Contrary to popular belief, Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie were not romantically involved. Not joined at the hip. They did not share a mind, were not two diametrically opposed parts of a whole.

He did not know what happened last night. He'd slept soundly through it. But from the looks of things, as they'd traveled today, Nora and the strange being they'd encountered had held a conversation of some sort. They'd argued. There was some fundamental disagreement between them that tainted their (admittedly limited) interactions.

Ren and Nora disagreed on many things. None so thoroughly as to drive them apart. He was interested, though polite enough not to pry when Ruby had asked him not to. The exact head of this operation was still somewhat up in the air, but he trusted the leader of Team RWBY enough to respect her opinion. He'd intended to spend the night in meditative silence. The ink-based being's quiet dripping was actually aiding him in that regard. Relaxing.

Now, though. He'd been asked a question. It would be rude not to respond.

But what were they interested in? "Tell me about your world" was not a specific query. Remnant was vast. How to sum it up in a single conversation? Its history alone could go on for days, as shown by Doctor Oobleck's entire premise as a teacher. He needed to think about it.

Eventually, slowly, Ren started to respond. A tentative answer with the hopes that his conversation partner would elaborate

"...Apologies. Nora and I were not formally educated. You would be better asking someone else about our history, politics, economics. Most of my experience with Remnant is street-level. About the outskirts of the Kingdoms."

Only half a lie. He had an interest. But not the fluency to speak on the matter.

"I would prefer that. I was a resident of the Backstreets. History means nothing to me. Tell me about your world. About yourself."

The Backstreets… Ren guessed that was their world's equivalent of Mistral Below. Or Mantle. Slums? Outside the Kingdoms? No, streets implied a city setting. Different than the Anima wilderness.

He still needed to answer the question.

"Well," Ren slowly started, thinking about the context he'd need to provide, "I originally grew up outside the Kingdoms. In a small Mistral village called Kuroyuri, to two loving parents. It was a beautiful place."

Ren wasn't sure how. But he kept his tone calm. His breath didn't hitch. His eyes didn't open. His voice remained steady. And he continued:

"It was nice. A good childhood. But if you are familiar with the Grimm…"

He paused. But his one-sided conversation partner gave no indication of an answer to the implied question. Having no knowledge of whether or not the Nora-proclaimed "Inky" was, in fact, familiar with Grimm, Ren nonetheless continued.

"...They don't discriminate. When I was five…"

Now this. Ren had regrets. He did not feel comfortable discussing this topic. Which made him all the more inane for starting his story here.

…He should have refused! He should have talked about literally anything else. His time spent traveling with Nora. Those memories were almost pleasant. Or his time in Vale, at Beacon. Bittersweet, thanks to Pyrrha, but still sweet! It didn't help that, if he understood their route correctly, they would be getting closer and closer to Kuroyuri by the day. And he'd learned, in Port's Grimm Studies class. That Nuckalvees were slow to find new hunting grounds, infamous for haunting the scenes of their massacres for decades, accumulating trophies of the slain and retreated.

He knew, deep in his soul, he'd have to face that nightmare again.

Of his friends, Nora was the only one who knew what had happened and where. But she didn't understand. She had no attachment to Kuroyuri. Her parents hadn't been there. Up until Beacon, all the family she'd lost, they'd chosen to leave her. They hadn't been stripped away by circumstance, slaughtered just to keep him safe, their people safe.

And he knew. Even though his team was undeniably good, for Huntsman trainees, maybe even for Huntsmen. Even though he was no longer the scared little boy he'd once been, only able to hide and run.

They weren't ready. He wasn't ready.

"It ended in tragedy. It always ends in tragedy, does it not."

The being's comment brought Ren's attention to the fact that he had been sitting in silent agony for more than a minute now. And being aware of that fact filled Ren with a deep sense of shame. They were in the middle of the Anima wilderness, for goodness' sake. He might as well start bullying small children or wounding soldiers. They'd be equally good ways of drawing Grimm as feeling sorry for himself and moping over the past.

Ren needed to focus in order to use his Semblance. In his current state, it felt like reaching through molasses to turn a radio dial, but he managed. As gray overtook his features, so too did his face return to a placid expression, his emotions becoming little more than a distant phosphene, flickering yet unable to be touched.

"Always… I wouldn't say always," he responded. "It was how I met Nora. I wouldn't give that up lightly."

Activating his Semblance didn't just change his physical appearance, coloring him and his Aura in shades of gray. It helped him look back, as well. His history became less colorful and bright. Less glaringly painful to look at. And more like a black and white movie, a cinematic that he could view objectively. Once again: like a phosphene.

"You..." the typewriter person across from him ground out. "What was that...? Your colors..."

A reasonable question. "My Semblance," Ren answered. "I call it Tranquility. It dampens emotions and makes me and those I touch invisible to the Grimm."

"Semblance...?"

Ah. That would be... harder to explain concisely.

"Every person on Remnant has a Semblance," He started to explain. "If your Aura is unlocked, you might eventually develop it and be able to use it. Some say that each person's Semblance is a reflection of their soul, who they are on the inside. Others say that they hold no deeper meaning and are simply random. Nora's, for example, allows her to channel electricity directly into her muscles, boosting her strength. Meanwhile, Jaune hasn't unlocked his at all."

The change in topic was calming in its own right. Ren slowly started letting up on his Semblance, allowing colors to return to his sight and body. The slow trickle of emotions that came with was quite manageable, now.

"You use your Semblance... to cope. Negative emotions... gone without a trace. How fortunate," they said. And if Ren was judging correctly, there was a hint of... jealousy? Was that right?

"I can't deny it has its uses," Ren admitted, opening his eyes and taking in the dripping loom in front of him. Seemed like they drifted farther away from him while his eyes were closed. "But in terms of combat... it doesn't help much. As a Huntsman, while my goal is, first and foremost, to protect, that usually involves slaying Grimm rather than drawing people away from them. A Semblance like Ruby's, her Petal Burst granting her speed and ability to turn on a dime, is much more suited to this kind of work."

"Your parents perished," the typewriter-person abruptly said.

Ren scowled. He had just managed to get his mind off the topic.

"Slain by Grimm. Grimm are not of humanity... correct?"

"Yes," Ren bit out. "They are the enemy of all mankind. But I don't see why-"

Typewriter continued, refusing to wait for Ren's protest. "Then their deaths were seen by the Will of the City, as all things are. But they were not wished for. You hold no responsibility. You should be glad."

Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie were not joined at the hip. But it would be a lie to say they did not have an understanding, that they did not know each other better than words could describe. And he was starting to understand just why Nora had been so frustrated yesterday. If this alien visitor with its alien mindset had been this unimaginably tactless.

He could now see clearly, in his mind's eye, Nora trying to cheer up the black-stained visitor from another world. And he could almost hear the backhanded compliment, or accidental criticism. She would have kept trying, he guessed, but she had her limits of patience. And not particularly high ones. Her almost literally storming off in a huff, followed by her attitude for their day of travel. Yes, he could see it. It was happening to him as they spoke.

Rationally, he could acknowledge them, if only barely. If he was hearing correctly, that this was some insane attempt at encouragement, consolation. But he could not respond in kind.

"I can't agree. The Grimm are not just a fact of life. They are not an inevitability, not the future, not a natural disaster we humans can do nothing but hide and run from."

Ren was not known for being a chatterbox. He knew was speaking far more than usual. But he could not stay silent on this.

"I was powerless when they struck my home. I could only protect myself and Nora. I could do nothing but activate my Semblance and watch, as they killed my neighbors, my peers, and my parents."

Their screams, his father's desperate stand to save even one person. And the fear in Nora's eyes.

"So don't tell me I 'wasn't responsible.' I did nothing to help."

"What could you have done at five years old?..." the typewriter person argued. "Even now, you are all only children…"

…This kind of thing would have been Ruby's forte, Ren reflected. Inspiration came naturally to her. When the time was right, words would flow out of her mouth like water from a faucet. And her point would be made, or her battle won. Ren wasn't like that. Words, speaking from the heart, was difficult for him. And yet, he felt as if he needed to try anyway.

Gods knew how Ruby would react to being called a child at this junction. He needed to defend her red-cloaked honor in her stead, and so he thought about what she would say.

"This world…the Grimm don't care if you are a child or not. When bandits and slavers saw me and Nora, they didn't see targets. They saw easy prey, money pouches. We survived, somehow. But we should have been training long before it ever came to that. We all should have been preparing. Even if we didn't know it, didn't care, we had a responsibility. To help ourselves, and others.

"And ever since then, we have been training to become Huntsmen. So that no one else would have to go through what we did."

Ren thought he'd summarized his thoughts quite well. Unfortunately, it clearly was not enough to change the typewriter-being's mind.

"How can you still believe in Huntsmen—heroes? They have failed you where it counts. They always do. They do not exist."

It was at this very moment that Ren realized something that reframed this entire conversation. The person across from him was not simply observing and responding. They were not truly an 'inkbot', as Nora had called them, following pre-programmed responses or responding to set stimuli.

They were projecting.

Ren had not provided enough detail about his family for them to make that deduction. He had not mentioned the Huntsmen, or lack thereof. And this explained why they kept responding, when they did not have any reason to. This conversation was provoking them to speak as much as it was provoking him to respond.

…If that was the case, then Ren was willing to be the bigger man here. Figuratively; they towered over him. And it was clear at this point, that his attempts to emulate Ruby Rose's speech was not going well. He was better at being succinct, concise.

So after a moment of thought, with furrowed brow and closed eyes, he finally decided on his last response for the night.

"Haven't you met Ruby Rose?"

The typewriter person did not respond, save for an intensification in dripping ink.

…Their face had no expression, only a magically floating lock. And he did not have the ability to magically read thoughts or emotions. So he could not be sure. But he suspected that they were thinking it over.

Come to think of it, they had spent many hours with Ruby on watch, during their first night here. Perhaps they'd had a conversation very similar to this one. Had she made such a good impression? Ren had been paying far more attention to Nora than their nominal leader, trying to determine the cause of her sudden shift in attitude and enthusiasm.

Whatever the case… Ren could certainly agree with her on one thing.

Inky was a real downer.

In some ways, the young man reminded him of Esther. The shapes of their faces were different, not to mention their ages. But the way they kept their hair, their consistent serenity and faith, even, he suspected, the way they wielded their dual weapons. Not so similar to be uncanny. But similar enough to be notable.

To… practice swordplay five hours a day until you break a bone. Do not treat it until twenty one days have passed.

But that would be a lie, wouldn't it. Rip off the haze of gray. Pull back the void.

No. The young man reminded him of himself, before all… this. There had been a time when he had it all, or so it had seemed. But it was all stripped away. Cursing the past, he resolved to change things for the better.

The difference between them: Ren had not yet realized that his life and premise were built on a lie.

Or was it that he, himself, had given up too soon?

Truthfully, he felt as if Ren had misinterpreted his statement, much like Nora before him. He had not meant to say that the boy was not responsible for his family's deaths on a moral, existential level. No, he had meant it more literally. Ren had not taken a sword and nailed their chests to the nearest wall. He had not had to watch the life bleed out of their eyes, the despair and wrath at the betrayal they'd suffered. And he had not had to know that, ultimately, their deaths had been wished for by the City itself. Truly, in this manner, the boy clad in green was luckier than himself.

He was fortunate in so many more ways, in fact. He had the luxury of companions, loving and caring. His tragedies had not been carried out by his own two hands. The blood he'd shed, all belonged to those that he'd genuinely wished malice upon. If only he'd had Ren's circumstances, his willpower…

He needed to remember himself. There couldn't be such a thing as unfairness. The will of the City's discretion was absolute. The jealousy was unnecessary.

He had always been a questioning person, back then. He thought Distorting had cured him of that. Asking questions had only ever led to answers after all, and those were only ever unpleasant. But it seems not. The similarities Ren had hinted at had brought out his inquisitive side. He was backsliding.

Frontsliding?

…He would not have made that joke before. He would not have even thought it. But the proper word was 'developing.'

Denying it, at this point, was futile. That these young children, with their determination and heroism and love for each other and humanity as a whole, were inspiring. The mindset of the City had not seeped into them specifically, even if he remained certain that humanity, as a collective, remained cruel no matter where they settled. But he'd been acting in futility long before he'd gotten here, so he did not feel bad about continuing.

That being said, he couldn't help but wonder if it was still possible for him to… he didn't know. Change? If he returned to the City, the Prescripts would remain as oppressive as ever. Especially given his briefly-exercised ability to hear them, always and forever. But would he return to being a Messenger? Return to being simply an instrument of the will of the City? Of the Index?

A mere three days ago, his answer would have been certain.

During the following day's travel, they encountered a slight incident on the road. Massive creatures burst out of the dense thicket, black and white with glowing red eyes. The Grimm that Ren had mentioned the previous night. They roared to intimidate. And the children moved forward to intercept, Ruby yelling for him to stay back.

He obliged. And in doing so, received a clear, uninhibited view of each of them fighting.

Ruby showed why she was the leader, charging ahead and slaying a third of the monsters in a single whirling strike, then going on to dispatch another pair with smooth, flowing swings of her massive scythe. Nora and Ren followed close behind, crushing skulls with thunderous blows and quiet strafing. Her raw strength was matched by his speed and dexterity.

And then there was Jaune. He trailed at the back of their formation, sword and shield held in a competent stance. But he barely acted. Barely moved. Quite unlike the rest of his teammates, who leapt into action at the first sign of trouble. And it did not take long to see why, when a wolf-like Grimm pounced at him: he nearly folded. His arms buckled under the monster's weight, and it took him a moment to get it off so that he could stab it. In that same period of time, Ruby had already slain the largest, meanest-looking wolf Grimm, and Nora and Ren had begun cleaning up stragglers.

In the time it took for his three teammates to slay the entire rest of the pack, Jaune slew a total of three Grimm. Each one, a struggle. It had been such a pitiful sight, he'd almost considered stepping in.

It made it all the more surprising that his team trusted him to keep watch for the night. As Jaune bid his team good night, he watched his face slowly fall, trusting smile drifting away second by second. By the time Ren finished slipping inside his bedding, his face was set into a grim frown.

Jaune kept him in his sight as he ensured all of his teammates were asleep. Then, silently, he gestured for him to follow and moved away from their campsite. Seeing no particular reason to refuse, he drifted along.

Upon reaching Jaune's favored position, the boy leaned down, placing a strange electronic device in the hollow of a tree stump. It turned out to be some kind of video player, showing a red-headed young lady.

"Alright, Jaune, just like we practiced. Follow these instructions. Shield up."

The boy did. And he saw what was going on here.

Practice.

For a while, the only sound was that of the girl's voice, giving instructions, playing a speech of how grateful she was to be by his side, then looping. Jaune clearly had them memorized. He did not need the girl to tell him to do this anymore. Yet, he had set up the video player for a reason.

Sentimentality?

Eventually, the boy did speak.

"So… what's your deal?"

A/N: Writing Ren is hard. For all that he's generally given the characterization of 'the quiet guy who balances out Nora', looking at him with a fine lens reveals a whole host of issues, exacerbated by the fact that we are dead set in the middle of Volume 4 of RWBY and the finale is not far around the corner.

One more chapter left. And then… epilogue.

Many many thanks to The Alt-Center for helping me beta this chapter.

Ren's Page

HP: 98 (53)

SR: 98 (53)

Ranged: Can use Ranged Combat Pages.

Speed: Speed Dice Slot +1. (Cannot Overlap)

Aura: Damage resistances remain "Immune" until Staggered, at which point they return to normal for the remainder of the reception. Stagger Resist is not recovered if an Act ends.

Stormflower: When using a page with 3 or more non-Counter dice, all dice on the page gain +1 Power and deal +1 Stagger damage.

Tranquility: Opponents clashing with this character generate no Emotion Coins.

Deck:

(1) Quiet Strafe (Ranged)
- On Use: Draw 1 page.
- 2-6 Pierce
- 3-6 Pierce
- 2-6 Pierce

(2) Flower Power (Ranged)
 - Combat Start: If an ally is playing a page with the same name, all Offensive dice on this page inflict 2 Fragile this Scene on hit.
 - 4-6 Pierce
 - 3-7 Pierce
- 4-6 Evade