Author's Note:
This was the very first fic that I ever wrote, and it showed in the pacing, and in the language. This is simply a rewrite of the original, as I felt it was lackluster. The ending of this fic is left open to the reader's interpretation.
**DESCRIPTIONS OF SELF HARM AND DEPRESSIVE THOUGHTS**
Withered Petals
Semblances were extensions of one's personality, a representation of who you were at your core. They were empowered by Aura, an extension of your soul, adopting physicality in the form of a hard shell that protected the body from harm. Hunters and Huntresses are trained to hone their survival instincts, such that in that moment before death, in that one zeptosecond inconceivable to the human brain, their soul would flutter, fueled by a desire to live, to continue, and to exist. Their semblances would flourish and bloom, previously hidden evolutions would come bursting to the surface in a desperate attempt to be the one to write history, instead of being just a footnote in another's written history. Aura kept them alive.
Ruby understood this as well as any Hunter did, which was what made this process a necessity. Crescent Rose lay beside her in pieces as it often did when she needed to perform maintenance, or when she had to escape from the world, lunging into the comforts of gun oil and Mechashift, bathing in the rock music from her headphones that hid screaming admonitions behind a veil of lyricism.
Though, this time lacked any of the care the weapon was usually the recipient of. Its parts lay scattered on the rough concrete, clumps and shards of red decorating the roof like bloodstains on a canvas, haphazardly torn apart by the hands of someone who cared not for tidiness nor careful superintendence any longer.
Sweat graced her brow as she took in slow, steadying breaths, eyes dark and unfocused as she drifted over the components strewn about the rooftop, a broken ensemble constructed across her life, only to encounter ruination on a night like any other. The barrel was battered, an ugly gash adorning the lower body from where she had torn it out with Aura induced strength, just one of the many that had been consigned to her apathy. She imagined herself a cruel artist, tearing them out like she held a knife against their associated memory of struggle, ripping away at her past efforts and motivations that dwindled as caving metal hit the ground. Like her firing pin for instance, a part so small, yet so important, the result of late afternoons at Signal's workshop, going through iterations of failure and mistakes, till she had crafted and perfected the small cylindrical part.
She had no one to show it off to, her dad wore grief like an iron cast coat, her uncle never a reach away from a drink, and Yang…Yang didn't want anything to do with Summer Rose's daughter. Yet, she carried it home proudly, placing it down on a sketched blueprint of intricate gears and mechanisms, her smile glinting off the walls as she added one more finished part to the forming orchestra.
No one could understand how she kept her head up, how hope remained ever-present in burnished yet tarnished silvers, how she had kept going, and she had laughed disarmingly: "It would all be ok at Beacon."
A weak laugh escaped her, bordering a sob as she glanced down at the front blade of Crescent Rose she currently seized in a strangled grip. Its edges had blunted and scratched, having lost its luster and condition about 10 minutes into her task.
Her fingers had divots where she seized the blade, only bruising and flushing ever so slightly as her Aura struggled to keep the edge away. An echo reverberated through the crevices of her turbulent mind, all the nooks and crannies whispering in tandem, a pleading symphony that threaded on her fear of what came after she was done. But she had enough of not carrying through, not being what the others needed, and so she paid the maelstrom no regard, consigning them to the oblivion of her mind.
Throwing the impaired blade aside, she fished the rear blade out from her pockets, her Aura sighing in the momentary release of a blade, only to resume its enunciated shrieking when she grasped the other. Admiring its sheen and razor-sharp edges was an old habit Ruby found herself falling back into. In her defense, it was hard not to marvel at such a thing of beauty, its perfections having been accentuated by the drip of moonlight gliding across the blade. Ruby was almost tempted to make a comical "shinggggg" that she always saw in cartoons when the tip of such blades were highlighted by a shine.
She allowed herself a moment to take it all in. The mesmerizing winking lights bejeweling the distant city of Mantle, the wind that ruffled and caressed her hair, the shattered moon bathing her in soothing blue, washing over her and atoning her for the misery she had caused. It was calming, peaceful, one of the nights they fought to encourage. A somber smile christened her face, a grounding anchor sinking and weighing down her gut, before she drove the blade into her arm.
Expectedly, her Aura fought and pleaded for reason, shimmering weakly as it wrestled a losing battle with the blade. Gritting her teeth and squeezing her eyes shut, she forced her hand down, fighting the screaming instinct to wrest her hand away, instead slamming her body weight onto the blade, shaking from the effort. She strained and hissed, siccing the barbed inferno that burned through her rushing blood on her soul, demanding defeat, to let it happen, to let it all end. What could a soul do in that situation, but break.
With a gratifying shatter, her Aura broke into dust, floating off into the night, dancing along the notes of the wind and bidding farewell to another Huntress. The blade didn't stop there, with such force exerted on it that it had to continue its course, and so it did.
The blade plunged into her flesh, carving through muscle, spreading, and splintering bone. Without her Aura to alleviate the pain, she felt every nerve as they were severed, every screaming cell that fell to the path of the blade, every pulsating wave of breaking pain that clawed their way up her nerves and spine, sending wracking pain that raked at the base of her skull. Ruby let out an anguished wail, the pain escaping in a splintered cry, before she managed to stumble her mind through the torment, releasing the blade and muffling herself with her hand. She felt the tip of the impaling blade scraping the concrete, a piercing shrill whine that sent ringing tinnitus into her beating ears.
Fuck it hurt.
Heaving a shaky, steeling breath in a desperate attempt to alleviate the shattering pain, she wrapped her hand around the body of the blade that stuck out of her arm, wincing away the tears that had escaped, consequently dripping, and mixing with the blood that pooled in her hand, which now lacked the forgiving Aura that had reduced gashes to mere bruises. With a final gathering breath, she yanked the blade out, crying out once more as she felt the unforgiving edges tear through her arm without respite.
With that, her task was done, and now for the second.
Ruby whimpered as she pushed herself up to her knees, cradling her bloody arm to her chest. The blood soaked into her corset, slinking past buckles and strings down to her skirt, staining and shading her just a tad darker.
The hard part is done. Soon, everyone will be in better hands
Forcing herself to her feet, she shuffled over to the edge of the roof, pausing once the tip of her toes kissed the uneven and jagged edge. The stars caressed the contours of endless sky and soft clouds, generously freckled across the deep abyss, yet each one seemingly had an assured place in the world, like puzzle pieces that tethered the universe, never complete till each one shimmered their brightest. What a sight it was, it really was a beautiful night.
Ruby let out a watery smile of relief, peace, overwhelming tranquility. Perhaps she would be granted a place amongst the stars, even if she were to be but a footnote in the biography of the universe, she would gladly settle for having existed.
Leaning forward, she closed her eyes, falling into bed behind weighted eyelids, a requiem for the long days of school back at Patch, coming home and surrendering herself to the comforts that had existed in plush sheep's wool, scented with rich aged wood. A memory of home, a return to thoughtlessness.
Time to say goodbye.
.
.
.
"RUBY NO!"
Snapping her eyes open, she stared down the drop that grasped at her, clutching at her clothes, tugging strands of dangling hair eagerly. A jolt of electric trepidation burst to the forefront, not in fear of what awaited her at the bottom, but of who she would hurt in her final act of cowardice.
'Don't let it be her, don't let her see me like this', Ruby pleaded with the brothers. But they had been silent all her life, why would they be so kind now?
She twisted her neck, and craned her head, desperately praying for anyone else. When she met petrified blues, they burrowed into her, searing ice so deep into her soul that she was sure that she would suffer the shadow of their memory forever. How could one forget Weiss Schnee?
Weiss let out a guttural cry and threw her hand out, desperation amplifying her as the formation of a glyph took shape, an intricate weave of symbols and crossing snowflakes that took her breath away one last time. It might form in time, it might not, Ruby wasn't leaving it to chance. Just before the edge of the roof cut off the chain that their eyes forged, Ruby whispered softly.
It cut through the stillness of the night, slicing their way towards Weiss' ears with a serrated blade, cruelly implanting themselves into her brain like a scarring cancer. The barbed edges and crushing weight of the world had torn her apart, ground her down, and swallowed her whole. She hoped Weiss would fare better than she did.
"Goodbye"
Author's Note:
I would like to think Weiss had Ruby's back. Please do leave any criticisms in the comments, see you all in the next fic.