Arslan lowered her rope dart, watching the stranger with a critical eye.
What in the world is he wearing? She thought, looking at his rather interesting outfit. A ruined cowl that was hanging on just by a couple of threads hid him from the rain. Bits of, hold up, was that moss? Was moss literally growing on him?
Clumps of moss hung like leaching patches to the cape, which was only the start of the strangeness about him. His face was hidden by a hand carved mask, a rough paint job of three stripes on it. The mask had no other detail to it besides those three lines, orange blue and green.
His chest piece was absolutely ruined, a massive crack would split it in half if Jaune hadn't literally stapled it together. Large off colored metal stripes that looked similar to stitching lined the crack in the once white breastplate. Who in the world repaired armor like that? Anyone with a rapier or thin tipped spear would expose that chink in the armor so fast, it wouldn't even be funny.
Following the progression down Jaune's body, Arslan came to his waist wrap.
"You have a Sendal." Arslan said, surprised that he even knew what it was.
Jaune blinked. I have a what? He asked his compatriots, confused.
I think she said you have a Sandal. A said.
Jaune looked down at his feet. Nope, he was wearing boots. No sandals there.
"I'm wearing boots." Jaune responded, looking up. Arslan blinked, the oddly given joke taking her by surprise. It was so flat, like it was more of a statement than a joke. She supposed he was making a joke, even if it was a bad one.
Bolin cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the masked man. "So, what are you doing here?" He asked, a threatening grip on his staff. Just in case.
It was not something that went unnoticed by Jaune, as he shifted just slightly away from the black haired monk.
Jaune looked into Bolin's eyes, his head cocking to the side. It was like a confused animal being posed with a question. It knew it was being asked something, but wasn't sure what.
What does he mean? Like, what am I doing in front of them? What i'm doing in the forest? Or so far away from civilization?
B shrugged. I don't know. Just answer one of those and hope you're right? He suggested.
Sounds like a decent plan.
"I am on an exodus." He said after a momentary pause that took just a little too long for normal speaking patterns. Bolin squinted at the stranger, already suspicious of him.
He sounded too young to be a fully fledged huntsman, age 16 at most. But he was so tall, he had to be older than that.
Arslan narrowed in on that use of the word Exodus. Exodus, as in the biblical journey of Karmora, and others? Arslan looked around at the misty damp forest. Well, if he was Karmora incarnate, this would be the place to find him.
Arslan's more logical side of her brain interjected, shutting down that line of thought. He probably means a long trip. And besides, it's not like he could be Karmora. Karmora's a literal god, and he can't be a god.
Arslan hummed, accepting the reasoning. It was a foolish intrusive thought.
"Welp!" Bolin said, clapping his hands together. "We found our ghost. It was just some dude in the forest. Can we please go back home now? Or back to the Inn. I would love to get out of the rain."
Jaune's head cocked to the side again. "Is this inn nearby?" he asked, confused and hopeful at that.
Rheese answered that question. "I mean, yeah? Probably less than an hour away from here."
Jaune's face fell at that news into a long blank stare.
You mean we were this close to finding civilization again? Just a short walk away? He thought, kind of angry at himself that he hadn't noticed.
Wait, like an actual town? With an actual bed? A asked hopefully.
"Does this inn have a bed?" Jaune asked suddenly, causing team AMBR to almost jump, snapping their heads to look at him.
"...I would hope so?" Rheese said, the end of the phrase pitching upwards into a question. "If they didn't, I would be mighty pissed."
"Good." Jaune said, relieved at the promise of a bed. "I haven't had a bed in…" When was the last time he had slept in a bed? Must have been a month ago, at least. Perhaps more?
Time was not Jaunes strong suit, not any longer anyway.
"A long, long time." He finished his statement, getting a confused and concerned set of looks from his newly found fellow huntsmen.
Ok. Arslan thought to herself, watching Jaune slump slightly as they started walking, Bolin in the lead. That was immediately concerning. It sounds like he hasn't had a good long rest in a while.
Just exactly what kind of Exodus did he go on? Couldn't he have taken a bullhead or a caravan to get where he's going?
Where is he going?
Rheese, almost sensing Arslan's questioning gaze, turned to the ranger. "So, jaune?"
Jaune's head tilted to look at her, indicating that he was listening. It was unsettling, in a sense. Like it was a kind of bird of prey you were talking to, and not a normal human being.
Rheese gulped, refocusing her will. Something about him was just barely off putting. Perhaps it was the way he was too quiet, even his footsteps seemed to be overtly quiet. Like a cat perhaps.
"You said you were on an Exodus, right?"
Jaune nodded lightly, his hood shifting under the movement.
"So where is this "exodus" taking you, stranger?" Rheese asked, her voice hiding the innate fear.
Jaune turned his head, much like a hawk, to face the skater. "Haven. And please, call me Jaune."
Arslan blinked. "Haven? You're a student?"
Jaune nodded again, waiting a moment before he spoke. "Yes. I am a student."
Rheese and Arslan shared a look. From where?
"Where did you study?" Arslan asked, probing for information. She could see the forest thinning out, giving way to muddied greens and in the close distance.
"Beacon." he responded simply, his head on a swivel as he stalked through the forest.
Arslan blinked. He's from Beacon?
"You're from Beacon?" Rheese asked, surprised. Beacon was a major huntsman school. It was regarded by many as the "pinnacle of Huntsmen education" but Rheese personally disagreed. She thought that Beacon, while it had it's shining stars, produces mostly par huntsmen. Sure, you had your team STRQ's and BLKR's, but that wasn't the vast majority of them.
Although, why anyone would want to leave such a place of legend, Rheese didn't know.
"What made you leave? You say something inappropriate to the press or something?" Bolin asked bluntly.
Jaune froze for a moment, his momentary stop almost causing Nadir to walk into him.
The air became colder as Jaune mechanically started walking again.
Arslan and Bolin shared a look. "He has something to hide." Bolin whispered quietly to her.
Arslan tilted her head at him, exasperated. "So?" She whispered back. "It doesn't concern us"
Jaune closed his eyes as they walked onwards. He could hear them whisper to each other, but about what he couldn't tell.
Ohh, gossip! We should eavesdrop! They're probably talking about us! A said, his faux excitement betraying his inherent suspicion.
B sighed, understanding A's tone. Let them be. He said, putting a calming hand on A's shoulder. It was hopefully nothing.
Team AMBR and their tag along exited the forest, mist spilling out onto the grassy field like blood.
"Ah." Jaune said, looking at the rain fallen city. Stacks of smoke billowed out from chimneys, blending into the dark grey clouds. Small bits of the daily life of the town could be heard, from some children playing in the rain to a barking dog to their mothers telling them both to come inside the house and out of the wet.
Jaune stopped, taking in the visage for a moment.
He had forgotten what this looked like. How could he have forgotten such peace, such serenity? Jaune knew the answer, but feared what it might entail.
Arslan gave their newly found acquaintance a questioning look. He had stopped, on the edge of the field, basking in the rain.
Arslan walked up to stand next to him, giving him a side eyed view. Jaune's own blue ones turned to look at her from the corner of his mask.
Arslan, upon realizing she was being looked at, turned her eyes away with a sudden swiftness, focusing on the town.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She asked the ranger. The rest of team AMBR, upon seeing that Arslan was trying to strike up one of her sagely conversations, left the two for the town. In hopes of a warm room out of the rain. Something easily obtained.
"I had forgotten what this felt like." Jaune said after the more colorful set of huntsmen left them.
Arslan took on a confused look. "I'm sorry?" She asked, not sure what to make of that answer.
Jaune gestured to the town. "I forgot. The fires, the sounds. The life that is there. I forgot what it felt like..."
I don't know how, but I forgot. Jaune thought solemnly.
Arslan turned to look at him, her face shifting from confusion to concern to an expression somewhere between the two. She opened her mouth to say something, but what could she even say to that?
Closing it, she turned to look at the town. She supposed that it looked just about every other frontier town: small two story houses at best, sections of wall, palisades, and barricades littered the outer edges of the town. Cobbled roads faded into dirt pathways that spiraled off into the distant horizon, faded and concealed by the sheets of rain. Just exactly what had happened during that exodus that Jaune forgot what civilization looked like
Arslan returned her attention to her company, watching him with an interest one might approach a cryptic puzzle with, or perhaps a riddle.
"The stripes on your Sendal." She started, changing the topic to his Honor Mark around his waist. "What do they mean?"
Jaune blinked, reaching up to touch his mask. Arslan shook her head, nodding down to his Honor Mark. "no, silly. Your Honor Mark. I've never seen any one like it. So what do the stripes mean." Arslan was admittedly curious. Most Sendal's were intricate patterns, resembling glorious moments in their lives. Great battles, first victories, world altering events, that kind of thing. Circles and lines and shapes and animals and symbols would be stitched onto a cloth. Most Sendal's were in the Dhalka style, a pelvic curtain that had the most detail work, a foot long or so skirt wrapping around the rest of the waist. Of course, different styles of Sendal's ment something different, but that was the most general. Arslan had seen many Sendals, ranging from Kilt styles to the Traditional warriors wrap to a Dhalka. But never one like Jaunes. A wrap that covered Jaunes outer thigh, wrapping around to the other side, leaving his front open.
Yet another puzzle to try and pick apart about the strange ranger.
Jaune looked down, holding out the flag wrapped around his waist. He thought for a long moment.
What in the world is an Honor Mark? Jaune asked his head space renters. They just shrugged.
I dunno what in the world she's talking about, mate. A responded. She called it a Sandal, and as far as I know those go on our feet.
B looked at it from a logical perspective, taking the time to think and pick apart Arslan's words. It's called an Honor Mark, so I would assume it's kind of like a personalized Family Crest? Or something along those lines. Probably has to do with Honor.
Jaune shifted his balance from one foot to the other at the question his cocoa colored company asked. How did he answer that? How did he give an answer to a question when one didn't exist?
How do I answer this? Jaune asked, his mental voice pitching with stress and uneasy awkwardness.
I dunno, make something vague up! A cried back. And quick!
Arslan watched jaune's eyes carefully, as they were the only window into his emotion, the mask and heavy armor hiding his true self from the world. They flashed with worry. Anguish. Panic. A tiredness that Arslan didn't think could have been conveyed with eyes alone.
Oh. It wasn't an Honor Mark, was it?
"I'm sorry if i brought up something that i shouldn't have, I was just-" Arslan said, immensely regretful that she didn't recognize the mark for what it must have been. Or might have been. Judging by his reaction, surely it can't have been an Honor Mark, something one should take pride in.
Jaune moved to speak, turning to Arslan and cutting off her hasty apology. "It is fine, Arslan." he said, holding out the hem of the mark. "This means Guidance." jaune said, pointing to the green stripe. "Wayfinding. Undertaking the journey from disgrace onwards, and coming out stronger for it."
What in the world are you talking about?! B called out, calling Jaune out on his vague bullshit.
I'm just doing what A said to do! Jaune cried back, internally panicking.
B's eyes widened as his head fell forward. And since has listening to A ever been a good idea!
Hey! A combated, insulted at the insinuation that he had no good ideas.
What in the world am I even saying? "Wayfinding"?! What am going on about! Jaune panicked, talking to himself this time.
"And the blue one?" Arslan asked, enwrapped by the explanation. Redemption, or growth, was an uncommon mark on an Honor Mark, particularly one so vague. Most marks were actual events. Perhaps this was an event? This great journey to redemption? With any luck, the other marks will give more context to the green stripe. Arslan hoped.
Jaune gulped. Oh god, what did he want the blue stripe to mean?
Enchiladas. A suggested. B whacked him over the head with a condescending hand.
No you dumbass! B berated. It can't be fucking Enchiladas! It's not even enchilada colored!
Jaune closed his eyes. Shut it you two.
"The blue stripe?" Jaune asked, buying some time. "It stands for The Search."
Arslan's head tilted, the rain running down her face and dripping from her hair. It framed her in such a pleasing way, calm and collected and perhaps even kind, like the eye of a storm. The dull grey of the world around them, muddied and painted by the greens of life, created a sedative contrast with, if she were in a harsher, brighter light, the colorful and blinding lioness.
"The search?" Arslan asked. That was one she had not heard before. The search? The search for what? If it was a quest, wouldn't it be more detailed as for what the quest was for? Like a crown or something? "The search for what?"
"Answers." jaune responded automatically. His mind went to The Dream. Why was he there? What had he done that trapped him in this endless cycle of death and rebirth? What had happened to that desolate world, that it had turned it to dust and ash?
Thinking further back, why had Pyrrha, one of the few he had trusted, betrayed him so? He remembered their fight after Ozpin had given his ultimatum. Blurrily, but he still remembered. He remembered the screaming match, mostly. The yelling and the raw undeniable pain behind those words. Even if the words themselves slipped him.
"Meaning. Justification for my actions." he continued, dwelling even further down his memory lane. A large family of blonds, massive meals between and equally large feasters. The crowded beds and cluttered house, beaten by the trails of childhood. Failed dreams and broken promises, cold and sad blue eyes, and lonely nights, surrounded by a family he wasn't sure he even knew. "And for my suffering."
Arslan blinked, taken aback from that answer. This was by far the most intriguing, and least helpful Sendal she had been told about. Answers? No mark documented the search for answers. What Honor was there in that? What bragging rights were attached to the search for answers?
Arslan wasn't even sure if she wanted to know what the orange stripe resembled, if it was going to be equally confusing as the last two. "And the orange?" She asked, shying away just a bit from the answer.
Jaune looked down at the orange stripe. He knew what it stood for. Even if he didn't want to admit it, he knew that it stood for.
"Honor." he said solemnly. Arslan was surprised by the rather common symbolic nature of the stripe. Honor, while mostly associated with a particular event (as all marks were), was an incredibly common mark for an Honor mark.
"Protection." Jaune continued, not taking his eyes off the stripe. He swallowed, knowing what came next.
"Sacrifice." He choked out, his breath shaky. He closed his eyes, mourning that loss.
And for a moment, blood stained his hands once more, as the night sky burned with the scent of iron.
Arslan paled. Oh.
Failure was not an uncommon mark, nor were pyrrhic victories. But they were sad marks to have. They spoke of suffering, and those that wore them bore heavy burdens indeed.
What could someone so young have done to bear such sorrows? Arslan thought to herself, a wave of pitying tenderness washing over her, almost as strong and the soft chill of the rain.
"Oh. Jaune." Arslan said, compelled to add her support to the burdened man. She reached her hand out, hoping to give him some form of comfort, the tips of her fingers approaching the wooden mask.
Jaune flinched at seeing the hand come so close, causing Arslan to retract the offending appendage. "Sorry." She said quietly, turning back to the town.
"No- I'm sorry, i shouldn't have flinched- You just- I wasn't expecting it, that's all." Jaune hastily explained, tripping over his words.
Arslan hummed, smiling. The ranger reminded her of Nadir a little. Nadir never really seemed to know what to say, and what he did say was stumbling and came out wrong.
"It's ok. I know what you mean." Arslan chuckled, looking at the hooded ranger. "Why do you wear a mask?" She asked, changing the subject away from such a heavy topic. If it was something Jaune had no interest in being pried open, she should not bother him about it. Well, not yet anyway. There were other areas of interest that she could delve into.
Jaune gave her a blank look. "What mask?" he asked, not sure what she was talking about
Arslan gave Jaune a blank look. "The one on your face?" she asked flatly. He's joking, right? She thought to himself.
Jaune's hand went up to touch his face. It met the harsh carved wood from the dream.
"Oh! Oh!" Jaune laughed, reaching behind his hood. "I forgot i had it on."
The mask left his face, jaune let out a breathy sigh of relief as he felt the cold moisture of the rain air touch his face for the first time.
Arslan watched as the mask fell away, being tied to the loop of his belt.
Oh no. Arslan thought as Jaune's face met the light. blue grey eyes that looked like they would shine in the dark. A well built, stereotypical Valean Orleans face with skin stretched far too thin, gaunt with the wear of exhaustion and a long life on the road. His nose was broken in a way that only seemed to accentuate his facial structure. Deep bags under his eyes aged him far beyond his years. A hairline scar stretching from his jawline to his cheekbone was the only intruder on his unshaven, scruff covered jaw. A strand of blond hair fell from under his hood and down onto his face, betraying how long his hair must have been under that cape.
Arslan gulped. With a little rest and recovery, maybe a spa day, he would actually be really fucking hot. The more intrusive part of her brain thought.
Jaune looked up at the rain, the water washing away the ash and grime that had collected under the mask. "The rain is going to be stopping soon." he said, with far more ominous weight than he intended.
Arslan nodded, sensing the end of a conversation. "Well, you are welcome to join me and my team on the trip back to Haven, and for the remainder of the time until then." She offered, before walking towards the town. Jaune watched her retreat with interest, as one might watch a predator stalk into the woods on a documentary.
A whistled as she descended the hill. Damn, what an ass!
B gave a scandalized gasp, whacking A on the back of the head again. No! Bad! No sexualizing the scary muscle woman! Did you see those biceps?!
Jaune had to agree. What an ass.
Not you too!
So, a long chapter this time with not much happening. This was mostly for character development and to properly introduce characters to each other. Don't worry, next chapter will have some action, i promise.
I hope that this has given you a little window in to the character I want Arslan to end up being, at least a bit. Characters developing and ending up coming across the way i want them without being extremely exaggerated and almost satirical has always been hard for me.
As always, please leave a comment as to what you think happens next, scenes or events that you think should be written in, and or constructive critism. It fuels the progression of this story.
Also, expect the next chapter to be a little bit later. If i can control my procrastination, i will spending my time studying for my tests and not word vomiting on this google doc.