Note: Two chapters in a week? What? Crazy! Truth is we have plans this weekend and needed to get our work done sooner, so we just felt super motivated. Plus, these dialogue chapters always come easier to us. Speaking of which, while it is fun watching things go horribly wrong for Ruby and Yang, we wonder how Blake and Weiss are getting along?
Winters in Menagerie weren't nearly as bad as in other parts of the world. Snowfall was so rare that Blake had never even seen it until she left for Mistral. However, the chill persisted, and crops were more difficult to grow. The farmers had to work additional hours, toiling in the fields, and they were barely paid more than a few extra scraps. Blake remembered that her father would work the longest. "Someone has to do it," he would always say. First one in the field, last one out, and yet his pay didn't reflect the toll it took on his body. But, sometimes, when fortune rained down upon them, he would save up enough money to treat them well. Blake only experienced it a few times, but on the most special occasions, her father would come home with a pack of pork sausages. Real, genuine meat. At least, she thought. It was probably for the best that she never learned what was inside them. Still, she loved them. The greedy child would eat most of it, denying her father the protein he needed to keep working, but her dad never seemed to mind. He just loved making his daughter happy.
A month's worth of savings to buy a pack of sausages.
Blake, returning from her thoughts, looked down at the small plate of food. A single scallop, topped with bullshit and seasoned with who fucking knows what. It was the size of her thumb and cost as much as a month's worth of food back home. She scowled, grabbing the pesky scallop with her fingers and downed it quickly, much to the annoyance of the soldier sitting across from her. The sausages tasted better.
The restaurant was called… actually, Blake didn't know what the restaurant was called. The sign out front was in one of those fancy, minimalist fonts that were all the rage these days. There was a picture of a bird on the sign, so Blake just called it The Bird Restaurant. It was rather dark inside The Bird Restaurant, which Blake presumed was a strategy to stop the customers from noticing how little food came with each meal. Small candles on each table gave the mid-sized dining room a "cozy" atmosphere. The waiters were dressed in matching denim shirts. Fucking denim. Who the hell were they trying to fool? Blake was wearing a blouse, and somehow she looked more like she belonged.
Weiss made them order the tasting menu. Seven dishes served over two and a half hours. It was, unfortunately, a necessity. Ruby and Yang needed all the time they could get, which left Blake and Weiss on distraction duty. It shouldn't be too difficult. Whether it was tolerable, well, that was another matter entirely.
"This is your first tasting menu. Correct, Blake?" Winter's voice was as cold as her name, and she swirled around a glass of white win without taking a single sip. The three Huntresses sat at a square table, and Winter took the opposite side to Blake, leaving Weiss between them to sort out their differences. Blake shrugged, holding her palm by the candlelight for some semblance of warmth.
"Yep. Not really impressed so far."
"You'd be more impressed if you savored each bite instead of devouring it like a wild animal."
Winter did not know Blake was a Faunus. At least, she shouldn't. Yet, Blake still felt the hateful undertones of her comment.
"Well, maybe I'm just low-class, but I think food should be, you know… eaten," Blake said plainly.
Winter scoffed. "You have been eating nothing but Atlas Academy provisions for months, and now you finally get some real food and you won't even let yourself enjoy it. I know that you're a miserable person, Blake, but even this seems like you're trying too hard."
"Honestly, the Academy food wasn't too horrible. I've had worse," Blake admitted.
"My point is that you've made it," Winter stated, a hint of pride mixed into her contempt. "Most people dream of the life you have. Money, fame, and power are yours. You're dining with the wealthiest family in Remnant. So many people in this world are content to lie down and take life's struggles. They are committed to be victims of their circumstances. But you, you fought back. You worked hard, and you won. That's worth celebrating, isn't it?"
Blake simply leaned back in her chair. There were maybe fifty people in the Bird Restaurant, seated around tables whose symmetry was more curated than the food. They were all men and women of importance, faces of grey and prestige that hadn't seen a fraction of the trouble she had. All Human, of course. Her cynical gaze cut sharp like a knife.
"My apologies," she said dryly. "I guess I'm just not cut out for this fancy bullshit."
Weiss politely tried to cover for her teammate's darkness. "I think Blake is trying to say that she cares for… simpler things."
"Simpler things," Winter said, pursing her lips. "Like what?"
"Bullets," Blake said instinctively. Her lips twitched into a smirk, but Winter was unamused.
"Do you enjoy… singing?"
"Singing?"
"Yes. Or any music. Weiss and I practiced music together. I played piano. Weiss sang. She is a very talented singer. It's a shame her career doesn't let her show that off."
A faint blush formed on Weiss's cheeks, but the ex-heiress tried to play it off. "I don't think Blake is much of a music person. At least, not our music."
"Hey, if I could carry a tune, you'd be the first to know," Blake joked. Winter rested her elbows on the table, her eyes narrowing at the Faunus.
"What about other food? You don't like this, but what kind of food do you like?"
"I don't know. Anything?" Blake shrugged. "I learned too long ago not to be picky with meals."
"Favorite foods?"
"Fish is nice."
"Fish?"
"Yep."
"Just fish?"
Blake paused. "Salmon is neat."
"Salmon…"
"Salmon is a good fish."
Winter's expression became dull. Blake just stared at her expectantly. She waited, and waited, and waited, and Weiss's eyes bounced back and forth between the two of them, nervously twitching as the silence became overwhelming.
And they waited in silence a few more seconds.
Then, Weiss coughed. "Atlas is a fishing Kingdom," she said hastily. "Not as many freshwater fish, but you should try some of our seafood dishes. They are quite good."
Blake's stare moved targets, and the shadow girl gave Weiss the biggest I'm-really-not-that-interested-in-talking-about-fish-but-I-appreciate-the-effort look ever seen in Remnant. Winter took a silent sip of her wine.
"I'm surprised you aren't a vegan."
Blake's ears perked up. "Come again?"
Winter's thoughts wandered aimlessly. "I'm just... surprised you eat meat. Your kind always struck me as having bleeding hearts for animals."
A small vein burst in Blake's forehead. "My kind?"
"Yes. What did you call yourself?" Winter thought back long and hard to their first conversation together. "That's right: an adorable atheist anarchist. You tend to be environmentalists, radicals, and… well, vegan."
Blake's heart skipped a beat, and she had to calm herself down before she said anything stupid. Of course, she had to remember. Winter didn't know she was a Faunus. She wasn't being a racist—now, anyway. She was simply making other unnecessary assumptions about her. Even if she was talking about the Faunus, she would have thought wrong. Faunus tended not to be vegans. Part of it was a dietary thing, because too many inherited traits made plant-based diets untenable. Another part was cultural. See: sausages. But the most important part might have been retaliatory—Faunus were constantly accused of being animals, savages, lesser than the rest, and defending the rights of actual animals was seen as playing into those similarities. Being able to draw a distinction between a cat and a person with cat ears was something a Faunus like Blake could find value in.
But honestly, the real reason Blake wasn't a vegan was that she didn't give a fuck. She had enough problems to worry about without caring what the fish thought of being eaten. So, she just shrugged and sat back in her chair. "Eh… guess I'm not as much of a bleeding heart as you thought."
Winter frowned. "I suppose not."
"Yeah. You can take that back to your dad. I'm sure it'll be real useful."
It was meant as an offhanded jab, something to fly under the radar, but Winter's posture immediately shifted. She slowly placed her glass of wine on the table, and for the first time, she slouched.
"You think I have an ulterior motive in this?" Winter asked, seemingly pained by the question. Blake was unsure how to respond with anything but the truth.
"Honestly? Yeah," she admitted. "I mean, that's your job, isn't it? You keep an eye on us, make sure we don't do anything stupid, and then you report it all back to your dad. Am I wrong?"
Winter said nothing.
"Look, no disrespect by this," Blake said passionately, "but I'm pretty tired of people using my past against me. I have had my trust violated by too many people, and I'm not going to share my personal life with you so I can get blackmailed again. A month ago, someone threatened to murder my mom. That's not happening again. Not if I can help it."
Weiss, incredulous, snapped at her teammate. "Blake, seriously?"
"What?" Blake shrugged.
"I know you're distrusting, but Winter isn't going behind our back." Weiss's defense of her sister was passionate, and she had to work to keep her voice down as to not disturb the other guests at the Bird Restaurant. "We're just trying to have a nice dinner together. Can we please not begin throwing baseless accusations at one another? I just want tonight to have some peace and—"
"No, Blake is correct."
Winter's admission was as quick as it was sincere, and Weiss nearly fell out of her chair in shock at the sudden confession.
"W-What?"
Winter bowed her head. If there was a part of her that was ashamed of her deeds, she wasn't showing it. She almost seemed glad to be caught. "Weiss, please… you know better. I am sworn to help our father. Gathering intel about your teammates was part of that assignment."
While Weiss stammered, trying to justify her sister's behavior, Blake just leaned back in her seat, confidence seeping through her cynical mask. "See, Weiss. She's sworn. That's some commitment."
"I hope you're aware that it isn't personal," Winter explained casually. "This is just part of my job."
"Lying to us is part of your job?"
"Maximizing my father's investment is. If I have to lie to you for that, yes. I think we all understand that honesty isn't always in everyone's best interest."
Weiss opened her mouth to protest, but before she could speak, three waiters materialized behind them. With swift, synchronized motions, they lowered bowls in front of their honored guests, and their host took a brief moment to explain their second course to them. Chilled split pea soup. Watercress. Lemon. Served over a pile of lump crabmeat. Paired with a partially oaked chardonnay for Winter. Blake asked for a glass of water straight from the tap, and she saw a nerve twitch under the host's eye as she accepted the request. Winter calmly took a sip of her soup as if she didn't just confess to working behind Team RWBY's back. Weiss was so stunned that she refused to even touch her spoon.
"Winter… are you really trying to get secret information out of Blake for Dad?"
"I am genuinely curious about her," Winter claimed, turning her attention away from the smirking Faunus. "She's your teammate. You put your life in her hands. Of course, I want to get to know her. But…" Winter's hair was parted, but to those who know where to look, the thin vestiges of a scar were still visible on her scalp. "You know how this works."
Weiss's appetite faded. Obviously, she knew. Pretending otherwise was merely playing dumb. But she had hoped Winter could show some control, some semblance of the defiance that once shone through her like a blazing sun. Whatever rebellion dwelled within her sister was nowhere to be found, and perhaps most painful of all, Winter didn't seem to mind. Blake, out of ignorance or overconfidence, just sighed and picked at the pile of lump crabmeat in the middle of her bowl with a fork.
"Hey, I get it. It's nice to let the mask slip, though."
Weiss shot Blake a knowing glare, but Winter seemed bemused. "Mask? What mask?"
"You know, the mask—sorry, I guess I'm not supposed to talk politics over dinner."
"Blake, I've read your social media feed," Winter noted. "I don't think I could stop you from talking politics if you wanted."
Weiss smacked her forehead. Winter had absolutely no idea what hell she just unleashed upon their dinner table. Blake, however, bobbed up and down like an excited puppy, or a kid given free reign of the candy store. She placed her hands on the table as if to pounce, her golden eyes lighting up.
"Okay," she started, "you know how a second ago you said that I worked hard and deserved to have this dinner."
"Yes."
"That is such bullshit," Blake explained. "I don't deserve this meal. I mean, I don't think anyone could deserve a meal that costs over a hundred Lien, but I especially don't deserve this. Not compared to most people. That's the thing with you Atlasians. You love this meritocracy bullshit. Oh, the strong take this and win that. The superior people survive, the weak fall. Do you know how I became a Huntress? By lying, and cheating, and stealing, and pushing my way over everyone who loved me. There are thousands of kids who grew up in my hometown who should be sleeping in five stars hotels, or fuck, just sleeping with roofs over their heads, and they don't and I do, because I was willing to do awful things. I'd hardly call that deserving."
"Isn't it?" Winter asked calmly. She took a sip of her wine, pondering the question honestly. "You did what was necessary. They didn't. You're here, they aren't. It seems straightforward to me."
"Because you only understand things through transactions of power," Blake said pointedly. "See, here's where this mask always fucking slips off. I don't get why people try to hide it. Like, Ironwood did shit at hiding it. Atlasian—you know, the real Decum Luna ones—they always preach about institutions and norms and respect and family and all this fucking shit. But authoritarianism isn't about authority. It's about power. How much power can you hold over everyone else? Like, you want some philosophy about your Kingdom?"
"I don't," Weiss groaned.
"I am curious," Winter admitted freely. "Weiss has told me how much you despise our Kingdom. She says you believe our Kingdom is fascist. I'm curious how that is the case given we have the same democratic elections like you do."
Blake laughed, taking a sip of the fancy sparkling water the Bird Restaurant pathetically called a beverage. "Okay, so that's actually, like, a perfect example of what I'm talking about. Atlas supposedly has a democratic government. Had one since the Great War. But you can't really call it democratic can you, because at every possible step, the voice of actual people get silenced. First of all, Faunus make up a fifth of Atlas's population. Can any of them vote? Nope. That's one opposition party down. Then, the government put massive restrictions on who can vote and when. Then, there's the constant patrolling of polling places and voter intimidation, unjustified removal of people from voting rolls, extremely obvious ballot stuffing—"
"You can't prove anyone did anything illegal."
"But that's the thing: it isn't illegal. That's what I mean when I say the mask slips whenever Atlasians talk about this stuff. Ironwood had the constitution rewritten so that the military could directly appoint court justices. Corporate power gets curtailed if anyone criticizes the establishment. And shit, I don't know of any better example of a dysfunctional family than the Schnees. That's really the thing that makes fascism fascist. It preaches and whines about values that it doesn't really give a fuck about it, because all of those things are merely justifications for holding power over the people you hate. That's why it's so funny that you think I belong here, because I did nothing honorable to be here. Theoretically, I'm everything you hate. But I obtained power through any means necessary, so hey… must have done something right."
Blake was particularly proud of herself for that, though Winter was merely smirking and Weiss felt like she was going to die of embarrassment. The older Schnee sibling clasped her hands together and politely applauded Blake's observations, impressed by the young thing's wit.
"I see. And this all relates to my mask," Winter assumed. "Weiss believed that I would be loyal to her, because selling out my family would be beneath someone with my values. But since I value nothing but power over others, anything is fair game? Even stabbing my loved ones in the back."
"Something like that," Blake stated.
Winter fiddled with her wine glass. "And what if I told you that my actions were out of my control, and I was far more honorable than you were led to believe? Would that change your opinion of my 'mask?'"
Blake lowered her voice, though her arrogance was as bold as ever. "Oh. You mean about your little… problem?" Blake lightly tapped her skull, and Weiss's eyes went wide with fury. How the hell did she know that? She hadn't told anyone about her sister's past except for Ruby. Did Blake overhear their conversation at some point? She must have. Ruby never would have shared something so personal without her consent. Those secrets were meant to stay deep within the halls of the Schnee household, never to be spoken by another Soul. Even referencing such abhorrent acts out in public nearly sent Weiss into a spiral. And yet, Winter held up her palm, ordering her sister to be silent. Despite her trauma being exploited, her sly smile never left her features.
"That's fascinating," she admitted. "From everything I read about you, you seemed like the last person to mock a victim. You know what I've been through, and yet you still find fault."
"Yeah, because you make it hard to find sympathy when you do nothing about it," Blake reasoned, her accusation deadly serious despite her tone. "Like, that's what I don't understand. You know what happened to you. This isn't like a mind control thing. You're aware, conscious, and intelligent. You know that you're being manipulated, but you're still doing it. I was force fed propaganda all my life, but when I found out that it was bullshit, I rejected it. You? You tried to kill your sister. You agreed to that shit. Am I really supposed to believe that you don't have any control over this? If you really don't want to do this, and you still have free will, why are you?"
Winter let the moment pass over her like a wave. Her soup was getting warm; all three bowls had mostly gone untouched since they arrived. The host never did arrive with that glass of tap water. Weiss looked back and forth between her sister and her teammates, two forces locked on opposite sides of a struggle greater than themselves. Strangely, despite her harshness, she understood that Blake was looking out for her. It took far too long to garner the shadow girl's trust, but they had both witnessed the horrors of the God's Arm, all allowed by Winter's willing hand. Even Weiss had to admit that she was afraid of how deep her father's manipulation truly ran, how much of her sister lingered within. Part of her was afraid that was more than she realized.
When Winter spoke again, it was in the form of a question. "Blake, if I pulled out a gun and tried to shoot a random Faunus on the street, would you stop me?"
Blake was taken aback. "What now?"
"It doesn't have to be a Faunus. A child. A student. Anyone innocent," Winter clarified. "If I pulled out my weapon and tried to murder someone innocent, would you try to stop me?"
Blake shrugged. "I mean… yeah. Why wouldn't I?"
"You said you were an atheist, Blake. Do you believe in an afterlife?"
"…No."
"Do you believe this universe has a purpose?"
"I think your purpose can be whatever you want."
"But there isn't one out there waiting for you."
"No."
"Do you believe that morals are real?"
"Depends what you mean by real."
"That they truly exist. That they transcend beyond us."
"Then, no."
"Then what are they?" Winter asked sharply. "When you feel love for your mother, what is that?"
Blake answered honestly. "It's chemicals in your brain making you feel good. It's a pre-programmed emotional response. Entirely physical."
"And so I'll ask you again," said Winter. "If I walked up to a random person on the street, and I tried to kill them… would you stop me?"
And again, Blake answered without hesitation. "Of course."
Winter smiled gently. "Do you understand what I'm getting at?"
"Not really…"
"You think that life is meaningless. You think that we're nothing but chemicals going through motions completely outside our control. You know that it doesn't really matter what happens to the person I murder. In seventy years, they'll be dead anyway, and all of their experiences will be gone. You don't believe they'll linger on, and so eventually, it will all be forgotten. You know that every moral impulse you have is just tricks from your mind, helping you try to make sense of your meaninglessness. You know, deep down, that nothing matters—and yet, when I threaten to hurt someone, of course, you try to stop me. Because you can't help it, can you? You know that it's the right thing to do, and so, despite your rational mind telling you that it's irrational, you do it anyway. You see, Blake… it never really matters why we do what we do. When you have values, you act upon them. My father burned his values into my skull, and no matter how hard I try, I can't reject them. I know that serving my father is the right thing to do, the same way that you know saving that innocent person is right. So, we do what we do. The idea that our actions have any more meaning than that?" Winter stabbed a piece of crabmeat and held it in front of her face, examining the dead flesh closely. "That is the real mask we wear."
She bit down, and Blake was left speechless. She didn't have a counterargument prepared, and for the first time, she felt she didn't need one. It finally clicked. Ever since the God's Arm, she wondered what could possibly make a person do such horrible things. The excuse she overheard from Ruby barely qualified as that. But now, with answer in hand, she saw Winter in a whole new light. The candle illuminated features that Blake had otherwise tried not to notice. Her gaunt cheeks. The tiredness behind her eyes. The long satin gloves on her arms, beneath one lay a metal prosthetic not unlike the one her sister had grafted to her bones. For the first time that night, Winter seemed less like an Atlasian soldier, and more like a person. The irony cut deep, and Blake opened her mouth to apologize, only for Winter to cut her off.
"Don't. Never apologize for trusting your instincts," Winter told her, a lecture from one Huntress to another. "You're right about me. I am your enemy, no matter what truce we currently share. I hope you succeed, Blake, whether you think you deserve it or not. That is genuine, even if the rest of me isn't."
Again, Blake was speechless. Weiss outstretched her hand, wanting to comfort her sister. "Winter…"
Her reach was stopped when she heard a buzzing coming from her handbag. She couldn't hide her eagerness to leave this conversation behind, and she quickly rummaged through her belongings to obtain her Scroll. When she saw that Ruby was the one calling her, she instantly breathed a sigh of relief. A mission update. Thank God. The mission with Neo must have been a success for her to be calling this early. Maybe that meant their dinner could end sooner than they hoped and this awkwardness would end.
Weiss excitedly pressed the Scroll to her ear. "Hello?"
"H-Hey, Weiss! How, uh… how is it going?"
"Hi, Ruby. Dinner is going well." Weiss smiled innocently. Love was such a wonderful thing and… wait, why was Ruby panting like she was out of breath. "How is your Dad?"
"Ha ha ha… yeah… about that…"
Ruby was definitely out of breath. In fact, she sounded like she was running very fast. Her nervous laugh barely hid how manic she was. Weiss's tone immediately shifted.
"Ruby…"
"So, um… promise you won't be mad… but we have a slight problem…"