Chapter 3 – Ropa Gigas

In which Weiss Schnee must prove that she can uphold the Schnee legacy.

Weiss pressed her ear to the door even closer. "C'mon…just a little louder…"

In a paradoxical twist, it was safer to be closer than further away when eavesdropping. After all, if Father or Kali were to step towards the door with their softer footfalls, the sound would only carry to her ears if she were right up against the wood, ensuring she had enough time to step back and pretend she was patiently waiting a safe distance away. And as for Ghira, Weiss would be able to hear when he sat up from the bottom of Mantle.

"…with Councilman Sleet, but Camila is going to be a problem. Neither of them would ever openly oppose Ironwood."

"Does the general not support our initiative?" asked Ghira. "He's declared as much in the past."

"Oh, he supports the ideals behind it and has said as much, but he believes the wording in my proposal contains loopholes to intentionally restrict the military from receiving Dust, thus giving me the power to blackmail him over future matters."

"And is there such wording?" asked Kali. Weiss had to restrain a smirk.

Wait, they can't see me.

Weiss grinned from ear to ear.

"In this case, no. I have copies, here, one for both of you. It's on the third page that he finds the issue. You'll recognize the line when you see it."

Weiss couldn't hear the words on the paper, but she could hear Ghira reading it aloud in the way he always did.

"…independent oversight committee…ensure no violations take place…appointed by the council…must include at least one member of the SDC, the White Fang, the Atlesian Naval Police…"

There was a crinkling of paper, and Weiss could imagine him straightening his pack and tapping to bottoms of the paper against Father's desk to even them out.

"I don't see it."

"Ah," said Kali, within literal nanoseconds of Ghira giving up. "It's the next part. If the oversight committee determines that Dust vendor – that's Jacques – or the Dust purchaser has willfully fired or failed to hire an individual on account of their species, gender, age, state of ability, or other protected class as defined on Page 955. The test applies to both us and them, and the general fears he won't pass."

"Is he still like this?" said Ghira.

There was the sound of scoffing. Then, after a second, Ghira cleared his throat.

"Ahem. That wasn't rhetorical. I barely come out to Atlas anymore, and Kuo Kuana's Sandpaper doesn't cover much Atlesian news without intense bias against them. Does Ironwood truly hate Faunus?"

"When we're in public, yes, and he isn't the only one. The military is one of the last holdouts of the old guard who try to shadow-enforce outdated anti-Faunus policies. Never explicitly, mind you, but superior officers always have the final say in the hiring process, randomized testing of background occurs higher among certain recruits, and so on."

"What do you really think, Jacques?"

There was a sigh from Father. "I think that the general and most of his company aren't particularly offended by ears or tails, but they will refuse to ever let old lines in the sand fade away. To them, there will always be the risk of holdouts from the Faunus wars waiting for the ideal moment to strike – and since they themselves are of same mind, they cannot see otherwise. Any Faunus could be under the influence of a foreign – the Menagerian – government, or possibly the White Fang."

They all collectively chuckled.

Father smacked his lips. "You put it better yesterday, Kali. What was it you said?"

There was the faint sound of Kali shifting in her chair. "I said that James Ironwood suspects that only 1% of Faunus are our sleeper agents seeking to tear apart his perfect kingdom, but he'll see every Faunus as possibly one of those 1%."

"Paranoid," said Ghira. "That semblance of his…I almost pity the man."

"Quite," said Jacques. "We've almost entirely outlawed segregated housing, our efforts towards denial of service clauses are proceeding with as much success as one might expect, but if the general and his council truly dig their heels in, there's little we can do to obstruct biased hiring practices in the Dust industry and market."

That wasn't true. Father could easily refuse to sell to anyone who failed to meet his standards, but that would cost him profits that wouldn't easily be recovered. Ironwood might play chicken and see if he could wait the Schnee captain of industry's defiance out, and if that didn't break Father, he could forcibly seize SDC assets in the name of eminent domain. Kali and Ghira knew better than to even bother suggesting that; they knew Father, having worked closely with him for the past decade.

Of course, Father couldn't simply back down either. He'd pushed heavily on this proposal, exerting his influence to gather the required signature count to put it before the council and force them to publicly address it as per Atlesian law. If he wasn't able to announce a victory, even a small or symbolic one, he would be caught in a tight spot. This used to be about changing the world for Weiss (or so he said), but the man would never take actions that failed to produce him a tidy profit, be it in lien, grandeur, political capital, or other valued assets.

Ever the pragmatist, Kali was quick to think up a solution. "What about that group, the human supremacist one…what was the name?" She snapped her fingers. "It's on the tip of my tongue."

"Anthrosurgent," Ghira said quickly. "I've heard of them too. The name comes up quite frequently in Menagerie."

"They're borderline terrorists, are they not? If we can promise action against them, or at least help in dealing with them…"

Ghira finished his wife's sentence for her. "…then we can leverage Ironwood to sign the initiative. I'm sure he'll find them a greater threat to Atlas' security that –"

"WEISS!"

Not having expected the shouting of her name, and certainly not having expect it to come from behind her, Weiss was entirely unready and slammed her face into the door when she started.

She frantically stepped back as the sounds of adults moving towards the door filled her ears, but it was practically pointless at this point. Even if Weiss managed to get away from the door with time to spare, they'd still heard her knocking with her face and letting out that little yelp.

"Blake, what the fuuuuuck?" she hissed.

"Sorry, Schnee," giggled the cat Faunus who'd snuck up on her. "It was too good to resist."

The door opened, and out stepped their parents. Thankfully, it was Ghira (the softie of the bunch) who exited first. Weiss made sure to straighten out her skirt and smile brightly.

"Ah, girls. Any idea what that noise was?" he asked.

"Noise?" Blake responded, raising her eyebrows innocently and doing that tilt of her head she always did. Traitor…

Kali gently swept in, her long dress gliding across the floor as she walked. "Yes, the noise in Weiss' voice that sounded like a yelp, followed shortly thereafter by the sound of a head hitting our door."

"Ah, that noise. The noise in my voice. Um…you see…" Weiss coughed. "…I was…I was…uh, eavesdropping! Yes, let's go with that!"

Classic reverse psychology. If I pretend to use eavesdropping as an excuse, they'll be so caught up trying to determine what I did that could be worse than eavesdropping that they won't…uh…

Now that she thought about it, this strategy wasn't all that great.

"Daughter?" asked Jacques, still waiting for a valid response.

"Well, a Schnee must remained appraised of current events, so it's not the act you should find fault in, but the fact that I was caught." Weiss tilted her head towards Blake twice. "And since Blake snuck up on me, she's essentially the cause of me being exposed. So if anyone's at fault here –"

Jacques facepalmed. "All those with cat ears, please exit the room. All those with the wings of an idiotic chicken, please remain."

"If you rotisserie her, please save us the leftovers," joked Blake, shooting Weiss a brief mischievous smile as she and her family filed out. "Cats do so love to eat birds."

That was the last straw. The next time she saw Blake, Weiss would be sure to conveniently remember about the vacuuming she'd forgotten to do that was urgently required.

And if that doesn't work, I'll take her to the vet and have her put down.

When the door closed and the Belladonnas were gone, Father lifted his hand away from his face. "Must you?"

"Like you care for what I do when I'm not in public," said Weiss.

"The Belladonnas –"

If Weiss weren't under such up close and personal scrutiny right now, she might've snorted. " – would never out us. The White Fang and SDC overlap on so much work that they practically own stock."

"I was going to say they are bad influences on you. Particularly Blake."

One might've thought that Father spoke of his political allies with a slight fondness. One would've been reading too deep into meaningless clues, though.

Though he does now refer to the women by their names at least, and not just Belladonna's wife or daughter.

"How many times must I remind you, Weiss. Your actions in the manor forge patterns that when solidified in your behavior can –"

" – subtly influence your appearance outside of it," Weiss finished with a sigh. "I know."

"Then why don't you…never mind. Our meeting was nearly concluded anyways." His eyes flicked over to Weiss. "Did you pick up on anything of value when you were listening in?"

"That General Ironwood is not to be trusted," said Weiss. "So nothing new."

Father glanced towards her again, clearly perturbed by Weiss' words. She rarely ever buttered him up by insulting his enemies so blatantly, but it had been the perfect segue into the topic about which she wished to speak to him.

"True. Ironwood had yet to leave behind old beliefs that hold him back in the modern world. As such, he shall inevitably fall behind."

"He hasn't accepted the love of the Faunus into his heart like you have." Weiss couldn't resist a grin.

Father curtly laughed at the sarcastic line. "I suppose you could phrase it that way."

It was no secret that Jacques Schnee now cared for the common Faunus as much as he cared about the common human – as a source of labor, revenue, or other form of resource. Rather, it was an open secret, but only among those who encountered him enough to see beyond his carefully crafted mask. Oh, he certainly supported Faunus rights (and certainly sailed the wave into many a profitable first and third quarter), but his children, the Belladonnas, Klein, and perhaps a few others knew that any and all passion Jacques ever showed about the cause was faked.

Though I think that's true of any passion Father shows about anything. Even money – he hoards it like his life depends on it, but I rarely ever see him truly show any enjoyment in spending it on luxurious things. It's like he wants it only to prevent others from having more.

Weiss needed to stay on track. "A shame that he shall invariably drag Winter down with him."

Father was too experienced a negotiator to give away anything, but Weiss knew that would have gotten under his skin.

She went on, nevertheless. "Undeniable proof that Atlas Academy is no place for a Schnee."

Again, Father made no sudden movements, but his demeanor changed as he realized what this was. His lazy face movements ceased as his eyes fixed on Weiss', and his back straightened out over so slightly.

"Daughter. While I applaud your…suitably sufficient attempts at manipulation, I would prefer them focused on our rivals rather than myself. If you wish to convince me of something…" His eyes narrowed. "…convince me."

Weiss nodded and broke out the rehearsed practiced points she'd gone over in the mirror.

"Beacon Academy. It would be prudent for me to enroll as a student."

Father's hands folded behind his back.

"For the first matter, Blake Belladonna, the successor of the White Fang's current leadership, has stated her own goal of attending Beacon Academy, and placing myself on her team would strengthen ties between our two organizations. Which, it needs not be said, is essential to our shared survival."

Father didn't nod. He never did until she finished whatever request she was justifying, but Weiss couldn't help but worry it was a sign of disapproval. Gulping, she launched into her second point.

"The SDC has branded itself as a pro-Faunus company with multinational reach. As such, it would be best if I divest myself from the image of Atlas, particularly the Atlesian military – an institution best known for its continuation of Faunus Rights Revolution era policies. I have already made frequent appearances in Menagerie and Mistral, leaving Sanus the sole continent I, as future heiress, have no stake in. Vacuo –"

Father raised an eyebrow, and Weiss decided not to insult him by implying Shade was a serious prospect for her future education.

"Furthermore, as I mentioned when I began, General James Ironwood stole Winter from us. Declaring myself a huntress and flying halfway around the world when his academy is visible from our dining room window would be a spectacular message to the general."

"What message?" Father asked.

Weiss merely smiled pleasantly. She needn't verbalize it, as they both clearly knew.

Go fuck yourself.

Father pretended to ponder the matter for a moment, turning his back to Weiss. She patiently waited, heart nearly exploding out of her chest.

Keep calm. Keep calm, Weiss. The world is already looking for any sign of weakness from you. Give it to them and they'll eat you alive. Father's advice about practicing what emotions we show in private for public appearances might be frustrating, but that doesn't make it any less true.

She saw him tense up before he delivered his verdict. Father already had his answer, but he preferred to carefully choose which words he used to deliver them while simultaneously forcing others to wait for his decisions as a power play. Kali had explained it to Weiss when she was thirteen, and Weiss had never been able to unsee that mannerism during interactions with her father.

"Truth be told, I might have suggested it had you not."

That…wasn't what she'd been expecting.

"Huntsmen are glory-seeking simpletons that chase an early grave with precious little to show for it. However, between your mother's vaunted early years and Nicholas' practically sacred exploits as an explorer, the world expects Schnees to showcase the hereditary semblance and bear heroic reputations like suits of armor. Should you fail to claim some youthful conquests of your own to boast, you might pale in comparison to them. You do have the same semblance, after all."

Weiss saw through the words for what they truly meant: Jacques refused to be one-upped by the Schnees who came before him and desired for his own line to outshine them.

Still, it was a victory for her. Both Father and the Belladonnas had taught her many times to never spurn a success in your name simply because it was a success shared by the enemy. Honestly, that little token of advice was practically the basis on which their entire companionship had been founded.

"However…"

The moment of internal celebration within Weiss paused, though she maintained her neutral expression.

"…you shall have to drop the childish patterns of action that you've picked up from the Belladonnas. No more behavior unbefitting of a Schnee, in public, private, or anywhere on the spectrum in-between."

Weiss nodded up and down, ready to agree to just about anything. Blake had spoken of Beacon as though it were a paradise, and Weiss refused to matriculate anywhere else, with anyone else.

Father stepped past Weiss and opened the door to the main body of the mansion. "Furthermore, I shall expect you to prove that you have what it takes to uphold the Schnee legacy. Come with me, daughter."

"An…An Arma…"

"An Arma Gigas," said Father.

"I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar," Weiss said, looking at the crumpled bits of armor.

"It's a Geist Grimm inhabiting a suit of armor. We've managed to suitably restrain it using Gravity Dust. I expect a victory, daughter."

"They…" Weiss squinted at the suit of armor. "…they actually have a unique name for that particular combination of Grimm and possessed body? That seems rather odd, does it not? Do they have a name for when a Geist occupies, I don't know, dirty laundry? A park bench? A biscuit in gravy?"

Father rolled his eyes. "You are the one who wished to join the ranks of those who named it, Weiss." He turned around and walked away, joining the two young Faunus watching from an overhead balcony that spectators could use to view the battlegrounds. "Prove yourself, and Beacon shall be the canvas upon which you make your mark. Fail, and…suffice it to say, I would advise against failure."

He had as much as admitted he wanted to send her to Beacon, meaning that whatever vague and nebulous threat he made was probably just an empty placeholder to fill the lack of real consequences he could levy. It was Father's own teachings that made her take note of these things, and a handful from Kali.

She and her husband weren't going to be watching, having business to attend to while Ghira was in Atlas, but Blake was among the crowd. Though she couldn't explicitly cheer Weiss on, for she understood the choking insistence on decorum while within the walls of the manor, Weiss knew her childhood friend was there to root for here.

Unlike Whitley, who's here on the odd chance he gets to witness a failure of his beloved sister. The other bird Faunus (an actual swan, according to Klein's combined taxonomical and medical analysis of his wing structure) had always resented Weiss for…for…

…for a variety of reasons.

Reason which Weiss did not need to focus on as the suit of armor rose from its resting position, revealing that it truly was inhabited by the rare Geist Grimm. Weiss clutched Myrtenaster in one hand, adjusted her footing, and rotated the chamber to the Fire Dust setting. It was generally the most effective flavor against unknown Grimm enemies, though Weiss expected that it might not be as damaging to a rigid metal breastplate as it was to combustible Sabyr flesh.

Weiss had slain Grimm before, and her father knew that, meaning that this was either for show (unlikely) or a particularly dangerous foe. A single huntress against a single reasonably sized Grimm was good odds, as most Grimm could sustain less damage than a woman of unlocked aura. Still, when her enemy was armored in the most literal sense, she knew better than to rely on outlasting it in a feat of durability.

Father implied this to be some test. He doesn't want to see me triumph by any means necessary. I am to show him what he wishes to see – my ability to run circles around my enemy without breaking a sweat.

Weiss decided that she would conduct herself flawlessly. If she took even a single hit, she would privately count this as a failure.

A quick blast of flames as it charged revealed what she'd been expecting – the suit was fireproof. The giant's sword slashed down where she'd been standing, though Weiss carefully managed to sidestep to massive blade. Creating a Glyph to block the rubble that threatened to batter her, she swept it away using another moving Glyph and sent it towards the Arma Gigas (which was, as Blake would call it, a cringe name). The impact of the stream of concrete from the sparring arena send the Grimm and its armor flying.

Weiss didn't wait for it to land to ready her next attack. Switching Myrtenaster to Ice Dust, she attempted to immobilize her foe. A perfectly timed blast of Dust that Weiss calculated would hit it at the apex of its flight, for this was a show for Father's sake, formed a large call of solid ice around the Arma Gigas. Weiss used a steady stack of Glyphs to slowly delay its momentum before it landed, ensuring that her frozen prison did not immediately shatter upon landing at full speed.

Weiss glanced Father's way. He was unimpressed, but he wasn't frowning either.

What is this? It's far too easy to be your handiwork. What are you planning?

Cracks began to form in the ice, and Weiss readied herself for the next bout of combat. She'd already used two types of elemental Dust; perhaps some good old-fashioned swordplay would be enough talent to bring validation from the man who so frequently withheld it.

The suit of armor exploded free and clamored toward Weiss. Still clutching its sword, it tore across the arena. It had landed on its belly when it broke free, and in its mindlessly aggressive desperation to reach the Faunus fencer, it decided that picking itself up would be too time consuming and rampaged forward in a hunched position, occasionally using its hands to pull itself forward and gain some extra speed.

Using a Glyph to steady herself, Weiss landed the first blow, tapping her rapier against its right arm to test its defenses. The broadsword tried to clip her legs, but she merely jumped into the air to avoid its wide underhanded sweep. Weiss' delicate shoes landed on the flat of the blade, and she created another Glyph to affix herself and ride it upwards. When the sword began to slow, her Glyph faded, and Weiss was thrown through the air wildly.

Except it wasn't wild. Two white wings stretched out and kept Weiss off the ground. Flapping twice to gain a little altitude and remain beyond the Arma Gigas' reach, she dove forward at a forty-five degree angle to approach the back of the Grimm where its defenses were weakest.

The armor bent over backwards to grasp at her, but the metal gauntlets slammed into a barrier Glyph. Weiss had been counting on it or any similar desperate maneuver and drove her sword into the left arm. Wrenching it forward and flapping in the opposite direction, she pried the entire limb free and kicked it across the arena.

Weiss steadied herself in the air while the Grimm surveyed its lack of an arm. Weiss hadn't deprived it of its sword arm, but that would've had too much weight for her to merely kick aside. She'd seen her best opening and seized it, as a Schnee would. They were tactical fighters, not brutes.

I'd never say a bad word about Ghira, but he's more of a force of nature than a fine instrument on the rare instance where he's forced to get physical. I'm more like Kali or Blake, in that we optimize our strategies, assess the enemy for vulnerabilities, and hit at precisely the right moment when our opponent.

Still, Father was watching, and this had already taken long enough. Weiss flew a touch higher, ensuring she was out of the range of the giant's reach, and prepared herself for the finisher.

Switching Myrtenaster to Wind Dust, she aimed her sword and began to sweep up a tornado. Ideally, the strong winds would tear the suit of –

Weiss batted the giant sword away with a Glyph as it was thrown and smiled at her second victory today. Without its weapon, there was no way the Arma Gigas could inflict any harm upon her. She would still need to watch out for those hands and feet, but the neutered Grimm was no true threat.

And that was compounded by the fact that it was dead.

Except why was it dead?

I took my eyes off it for a second to deflect the sword, and the suit of armor just fell apart! Grimm don't surrender – they'd rather throw themselves at a huntress' blade and die by suicide than back down! This Arma Gigas can't be any different.

Arma Gigas.

Except there was no such thing as an Arma Gigas. That was just the cringe name for a dead suit of armor possessed by –

The Geist!

Weiss flapped backwards, unsure of where her true enemy was but fully aware that it could possess anything. In a room surrounded by inanimate matter, a Grimm that controlled such objects could be supremely powerful. The suit of armor and sword had been its most dangerous weapon at the start, but after Weiss disarmed and disarmed that, it had shed its weak host and moved on to a new target.

But what? Weiss thought frantically, staying in erratic zig-zagging motion to avoid remaining in a single spot for too long. It has to be something mobile. That rules out the walls and floors.

The drapes around the windows? Weiss could imagine being tangled up in them and smothered, but none seemed to be moving. The chandelier? Weiss ducked out of the sky a little bit and watched for it to reach her way like a giant arm popping out of the ceiling, but nothing came.

Something caught her leg, and Weiss reacted with a heavy blast of Wind Dust to destroy the unknown attacker.

"Weiss!"

Shit! She'd sent her attack towards the three people in the audience, who were – wait, what?

Father and Whitley were on the other side of the room, and Blake was…Gambol Shroud had…

"Blake, what are you doing?"

"It's got my sword, and my outfit!"

"What?!"

Kicking off the kata hooked on her foot, Weiss flew even lower to get a look at the scene. Her best friend was moving in an unnaturally jerky manner, like her body was a marionette controlled by unseen strings, and Weiss could see a faint black glow around Blake's body.

"Get this fucking thing off of me, Weiss!"

Weiss primed Myrtenaster for another attack, but then stopped before she could launch it. Anything she did to the Geist possessing Gambol Shroud, she did to Blake.

That rules out Fire, Lightning, Wind…

"Are you okay?" Weiss called down.

"It's constricting against me, but if I keep my aura up, it just feels like a dull pulse against my skin." Blake's arms lifted upwards and pulled the trigger, sending a stream of bullets upwards that Weiss blocked with another Glyph. "Sorry!"

It wasn't too bad, though. While it controlled her movements, it had no hold over her mind. All of the skill, talent, and semblance usage that made Blake lethal wasn't in the hands of the Geist.

Hmmmm…hands…

It Weiss could free up Blake and drive the Geist out of her outfit, the cat Faunus would be holding her possessed sword in both hands; the battle would instantly be won. But what could affect clothes in a way that would kill the Geist within them but not the girl?

"Blake has to strip naked!" shouted Whitley, his hands cupped to his mouth.

Weiss knocked the little prick to his butt with a blast of wind, carefully targeting him and not Father. It wouldn't do to accidentally break the neck of a man who didn't have his aura unlocked.

And if Whitley's neck breaks, well, these things happen when Geists possess gothic maid-adjacent black and white robes. His aura is unlocked, even if he's utterly untrained.

Clothes burned, but Weiss didn't like the idea of setting Blake on fire, and she certainly didn't want to reduce Blake's outfit to cinders in front of an uncomfortably eager Whitley. Blake could probably easily flex her muscles and tear out of her clothes, but doing so would be thoroughly embarrassing in a room full of family friends. The Geist that controlled her was no more dangerous than a small Nevermore, just trickier to kill, so there was no life-or-death hurry.

Options, then. Wind…that would blow them off, which was the same problem. Weiss could freeze them all in place, but that would render Blake defenseless if the Geist fled and possessed something else.

Actually, maybe that is the answer. The Geist fled the suit of armor when it stopped being the best possible way to fight me. If I can just lure it out with the prospect of something even more dangerous, Blake will be freed.

"You're doing great, Weiss!" Whitley called out to his flying sister.

"Shut it!" Weiss snapped. "I'm thinking!"

It's only Gambol Shroud that makes Blake dangerous…rather, that makes Blake's puppet-controlled body dangerous. If I disarm her…or better yet, disarm her and put Gambol in the hands of another body with a possessable set of clothes, that ought to entice the Geist.

Weiss landed on the ground and eyed Whitley.

The youngest Schnee saw something in his sister's eyes that warned him to run, but Weiss blocked his path with a quartet of Glyphs that boxed him in. Father distanced himself from the boy when they appeared, took five seconds to process them, and sighed.

"Must you, Weiss?"

"We have to save Blake! It's the only way. Imagine the diplomatic incident if the Menagerian Chieftain's daughter died in a training accident in the manor!"

Father glanced at Whitley, watched the silent begging in the eyes of the boy who was his 'son,' and pinched the bridge of his nose. Weiss took that as a tacit signal of approval for her plan.

Blake stepped forward, moving each limb one at a time as though she had to manually think about what to do with it. Geists might've been excellent at controlling inanimate matter, but biological substances were beyond their purview, and this once certainly didn't know what to do with the lump of flesh stored within.

"Blake, can you let go of Gambol?"

"It has my gloves!"

Weiss would have to disarm her, then. She'd lost slightly fewer spars than she'd won against Blake (her semblance made her excellent for support but not for solo combat against someone who intimately familiar with it), but it was the Geist she was dueling, not Blake. Furthermore, it lacked precise controls due to its imperfect hold on Blake. Her sleeves were short, after all.

"I'm going to knock the sword out of your hands, Blake, and then throw it over to Whitley. Loosen your grip if you can."

Blake tried to nod, but apparently the fashionable bow on her head was locking her neck, so she just verbally agreed instead.

"Weiss, please! I'm sorry for suggesting we strip her! Pleeeeaaaase!"

"Okay, Blake. On the count of three. One…"

Whitley, still trapped in his Glyph prison, began to wail like the infant he was.

"Two…"

Father took a wide step away from the young swan Faunus next to him. This action didn't go unnoticed, and Whitley began to whine even louder.

"Three!"

Weiss struck with Myrtenaster like a flash.

The tip of her sword blocked landed just where the blade folded backwards when it mech-shifted into a pistol, and Weiss' other hand surged forward to activate the mechanism. Simultaneously, a Glyph appeared to steady the base of the weapon at just around the trigger, ensuring that it remained in the same place spatially. The blade collapsed, but Myrtenaster's sturdy metal got in the way, and Gambol (a marginally weaker blade) split in two as its interior mechanics forced it to continue to change shape despite the barrier in its way.

Weiss watched the Geist, now determining the young woman's outfit that it possessed to no longer be worth it, fly out of Blake's body. It ran back to the suit of armor, now the bulkiest moveable object in the room, but before it could fully wriggle its way into the metal, a small burst of fire from Myrtenaster incinerated its fragile, partially unsheltered body.

"W-What?" asked Blake, now released.

"Sorry about Gambol. I'm sure we can have it fixed, though."

"But…" Blake's eyes darted to a weeping Whitley, who may or may not have wet himself in his terror. "Your plan…"

"My plan was to make that wretched little rat squeal, not to actually hurt him. He is my brother, after all."

Weiss released him from the Glyphs that had boxed him in, and he down in a mess.

"You…You bitch!"

"Whitley!" scowled Father, unimpressed by the language his spare heir was using in front of their cat Faunus guest. Despite the leniency he occasionally displayed with Weiss, her younger brother was never the recipient of Father's fleeting moments of mercy.

"I hate you, Weiss!" he sobbed, fleeing the room through the nearest open doorway. "I hope you die, you hideous Faunus whore!"

Father eyed Blake, who had the good grace to look away. It was a subtle indicator they'd worked up over the years to say that she, while clearly not pleased, was willing to look the other way.

"I destroyed the Geist," Weiss pointed out, hoping to get back on track. "Does this prove I can uphold the Schnee legacy?"

Father clearly didn't approve of the twinge of pepper in Weiss' tone, but there was nothing he could say after she'd proven herself so clearly. "It does, but I shall expect you to surpass your predecessor's legacies. Do not strive to meet Willow and Nicholas; strive to displace them."

When he'd left, likely to chase after Whitley and chastise him for his 'unbecoming behavior' (typically referred to as a temper tantrum), Weiss turned to Blake.

"Wait, so the Geist really did inhabit laundry. Do they have a name for that?"

"I don't know, Weiss."

"And a sword, too. What's that, a Saber Gigas?"

Blake rolled her eyes.

"It inhabited a particularly snarky cat Faunus as well. A Fauna Gigas?"

Weiss received the back of Blake's head and a middle finger for her creative name as her friend exited the room.

"A Blaka Gigas?" she suggested instead, chasing after the other Faunus. "A Bella Gigas?"

Next Chapter: The City without Snow or Sand

In which Weiss Schnee and Blake Belladonna arrive at the place that's going to be their new home.

Author's Notes

So wait, like…are they married? Or not? I can't tell. This is so confusing right now.

Adult Weiss' first line: 'Blake, what the fuuuuuck?'

As you can tell via my author avatar in the form of Weiss, I have some questions about 'Arma Gigas' that remain unanswered.

Weiss is going to regularly incorporate flight into her fighting style so much that it basically becomes integral to her movements. Normal dumb lame Weiss needs to ride on some lame bee's back to fly, but my chad bird Weiss doesn't need no bumblebee (epic foreshadowing).

The worst part of this chapter was that I originally had Weiss blast the Geist immediately when it escaped Blake and kill it, but then I forgot I did that and had her summon an Arma Gigas with her Glyphs in a later chapter. When I went back and reread the entire fic for continuity, I realized my mistake and had to rewrite the Geist so that she killed it when it was in contact with the armor to avoid a plot point.

Happy rats, and don't do crime!