Disclaimer: No I do not own Rwby or any ideas I've blatantly ripped off from DC
Schnee Manor
Outskirts of Atlas
City of Atlas
Kingdom of Atlas
September 20th
80 A.G.W.
The halls of the manor used to make Whitley feel at home, but instead, as he and Klein made their way through the pristine white halls, all Whitley could do was notice how even more cold and empty the manor had become over the years he was gone, something the man never thought was possible. What should've been a lively place filled with servants running around everywhere, it was instead the stark opposite. In fact Whitley was pretty sure that if he were to drop a pin in the middle of the grand hall he would've heard both it making contact on the marble, but also an audible echo as the sound would've reverberated off the walls.
Whitney frowned as he attempted to adjust to the changes of the manor, as he followed behind Klein, whose words were falling on deaf ears. The butler continued to talk though, attempting to cut through some of the awkward silence that had grown between the two men.
After what felt like an eternity for Whitley he came across a pair of large and ornately designed white wooden doors, finished off by the name Weiss written in actual gold on the door. Pausing as he came up to them, the man focused on the golden script complementing the white-stained door. The golden script brought up mixed feelings for the man, unease, and uncertainty as if he wasn't sure he was truly home. Along with some anger that stemmed towards his older twin, something that Whitley mentally chastised himself for. Yet also above all that a sense of calm as the name signaled his return back.
Apparently Whitley had been staring too long at the door, as he was brought out of his thoughts by the shaking of Klein, the second such time that he'd been shaken like that by the butter tonight.
"Master Whitley?" The butler asks as Whitley continues to stare at the door. "Sir?" The butler asks once more as the white-haired man slowly comes back to reality.
"Yeah sorry, Klein." Whitley's cool voice comes out as the man reaches for the door, his mind praying for his sister to not be on the other side of the door, as he's not sure how he would react. Suddenly realizing the daze he was in Whitley sharply pulls his hand back, and nervously chuckles before turning back to the butler. "Just readjusting."
Whitleys attempts at hiding his true thoughts are failed as Klein gives the man a pitying look, knowing about the struggles between the Schnee siblings. "It's quite alright Master Whitley," Klein says as he turns on his heel and clasping his arms behind his back leads the way through the manor to what was Whitley's old room.
The duo walked in silence, their footsteps echoing and reverberating off the walls of the manor. After what felt like an eternity they arrived in front of another ornate set of white doors, this one instead inscribed with the name Whitley in gold. Not allowing the man who retained from the dead a minute to adjust, Klein quickly opens the set of doors.
Feeling the doors opening, Whitley braces himself for dust and cobwebs. A few moments pass and he opens his eyes in surprise as he looks around the room. Instead of it being a dirty dusty mess like he had expected it to have been, the room is cleaned and dusted, yet his piles of papers and such that he had left strewn around the room remained exactly in their place.
"As you can see Master Whitley." The butler speaks as the duo steps into the time capsule that is Whitley's room. Whitley steps through everything, eyes shooting around the room adjusting to everything being in place as it was before. "I've taken the liberty myself to clean in here, but leave it exactly as you had left it, in your memory, and the hope that you would return one day." The butler continues as Whitley steps to the window overlooking the yard of the manor. The butler sees Whitley's eyes begin to fog over and quickly takes his leave. "I wish you a good night Master Whitley." Klein quietly says before shutting the doors, leaving Whitley to his memories.
Schnee Manor
Outskirts of Atlas
City of Atlas
Kingdom of Atlas
June 15th
72 A.G.W.
Whitley was attempting to draw back the bowstring from the bow. The boy's arms tremble in pain as he pulls back, his already sore muscles screaming at him. The trembling and pain made the bow release too early, and the arrow clattered to the ground uselessly next to him.
"Pathetic." The older man beside him slurred, as he watched his son unable even to draw the bow string. Taking another gulp from the crystal glass in his hand, the brown liquid sloshed around the glass before finding the man's throat.
As Jacques leaned into Whitley's face, the boy involuntarily clenched his nose, the stench of alcohol was strong on the man. "Now do it again." The man didn't let the boy respond as he shoved another arrow into Whitley's outstretched hand.
"Yes, father." The boy mumbled as he attempted to nock the new arrow into his bow, his arms still trembling. Slightly wavering as he pulls back on the bowstring, the beads of sweat running down his arms causing him to have to readjust his grip. Feeling his father's eyes staring holes into him, Whitely stops readjusting and instead closes one eye, the sweat pouring down his face making his eye twitch in pain as the liquid touches it. Fighting through the pain he breathed out one last time, and released the arrow.
The arrow whipped through the hot Atleasian summer air, after what to the boy felt like an eternity it finally found its target, the target placed on the freshly manicured lawn, 30-something feet away from it. The arrow finds its mark, sadly it was on the edge of the inner ring and the middle ring.
"Not bad," Jacques says as he walks over to critique his son's attempt. Whitley begins to have the faintest trace of a smile as his father's comments to him are the closest thing to true pride he's ever received from his father. But just as quickly as it came to smile dropped again as Jacques continued to talk. "But you're still not good, you have a long way to go for today." Just as he's about to continue the attempted training of his son, the billionaire's right-hand man at the Schnee Dust Company walks in, followed closely behind by Jauques bodyguard Hacket.
The right-hand man was a man named Emerson. One that was much nicer to Whitley than most others, besides his mother in her brief moments of sobriety. As Emerson walked into the courtyard Jacques paused as Emerson walked up to him and crouched down whispering something in the billionaire's ear.
Whatever Emerson told the billionaire makes the man pause as he gets a worried look on his face, one that stands out due to Jacques's normally collected self. Quickly replacing the look by raising his hand, the billionaire throws his head back and downs the rest of his Scotch before shoving the glass at Klein, the butler whose presence Whitley had completely missed during his training."Klein see to it that my son stops being a complete and utter screw-up." The billionaire slurs out as he pushes back his hair, and adorns his face with his trademark smug smile. "Now if you excuse me I have a meeting to attend to." The billionaire then shoves past the butler and his son and quickly makes his way into the manor.
As the billionaire is shoved his way past Whitley, Emerson instead gives the boy a small sad smile and utters a quick apology to the boy as he walks past, making sure to use his hand to steady the 10-year-old boy.
"As you wish Master Jacques." The butler says as he walks over to the tired and exhausted boy. Taking a knee the butker bends down in front of the battered child. The man grunts in pain for a second as he feels his eyes shift. His eyes shone a bright red, as a look of anger crossed the normally joyous butler's face. "That master Jacques is an utterly deplorable man sometimes." The butler says to Whitley, hoping to distract the child from the treatment he received from his own father.
Instead, the comment just made Whitley grab his bow, the feeling of pain already forgotten as he nocks another arrow, this time the boy doesn't shake, either from his small break or from determination. But he breathes out again and lets the arrow fly. Bullseye.
Schnee Manor
Outskirts of Atlas
City of Atlas
Kingdom of Atlas
September 20th
80 A.G.W.
The memory of one of his first bullseyes brings Whitley some momentary comfort as he looks around his room. Walking over to the trunk he took from the island he opens it, behind by the beat up, torn, and tattered sail that he used as covering on the island, the emerald green of the sail provides a bright contrast to the blues and whites of his room.
Picking the sale up delicately, scared it will break from the years of wear and tear, the man folds it, scared that any wrong move might snap any of the brittle threads holding it together. Placing it on his bed he then goes and takes out the tattered collection of t-shirts and shorts he had come accustomed to wearing on the island, and presses slowly on a wooden switch hidden underneath his clothing. With a slight popping noise the false bottom of the trunk gives way, revealing to Whitley 2 different bows, a broken make-shift style bow, seeming based around a compound bow, but too broken to truly tell. That bow was quickly followed by a much older style longbow, this one painted a bright emerald green matching the sail he had worn as protection.
Grabbing the longbow he thinks back to Hackett, the first time he ever tried to fire this exact bow, Whitley involuntarily winced as he reached to grab the back of his head. The same scar he received from when Hackett pistol-whipped him and left him for dead across the seas.
Placing the longbow back inside the crate Whitley quickly covers it delicately with the sail he had previously placed upon the bed. He starts to place the shattered and broken pieces of the makeshift bow on the floor around him. Nostalgia washes over Whitley as he starts to attempt to place the shattered pieces together, memories of his first few months on the island come rushing back to him.
An hour or two passed and the man was getting nowhere with his attempts at fixing the shattered bow. Yawning the man looks over at the bed and lets out an audible sigh of relief and comfort at the sight of his bed. Placing the pieces back inside the truck, he quickly shoves it into the back of his walk-in closet, hiding it under some old clothes that no longer fit him.
Walking over to his mirror the man sees his reflection clearly for the first time in three years. His once short and clean-cut white hair now reached down to his ears, a fact that Whitley hated. The uneven chop to the hair also signaled his attempts at styling it on the island, much to his dismay. "Tomorrow, tomorrow I'll get this fixed." He mutters to himself as pulls it back behind his head, attempting to see any of the scaring he received on the island. The scars catch his eye as well, as the normally pristine white porcelain skin of the Schnee family genes, is now a sun-tanned mess, little in scars, luckily most of them were based within his hair, and on his body. "Should be easy enough, just gotta stick to long sleeves, or something else." He trails off as he yawns, once again reminding himself of his exhaustion levels. Not allowing himself a second moment of rest, the man collapses upon the bed in his room.
Bóng Tối Island
Sea of Ký ức Bị Lãng Quên
Eastern Coast of Anima
Kingdom of Mistral
August 8th
77 A.G.W.
The waves lapped upon the shore of the island, and the unmoving body of Whitely Schnee was washed up on the beach. Laying on his back the water lapped up and around the body, drenching his clothes and making the teen look even smaller than he was. The cawing of seagulls overheard causes the body to stir, his head throbbing in pain, he opens his eyes immediately being blinded by the harsh sunlight of the Mistralian Sun. Just as he was coming a rouge wave higher than the others washed over him, soaking his head and causing the slight feeling of drowning.
The teen immediately attempts to sit up after a few futile moments he remains lying on the beach, the waves still lapping around him. He opens his eyes, while his eyes were normally a light blue, they were now stained red from the salt water and its irritation. Attempting to breathe in for a moment, he instead begins to cough and choke. After a few seconds of hacking noises, the teen hits himself in the stomach. Feeling the pressure and gas rise up from being hit he choked one last time and finally spat out the salt water back into the ocean.
Gathering his senses the teen pushes himself up out of the ocean, arms shaking he manages to gather his strength and push himself up to his feet. Sudden bouts of nausea and dizziness hit Whitley as he stood, his throbbing headache mixed with the sun having baked upon him all day causing him to almost fall down again. But through some miracle of either luck, or favor from the Twin Brothers, Whitley doesn't fall, instead he sways a few times, before steadying himself, and fully looking around and taking in his surroundings. A tropical island, with one huge forest in the middle, the only thing visible to Whitley besides trees and sands, is the peak of a mountain rising overtop the forest.
Making his way further up the beach, to get away from the tide Whitley seems to be contemplating something, as if he's trying to fully understand what happened. He looks up and down the beach, hoping to see anything that might be of use to him, other people, animals, he'd even take seeing a Grimm and accepting a quick death. Yet to his disappointment, there's nothing, just him and the seagulls flying overhead. "No one knows." He says out loud to himself as all the previous events of yesterday come rushing back to him. "Nobody knows I'm out here." The teen's voice comes out defeated as the realization hits him, he truly is alone.
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