"Hello grandfather."

Stepping into the somewhat cramped bedroom had quickly reminded Whitley he wasn't in the mansion anymore, and nor was he under the observant eye of his mother and father. Nicholas Schnee, a man too ill to run the business empire he'd started out of communion with the friends he'd kept as a young man, was lying peacefully in his bed.

The single maid at his side presented Whitley a soft smile, before standing and taking her leave, with a bucket of warm water clutched firmly in her hands.

"Whitley my boy, is that you?"

No cameras, no excessive servants, no bickering and scrambling; Dust, not even the halls themselves produced any echoes similar to his home. The Schnee manor was a marble masterpiece of solitary confinement: a home far too big and empty for one family. The servants were all lifeless, doing their jobs diligently as to avoid angering his father. Sterile and clean was everything in that tomb, right at the center of where joy went to die.

But here, at his grandfather's much smaller abode, things were different. Whitley found comfort in the stained wooden walls, and the various photographs and handiwork littering every which way.

Nicholas Schnee, after handing the company over to his daughter and her husband, had settled into a life of retirement. He'd been working on his new home for years, insisting on keeping it reserved. Not one for extreme showboating, he modeled it after the first 'big' house he'd ever created with the family's rising wealth. Back in those days his team was one of five, who'd each split the expenses reasonably between one another, and from that they made their dream homes. Time would pass, and as the company grew they hired more and more staff, eventually falling into the usual price-settings and payment practices of the day, so as to keep up with competition.

The other originators of the Schnee Dust Union, later rebranded to Schnee Dust Company when they grew large enough, had sadly passed away, just as the original version of this house had crumbled to time. But here, in this rebuilt tribute to both that home and the old times, Nicholas Schnee spent his final days as best he could.

"It is." Whitley carefully made his way over, more relaxed than the trip here would have had onlookers believe. Father would make a racket if he'd left without the appropriate number of bodyguards, and so he'd been forced to take a team. Right now though, they were all lounging around the living room on the first floor, leaving Whitley some privacy with his gramps on the second.

The old man smiled, and as his foggy eyes looked over, Whitley did his best not to flinch. Years of mining Dust had come with some negative effects, one of which had been partial vision impairment. Turns out aura can only protect you from so much, and when constantly breathing in the fumes and staring right into the light of raw Dust crystals for years on end, you tended to pick up a few unpleasant side effects as your aura soon grew used to the 'inactivity' of the material, which then had it labeled as a 'non-threat' to the soul's defenses - basically, aura ignored the stuff.

He wasn't quite blind, but Nicholas ended up under the effects of short sightedness. This was one of the more... shall it be said 'tolerable' side effects from working directly with raw Dust crystals without the modern day protections that even Jacques Schnee of all people mandated for his workers; turns out replacing dead Faunus on the daily is more costly than a one time payment to keep them alive and slaving.

Nicholas Schnee reached his arm up from the bed, directed towards the voice he'd heard, and Whitley took it.

"It's good to see you again... err, well, hear from you again; heh heh heh~" And still, despite his dwindling health, the man managed to uphold a smile. "Ah~ So, is there any particular reason you've decided to visit? I don't think we're quite at the holiday season just yet."

"Do I need a reason?" He knew it was just play, but play was best performed by both parties.

"Nope." He popped the p, showing that he'd been having a good day. "But you and your sisters aren't exactly all that hard to predict." He patted his lap. "Alright, lay it on me son: what tickled your fancy today?"

"Please don't say it like that." There he went, making even the most simple of questions sound questionable. Whitley was, as he'd been many times before, met with another jolly jab.

"Well, if you'd bring over a honey to meet me, I might consider cutting you some slack." And here they went again, delving into the personal aspects of his life; although, Whitley couldn't exactly say he was all that mad about it. "Silence eh?" Nicholas shook his head. "I may not be all that good with those, what do those young ones call it these days? TV games?"

"Video games."

"Yes, those." A lighthearted smirk twitched evilly across his lips. "But I have at least some brains left, so believe me, I know for a fact there has to be a few girls who like playing with those toys too; not just the boys."

"There are..." Whitley, though he'd never go so far as to fight fully against his grandfather, wasn't about to be one-upped by someone who couldn't even leave bed by himself. "But the critical thing about relationships is that the couple needs to actively search for a relationship. Not only that, but we'd need to meet with each other as well, and considering users of these 'toys' can play together from all over Remnant- '' or at least they used: with the CCT gone that part of the culture was dead. "It kind of makes it hard to fulfill the second requirement."

"An astute rebuttal, but you forget your grandpappy isn't just your ordinary 'run of the mill' grumpy old man." His grin stretched wide now, and Whitley's was fairly similar; he was having fun with this - they both were. "Aren't there ways to set it so you only play with people in the same kingdom? And, aren't there games where you actively play to meet with other 'lonely players'?"

"There are, but last I checked we were searching for a 'honey' for me, were we not? If I merely wanted a 'toy' I'd ask one of the servants for it."

A round of laughter overcame the geezer, who had to settle down before he could even respond.

"T-they… heh-heh, they don't d-do a very good job of hiding their stuff, huh?" Seeing as he was already gulping down puffs of air, Whitley chose not to choke the man out with a witty one-liner.

"No... although I quite wish they did."

Nicholas regained control of himself, breathing easier as his smile fell to a more reasonable level.

"I bet your father pops his top every time he sees them."

"Sometimes I wonder how you're so accurate with your predictions." Drawing a smirk of his own, Whitley slid the topic along to the rest of his family members; making fun of his father was good, but it was only fair to take some shots at the rest too. "Mother doesn't mind it too much though. Actually, sometimes I question if the rate at which our 'careless' servants spend searching for those lost 'things' has any relation to the amount of 'good days' she has around the house."

Nicholas suppressed a chuckle and shook his head.

"Poor Willow: even as a girl she wasn't exactly good at keeping those things secret." He could say that again; Whitley still had shivers every time he passed by his parents bedroom - ironically, it was a place the two rarely ever shared, but his mother used it enough...

All by her lonesome.

Whitley was about to change the topic onto one of his sisters, but good old Nick still had more to say; it seemed he was in a 'sneaky' mood, and ready to reveal secrets of his daughter. Did the boy have any right to hear about his mother's poor records of keeping her 'nighttime' choices private, or better yet, did he even want to know? Probably not, to both questions really, but having more dirt on anyone always made it fun to tease them when the time came; usually, he'd use such information for blackmail, but this was his family - he hated their guts... but he still loved them too.

"I could have knocked on her door at any point while growing up, or brought it up over dinner in front of her mother, but she was such a lonely little doll, so it didn't feel right to do, even if it was a little bit of teasing." He chuckled again. "But seeing as she's a grown woman now, the next time I see her I'll be having a sturdy talk about not leaving your 'naughty items' out where an impressionable young lad can find them; especially her own son."

"And yet you talk about getting me a 'honey'." Crossing his arms, Whitley spat out his own chuckle. "A little hypocritical on your part, is it not?"

"But of course~" Grandfather and grandson both sat in silence... for about five seconds, before bursting out. It had been a long, long time since he'd had a genuine laugh, and coupled with the 'good' player he'd fought, Whitley could honestly say he was having a positive streak.

"You've got her spice in you, and her wits too; at least when it comes to anything but how she spends the night." His happy laughter died down a little, and it was then Whitley knew the fun had fallen off. "Back before we fell for that pompous snake."

And so, the arrow of topic landed squarely on Jacques Schnee again. Truthfully, the boy was pleasantly surprised they managed to go this far into the visit without getting bitter about his dad, but like the routine cycle of night and day, the sun needed to eventually set as the dark made its way.

"Yeah..." Not really knowing how to change the subject, Whitley decided it was best to just let his grandfather get what he wanted off his chest; it usually worked out better for them anyway.

"His deceptive tongue was always laced with sugar, even as a boy, and with your mother being so reserved from the other children during her schooling days, he had no issues writing his name into her diary." Nicholas leaned back on the bed with a remorseful sigh. "But... I suppose I was no better. I thought she'd finally made a friend, and who could blame us all, really? He paired himself up with her whenever he was around, always nodding along with what she said and sticking up for her when others cast their doubts her way."

Whitley had heard this story an endless number of times before, but like each and every one before, there was something new added: a secret he'd been ignorant of before.

"I was there when he first won her eyes, you know? She'd just given her speech that night to the investors about how she believed they could expand deeper into Vale; Willow practically begged me for weeks on end to set up that meeting." Nicholas, for the first time in this conversation, spoke not with sadness, but instead regret. "I was such a fool: I should have never let her give that speech."

"What happened?" He'd never heard about a speech before.

"They declined her, downright tore the idea apart." The elderly man sighed. "The look of shock and disbelief on her face was an awful sight. A part of me wanted to leap in and save her, to at least get her out with some of her dignity intact. Her detractors had no right being as crass and rude as they were: it was completely unprofessional, and I wasn't about to stand for it. Unfortunately, I never got the chance to say my piece, and I'm sure you can guess why."

"Father." Right as the word slithered its way from his tongue, Whitley saw his grandpa's sullen nod.

"As he had about a hundred times before back at the start of college, the deceitful bastard stood up for her. Like a wall of steel he not only defended her claims, but ricocheted the investors' own points right back at them, tearing down their weak arguments like a dusty old cobweb." Nicholas had a twinkle in his eye. "Back in those days I thought he was the pinnacle of what a man should be; no different than my father, or even - if I may be so bold - myself. I bought his lies for so long..."

"And then he pulled the rug." Whitley finished his story for him. "He got what he wanted by marrying mother, and he swept all his filth from under the mat for all to see."

"He was head of the company now, as I'd made him while I still believed he cared." The elder Schnee stuttered with his next admittance. "I... I made a grave mistake in choosing him over my own daughter. I thought he'd watch over her, protect her..." And yet again, another sigh came from his lips. "But she never needed protection. Willow was a strong young woman, and she was more than capable of defending herself; I was just too scared to let her."

Without anything to really add to it, Whitley just straightened his posture, contemplating how this new piece of info could factor into the other atrocious shit his father had committed himself to.

But then, he saw the small smile on his grandfather's lips.

"But if any good were to come of it, I'd say it was you and your sisters." He clenched his blankets tightly, and Whitley realized the man was losing himself in this apparent 'silver lining'. Whitley himself didn't think of it as a silver lining, but he wasn't so much a cynic as to actively debate his dying grandfather on this.

And so, he let the man say his piece.

"You've got all of her bite, all her smarts, all her skills, and most importantly: all of her determination." The withered face of a once sturdy giant twisted with ease, and while the skin looked to bend against the bones beneath, it never once split. "Jacques may have the company now, but it will be you and your sisters who inherit and uphold its legacy; not him."

Nicholas Schnee, although mostly skin and bone at this point, still stretched his arm back out towards his younger grandson, all the while his hope for the future, a better future than one would initially assume, ran raw across his tongue.

"You all carry within yourselves the legacy of the Schnee family, the true Schnee family: those who forged their skills in the service of others, as opposed to themselves. We are the shadows who watch over the frozen nights, so that others may bask in the warmth of their fires."

Taking his grandfather's hand, Whitley recited the reply he'd given each and every time they had this final conversation, and though Nicholas would not remember it, Whitley himself would; he always did.

"I know."

.

.

"How the hell am I supposed to feel!"

Yang's reaction was wholly natural, and while Weiss could understand that, it didn't mean her eardrums could survive another beating courtesy of her fiery teammate's voice.

Waking up a little later in the afternoon had been a somewhat relieving surprise. What was not comforting however was the absence of their leader. They'd woken up once earlier, but they'd all been so tired they couldn't recall what exactly was happening, only that Ruby herself stepped out.

Weiss figured she'd gone to the washroom or something, but that idea was quickly scrapped almost instantly when the second, more palatable awakening revealed their leader was still gone.

"Sheesh!" Roman Torchwick certainly wasn't helping things either, especially with how he was speaking. "I'm not saying you shouldn't be worried, but try not to kill the rest of us with your screaming!"

"Well maybe I want to scream! Huh, have you ever thought of that?!"

The thief responded in a way that was both expected... and probably pissed Yang off even more: shaking his head and sucking on that stupid cigar. The blonde one never paid him any mind past that, instead hovering over Ruby's unconscious body. At the very least, Dr. Polendina was nice enough to call them up and explain what happened, right in the middle of a late lunch.

Pair that with having to wait for one of the ships down to Mantle to free up, and you have quite the catastrophe; they should have been able to take any old ship, but seeing as they were trying to keep Mantle's anger on the minimum, Winter informed them to tough it out. Atlas ships suddenly moving down would stir up rumors, and probably not nice ones. It infuriated Yang worst of all, but the doctor's calm reassurances were enough to at least placate the then flaming woman.

It was dark out now, and many hours had passed waiting for transport, but they had finally arrived.

Yang's fury seemed to sizzle out a little as she looked at the strangely peaceful face of her sleeping sister, and the rage took a back seat as she leaned down to attempt a partial hug.

"Has she truly never seen one before?"

And then there was the ex-terrorist: Saw.

"No." Weiss chose to answer, seeing as Yang was hovering over Ruby with Blake at her side. "We'd only heard stories from V."

"Strange..." He could say that again.

Taking a closer look at the man, Weiss observed his uncovered face. For a terrorist, he was oddly youthful; not to the point of outright baby-face, but close enough that she could honestly believe he'd be ID'd while buying alcohol or cigarettes. But while his face looked young, both the way he held himself and the air surrounding him spoke of a lifetime. This was a man who'd seen it all.

And he was looking right at Ruby with nothing but a restrained sense of caution.

Did that mean he was worried for her safety? Did he not actually care, and was more curious of what the obelisk did to her? Weiss couldn't say which was true, or if both shared the answer. What she could say, however, was that he didn't look at them with contempt; not even her. Well... that wasn't quite true; Weiss could see he was most certainly uncomfortable with her around, but it wasn't in quite the hateful fashion she was used to.

Perhaps he was more tolerant than she believed... or, she was making things up to avoid another 'Adam' situation.

Dust dammit.

And there she went again, slipping every little detail related to the Fang back to him. It had been so easy before just to assume she saw the White Fang as separate from Adam Taurus himself. But now, no matter how many times she buried it, Weiss always found a way to at least think about him. It wasn't all consuming like she'd previously believed it would be during that fatal moment where she took his life, but it still lingered.

Truthfully, killing the man was almost relieving in a way: she'd put her oldest friend to rest, free from life's cruelties.

Did this make her a bad person? Probably, but at this point she was willing to do, say, and think whatever it took to keep the bad thoughts from consuming her. They had all been through enough drama already, and while she wasn't sure about everyone else, Weiss was more than ready to snuff it out any chance she got. Because if she didn't...

They all just might get used to it.

Author's note

…

Here we are, back again.

So we have a laid back chapter, but honestly, we managed to get something of value from it, even if it was just character development. So Nicholas Schnee is a bed-ridden dead-man; not a proud angle I must say, but a compelling one. With any luck, I managed to give him a little bit of life, but that's up to you to decide.

The team is with Ruby now… but she still isn't awake: I wonder why?

Anyway, that's all for now. See you next chapter.