Dim late afternoon light filtered through the curtains, gently rousing Zeffre from her slumber. She lay sprawled on a mattress in the living room, clad in navy-blue pajamas, amidst the disarray of her small apartment – dirty dishes stacked around her makeshift bed, a stubborn stain marring the varnished wood floor. It was a silent testament to the chaotic, solitary life she had led in Vale since her arrival two weeks ago.
With a groan, Zeffre heaved herself up. Her movements were slow, heavy with sleep. She dragged herself towards the bathroom, feeling the room's cool air clash with the snug warmth of her bed. Pushing open the bedroom door, she spared a glance at her collection. The room was bare except for a large tarp spread on the floor, protecting the varnish from her pile of loot. There lay her haul from those overdressed gangsters – a chaotic mix of red swords, various guns, haphazardly acquired explosives, some holographic phone things called Scrolls, and the pièce de résistance: something resembling a Tommy gun. She chuckled to herself, recalling her initial reaction, 'Seriously? A Tommy gun? I get the idea of convergent evolution, but this is just ridiculous.'
Reaching the sink, she turned on the faucet, the sound of rushing water filling the small space. Cupping her hands under the stream, she gathered the cold water and splashed it onto her face. The shock of the chill helped wake her up, with tiny rivulets cascading down her cheeks. Leaning heavily against the countertop, she raised her gaze to meet her reflection. Half-lidded, blue eyes, framed by strands of disheveled hair, stared back at her.
With a tired smile to her own reflection she ambled back to the living room, stepping over a rifle. Her stomach grumbled a reminder to her that she was, in fact, hungry. Groaning, she went to check her mini-fridge, a brand new addition to her sparse apartment, to see what was left. Some bottles of soda, ice cream, cheese… 'I could just order some food', she thought to herself as she stared at the barren fridge. 'I could also just go back to sleep… that'd be nice.' The thought lingered as she contemplated if it would be worth it to eat the ice cream and suffer the consequences later. Her musing was cut short by a knock at the door.
Scowling, Zeffre kicked the mini-fridge door shut and strode to answer the door. "Who the hell is…" Her irritation faded, replaced by a warm smile as she opened the door. "Oh! Good morning, Ms. Nancy," she greeted, her mood lifting at the sight of her landlady.
Standing before her was Ms. Nancy, her fawn ears twitching slightly in amusement at Zeffre's surprised greeting. Her graying hair, once a deep brown, was pulled back into a neat bun, revealing the gentle lines of experience on her face. Her eyes, a soft brown that seemed to hold depths of kindness, crinkled at the corners as she smiled.
Ms. Nancy's attire was simple yet neat, a floral-patterned dress paired with sensible shoes, and around her neck hung a modest gold locket. She was holding a foil-covered plate.
"Good afternoon, dear. You're just waking up, aren't you?" Ms. Nancy's voice carried a light, teasing note.
"What? No, I just... lost track of time, is all," Zeffre replied, shifting to obscure the mess behind her.
Ms. Nancy extended the plate. "I thought you might like a home-cooked meal. Made some mashed potatoes and meatloaf."
Accepting the plate gratefully, Zeffre's spirits lifted. "Thank you, ma'am. That sounds amazing right now."
"How's the apartment? It was spotless when you moved in."
Zeffre face scrunched up as she tried to remember, 'Do I even own a fork?'
"It's perfect, really. Got myself a TV and this mattress, so I'm all set."
Ms. Nancy nodded her head, "That's good to hear. Did you get a box spring and a frame for your bed?"
"Uhh…"
"Zeffre."
"It's fine, really. I'm used to it," Zeffre reassured her as she sheepishly scratched the back of her head.
"Well, alright then. Enjoy your 'breakfast,'" Ms. Nancy said, her voice warm yet tinged with a light amount of teasing.
Blushing, Zeffre felt a rare moment of embarrassment. "I'll wash and return your plate tomorrow, promise.", she said drawing a X across her chest with her right hand.
"That's fine, dear. Take care now."
"You too, ma'am."
As Ms. Nancy walked away, Zeffre looked down at the plate in her hands, her eyes tracing the contours of the foil cover. A wave of unexpected warmth washed over her. 'A home-cooked meal, huh? How long has it been since I had one of those?' she mused silently, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips. Memories of simpler times, perhaps from a life that felt like it belonged to someone else, flickered in her mind.
'Mashed potatoes and meatloaf...' Her thoughts drifted momentarily to a different kitchen, a different time, where a familiar voice walked her through the steps of a 'secret family meatloaf recipe.' The memory was vivid, filled with the comforting aromas of cooking and the sound of gentle laughter. It was a recipe she knew by heart, yet seldom had the occasion to use.
'Hell yeah!' Her smile grew a fraction wider as she walked back into her apartment, considering the pros and cons of fishing a plastic fork out of the trash.
The late afternoon sun dipped low, draping long shadows across the cobblestones of the bustling plaza. Amidst the throng, Zeffre meandered, her gaze flitting from one merchant cart to another. The air was rich with the mingling aromas of sweets and baked goods, punctuated by the metallic tang of weaponry from adjacent stalls. Dressed down from her usual armor, she melded seamlessly into the crowd. Her attire—a light blue t-shirt peeking out from beneath a wine-red jacket—added a vibrant dash to the day's palette. Each step set her blue skirt fluttering, a dance of fabric over the sturdy black boots and thigh-high socks that lent her a look both casual and deliberate. Circling her waist, a large belt clasped a scabbard, a silent testament to her sword and the adventures it had seen.
In her left hand, she carried a bag filled with Scrolls she hoped to sell, while her right hand was preoccupied with a weapon she 'found'. It was a red and black pistol which, at the press of a button, transformed into a long dagger with a red blade. She had acquired it about a week ago, and despite having dismantled and reassembled it multiple times, she still didn't fully understand how it worked. For now, she contented herself with fidgeting with it, flipping it between its dagger and pistol forms as she walked, the metallic clicks adding a rhythmic undertone to her steps. The lack of peculiar looks from the people told her that such weapons were not uncommon.
Making her way through the thinning crowd, Zeffre approached a stall manned by a man in a buttoned-up shirt and glasses, his brown hair neatly combed. The stall was lined with various mobile devices, a large selection of Scrolls prominently displayed.
"Hi!", Zeffre chirped, still clicking the knife-pistol hybrid.
For a second the man furrowed his brow at her toggling the weapon before he fell back into the role of a salesman. "Good afternoon young lady. How can I help you today?", he asked as he put on a brilliant smile.
"I was wondering if you also bought used Scrolls?", she asked, smiling back.
The puzzled look came back. "Uh… Well, yes actually. I can buy an old used Scroll from you if you have one", he said before going back to smiling. "Did you just get an upgrade and want to sell your old one?"
"You could say something like that. What about all of these?" She said, before placing the bag down on the countertop. Confused the man opened the bag and his eyes widened in light shock.
"Uhh… Miss? There are over a dozen Scrolls in this bag."
"Yep."
"… Do you mind if I ask where you got them?"
"Yep."
"…"
"Miss I can't buy these from you", the man said, frowning as he placed the bag back on the table.
"What? Why not?", Zeffre asked, trying her best to act as innocent as possible.
"Because I might have reason to believe that these Scrolls are stolen", the man said frowning.
Placing her hand above her heart Zeffre took a dramatic step back. "Stolen? My good sir I'll let you know that I have never stolen a single thing in my entire life", she lied.
The man gave a non-committal hum as he crossed his arms over his chest. "I'm sorry miss, but unless you can give me a good explanation, with documentation, as to where these Scrolls came from, I cannot buy them from you."
"I can."
Both looked to the right of the stall and found another similar stall, but this one had a cover shading the stall itself. The man behind this stall was wearing a long black cloak and hood, with a white mask covering his face. Even the light around his stall seemed to be darker than the surrounding market. 'How the hell did I miss you', Zeffre wondered to herself.
"Excuse me sir, but you can't just… wait when did she", the man in the glasses trailed off after noticing that Zeffre had already grabbed the bag and was at the other stall.
The mask looked into the bag before humming. "I'll give you 100,000 lien for the lot."
From what Zeffre knew that sounded like a lot, but then again from the prices she just saw at the other stall she knew that was a lowball offer. "Make it 200,000 and they're yours."
"Listen, Kid, I'm going to need to put in a lot of work to move this much hot product. 100,000."
"A lot of work? Please. A little reformatting and data scrubbing with a smidge of maintenance, and you're golden. Besides, who said these were hot?" Zeffre replied, her eyes narrowing slightly at the mask.
The man in the mask chuckled, his voice raspy and thick, "Fair enough. But still, it will take time to sell this many 'legitimate' Scrolls. Tell you what? Let's split the difference and say 150,000 lien. Deal?" he asked, holding out his hand.
She really didn't even need the money. "Deal", she said, gripping the mans gloved hand tightly and giving a firm shake.
Walking out into the cool early night air Zeffre smiled to herself. Today so far had been pretty great; she had a connection to sell her 'merchandise' to, got some more money, and had a bag of takeout in her hand. 'I'll probably stay in tonight. Treat myself', she thought, mouth already watering at the stir fry she had in the bag.
The sidewalks were mostly empty save for a few people as night had settled in over the city. Still playing with her dagger-gun Zeffre walked back to her apartment, considering what she might watch tonight. Maybe a horror movie? As she was looking down considering her options someone walked into her.
"Heyyy kid, watch… uh… watch where you're walking.", the stranger said with a slight slur to his speech.
Taking a step back Zeffre looked the man over. He had windswept hair, faded red eyes, and a slight amount of stubble on his jawline. He was wearing a formal outfit with dress pants, and a grey dress shirt with… a tattered cloak? Why did this man have a massive white-grey longsword on his back? Wait. 'Watch it'?
"What do you mean 'watch it'? You walked into me", she said, slightly annoyed by this weird drunk.
"Nu uh. I was *hic* just walkin' down this fair sidewalk when *hic* you and your friend walked into me", he said while casually taking a sip from a flask she didn't see him pull out.
"Wait what friend? We're the only two people on this sidewalk right now."
"What?" The man then leaned over and squinted at Zeffre, his breath reeking of alcohol. "Well I'll be dammed, you might be right kid… huh."
Zeffre took a step back, trying to get some fresh air. Looking at the man's sword her annoyance melted away into curiosity. The black handle was wrapped in a deep crimson, providing a nice contrast to the white of the blade. 'What do those gears do', she silently wondered. "You have a really cool sword", she said absently, mind already forgetting how they began talking.
The man scrunched up his face for a moment, looking confused at her statement before a flash of realization crossed his face. "Oh, you mean Harbinger", he said before casually reaching behind his back and unhooked the blade with deceptive ease.
Now that she could get a better look at it Harbinger was one of the most beautiful weapons Zeffre had ever seen. Along the blade there were markings, and even in the dim light of the streetlights she could see that the blade was segmented.
"Woah. Does it transform into something", she asked, a slight amount of reverence in her voice despite her best efforts.
"Yeah", he said before taking a long draught from his flask.
"…", 'How much liquid is in that flask?' Zeffre was starting to get slightly annoyed again. "Uh, could you tell me what it transforms into", she asked, trying to make her voice as sweet as possible.
"I could."
'Okay, this guy is just annoying', she thought, her false smile dropping from her face and replaced with an annoyed scowl. "Will you tell me what it transforms into", she asked, trying her best to not say it through gritted teeth.
"Nope."
Zeffre sighed and closed her eyes. 'Just walk away Zeffre, this drunk isn't worth dealing with. Just go home, and have a nice evening in. You can watch horror movies all cozy in your bed, eating stir fry. Just let it go…' she said to herself, her body relaxing as she realized that it was fine. She can just go.
As her eyes were closed the man poked her on the forehead, saying "Yoohoo, hey kid, are you still awake or is it past your bedtime."
Nope. She wasn't letting this go.
Eyes snapping open Zeffre swiped at the offending hand as he pulled it back out of her reach. "You know what? Hey, old man, do you know how to use 'Harbinger'?" she asked, reminding herself to show Harbinger the respect it deserved as a work of art.
"Pfft, yeah of course I do. Why?" the man asked, swaying slightly.
"Well, if you won't tell me what it transforms into then I challenge you to a fight where I can get you to show me", she said, pointing at the man for added dramatic effect.
"Why would I want to fight a kid? I'm drunk, but I'm not that drunk."
"Uh…" her hand dropped before her eyes fell on the bag of stir fry. "Because! If you win, you get this delicious takeout stir fry. If I win, well I just want to see what Harbinger transforms into so either way I still win", she announced shaking her head. The delicious savory aroma of the stir fry filling the air between them.
Glancing down at the bag the man considered the offer, a slight amount of drool passing by his lips before he wiped it away with his sleeve. "You got yourself a deal kid."
Standing in an empty plaza Zeffre took a deep breath. Across from her stood the drunk, his posture relaxed, his face bored with half lidded eyes. Off to the side the bag of stir fry said, the silent audience to their encounter.
Unsheathing her sword Zeffre held it off to the side in her right hand, the red blade glimmering in the dim light.
The man leaned forward, squinting. "Aren't you gonna take a stance?" he slurred, eyeing her casually.
Zeffre narrowed her eyes. "I don't think I'll need to", she said smugly.
Leaning back the man simply shrugged. "Alright, whenever you're ready."
"Aren't you going to unsheathe Harbinger?"
The man smirked. "I don't think I'll need to."
'I deserved that.' She activated her grav dash, starlight trailing behind as she closed the gap. Her blade sliced through the air, missing him by inches as he sidestepped with ease.
"Come on, kid, you'll have to do better than that," the man taunted, taking a casual sip from his flask.
'That's what I get for trying to be nice', she thought, scowling at the comment. Zeffre's attacks became a blur – left, right, center – each faster, each missing. The man moved with deceptive ease, each time stepping just outside of her strike. 'There's no way this is just some random drunk', she thought, her frustration mounting with each miss.
Leaping back, Zeffre's hand glowed with starlight, slowing the world around her. She lunged, her sword meeting metal this time.
'What?!' Eyes widening Zeffre leapt back again, shocked at what she had just witnessed. This man had just blocked her fastest strike with his sword while she had slowed down time. Not only that, but he had moved even faster than she had.
"Nice Semblance kid," the man commented, resting Harbinger on his shoulder.
Zeffre, puzzled by the term, shook her head, refocusing. 'I'm not losing my dinner over this,' she thought, the plastic bag containing her stir fry ruffling in the gentle breeze to cheer her on.
Slowing time Zeffre dashed close. Holding her palm out to the man a wave of gravitational force slammed into him, trailing starlight as he was launched towards one of the lamppost. Zeffre's smirk almost immediately fell off her face as the man oriented himself while flying through the air and slammed his blade into the concrete, slowing him before reaching the pole. He then launched back at her with astonishing speed, sending Zeffre reeling with a powerful kick.
Rolling into the fall backwards she was able to tumble off the ground and back into a standing position, her left arm holding on to her stomach.
"I'll admit, that attack did surprise me for a second", he said. He wasn't even breathing any differently, but his eyes were looking sharper.
"What happened to your slurred speech", Zeffre asked while trying to catch her breath.
The man smirked.
Without thinking Zeffre decided she needed to escalate the fight. Closing her eyes, she pulled on more energy from within and her entire body was wreathed in a crackling golden energy, sparks leaping out occasionally. Immediately she felt more energized and knew that she needed to push this guy even more if only to see what Harbinger turned into.
"Interesting…", the man muttered watching as the plaza took on a dim golden glow.
Using everything she had left Zeffre engaged, moving faster than ever before. Not once in her life had she needed to push herself this hard.
A flurry of blows easily parried; a lunge sidestepped. Sweeping her leg low to put the man off balance resulted in her getting kicked in the head. The fact that this human was moving faster than her was absurd! What?!
Gripping the sword with both hands Zeffre went in for a powerful downward slash, no real plan, just attack. Her blade clashed with his as she grit her teeth, trying to overpower the man who was still only using one arm. The golden sparks were becoming more erratic.
The man's eyes were serious.
As the man pulled back she momentarily lost her balance, and in that instant he landed a solid punch into her chest. Trying to ignore the pain Zeffre moved her sword to block a particularly vicious slash from the man. The force was enough to send her tumbling across the plaza, a small gash on her left arm as the golden light faded.
Panting, Zeffre leaned on her sword for support, trying to catch her breath. As she steadied herself, a sharp crack echoed through the plaza. Startled, she glanced down just in time to see the blade of her recently acquired sword – now nothing more than a mangled piece of metal – snap off. 'Seriously?' she thought, annoyance flashing across her face as she fell back down to the concrete surface.
"Hey… kid", the man called over sounding a little winded, "What's your name?"
Ignoring the burning in her arms Zeffre pushed herself up, her broken sword's hilt still in her hand. "Zeffre…" she said in between gasp "…and you?"
"Qrow", he said, resting Harbinger on his shoulder as he glanced at her bleeding arm. "Why didn't you use your Aura?"
"Nice… to meet you… Qrow", she said, arms hanging down. Wincing she tilted her head slightly to the left. "What's… an Aura?"
Zeffre gave a pained laugh at Qrow's bewildered expression. "I'll… uh… catch you around", she said giving a tired smile before collapsing into starlight. The next moment she was in her apartment standing in the hallway before passing out onto the hard wood floor.