To Penny's surprise, Yang was in no hurry for them to go to Patch when the semester finally ended. Penny was all for getting a move on; she liked firm breaks where one thing ended and another began. Weiss seemed to agree with that stance, because she was up bright and early to take the very first shuttle down to Vale.
"There's a private SDC airship waiting at the airport," she said. "They'll leave as soon as I'm aboard."
"And you don't want to keep them waiting?" Penny guessed.
"I actually delayed as long as I could," said Weiss, and her voice was modulating more than it usually did. "It was ready to take me back on the last day of classes, but I was able to argue my way to one more evening."
"I know I've said this before," said Yang, "but your dad is the worst."
"Seconded," said Blake instantly.
Penny wanted to join in and show solidarity, but her experience with parents was nonexistent, so she had to limit herself to, "He is the worst parent I know."
Weiss raised her nose in the air in something like dignity, even though the corners of her mouth were twitching upwards. "Regardless, it doesn't do to keep him waiting. I shall see you all on the weekend before classes began."
"Should we be going, too?" asked Penny when Weiss was gone.
"There's no rush," said Yang. "There's actually, like, the opposite of rush. Lots of people cram aboard the early airships to catch flights out of Vale. I figure, why compete with them? All we need to do is take the airship down to Vale, take the bus to the port, and take the ferry to Patch. Three hours, tops, door to door. Let everyone else clear out and we'll have easy going."
"I can see the appeal of that," said Penny. She was getting better at prioritization and not trying to parse the words and intent of everyone around her at all times, but she still wasn't great at it, so she remained not a fan of crowds.
"I'm heading to the library," said Blake. "I have some research to do."
"Does that research have to do with the romance section of the library and a private reading room?" said Yang with a waggle of her eyebrows. (Thesaurus had no idea what to do with that gesture. Penny was incapable of reproducing it.)
"It doesn't," said Blake, and her voice almost sounded like Weiss' more dismissive tones (80% correlation). "I've got more White Fang research to conduct."
"Gotcha," said Yang easily. "In that case, say hi to Sun for me."
"Why would he be there?" said Blake, but she didn't meet Yang's eyes as she said this, and one of her hands was idly twirling her hair.
"Well, you know," Yang said vaguely and, to Penny, unhelpfully. "Have fun."
Soon it was just Penny and Yang in the dorm, with no obligations and no preoccupations. It felt strange to Penny. She was so used to having purpose and a packed schedule. "Should we go and help Blake with her research?" she asked. "It doesn't seem like we have anything better to do."
"Three's a crowd," said Yang, "and four's a gaggle."
"Are you sure you can have a gaggle without geese?"
"I'm sure. Let's just chill. Wanna play some video games?"
"Okay," said Penny as she retrieved her scroll.
"I've actually wondered about that," said Yang, "With you being like a walking scroll yourself, why don't you have a CCT-net connection like a scroll does?"
"It is a good question," said Penny, examining the bit of plastic and metal in her hands. She'd thought at first it was due to space/weight/cooling limitations, but that didn't bear out. A scroll was nothing more than a miniaturized computer with a miniaturized display and a short-range transceiver. Penny's processing power vastly exceeded that of a scroll, and if those functions were built-in, she had no need for a display. The only thing Penny was missing, then, was the transceiver, and those could be made very small.
Which made its absence all the more puzzling. A review of her schematics with Turchina's assistance had shown several places where a transceiver could have fit; as efficiently-packed as her design was in the main, there were a few puzzling voids.
Had she had a transceiver at one point and lost it, just like she'd lost her memories of her life before Beacon?
Possible. Unprovable either way. Worrying and disorienting. Stop.
"Video games it is," she said.
As Yang had predicted, there were fewer people on these later airships down to Vale, and most of those people stayed within the airport rather than transferring to the buses. Yang and Penny made idle talk of unimportant things, like what movies they'd ask for when Movie Night resumed, or how many classes Professor Peach would actually teach this semester and how many she'd push off onto her TA, or whether the Team JNPR dorm room would be intact after being subjected to several weeks of bored and unrestrained Nora.
Penny had expected to take another airship to Patch, but Yang had meant "ferry" in the nautical sense. Penny was enthusiastic about the new experience; Yang was unimpressed. "It's just a slow bus that has to deal with waves," she said with an indifferent shrug.
Penny cocked her head. "You've taken this very many times before, haven't you?"
"Any time we had business in Vale," said Yang. "Anytime we needed something we couldn't get on Patch. Three or four times a year at least."
"Then you have much experience with it," said Penny, "but for me this is a first."
"Yeah," said Yang, raking her fingers through her hair and not meeting Penny's eyes. "Novelty and all that jazz."
"I do not have to come to Patch with you," said Penny for the seventeenth time. "It is okay if you go home alone and I return to Beacon."
Yang made a huffing sound. "After we got this far, after you got your hopes up? Nah, I won't do that to you."
"My disappointment matters less to me than you not being in distress," said Penny. "If this truly bothers you, I don't want to subject you to it."
"I'm fine," Yang insisted. "Really! I'm fine."
Jiminy disagreed.
Patch was a rugged, heavily wooded island, elevated above the sea with sheer rock faces on most sides. The northwestern spur of the island swept in a crescent shape out into the sea, half-enclosing the northern shore, a rare part of the island that descended to meet sea level. The result was a natural harbor.
Several piers were built on the north shore, though only one fishing vessel was moored at this time of day, and that one clearly under repair. Behind the piers was a battery of naval guns. They were the largest guns Penny had seen in person, and she found herself wishing they had occasion to fire; the spectacle would be amazing. Tactical pointed out that the only reason for those guns to fire would be to fight off grimm, and any grimm dangerous enough to require those guns to fire would be a tremendous threat indeed.
This knowledge gave Penny neither pause nor fear. Even grimm that size could be beaten, she knew. It would take heavier weaponry than Elektra, though, even if she could cause terrific damage just by swinging those swords. She really needed that particle beam upgrade. Or maybe some other way to up-gun...
The island's northwest spur was much higher than the harbor it protected, and on its plateau was a complex of buildings that reminded Penny of fortifications. When Penny pointed this out to Yang, Yang replied, "It used to be a fort protecting the harbor. After the Great War they turned it into Signal Combat School."
"You attended Signal, didn't you?" said Penny.
"Yeah," said Yang, but left it at that. Penny knew better than to press the issue.
A single road led out of the harbor into the town. The main road was tightly lined with businesses sitting right on the street in narrow but tall buildings, two or even three stories high. Penny counted three short side streets with residences. As Penny looked ahead, she could see the road split: a paved road curved up the spur towards Signal, while a dirt road continued into the forest. Perimeter fencing and a watchtower completed the town, though Penny imagined that most grimm would be more attracted by the many untrained Auras up at the Combat School.
Yang turned on to the third side-street, walked towards its end, and angled towards a house that was, compared to those around it, squat and unkempt. It was only one story tall and didn't match the style of those around, like it belonged to a different neighborhood but had been dropped off in this one by mistake. Its walls were thick with pollen and grime, and its shutters were closed. The state of the shutters' hinges suggested they never opened.
Retrieval pulled a memory. "I thought you said your family lived in a cabin in the woods," Penny said.
"You really think dad wanted to stay there after… that?" Yang said, half-choking on the words. She shook her head; her hair flopped about. "Nah. We moved into town. Safer that way."
Yang walked to the door and drew her keys. There was an animal sound from inside as she went to unlock the door, only to scowl when she found it already unlocked. "Da-ad," she called. "I'm ho-ome."
There was no response except for more animal sounds. Yang took a deep breath, as if this act would take more courage than plunging into a battle against the grimm. Then she entered, and Penny followed.
An animal was at their feet almost instantly, making inane sounds and scratching at Yang's legs.
"Zwei! Good to see you, buddy!" said Yang. She bent over to scratch at "Zwei's" head and ears. "Penny, meet Zwei. Zwei, Penny."
Penny, uncertain of the social graces required for a domestic animal, curtsied. "Pleased to meet you, Zwei."
"The family dog," said Yang, and she had a half-grin on her face.
"That… is not what I expected a dog to look like," Penny said. Even now Thesaurus was insisting that an animal the size and shape of a loaf of bread could not be a dog. Penny saw that Zwei had the necessary four legs, muzzle, ears, fur, and other anatomical details of a dog, but the proportions were all wrong.
"It takes all kinds," said Yang. "There are dogs you could mistake for a small horse, and there are dogs that look like sausages with a nose."
"I will take that under advisement," said Penny. She squatted down to bring her eyes closer to Zwei's level, trying to look at him closer to head-on. "How are we today, Zwei?"
The dog looked at her, then looked up to Yang with a whine. "Go on," said Yang. Zwei looked at Penny, approached her, sniffed her several times, and began to circle her, sniffing studiously.
"What are you doing?" Penny asked.
"He's inspecting you," said Yang.
"What for?"
"Whatever dogs look for in a person," said Yang, which was tremendously unhelpful. Penny had enough trouble judging what people looked for in another person; trying to model a completely different alien lifeform was beyond her.
Zwei returned to Penny's front and barked once.
"Well?" said Yang.
Zwei looked up at Yang, opened his mouth, and started panting.
"You've got Zwei's official seal of approval," Yang said; Zwei barked in what Penny could only assume was agreement.
"Thank you, Zwei," Penny said, and curtsied again.
Yang smiled. Penny noted it was different from Yang's usual smiles. It was so far from a grin the two hardly seemed related.
"Well, he's not telling me anything I didn't already know," Yang said, trying to play off the moment. "Anyway… Zwei, where's dad?"
Zwei's ears went flat and he whined.
Just like that, Yang's good humor disappeared. "Oh."
"What does that mean?" Penny asked, but Yang was already stepping past.
"Da-ad," she called. "Dad!"
Penny followed. For the first time, she took notice of the inside of the house. To her left were two closed doors leading to small rooms; to her right was an open portal into what must have been the kitchen, with another room behind it. There were dirty dishes piled up in the kitchen and globs of dried sauce on the counters, while the floor was strewn with dog food, empty cans, and torn-open wrappers labeled "Fluff Lover's Doggie Treats". Yang's nose wrinkled and her eyes watered; Penny's sense of smell was too limited to detect what Yang was smelling, but maybe that was a good thing.
Yang crossed through the kitchen into the room beyond; Penny followed.
"Oh, Dad," said Yang softly.
Taiyang Xiao Long looked like a robot that had run down on power mid-task. He had shaggy blonde hair the same shade as Yang's and rough, uneven facial hair, not enough to consider a beard but far from clean-shaven. His body looked powerful, but he had deep bags under his blue eyes. His heart and respiration rates were so low Penny wanted to say he was asleep, but his eyes were open and he was sitting, so that didn't seem possible.
Then again, as he continued to not register that other people were in the room, Penny had to wonder.
As Penny watched, Yang crossed the room to Taiyang, who was sitting in a chair at the table, holding a pencil and apparently in the midst of writing a list. She walked across his line of sight, but if his optics detected her, there was no processing on the back end, because he didn't respond or react to her.
She put a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle shake. "Dad. Hey, dad. I'm home."
Taiyang didn't move, except to take a deep breath.
"Damn," said Yang. "I told him we were coming… Dad, it's Yang."
Still nothing.
Yang swore again and withdrew her hand. She gave a miserable glance at Penny. "Sorry about this," she said, barely moving her mouth. "He gets like this, sometimes."
"Is he alright?" said Penny.
"He'll be alright," Yang said. "He's just… Gone Away."
Penny tried to understand. Taiyang was sitting right there, so how could he have…
"We can at least do the dishes," said Yang, returning to the kitchen. "This place smells."
"I've never "done the dishes"," Penny said.
"Well, aren't you in for a treat," said Yang.
It turned out that doing the dishes was not, in fact, a treat.
It wasn't a bother, and with the two of them working together it went quickly, but the only good thing about the task was the satisfaction of completing it, and Penny could have gotten that from any task.
Still, learning the processes of using the sponge and the soap proved useful. She and Yang kept on cleaning after the dishes were done, washing down counters that were sticky and a stove that had built-up char and cabinets that had food splatter on them and, after all of that, sweeping up all the debris from those tasks and more.
It took a while before Yang pronounced the kitchen "livable". She looked back at Taiyang. He hadn't moved the whole time. Even Penny, ignorant as she was of humans in general, knew this to be very abnormal.
Yang sighed and shook her head slightly. "Hey, could you finish sweeping? Maybe get the hall done? I'm gonna see if I can get Dad."
"Alright," said Penny, but that task took very little time, not enough (Penny felt) to give Yang a chance to do… whatever she was trying to do.
Penny couldn't help but be worried for Mr. Xiao Long.
Penny felt something brushing against her shins. She looked down and saw Zwei looking right back up at her.
"I'm sorry," said Penny, "but I know very little about interacting with meat people, and I know even less about inter-species relations with dogs."
Zwei's ears went flat and he lowered his muzzle until it rested on Penny's shoe. The look he gave her was so piteous she had to do something. "Do you like hugs?" she asked.
The dog's ears perked up. Penny took that to mean 'yes'. She scooped the dog up and lifted him in her arms until his fuzzy body was draped diagonally across her chest. "Here you go," she said, giving him a gentle squeeze.
The dog's muzzle was close enough to her face for him to start licking at her. What a novel sensation! Nothing else in her brief experience really compared to it. It was wet and scraping and muscular and soft all at the same time. Penny couldn't help but giggle at the feeling. That giggling seemed to encourage Zwei, who went at it with gusto that didn't fade over time.
Yang leaned into the kitchen to take a look. "You okay there, Penny?"
"Your dog is very… forward!" Penny said between giggles.
Yang smiled—broadly, this time, the sort of gesture Tactical was comfortable rating as "genuine" and "at ease". "You two seem to be hitting it off. Hey, come over here, I think I got Dad."
As Penny approached, Taiyang appeared to regain power, or perhaps conduct a reboot. He blinked several times, and his neck slowly craned to look up at Yang. Recognition was slower in coming, but he did eventually say, "My sunny little dragon."
"Hey, Dad," said Yang in more normal tones. She let go of his shoulder and stepped back. "I was worried I wasn't gonna get you back."
"I'm fine," said Taiyang. He seemed startled to realize there was a pencil in his hand, and he stared at the list for a few seconds before looking up at Yang. "I'd been making a grocery list so that I'd have your favorites before you got home. And…" He grimaced as he looked around. "And I was gonna clean up."
"Sure you were," said Yang, and Penny couldn't tell if she was being sincere or not. "This is Penny, by the way."
Penny knew a prompt when she heard one, sometimes. "Salutations, Mr. Xiao Long," she said, extending her hand in his direction.
"You're not my student," he said as he accepted her handshake. "Please, call me Tai."
(Identity updated: Tai.) Tai's grip was strong, and increased in power as the handshake went on. Penny evaluated it to be a 50-50 chance as to whether she should slacken her grip or tighten it, and she chose to tighten, matching Tai squeeze for squeeze.
That brought a smile to his face. "Nice! Yang, it looks like your friend's got an iron grip."
Penny froze and let her hand go limp. Had she given herself away already?
"But she's a total softie," said Yang. "Sweetest person on our team and it isn't close at all."
"Yeah, you've mentioned her before," said Tai.
"I have only compliments to say about your daughter, too," said Penny. "She was my first-ever friend, and our relationship has only become stronger since then."
"Relationship, huh?" said Tai, and he looked more animated as he glanced up at Yang. "Bringing her home to meet the parents, is that where we're at?"
Yang rolled her eyes so elaborately that Weiss would have been impressed. "Not even. Just because you were "entire team" doesn't mean I will be."
"We'll see," said Tai gamely. "You've got seven semesters to go."
"Whatever," said Yang, and she crouched down to start picking trash up off the floor.
"I said I was gonna clean up," said Tai as he rose from his chair. "I meant it."
"Don't sweat it, dad," said Yang without looking at him. "I know the routine."
"This isn't… routine? …look, you just came home, you're supposed to be relaxing, and we've got guests. I have to..."
"Dad," Yang said firmly, grabbing a can with enough strength to crumple it in her fist. "I've got it."
Tai didn't move, and Penny didn't either. There was a dynamic at work here that was totally foreign, and it made Penny very uncomfortable.
"Fine," said Tai. "This is supposed to be my job, and I was gonna do it, but fine. At least let me cook for you two."
Alarm rose within Penny at those innocent words.
Yang scoffed. "We already ate while we cleaned up."
Taiyang made a face like Jaune made when he dropped something on his foot. "Yang, we've talked about this. You know it's important to me to cook for guests at my house."
Yang whirled on him, hair glowing and eyes red. "And if you hadn't Gone—!"
Yang's voice was full of heat and force, enough that Tactical took it as an attack and ordered a shuffle-step backwards.
The room quieted.
Yang blinked her eyes clear and looked at the floor again, picking up a few more pieces of garbage. "Sorry," she muttered.
"No," said Taiyang heavily, "you have a point. Tell you what, I'll make breakfast."
"Sure, Dad," Yang said.
Penny felt like she would rather be anywhere else. It was upsetting. She had notions of what friends and family were supposed to be—bastions of comfort and warmth and hugs and support—and this didn't feel like that. This felt wrong. Broken.
"I'll make some dinner for myself," Tai said, "and then we'll play a board game or watch a movie or something."
"I like movies," Penny said.
"We'll sit with you during dinner," Yang said quietly as she stood, arms full of trash.
"You don't have to, not if I'm the only one eating," said Tai. "Have fun with your friend."
"I have fun with her all the time at Beacon," said Yang. "We're here to spend time with you."
She walked past them to take the trash out. Tai made a face; Tactical failed to classify it as either smile or grimace. "She's something, isn't she?"
"She's very many things," Penny replied.
Tai laughed. "That's the truth. I like you already."
Maybe this day, Penny hoped, could still be a success.
Dinner reminded Penny of the atmosphere before a lightning storm. There was a tense, charged feeling in the air. It would have bothered Penny less if she understood why, but neither Yang nor Tai explained anything.
The hardest part was the hiding. When the Xiao Longs were looking at each other or at the food, their faces looked one way; when Penny had their attention, their faces looked another way for as long as they were looking at Penny, then reverted when they stopped. Penny had to conclude that they were forcing themselves to smile and look cheery for her sake.
It left Penny feeling contradictory emotions. She didn't want to feel gloomy and bad, so she appreciated the efforts the Xiao Longs were making. At the same time, those faces were so transparently fake Jiminy wouldn't stop alarming about them, and knowing it was all false made Penny feel quite bad after all.
It might have affected Tai as well, because when dinner was done, he looked at the list again. "Actually," he said, "you two get started with the movies and games without me. I still have to go to the store, especially if I'm cooking breakfast in the morning."
"Yeah," said Yang, and something about her tone was generating alarms in Penny's nets, "we have to give you the chance to pamper us. I know how important that is."
"Hey, hey," said Tai, his voice getting louder, "taking care of you is important…"
Yang gestured to the messes that remained. She gestured to the kitchen. She gestured to the unfinished list on the table.
The rest of Tai's protest withered. "Well, that's why I've got to go get groceries," he said stubbornly. "I've… I've messed up a lot over the years, but at least I always kept food on the table. Didn't I? At least I managed that. I always made sure we were fed."
"Yeah, Dad," said Yang. "Sure."
"Alright. I'll be back in an hour."
He walked into the kitchen, and from there to the door. Yang waited to speak again until several seconds after the door had shut.
"Other than after the warehouse fight, which doesn't really count, I've only been arrested once. I was eight. Dad… Went Away, and there wasn't any food left in the house. I tried to shoplift some. It didn't work."
Penny felt emotions swelling up within her. "I'm sorry you had to go through that. Does that mean… Tai is not a good father?"
"He loves me a lot," said Yang. "And I love him, too."
Neither of those sentences, Penny noted, were answers to her question.
"Anyway, he doesn't know that happened," Yang said, and she blushed, somehow. "Uncle Qrow bailed me out. No one told Dad about it. And… I'd like to keep it that way."
"I understand," said Penny, and half-hiccupped. She understood that Yang wanted to keep this a secret. She understood nothing else.
Yang's mouth tightened as she stared after her father. "I shouldn't have brought you here," she said. "You didn't have to see this."
Penny was wholly unable to respond. When this became clear to Yang, she walked to a shelf at the side of the room and picked up a box.
"Chess, anyone?"
They were still playing when Tai came home; he put the groceries away and then went to bed. Yang said nothing on the subject, but her face was tense, and Penny didn't dare ask.
That meant, the next morning, that Penny hadn't had a chance to talk about how she didn't eat food before Tai was up and cooking.
"There's my sleepy-head," Tai called from the kitchen as Yang slouched for the table. "I've got something for you. Continental style."
Yang perked up. A few moments later, Tai was there, putting a plate before his daughter.
"All your favorites," he said proudly.
"Thanks, Dad," said Yang, and she managed a no-kidding smile.
"And what about you?" Tai said, turning to Penny. "Name what you want and I'll take a crack at it."
"Bold claim," said Yang in a voice closer to her norm.
It didn't dent Tai's mood. "She can sass if she wants, but I'm a really good cook and she knows it. Cooking things for people is my love language! …Or at least it's the bare minimum hospitality we should show each other." His smile was among the broadest Penny had ever seen; through no fault of Tai's, Penny felt it like a spotlight. "So, what'll it be? I can do all sorts of things. Eastern style, western style, even Menagerie style, if that's what you're into. Omelets, stir-frys, breakfast burritos… heck, if you want milk and cereal, I make a mean milk and cereal."
Penny was stuck.
She'd been here for all of one night, and already she was torn between lying to someone's face and trusting them with a secret they never asked for and didn't deserve. Given the circumstances, Penny didn't think that even her best attempt at her food allergy excuse would work; Jiminy warned her that choosing not to lie because she'd fail was making the right choice for the wrong reasons.
Jiminy had a point.
"Tai," she said, "are you good at keeping secrets?"
All the eagerness and life seemed to drain out of Tai. He settled down on the flats of his feet, his shoulders slumped, and he looked down and away, a combination that made him seem to take up 20% less space than before. "Yeah," he said flatly. "I've kept lots of peoples' secrets for them over the years. For all the good it did us."
Penny looked at Yang for encouragement. Yang shrugged. Some encouragement.
"I'm trying to save you some effort and confusion," said Penny. "Any attempt you made to cook for me would be futile, because I do not eat."
Tai looked at her, his face squished up in confusion. "What, some kind of liquids-only diet? Because I can work with that," he added hastily.
"No," said Penny with a shake of her head. "I do not eat at all. I am not a person like you or your daughter."
"You are a person," Yang said fiercely. "We've been over this."
"I could have phrased that better," Penny admitted. "What I meant was, I am neither human nor Faunus. I am a purely mechanical-electronic being."
Tai blinked.
"I'm not made of flesh and blood, but metal and silicon," Penny tried again.
Another blink.
"I'm not a meat person, I'm a gynoid," Penny tried. "Like a smart robot."
"A smart…" Tai looked back and forth between Yang and Penny, before his eyes settled on Yang and he smiled. "You know, I was wondering what kind of joke you'd come up with after we were away all this time. This one is okay, but I kinda lost the punchline. I thought you'd do better."
"No joke, Dad," said Yang.
Tai went back to blinking.
With a sigh, Yang walked into the kitchen, then returned with small discs bearing a variety of insignia; Penny recognized the wreath-and-axes of Vale and the lamp of Mistral, among others. "Do magnets bother you?" she said to Penny.
"Not as long as they're kept away from my head," said Penny.
"Gotcha," said Yang. She stepped close to Penny with the magnets in hand and said, "Watch carefully, Dad." She took one of the magnets and held it just above Penny's naked hand.
The magnet snapped into place against her, only a thin layer of like-flesh separating it from her endoskeleton.
Tai's eyes widened.
Humming quietly, Yang went about festooning Penny with magnets in various locations where nothing but their magnetism could be holding them against Penny's person. Realizing what Yang was doing, Penny said, "It would be safe to put one on my cheek, if that's helpful."
"Sure," said Yang, and a magnet with the rod and gears of Atlas found itself attached to Penny's face.
Yang put her hands on her hips as she stepped away to admire her work. "Looking good, Pen-cil," she said. She turned to look at Tai. "So, does that clear things up for you?"
"My gods," said Tai, "she's really a robot."
"Gynoid," corrected Penny.
He gaped for another moment, then laboriously put on a smile. "Well, I'll be sure to put away our can openers!"
No content. No content. No content.
"You know," said Tai, "because she's made of me—"
"We get it, dad," said Yang, grinning at him. "I guess your sense of humor's been getting… rusty."
"Oof," said Tai, though the grunt of pain did not match his grinning face, "I guess I've been chasing fool's gold."
"You're not even staying on topic," said Yang as she plucked a magnet off of Penny. "I guess you always had a hard time finding your bearings."
Yang and Tai continued to guffaw. (Thesaurus was amazed at the number of ways to express good humor, and if "guffaw" wasn't the right word, it was among the most fun.) At last Penny put the pieces together. "Are these puns?" she asked.
"The kind that really…" Yang let the magnet attach to Penny again. "…stick with you."
Tai looked at Yang and Penny together. "Well, it's nice to see that two of you have gotten so… attached."
"We are," said Penny. It was time for another attempt at humor, and even if she wasn't quite sure on the composition of jokes, she could at least mimic the cadence these two were using. "We have gotten very… friendly!"
From somewhere around her ankles, Zwei gave a whine.
Yang and Tai looked at each other, then erupted in laughter.
Penny decided to score that as a successful joke.
"Anyway," said Yang, "the point of all that was to show you that when Penny doesn't eat, it has nothing to do with hospitality or your cooking or any of that. She just didn't want to hurt your feelings."
"Hey, I get it," said Tai, "and I appreciate the thought. I'm really just kind of… blown away that you even exist. You look so…"
Don't say human, Penny thought to herself, please don't say human…
"People-like," Tai finished.
Relief washed through Penny, and pride followed it. "Well, as Super Friend Garnet put it, I'm not just a people, I'm a good people!"
Tai laughed; Yang did not, drawing Tai's attention. "Wait, she was being serious?"
"She doesn't really do jokes or sarcasm," said Yang. "Heck, I'm not even sure if you're capable of lying."
Penny felt like Jiminy was giving her an expectant stare.
"It is almost impossible for me," said Penny, and braced for a hiccup. None came.
"But as often as you talk up Garnet, you've gotta introduce us some time," said Yang. "She sounds like a riot!"
"She is a very special friend," said Penny fondly.
Tai and Yang looked at each other from the corners of their eyes and let out matching sounds of ooooo.
"She's got it bad," said Tai.
"I know, right?" said Yang.
"How does that even work?" said Tai.
"Beats me, but apparently it does."
Penny's bewilderment grew with every exchange. "Excuse me, but what are you two talking about?"
"You'll figure it out eventually," said Tai. "Anyway, if I don't have to worry about cooking for you, that means I only have to worry about my daughter here. So, Yang, what's… on your plate for today?"
"Well," said Yang after she took another bite, "Penny's never been to Patch, so I was thinking of showing her around the island a little bit. I know it'll only take a few minutes, but still."
"There's more here than you give it credit for," said Tai. "There's the old lighthouse, and there's Signal…"
"Signal is just Lame Beacon," said Yang.
"It used to be a fort," said Tai. "That's a thing. And you can take her down to the docks, and Bubba Bubba Boba is always great on a hot day."
"Penny doesn't eat, remember? Boba's wasted on her."
"Try the beach, then. And that's just the stuff in the north. If you want to go to other parts of the island… there's always…"
Oh, dear. Tai had been rolling along, but all momentum had vanished, leaving only an apparently-meaningful silence. Why did people do this? How was an absence of communication supposed to convey information? This was a code Penny was no closer to cracking.
She wasn't the target, though. Yang was, and she appeared to understand, because she looked down rather than meet his face. "The cliffs. Yeah."
Penny always marveled at people's ability to imbue mundane words with extraordinary meaning. The word "cliffs" seemed to carry as much weight as the silence had.
"Well," said Tai, trying for his former joviality and missing badly, "this is the first full day of break. There's plenty of time for that if you don't want to go there now."
"Sure, Dad," said Yang. She, too, seemed to have lost her appetite for the conversation at the mention of the cliffs.
Penny's apprehension built.
But Penny was a problem-solving machine, and she'd experienced awkward silences often enough that she'd started developing countermeasures. In this case, her preferred countermeasure was enthusiastic gratitude. "I am sure that whatever activities you choose will be meaningful and worthwhile!"
She knew it had worked when both Xiao Longs gave small smiles and exchanged a look. "Is she really like this all the time?" asked Tai.
"All the time," said Yang proudly.
"Alright, fine," said Tai, his smile growing. "I'll allow it. You can keep her."
Yang laughed. Penny would have if she'd understood.
Most of the civilization on Patch was concentrated on the north side of the island. According to Yang, while a few weirdos lived in the woods in interior parts of the island, they were scattered and alone. There wasn't much to see there.
Penny was ignorant, but she was not a fool. She remembered what Yang had told her before: that she used to live in a cabin in the backwoods of Patch. Penny knew Yang was avoiding it.
This was fine by Penny; she insisted on nothing.
The result was that most of the places Yang wanted to visit were in easy walking distance. Penny hadn't brought her flight module any more than Yang had brought her motorcycle. Yang wasn't even sure that she and Penny could ride on the motorcycle together, given Penny's weight. "Not that we really need it," said Yang. "Patch is so small I had to do laps to get a good ride in."
So they made do on foot. They walked down to the waterfront, where Yang talked about the fishing fleet and how she sometimes watched the ships roll in and out, while Penny admired the port defense turrets and modeled what their barrage might look and sound like. From there they walked up Main Street, with Yang telling stories of interesting or funny things that had happened at each establishment.
"You've been in all of these places?" said Penny.
"I had tons of opportunities," said Yang. "We moved into town when I was seven, and even with me going to Signal on weekdays, that still left me on my own for afternoons, weekends, and semester breaks. Not that there's much to see at the Laundromat. If you've seen one washing machine, you seen 'em all."
Penny considered this. "Washing machines are very different from people, then," she said. "Knowing one person tells me almost nothing about another person."
"Well, laundry machines are built to all be exactly the same," said Yang, "but nobody builds people to any kind of spec."
Penny smiled as Retrieval pulled up Professor Ozpin's words on the brain: the most complicated piece of machinery in the world, assembled with unskilled labor.
That was different from her, wasn't it? She was built, as near as she could tell, with only the most skilled labor, to the most exacting specifications. Did that mean someone could build another Penny? Was there, even now, another Penny somewhere out there in the world, thinking that she was as unique as the humans around her?
Penny didn't want to think about that. She shifted resources from Analysis to Tactical and noticed that they'd almost passed the last building in town, which was clearly closed. "What about that store?" she asked in a desperate bid to change the subject.
Yang snorted. "That's not a store, that's a bar."
"A place where they sell alcohol?"
"A place people go to drink alcohol," Yang explained. "It's an adult version of hanging out."
"Ah," said Penny, "then of course you don't have any stories about that place."
"I wouldn't say that," said Yang. "I've had to get my Uncle Qrow from this place… maybe half a dozen times. The last few times, I finished off whatever booze he hadn't gotten to. I think the bartender accepted that as the price of doing business." Yang winked at Penny. "Don't tell anyone."
"You secret is safe with me," said Penny. "But your Uncle Qrow does not sound very responsible."
"Runs in the family, I guess," said Yang with a shrug. She was looking straight ahead when she said this; the good humor had vanished from her face.
About 30% sure she'd done something wrong, Penny said, "That is no reflection on you! I think you are a very responsible person."
"More responsible than my uncle, anyway," said Yang.
"I will take your word for it," said Penny. "This is only the third time that you've mentioned him."
"There's not much to mention," said Yang. "He takes Huntsman missions nonstop. I think he only ever comes back when he's too hurt to take another one. Sometimes not even then.
"But enough about that," said Yang pointing ahead, "because we're almost to the finest pre-Academy Combat School on Remnant! Signal!"
Although her limited experience meant she couldn't be sure Yang was right, Penny found herself willing to believe her. She understood what Yang had meant about it being "Lame Beacon": many of the same facilities that Beacon had were here at Signal, only smaller and less elaborate. The gym, classrooms, forge, and library were all familiar, as were the administrative buildings and dorms. Signal's versions were less grand than Beacon's, and Signal didn't have the towers, guest dorms, or CCT installation that Beacon had. The closest thing was a CCT repeater antenna atop the administration building.
But smaller didn't mean worse, Thesaurus pointed out. The smaller scale of the place was a perfect fit for its smaller and younger population. Penny could appreciate something that fulfilled its purpose exactly. Nor was Signal devoid of grandeur. Much of Beacon looked like holograms made solid, as if a miracle of technology had allowed someone to snap their fingers to bring concepts directly into reality. Signal's buildings were made of yellow brick, and those bricks gave off every impression of having been painstakingly layered and mortared by dint of hard effort.
"A lot of it was," Yang said when Penny mentioned this. "Like I said, this used to be a fort. They reused a lot of the fort's walls and material to build the school. In fact, part of the admin building is original, still part of the old structure."
"That is amazing," said Penny. "Can you tell when you're inside it? Does it feel like you're in the presence of history?"
"It feels like it was built before people figured out insulation," said Yang. "It's hot in the summer, cold in the winter, and drafty year-round. I suppose that counts as history."
As with the town, Yang spent their walk around Signal pointing out places where things had happened and telling all manner of stories. Penny found it most impressive. "So many interesting things happen to you," she said.
"Most of it wasn't that interesting," said Yang. "This is just the highlights from years and years of me coming here. If you do the math, I've spent more of my waking hours here than I have anywhere. I suppose my stories would have to come from here, you know?"
"Do you think I'll have interesting stories after a few years at Beacon?" said Penny.
Yang laughed. "Penny, you already have half a dozen stories that are wilder than anything that ever happened at Signal."
"You really think so?"
"We got into a gunfight with terrorists while surrounded by bomb material that was trying really hard to go off."
"You have a point. It didn't seem as impressive in the moment as it does when you put it like that."
"Most of life doesn't," said Yang. "Most of life feels ordinary while it's happening. It's only afterwards that you realize what the cool stuff actually was. It takes some perspective, you know?"
"I hope that one day I will," said Penny.
As the tour of Signal wrapped up, a grin came over Yang, one which Penny found comparable to the grins she made before Weiss groaned. "Let's take a shortcut back to town. We'll take the Sanus Express."
"Isn't that the name of the logistics route that Vale used to supply Vacuo during the Great War, and that resisted all Mantle's efforts at interdiction?"
"You bet," said Yang. "Same idea here. Signal's gate shuts at nine, with a curfew in place for everyone. That's pretty inconvenient if you want to go to town for some reason or if you're just feeling restless. We- the students- came up with workarounds."
The Signal campus was completely bounded by a fence. To the west and southwest, where the spur sloped down into the interior of the island, the fence was for physical defense. In those directions, the fence sported automated weapons at intervals, the better to fend off inquisitive grimm drawn by the immature Auras and unstable emotions of Signal's student body. The fence to the south of campus served a different purpose: it marked off the cliff face that dropped from the spur to the lowland where the town rested and, past that, the water of the harbor.
Yang walked along the fence as it ran next to a dormitory, then pointed at a garden hose coiled up on a mount on the dorm wall. "That's not here to be a hose," she said as she walked to the fence. "It's here to be a rope. Look down here. There's a gap that's been dug under the fence, big enough for a person to slide underneath. When you want to sneak out, you get three of your buddies. Three of you slide underneath and parkour down the cliff into town and do whatever you're planning on doing that night. When you're ready to come back, your fourth takes the hose and snakes it down to make it easier to climb back up, and then the four of you sneak back to your room. Wanna try going down? It's fun!"
"Certainly," said Penny.
"I'll go first, show you how it's done," said Yang. She sat down and scooted so that her legs were sticking through the eroded gap beneath the fence. "There we go… and…!"
She flung herself down through the gap.
Penny moved to the edge of the fence and watched. This part of the cliff was not sheer; she could make out something like a path now that Yang was on it. It led from one rock to another at an almost 60° angle, zagging back and forth in vicious switchbacks before arriving at the ground. It would've been dangerous, even reckless, for someone without Aura; for Yang it was just a good time, judging by her whooping.
Penny wanted to try, too. She mapped out a plan for her descent and followed.
If the goal had simply been to get down, using her flight module (not that she had it) would have been faster and easier. That wasn't the point, any more than the point of walks around campus was to go from her room to her room. The journey, Yang had taught her, was part of the fun.
And so Penny followed Yang's path down the Sanus Express, the wind whipping past her with terrific speed as her dense body pulled her down hard and her gyro blared warnings that every step was on the brink of disaster.
It was over almost as quickly as it had begun, though the rush remained even when she stopped moving. "You were right," she said to Yang. "That was entertaining!"
"Yeah," said Yang, but there was an odd look about her as her eyes traced over the trail.
"You had fun too, didn't you?" asked Penny.
"I guess. It's just… I remember it being a lot steeper. And a lot taller. I remember that drop seeming to go on forever. Looking at it now… it's okay, but nothing special. Routine obstacle courses at Beacon are rougher than that."
"This is one way you're different from me," Penny noted. "You have enough life experience for your perceptions of things to change over time. Your memories of this place are across a span of years."
Yang looked wistfully up at the Express. "I just feel like I talked this up too much for something so lame. The first time I did it was… six years ago. I guess that is a long time. Heh, I was much smaller back then."
"That explains it!" said Penny excitedly. "Of course the Express seems smaller. You got bigger, but it stayed the same! This might be no challenge to a grown Huntress, but it would be a great thrill to an eleven-year-old combat school student."
"You're right," said Yang as she looked over the course again. "It was fun and challenging for who I was then. It's easy for me now, but I was still right to feel excited about it then."
"Exactly," said Penny.
Yang's eyes went out of focus, and she was quiet for a long time. "Maybe I should think of Dad the same way," she said at last.
Penny's curiosity would not be denied. "What way?"
"Dad was never the same after Mom and Ruby died," Yang said. "I don't have many memories from when I was really young, but I have enough to know that. Losing those two really damaged him.
"And me too," she admitted. "I'm on a first-name basis with the counselors at Signal. But it hit him harder. He never worked quite right after that. There were plenty of times when he just Went Away, leaving me to basically raise myself.
"I think I resented him for it. I always wondered, If I could deal with it and keep going, why couldn't he? Especially when I still needed him to be my Dad! But… maybe I was being too harsh on him. Maybe it was different for him in ways I don't understand.
"I don't know," said Yang, brushing her hair back over her shoulders uncertainly. "Am I making any sense?"
"If you are saying that it might be different to lose a wife and daughter compared to a mother and sister, I think that does make sense."
Yang went quiet, all thoughts of the Sanus Express forgotten. "Penny… if you were upset with someone, but you still loved them, do you think you could deal with that?"
Penny consulted with Thesaurus. "I believe the word for that is 'forgiveness'."
"…maybe." Yang heaved a breath that had nothing to do with physical exertion. "Well, since I'm thinking about it… it's time to go to the cliff."
There were two stones at the cliff edge. They were identical in shape and color, a mottled gray, though one was smaller than the other. Both stones were rectangularly cut and low to the ground, and each bore a plaque with the image of a rose, a name, and a short inscription.
On the larger of the two was written, "Summer Rose: Thus kindly I scatter." On the smaller, "Ruby Rose: Still a bud in our hearts."
"These are their graves, then?" said Penny.
"You can't have graves when you don't have bodies," said Yang. "It's a memorial."
This cliff was deep in the interior of Patch. They were klicks from any hints of civilization, so the only sounds around the memorial were natural ones: leaves rustling in the ocean breeze, animals moving through the undergrowth, seasonal insects buzzing, birds calling to each other. This place was alive in a way the subjects of the stones were not. Was that the idea? Contrast?
"I don't come here often," said Yang, and uncharacteristically her head was down and her hands were in her pockets. One foot was kicking at loose stones. "When I do, I usually bring flowers. I forgot this time. My bad."
Penny wanted to say something reassuring ("it's the thought that counts", maybe), but she wasn't sure she could. Even in her absolute certainty that souls existed—Aura was a fact—she had no glimmer of understanding of what happened to the soul after death. Would Summer and Ruby see the gestures their loved ones were making? Would they appreciate the thoughts? Penny had no insights. She couldn't even be sure that their souls would know this was their memorial, raised for them. In fact, Analysis pointed out, the lack of body meant she couldn't even be certain they were dead.
But if the memorial was not for the deceased, then why have one? Why expend so much effort and money building this place, maintaining it, visiting it?
"I don't know why I brought you here," said Yang. "I wouldn't expect it to mean much to you. It's just… something that matters to me."
"Then you have every reason to bring me here," said Penny. "You are my friend, and the things that matter to you matter to me. Oh, that's it!"
"Penny?"
She understood now. Graves weren't just for the deceased. They were for those still living, to help those who remembered and cared about the dead to keep remembering and caring.
And now Penny remembered and cared- not to the same extent as Yang, but in the same fashion. Seeing Yang wear a sash was one thing, an intellectual understanding of grief, but this was... intimate, emotional. She could almost see (and could definitely feel) the relationship between Yang and the Roses, strong even after all these years.
The memorial had done its job.
"I'm glad we came here," Penny said. "I feel like I understand you better, and I care about the things you care about. We have shared experiences now. That is a very good reason to come."
Yang grew a lopsided smile and slightly shook her head. "Penny, you are a treasure, have I told you that?"
Penny gasped. "You have not."
"I should probably say it more often, then." Yang looked at the stones one more time and fingered the sash on her bicep. "Come on. Let's get back. I have to apologize to dad."
Penny would never stop someone from relationship maintenance. She followed.
Next time: Face to Face