her now, as unreadable as ever. He gestures a hand to her, the motion a familiar question between the two. She shakes her head, her own healing from being engulfed in silver light at least driving away her previous fatigue. She could walk just fine. They move to follow the leading pair, with Cinder once again resuming a position behind him.
She gives a final glance back at the river, too emotionally exhausted from the series of events to bother dwelling on what she had just done to save them. The others don't even seem to acknowledge it, content to be silent for a little while. She watches Jaune's movements grow more and more stiff with each step, a sign that he is done with the situation and reality for the time being. Ahead, Ruby keeps her vision forward, wincing at every sound emanating from the Android in her grasp. A half-hearted 'It's alright' seemingly her only shield as they push ahead. Penny is being dragged more than guided, its vision still locked on some far-off point in the distance. It's mouth the same words without sound, like it has muted itself. Everything in its expression and posture is completely blank and without any illusion to life.
Cinder feels herself hunch over a little, her arm wrapping around her stomach. Making herself a little smaller. So few times was she allowed to feel any sort of power in their current lives. She resents the whole experience for reminding her of something she once had; the ability to draw fear from almost anything that entered her path. To never again feel fear for herself. She didn't choose to be here with them. Forced into this terrible situation and, like always, doing her best to adapt. A twinge of annoyance furrows her brow at the group's silence. She doesn't even understand why she feels the need to say it. A raspy whisper bleeds out into the deathly silence, too caught in her hoarse throat for anyone but her to hear.
"Your welcome..."
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