Jaune was currently sitting in the nurse's office. The nurse had yet to come, as it must have been close to two in the morning, so Jaune really couldn't blame her.
"I've told you, I feel fine, Doctor." Jaune repeated to the doctor, who just gave him a look.
"Ask me if I care. As a doctor, I am required to make sure that your arm is ok." the Doctor sushed him. Jaune tilted his head.
"Where did you go to medical school?" Jaune asked, flexing his arm tenderly. While his healing magic did wonders for knitting the bone and tissue, even in this waking world, it did very little for the numbing of his limb.
Sebastian blinked. "Medical WhAT?" He asked, his eyes wide with shock. The two stared at each other with a tense gaze. Sebastian cracked first, a small smile breaking through his tense muscles.
"Snrkk." he hissed through his teeth, before leaning back. "Ahahaaa, I never went to medical school." Sebastian explained. "My doctorate is in engineering, don't worry."
Jaune raised an eyebrow, clearly not impressed with the joke.
"Not a joker?" The teacher asked, pressing a button on the wall. "Shame. Everyone needs a good laugh." The smile would have blinded less somber men.
Sebastian put his hat back, tilting it over his eyes. "Anyway, the nurse should be on her way." he paused to think for a moment. "Might have to call again. It is about three in the morning." he checked his watch. "Correction. Three forty five. Roxxanne's going to have my ass on a platter for this." the muttering came from under his breath.
Jaune looked at the teacher. He didn't say anything, he just stared at the teacher. And the two did that, just looking at each other and sizing each other up. It was an awkward silence until someone else opened the door. An annoyed fox faunus, who had clearly risen far too early in the day, was groggily glaring at the two. "Alright, good god Cortez.. Why did you call me so freaking early?" She growled, fumbling for a mug. Sebastian pushed one towards her.
"We had a bit of a scuffle, that's all." He said as the faunus started filling the mug with coffee. She took the first deep drought of the stuff, letting out a sigh. "What's the damage this time?" She asked, setting the cup down with surprising force.
Cortez looked at his blonde student. "I broke his arm." He said. Roxanne nodded, taking another sip from her coffee. And then the teacher's words registered. The mig in her hand quickly became a stress ball for the nurse, her grip causing fracture line cracks to spread from under her fingertips.
"Sebastian, you didn't." She bemoaned. "You seriously did not injure a student."
Sebastian just continued on. "Took it like a champ. Decided to try to reset it himself, which was stupid. Took him here to get him looked at."
Roxanne closed her eyes, putting her coffee down on the table. Jaune was glad, as he feared that if the nurse had continued to hold it, it would have surely shattered in her hands.
"You can't just break people, Cortez! It is against school policy to just hurt people! Whether you like it or not, those are the rules!" The snarl was enough to make even Jaune flinch, and left Cortez raising his hands in surrender.
"In my defense, I did offer him a spar, and he accepted. It was a sanctioned duel." was the defense that the gunslinger chose.
Roxanne gave him a suspicious squint. "Sanctioned by whom, exactly."
Sebastian looked at the corner of the room guilty. "...me…" he admitted quietly. The look that the teacher got was scathing.
"I am not going to defend you for this." She said after a moment. Cortez sighed, rolling his eyes.
"You act as though I was actually fighting him." The teacher countered. "I didn't even pull a gun on him." he continued, hoping it made a difference to the nurse.
She just looked at him for a long while, before shaking her head. "You are John, correct?" She finally said, turning her attention to the blonde. Jaune jolted slightly, snapping to attention.
"Uhh… no ma'am. My name is jaune. With the french pronunciation." He corrected the fox faunus. She nodded.
"Right. Jaune. Jaune. Jaune." She rolled the name around in her mouth, getting used to it. "So, which arm did this poor excuse of a teacher break?" She said, giving a not subtle glance to the gunslinger in the corner.
"My left. I think. It's fine now though. I reset it no problem. Seriously, it is not a big deal." The blonde ranger rattled off. The nurse rolled her eyes and leaned forward, grabbing Jaune's wrist and yanking him forward. She clearly had to deal with students down playing their injuries, for one reason or another, very often. Jaune grunted, partially in surprise, partially in pain as his sore arm was pulled forward. The nurse gave it a skilled inspection. Poking, prodding, twisting and massaging of the limb was conducted. She held up her scroll to the limb, letting it scan an X ray. The black and white image of the skeletal structure of the average arm was displayed on the screen in miniature.
"Looks more like a sprain than a break, or whatever significant damage that has been done has healed by now. I'm still writing you a pass for combat and excursions until Thursday, but you should be fine to train." She said, pulling out her scroll to tap something into it. Presumably the statement that Jaune would not be participating in combat class any time soon. "Lightly." she added to the end, giving jaune a bone chilling glare. He nodded, standing up from his examination table.
"So, am I free to go?" he asked shyly, watching the nurse.
She shrugged, downing the rest of her coffee. "Sure. Get some rest, don't strain yourself." she said nonchalantly, shooing Jaune away with a wave of her hand. The ranger nodded, taking his leave of the hospital wing.
"You know," Roxxane said, turning to look at her colleague. "I thought I was going to replace his arm when you said you broke it. You're usually a little more… robust about your damage." She said, grinning.
Cortez smiled, shaking his head. 'Told you he took it like a champ. I'm surprised you let him go though. I could have sworn you were going to cast him first." The gunslinger said. Roxxane snorted.
"Nah. It will be good as new by tomorrow at supper." She snorted, shaking her head.
The two sat in silence, the old bond of former and student teacher almost visible between the two.
"So, what do you think of him?" Roxxane asked after a while. Sebastian looked at her.
"Why would I think anything of him?" he asked, coyly letting on that he did indeed think something of Jaune. Roxxane just gave him a flat look.
"Because it's you, Cortez. You and your frankly ridiculous brain have thoughts on everything and everyone. So spill, what's your diagnosis, Doctor Cortez." That last bit was clearly a jab and jest at the teacher's misleading title. Cortez chewed on the inside of his mouth for a moment.
"He's interesting alright. He's good." He said after a moment, giving a serious nod. "Seriously good." Roxxane hummed, raising an eyebrow. It was rare that Sebastian had a particularly high opinion on the combat ability of anyone, particularly innocent greenhorns. "He shouldn't be a first year student, that's for sure."
Roxxane was interested now. "Oh? What year should he be?"
"Third." The response was automatic. "He has the mechanical skills to be a fully fledged huntsman already, as amazing as that is. But he needs the knowledge and the wisdom that comes with education." the gunslinger continued, explaining his reasoning. "But there is something wrong about him, though."
The fox faunus leaned forward, resting her chin on her fingers. "What? I mean, besides him being a prodigy." She said, waiving off the deduction of his combat skills as a product of that savantness.
Sebastian gave a snort, sipping from his own mug that Roxane hadn't really seen him fill. "He's not a prodigy. That's the thing." he shook his head. "You can tell, if you're good at it, roughly how long people have spent doing anything. Fighting, painting, singing, whatever it is. And if you are really good, like me" Cortez smiled, pressing his hand over his heart, displaying a kind of ironic theatrical pride with a fun filled smile, " You can tell when they started learning. Little habits that people develop, small movements to compensate for young tiny bodies, or freshly developed patterns to avoid damaging old bodies." Sebastian explained. Roxxane nodded, familiar with the concept. She could believe that such was the case.
"Ok, so what does this have to do with him not being a prodigy?" The nurse asked her old student.
"He has twenty years of experience." Sebastian said, staring at the wall. "More or less."
Roxxane shrugged. "So, kids nineteen. Probably stared at a really young age. He's an Arc, right? They seem like one of those "Legacy" Families." She said, rolling her eyes with the word Legacy.
Sebastian shook his head. "You would think so, wouldn't you?" he snorted, the repetitive chuckle dying out. "But he doesn't have any of the hold over habits or movement that someone who started training at birth should have." He finished his coffee, putting the mug down. "There are no little adjustments that come from having small arms, no muscle memory patterns for being a naturally clumsy child. Nothing like that at all."
"He started at seventeen, and he's gotten twenty years of experience without aging a single day. He's still seventeen."
Roxxane just stared at her old ward, astounded by the conclusion he reached.
"But how?"
Sebastian just shrugged. "I have no fucking clue."
Jaune had returned to his bed, and was looking up at the moon. It was hidden every once in a while by the drifting clouds.
Jaune couldn't get to sleep. Or rather, he had no interest in returning to sleep. He looked at the door, remembering that there was an extensive set of recreational activities down the hall. What really drew Jaune was the kitchen.
He hadn't cooked in quite some time. He wondered if he could still cook, if he wished. He walked towards it, rifling through the cabinets. He pulled out some flour, some peppers and onions. He cracked open the fridge and raided it of its contents as well. And finally, a rotted and decayed book from the dream. It was an old recipe book he had taken from the farmlands such a long time ago. At least it felt like a long time ago. Perhaps those here wouldn't consider it that long. He looked at the recipe, trying to figure out what he would need. A lot of the things on the list didn't exist in the waking world, or were not things that shared a name at the very least. But Pork was pork, and peppercorn was pepper corn. Unfortunately he had no pork. Bacon would have to do. The ranger took off his gauntlets, carefully placing them on on the table that would be used for serving food, and washed his hands.
Around and around goes the flying snake, and he flies because Grandma chases him with a rake~ Jaune hummed in his head, remembering that short rhyme his grandfather taught him to get him to actually wash his hands. The sink was turned off as drew one of his knives.
THANK YOU. The pepper was cut in half with the blade, slicing through the vegetable like warm butter. The ranger continued his work, coring and dicing the green and yellow peppers into fine, small cubes. The bacon followed, finding cut into similar sized chunks and covered with pepper and salt.
The electric coil on the stove top started to glow, heating the pan under it. Jaune smiled, tossing in his finely minced mixture of Peppers and Bacon was tossed into the pan.
Arslan was woken by a scent for the second time in a week. This time it did not instill a deep seeded fear or panic in her, thank the gods. She sniffed the air, practically tasting the searing bacon and the aroma of pepper. Who in the world is cooking at this hour? The lioness thought, turning to look at her bedside clock.
It read four seventeen, AM, standard Mistral time. Far too early for any self respecting person to be awake, much less having breakfast. She turned over, grabbing her blanket with the motion, and closed her eyes. Bunkering down, she set off determined to find sleep.
…
It didn't come. The taunting smell of pan fried food kept her awake, teasing her with the sheer mystery of who could be cooking. And what they were cooking that could smell so good. Arslan grumbled, weighing her options. She sighed as she kicked her blanket off of her and buttoned up her pajama shirt. She supposed she had to know now. God cursed a good cooking bastard, forcing me to go find out why the hell someone is cooking at four in the morning. She grumbled, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.
The light from the hallway was blinding, particularly for someone with natural night vision. She blinked fiercely, trying to force her eyes to adjust to the lights coming from the common area's kitchen. Eventually her eyes adjusted, and she saw a face that was becoming more and more prominent in her life.
"Jaune?" She yawned, putting her fist in front of her mouth so as to not show off her noticeable fangs. "What are you doing up so early in the morning?"
Jaune turned, shaking off the flour on his hands with a plume of the powder. "I am making Sklaver." he gestured to the littered countertop. "At least, I think it is pronounced Sklavar. The recipe is not in english."
Arslan blinked at his answer. "Skavar? I can't say I have heard of it." She admitted, sitting down at the table.
"Sklavar." The ranger corrected. "There is an L in there." He continued to mix what Arslan assumed to be a batter in the dented metal bowl that had suffered many years of communal service and use. Arslan hummed, watching Jaune work sleepily. She watched him knead what was dough, not batter, on the cutting board table. She watched his shoulders heave and flex under his t-shirt. I've never seen him wear a T-shirt. Arslan noted as she glanced at the pile of armor across the table from her.
"Would you like to help me? I need to watch the filling, and someone needs to work the dough." Jaune offered. Arslan shrugged, standing up with a stretch.
"I don't see why not. What do you need me to do?"
Jaune shook the pan, causing that wonderful smelling aroma waft back into the air with renewed vigor. Arslan looked down at the mush of flour, eggs, and whatever else went into dough. Baking soda? She was pretty sure baking soda was a component, right?
She simply shrugged, and began to push and punch the dough, feeling it squish under her fists. She smiled. It was a satisfying feeling. The stretchy and malleable substance deformed and molded under her forceful hands. Jaune turned to look at the lioness, who was clearly enjoying mutilating the dough.
"Having fun, Ms. Altan?" the ranger asked her.
She turned to look at the cooking man. "Am I doing it wrong?" She asked him.
He nodded. "You are too forceful, too harsh." Jaune corrected her, putting the pan down. He moved to stand behind her, his hands hovering over her own. It took Arslan a moment to realize that he was asking for permission to touch her. She could practically feel him behind her, as though he was pressed against her. She looked over her shoulder, making sure that there was a reasonable and respectable distance between the two. There was enough space for the position she was in. And she trusted Jaune to have the decency to not do something that he would regret. Arslan let her hands drift up into his own.
"You have to treat the dough carefully, like it is a friend." The ranger said, moving his hands to gently fold the dough. His hands were so rough against her own smoother skin. She had never noticed, in the short time of knowing Jaune, just how adorned his hands were with the scarring of life. Some she recognized the sources, others she did not. She recognized the little cuts and scarring from lifetimes of battle. She recognized the thick and rough calluses from ages of weaponship. They probably started forming from when he was a young age, before he had his aura unlocked. Hers had faded somewhat in time, and the constant subconscious layer of aura that most huntsmen used to prevent similar injuries and wear. She recognized the small burn just above his thumb and at the edge of his ring finger. Wax burns, from midnight burning candles. They were identified as. I recognize them from the little burns the Monks got from spending sleepless nights pouring over the Testaments. Arslan mused as the dough was folded with surprisingly gentle brushes. His fingers were surprisingly thin and spindly, feeling to be more bone than muscle. They were thinner than her own, and significantly longer as well. I bet he played piano… The thought felt absurd to her. This was not a man who played piano. Or if he did, he played that creepy pipe organ you found in abandoned churches and summoned ghosts and demons with it.
"Do you see how you fold the dough? How it breathes under your fingers, how it is soft and gentle? You must be soft and gentle as well. Be kind to the dough, for it is soft and gentle." Jaune's words snapped her back into the real world. "If you are tough on the dough, the dough will be tough on you."
Arslan leaned back, looking at the dough she had recently brutalized before her. "Is this dough going to be tough dough?" She asked nervously, hoping that she hadn't just ruined the batch for Jaune. He laughed, a soft and windy whispering chuckle that breezed through her. It made her shudder, as though she had accidentally stepped on some particularly disgruntled spirits grave.
"Hahaha-no." Jaune admitted, scratching at the back of his head and stepping away. "But it will not matter. Food is food." he said, grabbing a selection of spices and herbs. Pepper, Chili Flakes, Basil and Dill. Some olive oil and some salt. And some other things Jaune couldn't quite remember the names of.
"Grind these together into a paste." Jaune instructed her. Arslan nodded, before looking at the table.
"Wait." She paused, putting down the cup of chili peppers. "How much do I use? All of it? An ounce? A cup?"
Jaune turned to look at her, tiling his head. "What? Why would you need that?"he asked, pushing the dough along the cutting board. "Just use feeling." Arslan gave him a flabbergasted look.
"Feeling? What in the- Jaune, let me see the recipe." She demanded, holding her hand out expectantly. Jaune shook his head.
"I'm telling you, you have to use feeling." jaune clenched his fingers together like some corny Italian chef. "You must cry out to the void and have it answer back. You must feel deep in your soul and let it tell you how much to use." he continued. "Feeling." The E sound was drawn out, dragged over a couple seconds of the word.
"Feeling?" Arslan asked, putting her flour laden hands on her hips. Jaune nodded after a moment of entranced staring, a small smile on his face.
"Feeling." He responded, the ghost of an Italian accent in the word.
The dark skinned monk just glared at him for a moment. "Recipe. Now." Jaune sighed and handed her the half rotted, mostly burnt book he was reading it off of. Arslan's eyes widened as she gingerly held the book, bits of its brittle leather copy falling to the ground. Her mouth opened, but nothing sensical came out of it.
"What-?" She finally managed, Jaune gently taking it back.
"It's a bit of a relic. Kind of." he admitted, propping back up against the wall.
"It's not even in english!" Arslan cried out, pointing at the aged paper.
Jaune tilted his head, looking at the writing. It was in english, just the kind that Shakespear probably spoke in. Not that his plays were in, that was a particular style. Kind of like musicals.
Man, Jaune spent way too much time invested in theater class. At least Mr. Chauckavitch liked him. Said he made a good Hamlet.
"Yeah. The instructions for the recipe were kind of burnt off during a blaze, so you'll just have to…" Jaune waited, building up the inevitable answer that he would deliver, "use feeling to judge."
Arslan glared at him, as though she was daring him to say it again. Jaune wasn't sure how, but he managed to keep a straight face on.
With a sigh, she started to crush the materials between her hands, using her aura to turn them into rock hard plates of which to break and grind the paste ingredients. Jaune went through a myriad of emotions upon seeing that. Starting with shock, and ending in a kind of rejected acceptance.
He supposed this was just what huntsmen did. Ignore the mortal and pestle, just crush that shit with your bare hands. B sighed as Arslan mixed together the mushed spices into a bowl. She asked him at each and every ingredient if she was adding too much, adhering to her fellow blonde's advice.
That's just right
A little more.
Just a pinch.
Too much, too much! Abort, abort!
The paste was formed surprisingly quickly, despite an overabundance of garlic and cumin being present. The yellow green paste was formed into smooth clumps of spice. Jaune shook his head, rolling out the dough into a flat, roughly squarish shape.
"Now, we spread that over the dough." Jaune instructed, pushing the square towards the lioness. She nodded, using a rubber spatula to administer the flavoring. Wherever Arslan plopped down the green paste, Jaune followed it with the meat filling. After they had covered the entire thing, it ended up looking a bit like a pizza. Jaune took the dish and started to roll it into a cylinder. Taking his knife, he cut the roll into dishes and placed them on a sheet.
Arslan watched as Jaune put them into the oven, shutting the heated box. "And now we wait."
The two sat down, the awkward silence of not quite strangers, but not quite friends. Arslan managed to break the silence first.
"So, Jaune, where are you from?" the lioness asked, leaning forward to rest her head on the table. Jaune couldn't help but be reminded of a cat lying down. He leaned back in his chair, giving her a raised eyebrow.
"Orleans, I believe." he said, choosing his words with a modicum of care. It was an innocent question, for the most part. He could have been more vague and said Vale, but the province of Orleans was a pretty big place. "Why do you ask?"
Arslan shrugged. "Just making conversation, that's all."
Jaune hummed. "And you? Where are you from?"
Arslan smiled. "Oh somewhere along the Khyphalat mountains. Eastern side. You know, there are the most amazing sunrises there. They just peek through the mountain air, and the stone just… it just turns into gold." She said wistfully, gazing off as though she was watching one of those sun rises a thousand miles away.
"Homesick, Arslan?" jaune asked, tossing an oddly cubed shaped rock in the air and catching it upon its descent.
Arslan just hummed, watching the stone fly up and down. "Kind of. I wouldn't mind having spring break come early." She sighed. Jaune hummed
"What about you, French man? Are you going back to orleans?" Arslan prompted the ranger. He raised an eyebrow, putting his rock down.
"French man? That's… new, I suppose." Jaune mused, his dulled blue gray eyes meeting Arslan's own dark green ones. "Are we defined by not but our own ethnicities? What defines our origin, or our home? Our Station? Something as mere and insignificant as the place of our birth?" the ranger continued, becoming surprisingly philosophical. Arslan felt a wide smile grow on her face. These were the kinds of lectures and questions she went out of her way to sit in on at the temple when she was younger. Bolin never had the patience for it, and Reese never really saw the appeal. Nadir on the other hand seemed to like them well enough, but he didn't seem to deal well with the mental stipulations they provided.
"I think not. If you're born in the middle of Timbuktu, but you live in Vale, you don't say you're from the middle of Timbuktu, you say you're from Vale! Unless you live in Hickory. Then you're from Timbuktu."
"But you are from Orleans, right?" Arslan posed again, her head tilting to the side. Jaune shrugged.
"I suppose as I am as much as I am from Vale, or Minstral, or anywhere else. I really have no place to call allegiance or house to." Jaune mused, rolling the rock in between his fingers. "What defines us then, if we are separated and sorted by our place of birth. Are we to be nothing more than Valian? French? or Atleasian? I disagree." He continued to monologue.
Arslan laughed at the question. It was of course something that had been talked about before, and had been proven faulty many and many times before.
"No, of course not." She said, resting her head on her chin with a cheshire grin.
Jaune turned to look at her, an almost manic and frantic look on his face. "Then how am I French, or any more than I am Valian or Mistrali?"
Arslan held her hands up in mock surrender. "I didn't know it was such a touchy subject. My apologies."
Jaune flopped down back in his seat, looking as though someone had just shifted his paradigm without a clutch from under his feet.
"You know?" He said, a tired little smile on his face told Arslan too much. "I didn't know it was a touchy subject either."
A tense silence came over them as they let the quiet drift the topic away.
Arsan pursed her lips, not letting herself make eye contact. "Soooo…" She started, shattering the glass silence like ice. "How long should it be till the… bread things are done?" She asked the ranger.
He shrugged. "If I had to guess?" He returned, thinking about it. "Thirty minutes, but I'll check on them in ten or so."
Jaune gave a sideways glance at the oven. "Hopefully it won't have burned by then." Arslan heard him mutter. Snapping his head back to the lioness, he continued.
"I start classes tomorrow." Jaune said the sudden change of conversation topic gave Arslan verbal whiplash.
"Yes?" she responded, processing the statement. "Yes." She reaffirmed. "You will be entering classes tomorrow. You have a schedule, I presume?"
The ranger nodded. "Are there any classes I should be concerned about?" He asked her. Arslan tilted her head, thinking about the question.
"I don't think so. Combat class is, well, combative. I guess you should also be concerned for Mr. Beaudruxe. He teaches Huntsman Law and Civics." the huntress said, before pausing. "I think. I didn't have him. I have heard nightmare tales about him though."
Jaune nodded. Good thing I tested out of Huntsman law and Civics… Jaune thought to himself, glad that he had spoken with Dr. Oobleck about seeing where he could cut some corners. He barely made a passing grade in that test, but by god he had made it.
And you kept it to yourself. B pointed out. You kept your success secret, without pride and without honor.
Jaune mentally sighed with a shrug. It wasn't a good time. Ruby's team was falling apart, and it kind of slipped my mind.
Slipped your mind. B was skeptical of that statement. Right. You just don't like the spotlight.
Jaune grimaced lightly. Alas, that still remained true. Even when he led the refugees on his exodus he remained in the back, and out of the way as much as possible.
"I will take note of that." Was his response.
Arslan stretched, working the sleepy soreness out of her shoulders. "Are you taking any interesting classes this semester?"
Jaune shrugged. "I wouldn't know. I'm just taking classes I suppose. I'm picking up the courses I was taking in Beacon."
Arslan hummed, taking a whiff of the air. "Oh, that smells lovely." She smiled contently, basking in the aroma of baking goods.
The ranger couldn't help but smile, glad that someone was enjoying his work. He supposed it was their work, as she did help.
Man, what a weird thought. Jaune mused to himself. Something that is ours… not mine, but also mine. He shook his head. I wonder what that must be like. To be mine, but not mine. Ours.
A gave a humming sound. It's almost as though it's an actual healthy mindset to adopt. He sighed, shaking his head. Human collaboration was a key feature to the human experience, and it was admittedly something that Jaune was missing in his life. There were times when A really worried about Jaune, and was scared for his humanity. The two of them relied on B a lot in the Dream, and the chances for A to shine were sparse and well distanced.
That's a good thing Juane. He reminded his host. Jaune nodded nervously, as though he was in an interview or something.
Yeah, that's a good thing.
Arslan perked up. "I'm sorry, did you say something?" Jaune shook his head.
"I did not." he confirmed, taking a look at the oven. "However, I should probably check on the Sklaver." He moved towards the oven, looking through the glass at the browning dough. Oh, this is going to turn out great. Jaune thought cheerfully as he stood up.
"They need a couple more minutes, but they should be done soon." Jaune sat back down at the table. Arslan nodded, drearily wiping at her eyes.
"What is your home like?" jaune asked her after a moment. Arslan raised an eyebrow.
"I thought that I had answered that question." She laughed, her lips turning upwards slightly. Jaune found it an appealing expression, almost softening the stern lines that made up her shadow. He smiled his thin, soft smile.
"I mean your home, not your country. The place where your family resides, the place you call home, your family calls home." He elaborated for her. Arslan blinked.
"Oh, uh, sure, I guess?" She started, not sure where this was going. She understood that Jaune was just trying to make conversation. At least, that's what she hoped. Her more predatory instincts told her that he was cataloging each bit of information, processing and picking it apart to add to a mental profile. Arslan waved the concern away. That was something poorly adjusted psychopaths did. And while jaune was poorly adjusted, Arslan didn't think he was a psychopath. At least she really hoped that he wasn't.
"I lived, when I wasn't with the monastery, in a pretty nice house. I have had the privilege of having a good life with little things that could be considered problems." Arslan explained to her fellow blonde.
"I was never hungry, had kind parents that loved me and raised me well for the parts of my life that they did." She continued, shrugging away the fact that she was raised, for the most part, in a monastery. "I turned out pretty well. I mean, there's not a lot to tell you." She shrugged again.
"I lived a fairly normal, happy and healthy life, inside and out of the monastery."
Jaune nodded, understanding that Arslan didn't have that exciting of a life. At least as far as huntsmen go. No dead mothers, no special god given super powers, Arslan wasn't turning grimm to dust with her farts or anything. It was a safe, and as far as Jaune knew, truthful answer that told him all he was going to get.
He leaned back, sliding the rock across the table. Arslan caught it, inspecting the rock. It was a pretty normal rock, she supposed. It was dark, with a sandy colored band down the center and a couple smaller, paper thin bands stretching across it. Arslan raised an eyebrow at Jaune, who was not paying attention.
He had opted to stare out into the thousand yard distance. She slid the rock back to him, the sound pulling him back to her. He caught the rock, and slid it back. Arslan gave him a face of sheer confusion. Why had he given her the rock? Did he not want it back?
The rock slid against the table once more.
This happened several more times before Arslan smelt something off. Her eyes widened. "Jaune! Dough Things!" She cried out. Jaune jumped to his feet, a panicked look dawning on his face. Dashing over to the oven, he looked inside. Arslan heard him let out a sharp sign, as though he was cursing without words in the breath.
Arslan watched as Jaune, bare handed, reached in and grabbed the metal tray. That elicited a curse out of the ranger. "Fuck!" He cursed, snapping his hand away. His gray yellow aura pulsing to cover the burns. He sighed, shaking his head. With his newly aura coated hand, he reached back into the oven to pull the tray out. Placing the hot rack on the table as though it had been sitting on the counter instead of the oven, Jaune looked at the buns.
"They're a little browner than I would have liked." He admitted as he started blowing on his hand, trying to cool his burned fingers. Arslan, if she had been looking, might have noticed the little bits of frost falling from his lips.
Arslan reached over to take one. "They smell like curry." she noted as she broke it in half. They had a pretty swirl on the top, the dark bread colored with a slightly burnt greenish center. She offered one half to Jaune, who took it.
Arslan bit out the center, letting the home cooking wash over her. It was rather interesting, the almost sour flavor of the bread mingling and mellowing the sharp spiciness from the green curry paste thing. The onions provided a kind of savory sweetness to complete the trifecta. It was something that probably needed some workshopping, maybe a dip or something. Soup?
Yeah, Arslan nodded. Soup would be good.
She looked up at her cooking partner, who had a full bun in his mouth. Arslan blinked, not even having yet swallowed her first bite. Then she counted the buns on the rack.
"Is that your second?" She asked, amazed at the lanky man's appetite. It was frankly shocking. Was this man part tortus, and just didn't need to chew?
Jaune mumbled something, his mouth full of food. He paused, swallowing. "My third, actually."
His fellow blonde stared at him incredulously.
"I was going to leave the rest for you…" he said sheepishly. He wasn't used to being the first served, even if he was first at the table. There was not quite as much as he would have liked at the back of the line, particularly with seven sisters.
Arslan smiled, shaking her head. "Let's enjoy breakfast then."
The hours had passed and Jaune had left Arslan to go to his own classes. Grimm studies was far more organized and useful than Port's ramblings, but wholly unremarkable. Taught by a forgettable man named Dr. John Doe.
After that was a Historical Weapons and Engineering class that Jaune did not remember signing up for at all. It was actually interesting, as it talked a lot about old weapons and their function. In a world full of guns with sharp metal sticks attached to them, it was refreshing to see. It was also blatantly useful, as Jaune used most if not all of these weapons. He noticed that everyone in this class also used a full metal weapon.
This was also the first of several classes he shared with Arslan, as he would discover. Arslan waved him over to sit next to her. He nodded and approached.
"Oh, Jaune. It's you." Came a sneering and haughty voice from beside Arslan. Bolin looked up from his desk.
"Bolin." Jaune greeted coldly. "I did not see you."
Hiding away like a rat in Arslan's shadow. B sniped at the blue monk.
A leaned back in disgust. Don't be rude, B. He scolded. That's insulting to rats.
Jaune shook his head, sitting down on the opposite side of Arslan. You guys are vicious. He sighed. The teacher came into class soon after. He was a short, stubby little man that looked more like a mechanic than a teacher.
But Port also looked more like a cartoon come to life, so how could he judge?
"Good morning class. I am Professor Cathode." The man grumbled, "And this is Ancient Weapons and Engineering, as you all know or hopefully can tell, We have new students." All eyes turned to Jaune, and he really wished that he could disappear.
"Why don't you introduce yourself to the class, young man?" Professor Cathode suggested. Jaune let out a breath, shaking his head. He stood up, and Arslan could not help but be amazed at his dichotomy. He could be towering tall, the only thing in the room, with a voice that could boom like thunder and muster the spirits of the wind itself. Or he looked so small, so tiny, so frail and powerless if he wanted to.
"Hello. I am Jaune. I look forward to working with you." he muttered, just barely audible to Arslan's fantastic ears. The professor leaned forward to try to hear him.
"Repeat that, please." He asked the ranger. Said ranger nodded, swallowing his nerves.
He opened his mouth, and Arslan practically felt his words in her bones.
"Hello. My name is Jaune." He said, his voice rolling like waves through the room. It was that strange unfading quality that he managed to imbue his words with. Professor Cathode leaned back, rubbing at his ear as though he thought it had malfunctioned. He looked at Jaune
"Mr. Arc, what is that thing around your waist?" Professor Cathode asked Jaune to look down. He was wearing the school uniform, minus the tie. His waist cloth thing was tucked inside his belt as well. It was probably that.
I vote we fuck with him a little. A raised his hand, as though he were at a committee. Jaune, frankly, found the idea amusing. Just be a snippy little clown. A suggested, and Jaune tried very hard to not smile at that terrible, terrible sentence.
"A belt, sir." was his flat response, sitting back down.
The grungy man shook his head. "No, that… wrapping around your waist. Take it off, please."
Arslan's jaw dropped. Did he just ask someone to remove a honor mark?
"Oh, he did not just say that." She whispered, shocked. She was going to spill blood for that offense.
Finally, a new chapter. This took longer than I thought it should because I did not have either the cooking scene or the classroom scene in my head for quite some time. Origionally I was going to have all of Professor Cathodes class in this chapter, then I realized that it was almost double the normal chapter length. We get to see a little characterization of Sebastian Cortez, and hopefully some exploration of Arslan's character as well. But more importantly Cooking! we have reached a lull in the story as jaune has to reacclimate to actual humans.
I have discovered that pacing relationships in this story is freaking hard. I really want to rush to the fluffy "I love you"s and whatnot, but I also don't want to cheapen or weaking the strong foundational relationship that I want jaune and Arslan to have. Do you think I am going to slow? Should I speed up that development a little more, or push Jaune's development to be faster? This would mean that some decisions that would be made will be made sooner.
In addition, I really love the Comedy of misunderstanding. Think things like A rabbit among wolves, White sheep, or several spiderman stories. Just people misunderstanding and coming to an wrong and outlandish conclusion. Even better if the truth is something equally outlandish. I haven't seen a good opportunity for this yet, but there will be.
I hope to make the next chapter a little more exciting, but I like this one. Particularly with people starting to make their own conclusions about Jaune, wrong and right. I understand that everyone wants to see RWBY/NPR soon. The issue with that is two things: One it takes away chapter space from Jaune and team AMBR, the main focus of this story right now. Beyond that, a RWBY/NPR chapter would not actually relate to Jaune directly. His absence would be noticed, but his development would not be present or acknowledged without some amount of unrealistic conniving. The only character I can see having development in that time that we get to see is going to be Nora, and that will be though phonecalls. Don't worry, there will some exploration and development of RWBYNPR, particularly in the volume 3-5 equivalent. Don't worry. I hear you guys, and it is coming. Just not for a while.
As always, leave your comments, reviews, ideas for this story. I love reading your comments and do have an impact on this story to some degree.