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Chapter XXVI: Ich Weiss nicht*
A lone man sat on a couch inside a nice, cozy apartment in the heart of Vale. If one were to see him, they could tell at a glance that he'd most definitely seen better days. His dirty blond hair was disheveled and so were his yesterday's clothes. His vividly green eyes were bloodshot and glassy, framed by a sickly pale face they seemed to be sinking into. His posture was simultaneously slumped and yet wired with anxious, sleepless energy — energy that the now-empty cup of coffee in front of him was only partially responsible for.
Warm colors and warm memories filled the space around him — comforting browns and oranges covered most of the furniture, whilst red walls were adorned with many various paintings and memorabilia gathered over the years. Family photos cluttered the mantle of a decorative fireplace; of him, his wife and their kids, as well as of their immediate family. His elder sister was included among that choice company, alongside her then-girlfriend and their young daughter.
It was that latter photo he was staring at as he once again dialed a certain number. For all the warmth around him, he felt it very little.
Lights were turned off, as were both radio and TV, allowing the bleak grayness of the outside world to seep into the walls of his home. He drowned in that silence, but dared not interrupt it lest something be lost to the distractions.
With a soft click, the entrance to the dining room opened, briefly letting inside the energetic voices of his children. He looked up just in time to see his wife lean her back against the door, quietly closing it shut while watching him with worry marring her pretty face. He was grateful for her presence; without her to ground him, he'd probably have already driven himself up the wall.
For what felt like the hundredth time since the day prior, he listened to the silence of his Scroll, hoping that the call would go through. For what felt like the hundredth time, he was met with the expected outcome.
"The number you have dialed is not in service at this time."
With a shaky exhale, he dropped the Scroll beside him and hid his head in his arms.
"Nothing?"
Wordlessly, he shook his head.
Soft footfalls drew close, thudding against the pine paneling. Soon, he felt the couch seat buckle as his wife settled down right next to him.
"How long has it been since your last call?" she asked gently, placing one hand on his shoulder and another on his knee.
"Around two weeks…? I think."
"Have you tried calling the neighbors?" she suggested, unwittingly stoking within him the fires of sleep-deprived frustration.
"The line's dead," he ceded through his gritted teeth, only to immediately look away in shame. "Yes, I have."
The woman pulled back slightly, but was understanding of the sudden outburst.
"But they were fine after the battle," she tried to reason, hoping to give her husband some non-catastrophic explanation for the ongoing predicament. "What could possibly have happened, other than some CCT malfunction?"
"The Grimm, what else," he dryly replied. "Maybe the Grimm that were pushed out of Vale, I don't know… migrated in that direction?"
His words gave her a pause, her face scrunching up in a mixture of confusion and concern. "Migrate? Do Grimm do that?"
"No idea."
They sat in silence for what seemed like minutes, interrupted only by the noise made by their neighbors and the sound of outside traffic. Predictably, his Scroll remained quiet and still.
"We need to hire some Huntsmen, dear," she spoke softly, rubbing her thumb against his knee in a sweet but futile attempt to soothe him. "We don't have that much saved up, but hopefully someone will—"
Knowing they were out of options, he nodded before she could finish. "I'll look into it."
A gray blur skittered behind the trunk of a tree, trying to disappear from Weiss' line of sight. The attempt was… noted, but not entirely successful — the sleek birch could not possibly provide enough cover for the creature's thick, bushy tail, making it stick out rather comically from behind the tree.
Weiss smiled, holding back an amused chuckle. With her body lowered into a low squat, she slowly raised the arm that had been holding her Scroll. Once the device was primed for taking pictures, she made a soft chittering sound, hoping to lure the creature out of its hiding spot.
The adorable interloper was a welcome distraction while she waited for her brother to get ready. Unfortunately for the creature, the well-manicured front yard of Schnees' Vale property provided little cover. There was the short hedge running along the property line a few yards away, or the large flowerbed hugging the west face of the house. The gray squirrel chose neither, seemingly not yet desperate enough to risk being pounced on.
Weiss would never, of course. But the squirrel didn't know that.
It was by complete chance that she'd noticed the critter as it tried to sneak across the lawn towards the house — or, what was more likely, towards the small grove of trees behind the mansion. Stood by the main gate to the property, she'd been paying little attention to her surroundings, whiling away the time by checking out some stupid memes Yang had sent her that morning. Having caught up with the backlog, she'd lifted her eyes just in time to see a small gray shape slowly making its way across the grass. For maybe a second, the creature froze in place, only to quickly bound behind the nearest obstacle it could find. And thus, the current standoff.
After maybe half a minute of gentle coaxing, her efforts finally bore fruit — the little critter peeked out from its hiding place, just long enough for Weiss to snap a quick photo before the sound of footsteps on the bright gravel spooked the creature up the tree.
She looked up to see her brother watching her with a slightly puzzled expression.
"What are you doing, sister?" There was a slightly judgmental undertone to his voice, like he was wondering whether she'd finally lost her marbles. She let it slide.
"And what does it look like? Grabbing a photo of a cute squirrel, of course," she nonchalantly replied, as if stating the obvious. Briefly, she turned her eyes towards the tree's crown, but the squirrel was well and truly gone by then.
She examined Whitley's attire. She had instructed him to pick something simple and not too formal, but now began to wonder whether she should've been more specific with her directions. Beneath his ashen coat, he had a light blue button-up shirt and navy dress slacks that he wore together with suspenders. Thankfully, he'd forsaken wearing a vest, but rounding off his outfit with a black tie and a pair of dress shoes kind of negated whatever impact that might have had. All in all, he looked fine, but calling it 'business casual' would still be underselling it.
Well, that was on her. Besides, odds were that it was the best she could expect.
"You overdressed a bit, but that's fine. Ready to go?"
Whitley blinked and gave his outfit a quick once-over, but didn't otherwise react to her comment. With a wry smile, he bent his back a little in a half-hearted bow and gestured for Weiss to lead on. "After you."
They left the property and walked maybe quarter of a mile to the nearest bus stop. Once there, they had to wait for a bit — it was only ten minutes or so, but it was enough for Whitley to start growing slightly impatient. Although he didn't voice his thoughts, it was easy to tell that he was internally complaining about not having Klein drive them around.
To mitigate that, Weiss tried to keep him occupied with questions about his time in Vale so far — what he had been up to, how much he had seen, things of that nature. From what he told her, it seemed that most of his time thus far had been spent visiting various museums, landmarks and art galleries scattered about the city. It was hard to quite gauge his opinion on Vale from that alone, but, at the very least, he didn't seem to have hated the experience.
Most of the ride downtown was spent in silence. The bus wasn't too crowded and they even managed to grab adjacent seats, but the atmosphere didn't lend itself to private conversation. They exchanged a couple of sentences on their way, but, aside from that, mostly minded their own Scrolls.
Once they arrived in the downtown, Weiss took Whitley for a bit of a stroll. Since he had already seen plenty of museums and exhibitions, she forfeited visiting them in favor of showing him some of her favorite shops and restaurants. Afterwards, she went on a small detour through one of Vale's many parks, before eventually leading her brother to a nice diner for a bite to eat.
She suddenly stopped in place maybe two steps past the doorway, quite nearly causing Whitley to walk into her back. He muttered some question under his breath — probably once again wondering whether she'd finally lost the plot — but Weiss didn't catch it, experiencing a bit of a moment.
She hadn't been there since the Fall, but the place hadn't changed much in that time — if at all. Maybe the prices had changed, but she wouldn't know regardless. The decor, the smell and the ambiance all welcomed her like old friends, and it actually amazed her how well that establishment had managed to root itself in her memory. It was simply a place her team would visit whenever they wanted to eat some excellent sandwiches and kick back, one they found together during one of their early group excursions to Vale. There was no deeper meaning, no grand history — just images of her and her friends sitting in a sunlit booth just down the aisle. An echo of simpler, happy times called out to her — and that, perhaps, was where the magic lied.
Weiss threw an apologetic glance over her shoulder. "Sorry, I just got a little nostalgic, is all."
"You used to come here often, then?" Whitley asked her as Weiss headed further inside. Although he didn't seem too impressed with what he was seeing, there was curiosity in the way his eyes scanned his surroundings.
She let out a thoughtful hum. "At first, not really, but in our second semester we'd come here… every other weekend, I want to say?"
"Must have been nice," Whitley commented, following a couple of steps behind her.
'Best time of my life' would've been her genuine response, but she'd caught on to the slightly bitter, jealous note in her brother's voice and thought better of it. "Yes," she said simply, choosing not to rub any salt into the wound that she herself had unwittingly inflicted.
She led him to the same booth she'd usually take with her team, only to find it already occupied by some guy — probably a university student, going by the piles of notes spread out in front of him. Her displeasure must've shown on her face somehow, as the stranger looked at her a bit funny before turning to face the window. Though disappointed, she was not about to start a confrontation over it; instead, she simply walked past and took a seat two booths over.
The booth in question was basically the same as her team's usual spot, if situated slightly worse for people-watching, with a wall occupying a good chunk of the view. The table was a plain rectangle of dark, worn-out wood with decently sharp edges, set with a white plastic table pad criss-crossed with red stripes. The seats and their backrests were glorified planks with some minimal padding beneath the cracked faux leather, and about as comfortable as that sounded — which was to say, not really. Still, the food made up for the back pain, the sandwiches especially. Technically, the establishment was a diner, but to their team it always had been 'that sandwich place'.
Whitley sat on the other side of the booth and pulled closer a stand with the printed out menu. "Any recommendations?"
"Just about any kind of burger or sandwich they've got on the menu. I'd pass on the fries though, if I were you."
He quirked his left eyebrow. "Is it that bad?"
Weiss grimaced, not sure how to put what she actually meant in polite words. "No, but it's roughly what you'd find in a grocery store."
Whitley just stared at her blankly for a second or two, her explanation having apparently not cleared up a thing. "Uh-huh. Pass, got it."
Around three minutes later, they were approached by a waitress. Weiss vaguely remembered her from back in the day, and it seemed that the recognition might have been mutual, as the lady kept stealing glances her way while they were ordering. It surprised her a little, being remembered after two years of absence. Sure, just about anyone had heard of her family, but it actually wasn't that often that she'd get recognized on the street. Case in point, Weiss was the only one getting the looks in that situation, whereas Whitley was sitting right there, in front of her.
Then again, she supposed, she had been keeping rather colorful company back then.
"Anything to drink?" the waitress asked after noting down their sandwiches of choice.
"Yes, I'd—" Struck by a certain idea, Weiss turned a questioning look towards Whitley. "Say, have you ever had bubble tea?"
He blinked, clearly confused by the term. "Pardon?"
Weiss clasped her hands together and smiled at the server. "Two jasmine milk teas, please."
The server smiled in kind and scribbled something in her notepad before turning her attention to Whitley.
"That will be it for now." After the waitress retreated behind the counter, he fixed his sister with a confused stare. "What in the blizzard is 'bubble tea'?"
"Tea with milk and a bunch of chewy balls at the bottom," Weiss explained, only to chuckle when that did little to give him the general picture. "You'll see. We can always get you something else if you end up not liking it." It was easy to say that he had some misgivings about the wisdom behind bubble tea, but he decided to trust Weiss' guidance.
Their drinks arrived first, and they needed not wait long. Weiss made a quick showing of sucking in a pearl and chewing, then encouraged Whitley to follow her example. He did, and although he withheld any praise higher than 'it's fine', he kept sipping on the drink until the rest of his order arrived some time later.
Resting her cheek on her fist, she watched Whitley bite into his large burger. A valiant first attempt, if a little bit awkward. What actually mattered was that he seemed to enjoy it. Not that he said so, per say, but his amazed expression spoke for him, just as did the follow-up bite.
Before trying to start a conversation, she let Whitley experience the joys of good fast-food for a bit. Sipping idly on her boba, she spent some time watching passersby through the window until he was about third of the way through his burger.
"So… what do you think of Vale so far?" she asked him after biting through the tapioca pearl in her mouth.
Whitley took a while to answer, though it wasn't entirely clear to Weiss how much of it was spent thinking, and how much was just stalling for time as he chewed. Once he swallowed, he reached out for a napkin and wiped his mouth in the most elegant — and slow — way possible. In his defense, he actually needed to.
"It's… lively. It's busy like Atlas or Mantle, but the air about the place is completely different."
Weiss' eyes fluttered as she stared at her brother in surprise, but it wasn't long until said surprise gave way to a smirk. "Was that a pun?"
"Not intended," Whitley calmly denied, but a faint shadow of a smile could be seen on his face as he looked out the window. "I suppose I can see why Mother likes it here."
'She does?' Weiss was about to ask, but Whitley's words brought back a shadow of a memory long since forgotten. Vaguely, but she did, in fact, recall Willow saying so once upon a time. There had been talks about Weiss doing a recital in Vale, and Mother had been so looking forward to showing her the city. The recital had come to pass, eventually… unlike the promised tour.
Weiss took another sip of her drink, her mouth feeling dry all of a sudden. "How is she?"
"Weird. In a good way, granted, but…" Whitley sighed. "I'm still not used to her being… like that. Present."
Although her interactions with her mother had been few and far between since her father's funeral, she most certainly understood what Whitley meant. She was definitely glad that Willow endeavored to stay sober, but the difference felt borderline uncanny at times. 'Getting clean can truly change a person', Weiss mused.
For the next couple of minutes, the two of them ate in silence. Not really of the awkward sort, thankfully, as both simply turned their attention inwards rather than paying any mind to each other.
Weiss was the first to break from her inner musings, directing an inquisitive look Whitley's way. "Will you tell me what you are doing in Vale?"
Her brother froze momentarily while chewing. He considered her request for a second, then swallowed and let out a sigh.
"Fine," he agreed, putting down his burger and once again wiping his mouth. "My therapist suggested that I could use a… change of scenery, so to speak. The current plan is to travel around Remnant for a bit, see the Kingdoms. If any of them catches my fancy, I might stay there for a bit."
"'For a bit', you say," Weiss repeated, absentmindedly playing with the remaining napkins sitting inside the holder. "Assuming you were to stay here… for how long would that be?"
Whitley inhaled deeply and looked down at his food. He appeared… conflicted. "I don't know," he finally replied. A small pause followed, as if he was wondering whether he should say anything more. "Mother pitched the idea of me finishing my education abroad."
"Oh." Weiss straightened her back at that revelation. An idea crossed her mind, but she was hesitant to voice it. She sat on it for a spell, licking her lower lip as she wondered whether to take the risk of coming off as fake, presumptuous or pushy.
"Well, if it's Vale, then I could probably show you the ropes of living here," she finally spoke, trying to sound supportive. Regrettably, what she had pulled off instead was rather awkward and nervous.
Her gamble seemed to have paid off regardless, earning her a slight smile. "I think I'd like that."
Weiss put up her elbows on the table and leaned in. "I'm happy for you," she said earnestly, returning Whitley's smile in a somewhat timid manner. "I think it'd be good for you, to get out of the Manor and live a little. See the world, get to know some people — maybe make some actual friends."
Whitley's expression turned into a smirk. "How heartless, dear sister, implying that I don't have any real friends. Not factually incorrect, perhaps, but still." He then shot her a long, curious look, as if wondering whether to ask her something. In the end, his curiosity won. "On a related note, how was your gift? Did your girlfriend like it?"
Weiss basically inhaled the contents of her straw, only to cough so violently that the tea went up and out her nose. Hacking and hawing until she could breathe again, she reached blindly for a napkin to wipe her face.
Once she'd blown her nose, she shot Whitley a somewhat anxious look. Unlike most of her friends, who would just laugh the whole thing off, Whitley was mostly just baffled — and probably at least a little grossed out. Thankfully, it didn't seem like he got caught up in the splash zone; Weiss got some tea over herself, but even in that aspect the situation wasn't so bad.
She internally cursed her rotten luck. As if the question itself hadn't been embarrassing enough, she just had to make a fool of herself. Now, not only her face was burning, but even the inside of her nose.
Weiss cleared her throat, eyes turning away. "Ruby did." On reflex, she scooped up her ponytail and pressed it to her face, as if to hide. "She's, um, not my girlfriend, though…" she added, mumbling the words into her hair.
Out of the corner of her vision, she saw Whitley giving her a rather annoyed look, as if to ask 'do you really expect me to fall for that?'. She said nothing to defend herself nor turned his way; as the awkward silence between them grew, his expression changed, morphing from vexation to disbelief as he pulled back in his seat.
"Wait, you are actually being serious," he marveled in a perfect deadpan, adding fuel to the fire that was burning Weiss' cheeks. "Why not?"
"Why what?" she questioned back, getting increasingly irritated. The way he had said that, he made it seem as if it was a simple matter — an afterthought, even.
"Why isn't she?" he asked, looking as if he was genuinely trying to understand her. "Certainly, I might lack the experience, but between that portrait and what little I've seen of your interactions, even I can see that you're into her. I can't fault you, either — she's rather cute. Did you get rejected?"
"What? No. I've never asked her out."
"Are you worried she doesn't find you attractive?"
That line of questioning was slowly beginning to tick her off — not the least of which was because had he asked that question a week ago, he would've been at least partially correct. To his credit, he hadn't called her 'flat' or 'small' to her face, something she was grateful for.
"No, that's not it," she basically growled, then let out a groan and sort of slumped against the table, laying down her head on her arms. "Ugh, so I've got a bit of a crush on her — so what? It's purely physical. Not something I'd want to complicate our relationship over; definitely not right now."
For a few seconds, Whitley just observed her in silence, as if trying to unravel some cipher in front of him. "And in the future?"
"I don't know," was her quiet, earnest reply. "'The future' feels like a very nebulous thing right now. Whenever I'm trying to think more than two weeks ahead, all I'm coming up with is a blank page. My today still doesn't feel real, never mind tomorrow."
It was… somewhat infuriating, actually. On one hand, seeing Blake and Yang together would every now and then cause a big ball of ugly to coalesce within her chest. On the other, whenever she tried to imagine herself in a romantic setting — be it with Ruby or someone else — all she could visualize was white noise… and the sense of vague longing for something she couldn't have.
She… had thought about, well… kissing Ruby. It was by no means a habitual occurrence, relegated mostly to times of idle fancy… but the thought had cropped up every now and then. In those brief moments of rose-scented fantasy, kissing led to more kissing, and then… well. She didn't hate the picture, but it had never left her fulfilled, either. To the contrary, it was… lacking, for absence of a better word — achingly so. Missing the warmth and feeling and the intimacy of what she associated with romance. It was magnetic, perhaps, but not quite what she wished for.
Her long-term desires were painted with some very broad strokes. Go back to Beacon. Enjoy herself. Keep her friends close. Try to be a better sister. Experience love. For once in her life, her plans didn't really go much deeper than that — though not necessarily because it was her intention to just wing it. Rather, thinking about it — trying to imagine it, make plans — filled her with anxiety that was difficult to explain.
Perhaps, she simply didn't feel ready for yet another grand change, clinging to the here and now till she found her footing. She certainly hoped it wouldn't be long till then.
"For once in my life, I think I can relate," Whitley stated, seemingly somewhat amused. Idly, he stirred his drink with his straw, looking at the plastic cup with distant eyes. "If someone told me a month ago that I'd be considering living in Vale, or bonding with my estranged sister while eating junk food, I'd probably think they're making fun of me."
His words caused a rather unpleasant, burning sensation in the area of Weiss' heart.
Her lips curled in a lopsided smile. "Hey, at least it's tasty," she quipped, trying to hide behind humor.
"I won't argue there."
Soon, Weiss' expression dimmed and grew subdued. She sat up and clasped her hands above the table, rubbing her thumbs against each other. "Estranged, huh? Guess we are." She looked up at her brother. "I really never have been much of a sister to you, have I."
"You haven't," he said flatly, focusing on his half-finished cup of bubble tea. "But our family has never been much of a family, at least for as long as I can remember."
"I'm sorry," Weiss spoke, lowering her gaze. She'd meant it.
Whitley sighed and rubbed his eyelids. "I've come to realize that the blame doesn't lie with you alone." Looking up, he managed to lift the left corner of his mouth ever-so-slightly. "But I appreciate you saying so."
Knowing not how else to acknowledge what he'd just said, Weiss found herself nodding stiffly. Finally, she forced herself to meet his stare. "Do you think we can…" she waved her hand around, searching for the right word, "fix it?"
Whitley took his time choosing his phrasing. "I trust that Mother is genuinely trying," he cautiously stated. Then, he fixed Weiss with a long, discerning stare, as if trying to see right through her. "And I want to think the same of you."
Weiss was aware that he mostly sidestepped her actual question — which was in and of itself pretty telling — but she appreciated his answer nonetheless. 'Trying, huh?' Indeed, it was probably the most they could do at that point. It remained to be seen where said trying would take them.
So far, she didn't hate it.
Doctor Glas' study had a noticeably gloomier atmosphere this time around. Through no fault of the owner, really — in fact, the doctor actively tried to breathe some warmth back into it with the help of artificial lighting, but there was only so much a couple of lamps could do to combat the dull gray of the outside world.
The skies had begun to foul even before Klein had arrived to pick up Whitley. By the time Weiss had arrived at the practice, the stormy gray had been stretching from horizon to horizon; no rain quite yet, but she figured it was only a matter of time. Klein had even offered her an umbrella, but she'd politely declined, saying that they needed it more than she did.
The door to the office clicked softly behind Weiss' seat as miss Cordelia strode inside, carrying a tray with two cups and a teapot. Somewhat lost in thought, Weiss barely registered the moment when a steaming teacup had been placed in front of her, sparing the woman but a glance.
Her inner unrest must've been clearly apparent, as Doctor Glas had managed to pick up that something was up even before she sat in her armchair. "Is there something on your mind, Miss Schnee?"
Weiss looked up. "It's nothing," she reflexively replied, only to mentally chide herself as soon as the answer had left her tongue. She was there to work through her issues, damn it. It would be one thing if her answer stemmed from actual apprehension, but no — what she had just blurted out was nothing more than a knee jerk response. There was taking things at her own pace, and then there was not putting in any work — and she refused to settle on the latter. "Actually… I suppose there is. I have just met with my brother, and it seems it got me into a pensive mood."
"I see. Do you two have a close relationship?"
Weiss snorted a dry laugh. "To the contrary. He himself called us 'estranged', and I certainly can't say he's wrong." Her lips set into a dissatisfied, embittered smile. "I wish I could say that my relationship with him is yet another thing my Father has ruined, but the truth is that I'm at least partly responsible. Ruby suggested that my Father had been actively driving a wedge between me and my brother, but even if she were correct, I have done nothing to counteract that."
"It's good to take accountability for our actions — or our inactions. If you recognize your own shortcomings, it will help you avoid repeating your past mistakes, or perhaps even guide you in fixing them," Doctor Glas said, inserting a slightly hopeful, encouraging note into the latter part of her statement. "That being said, if miss Rose's theory is correct, it's possible there wasn't much you could've done. 'Effort' is not always enough to overcome a poisoned well. Parental figures are, shall we say, uniquely equipped to shape their young children's impressions of other people. The desire for parental love can be a powerful control tool." She let her words hang in the air for a while, then leaned back, crossed her legs and asked: "Is it something you'd like to work on? Your relationship with your brother, or your family in general?"
Weiss heaved a sigh and let her head roll backwards onto the backrest. "That's exactly the question I'm asking myself. Is it worth it? Is it even possible to fix this mess?" She roughly rubbed her face. "Take Whitley for example — my relationship with him is one of years-long indifference, if not dislike, followed by betrayals and hurt. Wanting to free myself from Father, I ran away to Beacon and left Whitley alone with our crappy parents, leading to him feeling abandoned; he, in turn, manipulated and backstabbed me so that he could replace me as the heir. Neither is something easy to just get over. And we both said some cruel, unnecessary things."
She reached with her memory back to the first battle of Atlas. It was only lucky timing that they'd returned topside from Mantle just before Schnee Manor had been attacked. Had Blake not noticed a pack of Manticores circling in the dark sky above the manor grounds, or had they arrived on the scene a minute later, Weiss and Winter would've been the last Schnees still alive.
They'd found Willow and Whitley amidst the ruins of the music hall, fighting for their life against a Manticore backed up by a handful of Razorwings. Mother had been… managing, but she was no Huntress — even in that enclosed space, where the beasts couldn't move freely, she had been clearly overwhelmed. Whitley, armed with a pistol, had been trying to help, but there was only so much a civilian-grade small arm fire could do to a pack of Grimm.
Their team had cleared the room in seconds. The Manticore had been one of the first Grimm to fall, beheaded by Ruby after it had been locked in place with ice spikes piercing its body. Many more beasts had been waiting for them outside, across the collapsed wall of the building, but they had been in no rush to jump into the meat grinder.
Weiss remembered half-turning towards her terrified family and shooting her brother a sideways glance. She had felt some sympathy for Whitley, seeing him so shaken, but another feeling had risen above it.
In that moment, she had felt vindicated.
"Do you remember that one question you asked me a year ago, Whitley? 'What can a single Huntsman do that an army cannot?'" she'd dryly asked, before turning towards the broken wall and approaching it with Myrtenaster on the ready. "Allow me to demonstrate."
And she had. She had made her point, choosing that over kindness or compassion.
Less than an hour later, the Schnee household had been informed that Jacques had been killed when Grimm destroyed the prison wing he'd been held in.
Weiss released a slow exhale. "We might be acting civil around each other now, but I think there's a lot to unpack beneath the ice — pardon the pun."
Miss Cordelia scribbled something in her notepad. "How about your relationship with your mother? You mentioned she'd taught you to play the piano."
Weiss held back a sigh and shifted forward on the chaise longue, reaching for her teacup along with its saucer — mostly so that she had something to occupy her hands with. Having pulled both items into her lap, she thumbed the rim of the cup, enjoying the soothing warmth that spread through her chilly palms.
Interestingly enough, unlike the week prior, she no longer was so… disinclined to discuss the matter of her mother. Perhaps she'd gotten more comfortable since; perhaps it was because the subject had already been on her mind after talking with Whitley, if not ever since bumping into Willow herself. Why, she was almost eager to get her thoughts out, and it was only due to the lack of opportunity that she hadn't run them by Ruby.
"It used to be good, once upon a time… but now I can barely remember the feeling." She lifted her gaze and met that of the doctor with a crooked smile — one she'd meant to be lighthearted, but that likely came off more sad than anything else. "It all came to a head on my tenth birthday, actually. Father 'missed' the big dinner, she got mad, and he finally hit her with the truth. That the whole marriage had been a sham for him to get the family name, and start building his 'legacy'. I believe she already knew, but hearing it from the man himself kind of broke her." All pretense of a smile dropped off her face as she hung her head. "She tried to drown her sorrows in glasses of wine. Glasses soon became bottles, and when that didn't work out either, she turned to harder liquor. It wasn't long until she basically pulled out from my life."
Midst the brief moment of silence that followed her words, they both became aware of the first raindrops beginning to drum softly on the window glass. It gripped their attention for a spell, but it wasn't long before miss Cordelia set out to get their conversation back on track. Turning the gaze of her gentle blue eyes at Weiss, she asked: "Was she ever abusive towards you?"
"Not physically." Weiss smiled wryly upon noticing the subtle wrinkle that appeared on the doctor's brow; she might not have said so directly, but her finding it warranted to make the distinction was clear enough of an answer.
Her eyes moved just slightly, but enough so that miss Cordelia shifted out of focus. Looking at nothing at all, Weiss continued. "I could go on weeks without seeing her once, and whenever I did bump into her, it was never a pleasant experience. She was seldom sober, and her drunken rants could get really cruel once she got going. Or just… heavy."
Miss Cordelia just sat there in silence for a second, her bespectacled, insightful eyes watching Weiss as she considered the girl's meaning. "Heavy? As in, dumping her feelings on a child not equipped to handle them, nor able to help her?"
Weiss nodded. That one sentence summed up those experiences pretty much perfectly.
She looked down, casting her gaze into the shallows of her tea. "She seems younger, now that Father is gone. She's managed to get sober, even. The SDC hasn't burned down yet, and she's actually working hard to re-introduce some of the company policies from the times of my late Grandpa." She drew a lungful of air and held it in for a little while, her jaw beginning to tighten. Finally, she begrudgingly acknowledged: "And she seems to be trying to rebuild the old bridges."
"How do you feel about it?"
That right there was the billion Lien question. The answer seemed to change with the weather, almost — she'd gone through confusion, anxiety, hope, apathy and seething anger, and could not tell for the life of hers which feeling rose above the rest. It was… messy.
"I don't know. I—" She cut off, a sort of tightness building up in the back of her throat and silencing her. Eyes shut, she took a couple of deep breaths to center herself, but that did little about the slightly painful tension around her jaw. Eventually, she continued, her eyes burning a hole in the nice green carpet. "I recognize she was also a victim in all of this, and that she is trying to improve," she granted, though the words that came were slow, tense and heavy, as if each required some effort to get out.
"But it's… hard, getting over a decade of neglect and verbal abuse. Something just… dies inside a ten year old upon seeing their parent passed out on the floor, in a puddle of their own vomit. She seems to have changed, she really does, but—" The rest of the sentence got stuck in her throat and she took a sharp breath through her nose, completely involuntarily. Having clammed up, she simply shook her head and bit lightly on her lower lip. Realizing she'd been tightening her grip on the teacup, she consciously relaxed her fingers ere she could crack the porcelain.
Finally, with a deep frown creasing her forehead, she looked up at miss Cordelia, hoping for— she wasn't sure what. Her opinion? Guidance? Absolution? "Is it wrong of me to still feel, I don't know… resentment? Even though she's trying?"
Doctor Glas shifted in her seat, leaning slightly forward and putting her hands together in her lap. She looked Weiss in the eye, serious but understanding of the girl's plight. "Although grief might understandably push us towards questionable behavior, it doesn't absolve one of one's actions. True, there was a cause behind her decline — a very human one, at that — but the existence of that cause in no way lessened the impact her actions had on you and your siblings. Her being a victim doesn't mean she can't be a villain of another's story, Weiss, nor that she should necessarily be excused, or even forgiven. That is up to you to determine; you don't owe her a chance at redemption. The way you feel is perfectly understandable, and valid."
Weiss nodded, though the doctor's words brought her less relief or reassurance than she would've expected. There was bitterness on her tongue, one she tried to wash off with a mouthful of tea before asking another question.
"Do you think this relationship can be salvaged?"
The doctor blinked, seeming to weigh Weiss' question very carefully. "Before I answer either way, I'd like to ask you this: do you want it to be salvaged?" she asked back.
The heavy question left Weiss rather stumped, with no answer forthcoming. She honestly wasn't sure whether she wanted — or dared hope — to have her mother be a part of her life again. The prospect was burdened with so many unknowns and risks that the cautious side of her didn't want to touch it with a ten-foot pole. At the same time, Ruby's voice echoed throughout the recesses of her mind, whispering softly of perhaps regaining something that'd been lost.
The one thing she knew for certain was that, even for all her failures and shortcomings as a parent, Weiss didn't wish her mother ill. Granted, she hadn't wished death onto Father, either, but she hadn't been above feeling some schadenfreude when he'd started getting his comeuppance for his illicit dealings. Also, as callous as it might be, she had shed no tears over his passing. Not of sadness, anyways — nor of happiness. With his death had come relief, emptiness and derealization — but not sorrow.
When it came to Willow, on the other hand… Weiss felt that her mother's hypothetical death would strike her as tragic. Not just because it would be a sad end to an even sadder story, but because it'd be an actual, personal loss.
Hah, loss. It was kind of funny, in a depressing sort of way — losing something one has not. Weiss had lost her mother already years ago, and thought she'd made her peace with the fact. Not quite so, it seemed.
"Why did you come back, Weiss?"
Such was the question Willow had asked her when Weiss had returned to the Manor for the second time during the Battle of Atlas. It'd been shortly after Ironwood's emergency war council — shortly after learning that Jacques had been killed. It hadn't been exactly a social call, and its purpose had already been explained to the woman; as such, the response that'd come was dry and matter-of-factual.
"Ruby's already told you. We need a ship."
It had been just the three of them in the dining room — Weiss, Willow, and Ruby, the latter of whom had been standing on the other side of the hall, by a large window overlooking the Manor's gardens lit with the light of dawn. Scroll in hand, the girl had already started putting the next stage of their plan in motion, coordinating the movements of the rest of their party.
Weiss had spoken true — Ruby had explained the situation. Better yet, Willow had already given them the clearance to grab a shuttle from the company's hangar, having put absolutely no resistance whatsoever.
That being said, Weiss had been acting willingly obtuse. She'd instinctively realized Willow had been asking her about something else entirely. There had been a tell, a slight waver in the woman's voice that hadn't been a drunken slur — a glimmer of something.
Hope.
That was why Weiss had had her arms crossed, masking how uncomfortable the question had made her.
In the periphery of her vision, she had seen Willow move one step closer and place a hand on the dining table. The woman had shaken her head.
"No. The first time around, when the Manor was attacked. People were dying down there, in Mantle. But you came here."
'Why did you come back?'
Not what for — just why. Cause rather than the objective.
Willow's gaze had frozen Weiss in place. Though externally she had remained silent and unmoving, she remembered it'd felt as if something had started coiling inside her chest, almost like a snake seeking to burrow itself in a bed of leaves and grass to hide and be forgotten. The sensation had made her skin crawl, urging her to put up her guard and brush her mother off.
But instead, she had pinned that serpent to the ground, herself not quite knowing why.
"And they were dying over here, in Atlas." Briefly, she had met her mother's bloodshot, forlorn gaze. "I do have family here, for better or worse. I couldn't just leave you alone… again." Just with that, the contact had ended.
For a time, Willow had remained still, as if stunned by the answer — or perhaps reluctant to believe her ears. After a couple of seconds had passed, she'd fidgeted uncomfortably on the spot, shifting her weight from one foot to the other and pulling her left arm closer to her chest. Not long after, that same arm had begun reaching out towards Weiss as if to grasp something, only to fall limply by Willow's side a heartbeat later; in that same moment, Weiss had pushed herself further away from the dining table, reflexively putting another foot of distance between her and her mother.
In the present, Weiss stared down at her visage reflected on the surface of her drink.
'Do you want it to be salvaged?'
Despite all the pain and abandonment, Weiss didn't have it in her heart to actually hate her mother. Most of the time, she found herself pitying the woman. More recently, she'd started to genuinely root for Willow. Still, wishing her mother to live a decent life didn't necessarily equal to wishing to be a part of said life.
At the same time — be it because of some sense of blood-bound obligation, or some naive yearning of her inner child — the prospect of cutting her mother off completely didn't sit right with Weiss. Not when she was reaching out. A dilemma that had been entirely absent when it came to Jacques.
"I don't know," Weiss finally spoke; her voice was small, but it carried the first rumbles of a brewing storm. Inside her ribcage, bubbling frustration was steadily welling up, brought on by the sheer frequency those three syllables seemed to be leaving her lips that day.
Her breath left her in a slow, controlled exhale. Leaning forward, she hunched over and planted her elbows on her thighs. "I used to hope that Mother would pull herself together, but that was… what, eight years ago?" A small, hollow laugh tore past her lips. The smile it'd left behind was equally as empty. "It's funny. She had finally managed, and yet…"
"Too little, too late?" Doctor Glas suggested after noting something down in her notebook.
Weiss pondered on it for a second before bobbing her head in a half-nod, half-shrug. "Somewhat. I don't think what she accomplished is 'little', but…"
Her voice trailed off into a spell of breathless silence. Eyes drawn to the nearby bookcase, they blindly roved over the assorted titles as Weiss stalled for time. Eventually, her back straightened as her lungs swelled, filling to their capacity with fresh air. She could tell the attentive gaze directed her way, but she chose not to meet it, burdened by the strain of the admission she was about to make.
"I suppose I'm just wary, or scared. Of yet another disappointment."
"It's understandable."
She said nothing to that, turning her attention to the teacup resting within her lap. Now that it was half-empty, Weiss noticed a faint hairline crack and, with a hint of concern, began to wonder if it had been there before. Choosing to believe so, she pushed whatever budding pangs of guilt she felt to the side.
"Some time ago, Mother invited me and my team to a social gathering later this year. I was planning on ignoring it, but Ruby convinced me to give it a shot. I suppose we'll see how that goes."
"It might be a good idea, to have your support network nearby in case things turn out to be disappointing," the doctor commented before reclining further back into her armchair and taking a long, thoughtful look at Weiss. After a few seconds, she lifted her right hand and traced a small circle in the air. "Circling back to your previous question — what I think is that you seem interested in trying. It's a risk, but who knows? Maybe your mother will manage to earn your forgiveness."
Weiss wasn't sure what to say to that. Was it 'I hope so'? 'Yeah, right'? Or maybe 'she can certainly try'? In the end, she chose none of the options, electing to simply nod her head and take a sip of her tea.
Having given Weiss some time to speak up had she chosen to, miss Cordelia seemed about ready to change the subject.
"And what about Winter? Do you get along with her?"
Tension lifted from her body like an invisible, heavy blanket sliding off her shoulders. She wondered if it had been intentional, to bring up Winter as the last, as a palate cleanser of sorts; in either case, she appreciated it.
Her face eased into a smile. "Yes. I love my sister dearly, and she's probably the biggest role model I've had for most of my life. It's really the only familial relationship I'm happy with." Still, a glimmer of dissatisfaction lingered beneath her bright veneer, secretly weighing down her heart. She felt it slowly rising to the surface, but she actually managed to surprise herself when she spoke out loud: "Mostly."
Doctor Glas blinked. "Mostly?" she gently probed, and though she didn't raise her eyebrows, it was quite clear that Weiss' latest remark had left her a little confused. "Could you elaborate on that?"
She kind of didn't want to, and somewhat regretted voicing her discontent, but what was done was done. Not like it was some dark secret, just… embarrassing.
"Ah, how do I put it…" she pondered, biting lightly on the inside of her cheek. "I truly believe we are close and that I can confide in her with anything, but there are times when I don't feel that way, if that makes sense. She... finds it difficult to display affection, be it in speech or gestures. I don't blame her, as I used to be largely the same before Beacon, but… I think that spending so much time with Ruby and Yang made me greedy in that regard." Having let out a small chuckle, she took on a slightly more serious — more thoughtful — expression. "I'm not sure why it's the case with her. Whether it's due to our stiff upbringing, our parents' loveless mess of a marriage, or if it's just how she's wired. I'm not looking for a way to change her, but…" she trailed off, too embarrassed to continue.
"I see," miss Cordelia spoke with the air of understanding, a warm, genuine smile lighting up her face. "Have you tried bringing it up to her?"
Weiss snorted, shooting the woman a look that was in equal part incredulous, annoyed and amused. "You jest, surely. I'd probably die of embarrassment. Feeling the need to ask her permission to hug her is awkward enough, believe me."
But Glas didn't seem deterred by Weiss' protests, continuing to give her the same gentle smile. "I think you should try when you get the chance. You might be surprised."
Weiss drew back in her seat until she felt her tailbone press against the cushions. It took her aback, how adamant miss Cordelia seemed to be about that one piece of counsel, but the woman's unwavering gaze made her reevaluate her initial stance. She continued to stare at the doctor for a couple of moments; eventually, Weiss brought her eyes downcast, mind turning inward as she stared at her own reflection.
As soon as doctor Glas let her out of the study, Weiss picked up the voice of Jasna, Glas' assistant, talking to someone in the small kitchen area adjacent to the waiting room. From her spot by the entryway, Weiss couldn't tell whom to, nor could she make out the words. Turning around, she gave miss Cordelia a confused look, to which the doctor responded with a slight, polite smile.
"Enjoy the rest of your day, miss Schnee."
With that goodbye and a single nod, doctor Glas retreated back into the study, the door swinging shut behind her. Left by her lonesome with her curiosity, Weiss quietly moved ahead, towards the conversation.
On some level, Weiss had already known whom she'd find looking her way even before she'd peeked her head around the corner wall. The sight of those silver eyes lighting up in her presence still managed to take her aback, however.
Beyond the narrow corridor, sitting in a kitchen chair opposite of miss Jasna, Ruby happily flashed her teeth. "Hiii!"
"…Ruby?" left Weiss' mouth alongside a surprised laugh. "What are you doing here?"
"Giving Jasna some pointers when it comes to baking," Ruby replied innocently, only for her grin to grow when Weiss rolled her eyes. To Weiss' surprise, however, the usually stoic attendant smiled and nodded along, backing up Ruby's claim.
"She sure knows her stuff."
Ruby bowed her head in a playfully exaggerated manner, graciously accepting that offering to her ego. Slapping both of her knees, she hopped off the chair and all but skipped towards Weiss, closing the distance between them in maybe a second. "I came to pick you up."
"You didn't have to," Weiss began to protest, but her smile betrayed her.
Ruby really hadn't needed to come. They'd discussed the logistics beforehand, and Weiss had thought they'd agreed on her coming alone to the session, straight from her meeting with Whitley. Ruby had certainly offered to meet up with her, but Weiss hadn't wanted her to trouble herself.
Then again, now that she thought of it, they'd never made any arrangements for Weiss' trip back home. Her own omission, certainly.
"I don't mind," Ruby replied with an easygoing shrug. Then, her eyes brightened, as if she'd suddenly remembered something — and was really pleased by it. She pushed past Weiss and briskly crossed the foyer, skidding to a halt in front of the coat hanger; with a twirl of her skirt and a theatrical 'ta da', she pointed with both of her arms at the dark object in the foot of the stand. "And I brought an umbrella!"
Weiss just snorted, though her heart glowed within her chest.
Heavy and numerous, drops of rain drummed on the black membrane spread over their heads. Although not quite a downpour, it rained intensely enough for long puddles to have formed along the curb within the short hour since it'd started. On the sidewalk, as well, water pooling within small crevices and depressions in the pavement.
Ruby, clad in her combat boots, happily plowed right through, but Weiss — not quite dressed for the weather — preferred to finesse her way through that flash quagmire. Since Ruby was the umbrella-bearer, any detours Weiss would make risked exposing her to the rain, but Ruby's arm helpfully followed her wherever she went, even at the girl's own expense — not that Ruby seemed to mind. The coverage wasn't always perfect, perhaps, but the thought went a long way.
"Sooo, how was your little outing?" Ruby quizzed after they walked some distance from the practice.
Weiss' thoughtful hum was lost to the rain. "Not altogether unpleasant." As she said that, she felt Ruby bump her with her hip, leaning lightly into her and pushing her gently away from the curb — further from an incoming car about to pass them by. Just in time, too, as moments later a jet of water shot their way, reaching far enough to catch Ruby well past her ankle. Once the asshole going forty in a twenty five drove by and away, Weiss scoffed under her breath. There was a momentary pause as she checked up on Ruby; when the girl paid the incident no mind, Weiss also moved on — though the distaste remained. "Whitley might be coming to study in Vale."
"Oh," Ruby let out, then turned towards Weiss and stepped closer, eyes wide and curious. "Ooooh? Like college and whatnot?" When Weiss nodded, a more serious, somewhat concerned — though still nosy — expression set in on the girl's face. "How do you feel about it?"
Weiss drew a long breath. "I… don't know, honestly. It's somewhat new to me… which is kind of sad and pathetic," she said, letting out a humorless chuckle. For a while, she said nothing else, staring off into the distance in thoughtful silence. "Oddly, I find myself looking forward to it. Should he decide to move to Vale, I think I should make an effort, at least, even if it doesn't lead anywhere."
Smiling, Ruby leaned in and bumped Weiss' shoulder with her own. "I'm rooting for you," she said as their eyes met.
Weiss responded with a smile of her own, though it was of the timid variety. "Thanks."
With Weiss having to go around yet another puddle, they walked the next ten yards in silence. "And the session? How was it?" Ruby asked once they fell back into step with each other.
"I—" Weiss hesitated for a moment. "Productive, I'm almost tempted to say," she stated, herself a little surprised. She briefly caught Ruby's curious stare before turning to look ahead, at the nearly bald trees they kept passing by. "We talked about my family situation. A lot of it was just me venting, but Glas helped me arrange my thoughts on the matter, somewhat. What I regret, what I want, what I resent and so on." Their eyes once again gravitated towards each other. "She also had me try to look at our relations from my siblings' points of view, sort of… guiding me along with her questions. Why they act the way they do, why they did or didn't do something, what were their ways of coping with things... Didn't make me feel any better, but it was certainly… interesting, or even eye-opening."
"Do you think it helped you understand them better?" Ruby questioned, tilting her head ever-so-slightly to the side.
Weiss sighed. "Not necessarily, since I was just guessing… but I think that the questions themselves were pretty important." To that, Ruby replied with a hum that was part-thoughtful, part-understanding, but said nothing else. After maybe thirty paces of silence, a certain thought crossed Weiss mind, making her turn her head directly towards her companion. "Ruby?"
"Sup?"
"Why did you encourage me to give Mother a shot?" she asked, eyeing the girl curiously. Seeing Ruby's shoulders shrink at the question, Weiss was quick to put an end to the line of thinking the Dolt was going down of. "I don't fault you for it, or anything. I'm just curious."
Ruby let out a nervous chuckle. "Eh, how to say it…" she wondered out loud, looking at the gray skies rather than Weiss herself. While thinking, she grasped the handle of their umbrella with both of her hands and squeezed it lightly. "I know that she's hurt you, and hasn't been much of a mom for half of your life. But I've never gotten the vibe that you hate her, or even blame her all that much. Mostly, you just seem… sad, like you've already mourned losing her. Sure, you got a little heated when she wanted to meet with you a while back, but it kind of struck me as a defense mechanism, if I'm being honest. Like you were afraid you'd get hurt again, or that she's about to barge in and mess with your life." Finally, she looked at Weiss — not directly, perhaps, but in the general direction of her eyes. "It's a reasonable concern, don't get me wrong, but… I guess I didn't want for that concern to stop you from at least considering if it's something you might want — giving your mom a chance, I mean."
Weiss accepted that answer with a small, thankful nod, quietly walking forward as she mulled it over. A defense mechanism, was it? It certainly hadn't been what she thought of back in the moment, caught up in her guttural anger and indignation, but she appreciated Ruby's perspective. She didn't think Ruby was mistaken, either; rather, the girl was seeing Weiss' outbursts for what they were — anxiety.
Both Ruby and doctor Glas were of the same mind, it seemed, though they expressed it in different ways. Although she didn't like it, the longer she thought on the matter, the more inclined she was to agree with their assessment — that deep down, she did want to see what Willow would make of a second chance. To whatever end it would lead: closure or reconciliation.
She was glad she wouldn't have to face that end alone. Had it not been for the family she'd found and trusted, she wouldn't dare seek it.
She lightly bumped Ruby's shoulder, pressing herself against the other's arm for a few moments in a silent gesture of appreciation.
"Enough about me. How was your day?"
Eyes lighting up, Ruby happily obliged, proceeding to take Weiss for a trip into the world of papercraft models. Rather than a progress update, Weiss was told of the prep for the prep Ruby had made that day, shopping around the town for various knick-knacks and precision tools she'd read up online. Gray foam, 'etching needles', so on — who would've thought that papercraft was so complicated? Certainly not Weiss, but neither had Blake, nor even Ruby, it seemed.
It was Ruby's enthusiastic, somewhat-erratic delivery that managed to make it interesting to hear. Weiss paid little mind to the world as she listened; sequestered from the rain and the approaching storm, she let herself relax in the microcosm beneath their shared umbrella, enjoying Ruby's energy.
* Ich weiß nicht stands for I don't know in German. Coincidentally, 1st p. sg. form of the verb 'to know' shares its spelling and pronunciation with the word 'white'. The letter [ß] is often replaced with [ss] in English media, hence the name of our heroine: Weiss.
Author's Note:
Small PSA: It's decently likely that I'll be away for the better chunk of July; as such, it might be a while till I post again. Late August might be plausible, but is probably overly optimistic.
Sorry about the pun in the chapter title, I couldn't help myself. After coming up with it, I kept giggling for like twenty minutes straight. It just seemed too perfect for this chapter! (though it's probably much less clever from your point of view — oh well, c'est la vie!)
It's a slow one this time around, and probably not that interesting to those who don't care much for inter-family drama. Personally, I had a decent deal of fun writing this chapter; family relationships and our feelings on the matter can be complicated and messy, and I hope I delivered on that front, without overly sanitizing things!
Willow's intended presence in AtS and her dynamics with Weiss hadn't changed over the years. Whitley, on the other hand, I've been sort of shuffling around in my head, seeing what would stick; fingers crossed, I'd managed to include him in a believable way.
Originally, I planned for him to pop up significantly later and be much more withdrawn. His relationship with Weiss was also supposed to be… not necessarily worse, but only just starting. Now, he has a more active role. Not all has changed, though — Weiss' line of 'Allow me to demonstrate' has been on the agenda since V4 finished airing! (that said, she was to drop that line basically over Jacques corpse — waaay too edgy; now, it's mostly petty [okay, fine, her relationship with Whitley WOULD'VE been worse]).
On a different note: if this chapter were to have a musical theme, it'd be "Reflectionless" by Pretty Patterns. It played on repeat while I was writing the umbrella walk, bolstered by the good ol' RainyMood.
DT610: Fashionably late at worst — and still the first one to comment, lol. Much appreciated!
Ruby's POV was really fun to write! In terms of spotlight, she got the short end of the stick in AtS, which I'd sometimes get sad about; with her being the one who's more in-tune with her feelings, showing Roses' relationship from her perspective would show my hand earlier than I intended. But! Since the cat's already out of the bag, you all can expect seeing more of Ruby's POV from now on!
Rebellives: Glad to hear you seem to be liking the story so far! And hey, you're welcome — sometimes I feel like the warm fuzzies are the one thing I get right with relative consistency!