Of abandoned buildings, this was most certainly one of them. The scent of old bricks and must was thick. Shredded moonlight filtered through a broken, once-stained glass window. The place creaked as if on a timer.
Ruby's claws dug into the old wood floors with each step, a dull kck-kck with each footfall. Weiss was somewhere watching. It was 8:55.
Ruby stopped before the altar.
A standard Second-Archivist altar would be covered by a gentle cloth: silken silver or dusky grey depending on the church. A hand-sickle with a polished crescent-moon blade would be oriented diagonally in the center, edge facing towards the congregation to represent the shared wealth of a healthy community's harvest. The handle should be of a light wood if it is pristine, but a sickle worn by work is preferred— sickles brought from individuals in the congregation are the most preferable, so long as one person's sickle is not selected for more than three services in a row. Donated sickles are to be polished and repaired at the church's expense as an expression of mutual respect, this being done by any volunteer youth present— for this, repeats are encouraged so as to instill a sense of trust and a respect for craft within those work-minded youth.
Folks, friends, my hearts and my loves to whom I give all of me, let us come together to bow our heads and pray.
We beseech the highest on high today to tell Him thank you. We give Him our love and trust and we are supplied in turn, we give Him everything and He gives us all. Our turns and our toils are His, and His ours; this is the shouldered burden made weightless by Him, and by us, and by all. Such are the teachings endowed upon his golden-hearted son, such are the teachings endowed upon us.
From grace, from heart, and from love we beseech Him. In these things are blessed he and us. Let these words be true.
Praise be.
Alright folks! Get those heads up, lemme see your faces before we conclude today. Nana! Nan— Finnegan, please make sure your Nana is just asleep.
A— ah! Praise be!
Wonderful. Thank you, Finnegan.
Now folks, as it is the third day of his sickle serving our altar, we'd like to return Mauvre's sickle—
He's not here! He's sick today!
Well, then. Instead of missing his absence we can rejoice in something lovely! As you can all see, his son is here today, so let's bring young Mister Pine on up and pass this on to him.
Does that sound good to you, Oscar?
Uh! S-sure! Yes!
Wonderful. I say, now where is that— there you are! Goodness, these old eyes need to get checked, never should I'a missed that growin' gemstone for a second. Ruby! C'mon up'n give little Oscar here his pappy's sickle.
Yes, sir.
'Yes, Pastor Verron.' Be mature, Ruby.
Yes. Pastor. Verron.
Wonderful, thank you so much for— dear goodness, Miss Ruby! Look at this thing!
S-sorry? Did I do—
Dear— dear goodness, it's almost got me speakin' unseemly! Miss Ruby!
I'm sorry!
This is the most beautiful piece of handiwork I done seen! I— I mean, my goodness! Folks! Look at this thing— this is why we do this, folks! Some people got a knack for be-a-uty! Gracious, this— Mister Pine I hope you take no offense when I say this, but this thing was worn out! My— my goodness, I mean it was gaspin' for breath! Is— hee hee, hoo— is that rude to say?
N-no. I… my dad used it every day.
And it's a sign of his hard work this thing was darn near nothin'! And lookit what Miss Rose's gone'n brought it to! My goodness, ain't that a piece!
Y-yeah. Yeah, it's really nice. G-good job, Ruby. Wow. Really good job.
Uh… thanks. Thank you. I just… did what seemed right.
I helped!
Mum… helped, yeah.
But Miss Ruby, this thing's comin' from your hand to young Oscar's, ain't nobody else passin' it— help or no. This is your work, little gemstone. And— pardon my Menagé, Miss Bleu cover that baby's ears— it is damn fine work! Cheers for Miss Ruby!
Oh. Thank… thank you.
Miss Ruby, bend your ear a tick— and don't tell your mother this; I know her like, bless that woman's stormy heart— but if there's a job you're needin' or a callin' you wanna take up, I hope you know you these skills'll take you anywhere. You wanna take up this craft, I know some folk. You just come callin'— my office, my home, my phone, I do not care— and I'll get you in touch where I can. All up to you, of course.
That's… wow. Thank you Pastor.
No, Miss Ruby, thank you. You've done me and these folk proud. Now dry your eyes and give that boy his scythe.
S-sickle, Pastor.
Ha! Right you are. Now go ahead.
Right. Uh… here, Oscar. Mister Pine.
You're amazing, Ruby.
Uh… haha. Thanks.
You've got the Second's own golden heart.
What a stupid fucking thing to say.
The blank altar stared back at Ruby. Her claws went kshrrrk-kshrrrk on the old wooden floors. She missed Pastor Verron. It was like he was the only person in the world who could see her— at least after Uncle Tai died. To mom, she was an heir. To mum, she was the greatest Huntress who ever lived. To Pastor Verron, she wasn't even Ruby Florabel Branwen Rose, she was just a girl.
But Ruby Florabel Branwen Rose could recite the Grimm database from memory. Ruby Florabel Branwen Rose could fight Raven Noct Branwen to a standstill. Ruby Florabel Branwen Rose could hit Summer Florabella Rose.
What do you think you're doing, Ruby?
Uh… going to see Pastor Verron?
Why.
To talk with him? I thought you'd be excited to see me connecting to my, uh… spiritual leader.
You're pinching your shoulders.
I'm just gonna talk to him!
Oh no you're not. No way in hell am I letting you spend time alone with an older man at his own house.
Okay. Can I call him, then? It's kinda important.
What is important.
He said he knew some people I could talk to for, uh… work. I figured since I lost my job—
You're still my little girl, Ruby. I'm not letting you call strangers for money.
Mum! It's not like that! God, dude!
Don't say that! You don't even believe in anything, so don't say that! I'm getting tired of your disrespect!
I just want to call—
You don't need anything from old men, Ruby, or anyone else. You're going to get a scholarship, then you'll have all the money you need to be a Huntress.
But mom sp—
Don't, Ruby! Don't. We'll… figure something out. Now gimme your phone and go to your room.
What? Why!
Because you are grounded for colluding with old men!
What the hell, mum! Who do you think I am!
Talk to me like that again!
I'm just—
Your phone! Now!
…
Ruby!
Make me.
Ruby had a chipped canine that wasn't very noticeable. Summer had a human nose capable of leaking very human blood— what a shock it'd been to learn that.
"Are you rubber?"
Ruby whirled. Someone else's blood sloshed around in her veins— in the transfusion sense, not the poetic 'Weiss pumped through her' sense— as she met the figure of her client.
Ruby cleared her throat (nearly sparking a tic) and tried to drop her voice. "Yeah. Rubber… tubber," she was glad her mask and sunglasses could hide her soul-curdling cringe. The cloak helped cover up her shoulders pinching back.
The 'Asada7' guy was about as tall as Ruby's resting height and wore a black canvas jacket over a featureless white undershirt. He had mud-stained blue jeans and thick work boots, along with a beige cotton beanie that was pulled down nearly over his eyebrows. Ruby couldn't see his hair. He kept his face hidden beneath a bandana. His eyes were shaded by sunglasses.
Ruby had to admit, she was a little glad she listened to her partner. This inspired a feeling of smug triumph in the loser-parts of her heart, which meant Weiss was close enough to read her mind.
She felt a bit safer, knowing that.
Weiss held her gun close to her face and attempted to restrain her breathing— squeezed beneath a pew as she was, the wood might creak if she inhaled, and the silence of this derelict house of worship would make any such sound ring out louder than shot.
With her head closer to the center aisle, she could see the back of Florabel's 'client.'
'4urum'... 'Asada7'... 'twas a mystery easily solved— not that Florabel would make any such attempts. Weiss' superior mind had concocted the solution all on its own. Her genius? Mark'd. Her wit? Without match. Her beauty?
Good. Yes, it was good. Not that Weiss Schnee would ever worry for her appearance. Certainly not when Florabel stood before the altar like a formless shade, her moon-backed silhouette a shape of dark mystery, her lunar gaze reduced to dim yet visible pinpricks of silver beneath her shaded spectacles…
Damn her. Damn Florabel. Damn Ruby. That godforsaken girl couldn't dredge up the sense to filter her criminal communications, yet here Weiss was… fawning.
There was no better word. There was no better anything. She could barely even muster the courage to maintain her anger at Florabel's invasion of her private documents— she barely cared. Better yet, she preferred Florabel read it rather than the long and painful discussion that would be wrought from an in-person explanation.
But she had to maintain some level of anger against the girl. She had to. Beyond propriety, it was sense. There was sense in distance, even if theirs was frayed and odd. There was sense in reluctance. There was sense in waiting— but by what sense could she feel her heart embrace each drop of Florabel's blood? Through what illusion of logic could be explained the feeling of her air in her lungs? T'was hardly a desire she condoned! It was a sin to lie with beasts, but all she wanted was to lie, lie, lie!
Holy shit, is she okay? Is that her heartbeat? Weiss? You good, dude? Shit, is that how this works?
She did not have time to fall apart. The man whose identity eluded dearFlorabel stood before the girl, and all Weiss had to do was await the moment to spring her trap.
"So, uh… what's your name?"
"You saw my username."
"So… what, Asada?"
"Sadat."
"Then the A…"
"My first name."
No, Florabel, no time for this! The deal!
"So, uh… Sadat, you wanted to make a deal?"
"Of course. I just didn't want to risk our communications being compromised over the phone. I'm sure you understand."
Internally, Weiss roared with laughter. She hoped that Florabel felt it.
"Psh, yeah, obviously. So what's the deal?"
The guy stepped a little closer to Florabel. Weiss tightened her grip on the gun and puckered her lips.
"Deal is this," the guy said darkly. "You give me the bullets you owe me, now, and I let you live. Sound good?"
Bold of you to assume I value my life.
"I don't owe you shit, dude."
"Yeah, you do. Don't you remember?"
Florabel shrugged. "I've had a lot on my mind lately."
"You don't remember…" he paused for dramatic effect. "Aurum?"
Florabel groaned. "Ugh. Seriously, dude? We didn't make a deal! And I was hella drunk, it's not like you ran anything by me!"
"I don't need to run a damn thing by anyone but me! Because I'm—"
Weiss whistled, diving out from beneath the pew gun-first as Florabel whipped the briefcase out and opened it towards the man. A whirling dervish of dark and light erupted from the briefcase to latch its blades upon their would-be assailant, making his bright red Aura flare against the assault of the now-freed Zwei.
"Raise thy han—"
Ruby watched their guy rip her dog off his face (she had forgone questioning how Weiss fit him in the briefcase) and chuck the sweet corgi at Weiss. Zwei barked as he sailed, airborne, making Weiss drop her gun and gape until her idiot face was full of fur. She scrambled to catch him.
The guy heard the sound of Weiss' gun falling and dove straight for it, but Ruby blinked to the firearm and slammed her briefcase on his head, his crimson Aura flaring as she struck him. Ruby grabbed the gun with a deft claw and tossed it up, but the ground shook without warning, making her miss the catch and stumble back as wood splintered under her feet.
The guy got to his feet far too quick for Ruby's comfort, his Aura throbbing in a way that she distinctly did not like. Ruby pulled a knife from her belt— another helpful requisition from her partner— and leveled it with the guy. "Weiss! Gun!"
Weiss dove out of her field of view, hopefully towards the gun Ruby had dropped. She caught the guy's eyes tracking Weiss' movement and charged for him, swiping his Aura twice before she had to duck back from a haymaker.
The man's punch blasted through the air with far more force than it ought to, but Ruby was more focused on getting that gun back in Weiss' hands. She trusted herself enough to dodge.
He swung left. Ruby ducked below it and jabbed for his stomach, but his Aura only glowed brighter after the hit.
He swung right way too fast. Ruby barely backpedaled from it, wind and force blowing her hood off her head.
He lunged into an uppercut. Ruby bent back, lifting her chin to allow the fist to pass it by an inch. Her glasses blew away instead, clattering to the floor somewhere else.
Ruby leapt back, then launched off her back foot to thrust his way. He met the tip of her knife with a fist. The knife exploded.
The force traveling into Ruby's hand made it snap back at the wrist, her bones making a distressing crack as the guy stepped her way. His Aura rumbled visibly, looking full to the point of bursting— some kind of reflection? Kinetic Absorption? Could she teleport him high? Would the fall do enough or should she just siphon in the split second of confusion? Or should she blink back for space— maybe his stored energy fades over time? Or would he charge her down like a linebacker? Fuck, he totally would, shit! She kinda relied on being able to take at least one hit, but this guy just spontaneously deconstructed a pretty fucking sturdy knife! God dammit Weiss! Just had to get her in more weird shit! Why the fuck did she think a surprise dog attack would be the play!
He took another long, far-too-fast step towards her, and Ruby blinked at the fact that he was already in her space, already pulling up, already bringing a pulsing red fist into another uppercut that was going to have her looking like marmala—
Bang! Bang-bang!
The guy stopped.
Bangbangbang!
"Weiss, you fucking idiot! Get the fuck out of here!"
The guy stood straight, turned towards Weiss, and strode her way instead.
"Hey! Get back here!"
He didn't listen. Ruby ran for him, wrapping her arms and leg around his back and reaching for his mouth, but he grabbed her by the scruff of her collar and threw her into Weiss like a supersonic bowling ball, knocking the two of them down in a confused, yelping tangle of limbs. Weiss ended up on top of her, staring down at Ruby with her wide blue eye, seemingly remembering where she was.
"Sh-shit," Weiss cursed, that particular word sounding odd from her. Ruby would probably tic about it later. "Blink… blink us—"
Weiss was ripped up by the back of her neck, her feet dangling and kicking as the guy held her in the air. His pulsing Aura raged around his fist. "Shoulda got me my bullets," he said, voice like stone. "Adam, by the way. Taurus."
"Oh… like… 's an anagram. I shoulda seen that coming." Ruby pushed herself up to her elbows.
"Hast thou not—" Weiss kicked fruitlessly— "figured that out?"
Zwei barked at something, but he seemed to understand this was a precarious situation and kept his distance.
"I thought thou wert smart!"
Ruby winced. "I… have my moments. Look, Adam— or Taurus, whatever— I'll get you bullets, just let us go. I'm—" she lifted a bird-leg. "I'm not even gonna try the cops, they wouldn't believe shit."
Adam Taurus smirked and lifted his beanie. He had horns.
"Oh… well… solidarity?"
Adam slowly shook his head. A grin crawled across his lips. He raised a fist.
"W-wait, Adam, man, look—"
He punched Weiss in the gut, pouring however many shots worth of kinetic energy he'd taken from Weiss directly into her feeble, fleshy body. Ruby's first thought was that Weiss became a rose— her flesh, organs, and bones blooming from the front out through her back in an explosion of viscous, stringy, ropey red— but that also made her brain instinctively dart away from the traumatic Abstract-Expressionist piece that Weiss was turning into, instead directing her towards the more comforting idea of a Weiss Rose, or a Weiss Rose-Schnee, which—
Ruby swallowed her vomit. She'd rather watch Weiss explode. She'd done that plenty of times. She could cope with another pale corpse in her dreams.
Weiss hit the floor beside her with a warm, wet thud. Zwei ran over to lick her face. Turning towards her, Ruby pushed the dog away.
She could just kiss Weiss. That'd probably cycle what was left of her Aura into the girl and revive her. Then the guy would kill her again, so that wouldn't work. And she didn't really want to Aura-burn anymore— what would the point of that be, anyways? The heart Weiss had graciously donated would melt away, she'd get dumped out of the line, and she'd get curb-stomped by this guy… whatever his name was.
Well… shit. What a stupid way to die. This was probably a First church originally, or something, just as an act of god to spite her. A hand slapped over her face, still warm. Weiss blinked at her. How the fuck was she not dead. "Weiss? How the fuck are you not—"
The hand slipped over her mouth. A burning, hollow need crept up Ruby's throat and spread down from her chest.
"Florabel," Weiss' dying lungs squeezed out. "Eat me."