Emerald knew there was something…off about her appearance as she looked over herself in her bathroom mirror. She couldn't pinpoint exactly what it was—despite this nagging sensation that there was something wrong with her face—but she didn't have any more time to pick at her skin to look for it.
It was time for Cinder's morning routine. And she refused to be late.
She left her room in Evernight Castle quickly, picking up Cinder's breakfast from the kitchen on the way to Cinder's room. She arrived at Cinder's doorway at the same time she had been visiting every morning for the past two months.
Only two months since the fall of Beacon. Only two months since everything changed, for better or worse.
Mostly worse, in Emerald's opinion.
She knocked on Cinder's door lightly before entering her chambers, as more of a courtesy than anything else (since Cinder couldn't really speak in her condition), and the moment she opened the door, there Cinder was.
Standing on both legs.
This was particularly amazing, as Emerald hadn't seen Cinder on her feet by herself since before… well… Beacon tower.
Since Ruby fucking Rose.
Cinder trembled from the effort, leaning her one remaining hand on the wall to support herself as she stared absently out the window. It was such a simple, mundane thing. But to Emerald, Cinder looked triumphant, like she had just won a hard fought battle against a long elusive enemy (gravity).
Emerald wasn't sure what Cinder was looking at through the window (the sky outside was the same murky red as it always was, and the Grimm were the only thing moving out there), but she didn't care. Cinder had gotten out of bed all by herself! That was progress.
And progress (usually) meant Cinder would be in a good mood.
She closed the door behind her and placed a tray of food on the nightstand beside Cinder's bed. She approached slowly and kept some distance between them. While she was probably in a better mood than last night, Emerald had more than learned her lesson about getting too close without permission.
"Ma'am?" Emerald began. "I've brought your breakfast."
Cinder turned sharply towards her voice. If this was a few months ago, back when Cinder's wounds were still fresh and inconceivable, Emerald would have winced at seeing the blistered gash where her left eye used to be. But Emerald had seen it at its worst (back when Watts had scraped the dried, grease like stains left from where her melted eyeball spilled from her socket).
So Emerald didn't wince or grimace or turn away. She locked eyes with Cinder and smiled encouragingly.
Apparently that was the wrong move, as Cinder's absent expression curdled into a sour scowl. But being the wrong move didn't make it the worst move, because Cinder beckoned her forward, gesturing at a nearby table with a wave of her hand—
The hand that had previously been supporting herself against the wall.
Emerald could see all five stages of grief pass physically on Cinder's face as she realized her mistake. She stumbled slowly to the ground before she could catch herself.
Emerald rushed to her side, reaching both hands to help steady her. "Cinder, are you okay—"
But Cinder slapped her away, her palm lighting up with dull flame as a warning. While she hadn't been able to control her powers very well since her… accident (fucking silver eye bullshit), that didn't stop her from lashing out in fiery, violent, painful ways.
Emerald narrowly stepped back in time before Cinder could burn her hands (again). She sighed, but otherwise waited for Cinder to settle down. After watching her thrash for a bit, falling to her knees again and again in aggravation, Emerald tried again. "Ma'am, I'm here for you, if you want help."
Cinder, still shaking from the effort, glared at her with fire in her eye (literal, actual fire in her eye, courtesy of her maiden powers). She opened her mouth to retort something, but it only came out as a wet hiss, devolving into painful coughing. She curled into herself, using her one hand to shield her face in an attempt to hide her angry tears.
It didn't work, obviously (Emerald could totally see them, poor baby), but that only made Emerald's heart break more. She wanted nothing more than to crouch down and wipe the tears out of Cinder's face, and rub soothing circles on the pressure points of her tense jaw. Anything to ease her pain.
But Cinder didn't want that (she hadn't ever before, at least), and Emerald knew attempting even a fraction of such intimacy with her would accomplish little more than infuriate her further. So instead, Emerald continued to wait, watching Cinder struggle until Cinder accepted her help… or dismissed her.
It took scarcely a few minutes for Cinder to crack.
She dried off her tears, rearranging herself to be as imposing as possible (as imposing as anyone could be while writhing on the floor). She leaned back against the dark, onyx wall and beckoned Emerald forward.
Emerald approached cautiously, like she was handling a feral animal (which, in many ways… she was). Attempt number two. "What do you need, Ma'am?" she asked softly.
Cinder opened her mouth, speaking faintly. Emerald had to lean her ear almost directly over Cinder's mouth to catch it (she worked very hard to stifle the warm shudders that jutted through her stomach as Cinder's voice brushed against her skin).
"Bring… food… table." Each word was hell on Cinder's throat, Emerald could tell. She savored each warbled sound. It was a gift to hear her again, despite everything else.
Emerald interpreted her words as best she could. She had plenty of practice. "You want to try eating at the table this time?"
Cinder nodded. She reached her hand for Emerald's shoulder, hesitating only briefly before grasping it tightly. Emerald began to loop one of her hands around Cinder's torso in preparation of lifting her, but stopped when she saw the hardened look in Cinder's eye, the same one she'd get while sizing out an opponent.
Emerald didn't need any more words to guess what Cinder wanted. "You want to try walking with me to the table, instead of me carrying you there?"
Cinder cocked an eyebrow, as though surprised that Emerald figured that out without being told first. Which… stung, honestly. Emerald spent nearly every facet of her being to understand Cinder's needs. She mentally cataloged every little new detail she learned of Cinder. Her likes, her dislikes (many, many dislikes), and the few snippets Cinder accidentally let out about her past.
Emerald wished Cinder would put in a little effort to learn more about her in turn, but Emerald took what progress she could get.
And right then, progress was Cinder not burning her when Emerald helped her to her feet, or when she kept her hands on Cinder's torso to help support her as she began the laborious task of putting one foot in front of the other.
It was slow going, the first few steps. But with each success, came renewed confidence in Cinder's gait. For a brief moment, Emerald could see some of the old Cinder, cocky and assured and relentless…
The ambitious woman Emerald fell in love with.
Not that she loved this broken version of her any less. It was just… less clear how to interact with her. Before the accident, talking to Cinder had clear boundaries and rules to follow. The number of steps she was allowed to walk behind her. Which pauses in conversation meant Emerald should speak up and which ones meant she should remain silent.
Do not think. Obey.
Those words had been drilled into Emerald's head countless times since Cinder first took her in. And despite Emerald's reservations with the…brutality of Beacon's fall, she had never questioned where she stood in her dynamic with Cinder (as subservient as it was). She knew her place, directly by Cinder's side (give or take a few paces to the left).
But then a hero-wannabe with a cape and magic Grimm busting eyeballs did the one thing Emerald had once thought impossible:
Challenge the Cinder Fall. And win.
Now, as Emerald helped keep Cinder's back steady as she descended to her chair by the table, her formerly invincible mistress couldn't sit down onto her chair without assistance. She needed hands on her every step of the process, supporting her back and holding her upright. Yet, Emerald didn't think of Cinder any less than she did before. If anything, it was the opposite.
Cinder seemed so much more human, now that Emerald had seen both her blood and tears.
But that was exactly the problem. She struggled to really think of Cinder as just an insurmountable goddess like she once had. She had flaws. She could make mistakes just as much as anyone else…
She wasn't perfect. Maybe no one was.
That was hard for Emerald to accept. But it wasn't something she could really deny, no matter how much she wanted to…
It's hard to keep her on a pedestal in my mind… especially after I've cleaned up her piss.
And, gods, wasn't that a challenge. Cinder had been mortified when she'd first seen Emerald replace her bedpan during that first month or so of recovery. She didn't really need the bedpan anymore (though, she still needed some assistance with daily hygiene), but it had been so awkward to walk in and try not to look Cinder in the eye as she swapped out what was essentially a portable toilet bowl.
It's difficult to just 'not think and obey' when Cinder hadn't really been in a state to give her orders. Emerald had to start taking a lot of initiative with assisting Cinder's recovery. Especially when Mercury just refused to be part of the situation at all, leaving Emerald all alone to deal with the aftermath (the lazy prick).
The only people Cinder even let into her chambers were Emerald, Watts, and Salem (Emerald didn't have to be a genius to discern Cinder's thin tolerance for letting Emerald see her vulnerable, much less Watts of all people).
But Emerald did the best she could to navigate the eggshell boundaries Cinder desired, while still juggling the necessary care that Cinder needed(even when those needs ended up striking cracks across those boundaries). It was a landmine field to walk through day by day, and it only got worse as Cinder's powers returned (yet her condition continued to stagnate).
An exponentially frustrated and castle-bound Cinder, plus explosive magic powers that were fueled (mostly) by strong emotions, equaled one of the most high risk nursing gigs in all of Remnant. No one who knew of Emerald's duties would be envious of them.
Knowing that didn't make Emerald defend her position any take care of Cinder. No one else.
Once certain that Cinder was comfortable and secure in her seat, Emerald lightly gripped the back of the chair and pushed Cinder closer to the table. She retrieved Cinder's breakfast from where she left it previously and presented it.
Smiling tightly, she gestured towards the food. "Good news, Ma'am. Watts thinks we're safe to give you more solids, now that your throat has cleared up some."
There wasn't anything too tough to chew (nothing like the rare, bloody steaks that she knew Cinder had been craving after, because of course she liked it bloody), but she hoped Cinder would appreciate eating something that wasn't basically chewable liquid.
And it seemed, briefly, that Cinder was appreciative. With a devilish, hungry grin, she picked up a fork with her one hand and started to dig in. But then that grin fell away swiftly to a hard pressed line.
Emerald knew she made a mistake (somehow) when Cinder put her utensil back down.
"Is something wrong, ma'am?" she asked. Was something overcooked? Undercooked? Were the fruit not ripe enough? Did Mercury mess with it? If Mercury did something, she'd—
Cinder opened her mouth to answer, so Emerald quickly crouched down to listen.
"Why… cut?" Cinder asked hoarsely.
Um. What?
"What do you mean by…" Emerald glanced over the food, noticing the grilled cheese (surprisingly Cinder's favorite, the sweetheart). Emerald had carefully cut the sandwich into two even halves. "Oh… um… if you are talking about your grilled cheese, it's cut because… I cut it?"
She asked it like a question despite being a statement because she could not fathom (for the life of her) where this could possibly be going. She tried her best to cut each half the same size and shape… did they need to be triangles or something? She loved Cinder, but fuck if she wasn't extra sometimes.
After withering from Cinder's glare for nearly a full minute without a response, she tried asking more directly, "Should I… have cut it differently?"
That (somehow) pissed Cinder off even more. She scowled and pushed her tray away back towards Emerald. "No… cut."
"No… cut," Emerald repeated blankly. "As in, you wanted to stuff the whole thing into your mouth? It's not edible anymore because you can't pig it down all at once?"
She didn't normally like getting snippy with Cinder (since she valued living, most of the time), but if there was one thing that could wear Emerald's saintly patience, it was being picky about food (especially free food). If she could live off of dumpster diving when she was eight, then Cinder could survive eating a fresh, sliced sandwich.
Cinder took her comment about as well as expected, leaving a scorch mark on the table where her hand seared into the cold stone. What was unexpected, however, was Cinder slumping back in her chair, still fuming (literally, as thin spouts of smoke trailed from her nostrils), but otherwise ceased being physical with her tantrum.
Emerald almost thought the situation was resolved (and that she was scot free of any consequences), but Cinder spoke up again with a quiet, yet harsh, reprimand.
"You… don't… cut. I… want… cut."
.That made much more sense. It was just like walking from the window; Cinder wanted her agency back. The last thing she desired was Emerald babying her. Emerald felt a little bad about taking that chance from her. But only a smidgen. Mostly because—
"How?" Emerald asked in exasperation. "How would you have cut it, ma'am?"
Cinder looked up at her like she was stupid. "...knife."
Emerald shot a mirrored look right back at her. "Right, with a knife. And how would you have held that knife, exactly?"
Cinder gestured dramatically with her right hand (as though Emerald didn't know she had one), and picked up a knife, and then went to hold down the grilled cheese… before realizing the obvious. She could hold one at a time, not both. And cutting into food without something to pin it down wasn't exactly easy.
The patronizing look on her face dropped in an instant. Her fork fell from her grasp in a clatter against the table. She turned away from Emerald, hiding her face with her sleeve. Body shaking as her breath grew heavy, each inhale ending with a strangled wheeze. It didn't take long for Emerald to figure out what was happening:
Cinder was sobbing, and trying very hard to disguise it as anything else. Even if it meant hurting herself, preferring to swallow her cries whole with enough force to rend her throat raw and ragged.
Against her better judgment, Emerald did not walk out of the room and leave Cinder to calm down (she didn't trust Cinder to let herself calm down). Instead, she chose what most other people would've called a suicidal decision:
She slung herself on the back of Cinder's chair, and wrapped her arms around Cinder's torso in a tight embrace.
Cinder squirmed, trying to wriggle herself out as steam erupted from her skin, but Emerald held firm.
"It's okay," Emerald said softly. "Take a slow breath, in and out."
Cinder continued to squirm beneath her arms, but the uncomfortable warmth emanating from her diminished and cooled slightly. It no longer hurt to touch her, at least. Cinder's breathing still felt sporadic beneath her touch, so it wasn't quite enough.
"In and out," she repeated, laying her forehead gently against the back of Cinder's neck. It felt like a prayer as she murmured again and again, "In and out."
It was slightly uncomfortable to strain her own neck like that, mostly due to the awkward angle hanging from the back of the chair, but something about the action just felt… right. Familiar, even, like it was a practiced technique. Though, she swore she'd never touched Cinder like this before (she'd have definitely remembered).
Cinder's breathing steadied, breathing in and out as directed, but she wasn't content letting Emerald take control. This was apparent as Emerald felt the painful, searing grip of Cinder's hand lock around one of her arms, still wrapped around Cinder's torso.
Though Cinder's voice was quiet and strained, Emerald didn't need to get any closer to hear it clearly. "You… forget… yourself." Cinder's fingers tightened their hold, and Emerald could hear and feel the crackling heat of her own aura burn from the contact.
Emerald winced, but accepted whatever would come next. "I'm sorry for upsetting you, ma'am. Scream if you have to, hit me if you have to, but please don't hold it in. Even if you hide it from everyone else, I promise I'll always be with you, no matter what."
Cinder choked on each syllable as she replied, "Don't… need… you."
The words slipped out before Emerald could stop herself, "But you do."
At that, Cinder froze rigid in her arms. Emerald couldn't see her face from her position behind Cinder, but she dreaded the expression Cinder must've been making.
Too scared to make a move, Emerald kept her arms where they were, draped around Cinder's chest. If she wasn't preoccupied writing an epitaph for her own unmarked grave, Emerald's pounding heart would be stirring from more than just the anticipation of her impending punishment (she could feel Cinder's pulse for crying out loud).
But no punishment came. Besides loosening her grip and removing her hand from Emerald's arm, Cinder took no action at all. Save for uttering one word and one word only:
"...leave."
No anger, no fire. It wasn't even coldly spoken. Almost devoid and empty of any tone at all. But a dismissal was a dismissal.
Do not think. Obey.
Emerald unwrapped her arms from around Cinder, left the room quickly, closed the door carefully behind her, and walked away.
Why the fuck did I do that?, she thought incredulously.
And how the fuck did I get away with it?
Emerald didn't know what to do with herself when she wasn't looking after Cinder.
Not while she was cooped up in Evernight castle, anyway. If she was back in the kingdoms, she could at least spend her time finding some easy marks. Casing the best tourist traps to get away with pickpocketing, or find somewhere fancy to nab newer clothes (maybe even steal another accessory or two for Cinder, if she found anything pretty enough to bother).
But not only did she have no work from Cinder (aside from the tumultuous task of making her take care of herself), there wasn't another building for hundreds of miles, much less stores to shoplift from. And she highly doubted stealing from the few people in the castle would lead to anything pleasant (except maybe Watts… that could be funny).
Gods, what would Salem even do to her if she caught Emerald rummaging through her jewelry or something? Would death be preferable to whatever torment that witch could come up with?
Regardless, the point was that Emerald had nothing else to do during the gaps of time between checking in on Cinder and delivering her meals. So, that meant she'd have to resort to the one enjoyable hobby she'd picked up since joining team Salem:
Bothering Mercury.
She found him where he almost always was these days: sniffing his face halfway up someone else's ass.
Not literally, of course. But ever since they'd arrived at Evernight, and Cinder wasn't around anymore to hold his leash, Mercury had become quite the brown noser. Volunteering for any of Watts' experiments, or annoying Tyrian and Hazel with requests to join them on their missions from Salem, or at least convince them to help him train.
It didn't lead anywhere, most of the time. Watts was usually too busy with his new pet project he'd pilfered from Amity, and Tyrian was a wildcard to deal with at the best of times (the only thing consistent about him was his zealous obsession over Salem, the sicko). Hazel was the only one that took up Mercury's requests consistently, often sparring with him in his spare time.
It was in the middle of one of those practice bouts that Emerald found Mercury that morning. Sweating profusely, haggard and limping, while his opponent stood as broad shouldered and stoic as ever.
"Well," Mercury said, wiping the oil from his greasy forehead. "What are you waiting for? Come at me!"
Hazel crossed his arms as he glanced Mercury over up and down. He shook his head. "No. This fight is finished."
"Bullshit. I'm still standing, aren't I?"
"Irrelevant. You have no strength left to offer. Any further training is pointless until you rest." Hazel turned and locked eyes with Emerald. "Besides, your friend is here to visit you. It's a good stopping point."
Mercury glared at her. As was custom between them, Emerald greeted him with a middle finger and a stuck-out tongue.
"She's not my friend," said Mercury, scoffing as he grabbed a towel to dry himself off. "She's my least favorite coworker." Rude (at least put her above Tyrian, asshole).
Hazel grunted at that, beginning to walk towards the exit of the training hall. "Pity. Friends are rare on this righteous path we've chosen. I urge you to reconsider that statement."
Hazel passed by Emerald as he crossed the doorway. "You should cherish whatever bonds you can muster. I promise you, you are unlikely to find many more." His voice softened with a tired sort of sadness, one he seemed to have carried for a long time. "And on a path like ours, being alone is the last thing you should want."
He continued down the hallway, his large footsteps echoing long after he left the room.
Emerald glanced at Mercury. "What was that about?"
Mercury shrugged. "I don't fucking know, the guy loves being cryptic. Especially about whatever mopey sob story got him here in the first place. I'd be more pissed at how condescending it sounds, if he wasn't so good at kicking my ass."
"What, like that's a hard thing to do?" Like, sure, he was a decent assassin or whatever, but he didn't exactly have a perfect track record. "Even if it worked out for us in the end, that blonde bimbo seemed to put you down easily enough."
His laid back posture shifted dramatically, haunches rising. "You wanna go, then?"
Ah, still a sore subject. Abort. "Not really."
"Yeah, that's what I thought." He relaxed again, letting his shoulders slump, but narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Then what are you here for, if not to be useful?"
Emerald shuffled awkwardly, leaning against the wall. "I don't know… just needed something to do." Anything. Literally anything to do.
"Oh? Finally getting tired of looking after the princess all day, huh? Took you long enough. The rest of us couldn't stand dealing with her before her injuries. At least then her ego felt somewhat justified."
She glared at him sharply. "Don't talk about her like that."
"Why not? It's not like she's going to be around here much longer."
Emerald froze. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Em, come on. I know you aren't networking like I am, trying to cement a spot in Salem's new world order in a world without Cinder holding your hand for you, but you aren't stupid. I'm sure you've overheard Watts' plan for her… replacement."
Ah, . The broken toy from Atlas.
Emerald had tried not thinking about it, ever since she first heard Watts pitch the idea to Salem at their last meeting roughly a month ago. Cinder had reached near broiling temperatures as she seethed in her chair, growing more and more agitated as Watts described taking Ironwood's broken puppet he'd recovered and repurposing it into an agent for housing the Maiden powers.
Salem, at the time, hadn't reacted in any particular way for or against the idea, but she had seemed intrigued. Curious. Even in the best case scenario for Cinder, Salem was still considering it.
Cinder had clearly been against it (no speculation needed on why), but the meeting had continued without incident regardless.
It's not like Cinder could've objected, even if she wanted to. She didn't even have the strength to whisper to Emerald back then.
Remembering Cinder's frustrated cries that night made her feel helpless. The feeling only worsened as her thoughts drifted to the puppet being torn apart by that Nikos girl and the rest of the carnage that followed.
Carnage that she helped cause.
She crossed her arms over her chest, gripping her hands over her ribs to push against the lump of something heavy stirring in her stomach. "...That's just a backup plan in case she doesn't get better. It won't actually get that far."
"But what if it does get that far? What if Cinder keeps taking her sweet time? Or, and hear me out here, what if it doesn't matter whether she gets better or not?"
"Of course it matters—"
"To you. To you, it matters. But do you really think Salem cares who the maiden is? All she cares about is that her maiden does what she wants. And if Watts is right… she could have an army of replacements. Far more obedient, and with far less attitude, than Cinder."
"...You're being an asshole."
"That's my secret, Em. I'm always an asshole. Doesn't mean I'm not right."
Emerald remained silent in response. Minutes passed, the quiet stretching to awkward territories, before Mercury partially shifted the topic of conversation.
"Hey, what would you do if you were a Maiden? Aside from Salem's dirty work, of course."
That's… a question. She pulled herself from her brooding to avoid answering it. "I mean, it's not going to happen anyway. Why are you even asking?"
"Eh, call it a thought experiment. I've just been wondering what it must be like to have magic, and that seems like the easiest way to get it that we know about. Scratch that—it's the only way that we know about. I would certainly jump at the chance myself, if Cinder wouldn't just kill me afterwards."
Emerald scoffed. "Yeah, just one problem with that, boy. You don't fit the requirements."
Mercury chuckled, raising his hands in a playful shrug. "Hey, if all I had to do to get my hands on that power was slap on a tutu and some lipstick, I'd do it in a heartbeat. But apparently, that's not how it works." He leaned back, his brow furrowing in thought. "I mean, really, why'd Ozpin make the powers choose people based on their genitals? How does having a vag make someone any more worthy? Fucking weirdo."
Mercury's statement about the Maiden powers made Emerald feel… uneasy. It took her a few moments before she realized why:
That wasn't how the powers worked at all.
A rebuttal spilled out of her lips involuntarily, as though she was quoting something she knew so innately that she had it memorized by heart. Like she had said something similar before, a long time ago…
"Mercury, genitals have nothing to do with it. Maidens choose themselves. The seasons pass between them and change with each iteration, but the magic remembers their first wielders fondly. They seek young women with like minded souls, or more specifically, people who know themselves to be young women. The physical form is irrelevant. All that matters is that they are maidens at heart."
Mercury stared at her blankly. "...The fuck does that mean?"
"Uh… sorry… I think it means… Trans women are included, too? So, like, you could have a dick? Theoretically?"
"...Then why didn't you just say that? Didn't have to get all flowery on me. Now you're sounding like Hazel."
Yeah, she didn't know why she said it like that, either. But when it came to dealing with Mercury, she liked doubling down on anything she said. Letting him get the last word in a conversation felt wrong, like she was letting him win somehow.
So she rolled with it.
"Hey, I'm just pointing out some holes in your logic. Besides, if I'm wrong, then that means Watts is wrong, too."
He cocked an eyebrow. "How so?"
"Well, last I checked, robots don't have privates. So if it mattered what was in our pants, then how could Watts' idea even work?"
Mercury scratched his chin in thought for a few moments, before his face twisted into a devious grin. "So what you're saying is—just to be on the safe side—we should cover all our bases."
"What does that mean—"
Wait. No. NO!
"MERC!" she chastised, slapping him hard against his shoulder.
He laughed. "I'm just saying, the doc has got talent. Shouldn't be too hard to add a little extra feature." He leaned towards her with a lick of his lips that made her squirm. "Do you think Watts would let me take it for a spin? Make sure it's realistic?"
Emerald gagged. "You're gross."
"Yeah, like you wouldn't fuck a Cinder bot."
She… didn't need to answer that. So she didn't, ignoring Mercury's knowing smirk.
"Anyway, magic sexbots aside," said Mercury, stretching as he stood back up. "I think I've had enough of a break. And seeing as my last dance partner is still out of my league…" He raised his fists to a fighting stance. "What do you say? Get in a couple rounds before lunch?"
While she didn't hate training with Mercury, it wasn't how she'd prefer to kill time. But, as previously established, she had little else to do.
Sighing as she stretched a bit in preparation, she replied, "Sure. We wanna do tournament rules, or a full slugfest like usual—"
Where once there was silence, a thunderous cacophony took its place. The sound was everywhere and nowhere all at once. She could feel it pounding behind her forehead, a torrent of pressure spilling out her ears in sudden, painful bursts.
When she looked to Mercury, struggling to find her voice amongst the painful sea of noise drowning her out, he just looked perplexed.
He seemed completely unbothered as he opened his mouth, moving his lips as though he expected her to make out the words, instead of the unintelligible blubbering of a goldfish popping bubbles with its mouth.
What… what is this?
Emerald's vision dulled and her eyes stung, as though she was trying to keep them open under rushing water. Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell weakly to the floor. Trying to stand became pointless, as though her body was at the bottom of the ocean. It felt like the weight of the world suddenly dropped on her shoulders, as though all of Remnant was pushing down on her spine.
And as quickly as it began, it stopped. The noise receded in shallow waves, until there was only a faint fuzziness at the back of her eyelids. The sudden shift back to normalcy left her nauseous.
"-good?" Mercury asked.
She stumbled dizzily to her feet, struggling to look him in the eye without losing sight of him again. "Sorry, fuck… what did you say?"
"I asked if you were doing good, but I think your face is answer enough. You're looking green." He glanced at her hair, snickering slightly. "Well, more green than usual."
She groggily pressed hard against her forehead with one hand, while she flipped Mercury off with the other. "Yeah, glad this is so funny to you." She winced as another spark of pain ignited behind her eyes. "Fuck, I need to lay down."
"Shame. I was looking forward to an easy win after my fight with Hazel."
Emerald didn't have the energy to argue with him about who would've stomped who's ass, slowly trudging back towards the door to the hallway. Perhaps not responding to Mercury's attempt to rile her up made him take it more seriously, because he rushed ahead of her and opened the door.
"Thanks…" Emerald mumbled, still nursing her forehead. Even the dim candle flame lining the castle's walls felt painful to look up at, so she just stared at the floor.
"Don't mention it…" Mercury said, his tone hitting a pitch Emerald wasn't used to. "Try to get some rest, okay? Let me know if it gets worse, too. I'm sure Watts has got some painkillers around here somewhere."
That response was uncharacteristically kind from Mercury, but Emerald couldn't find the mental capacity to dwell on it (though she'd probably tease him about it later). She simply nodded and continued down the hall, leaving him to train on his own.
It hurt to keep her thoughts steady, but she managed to trace her way back through the winding paths of the castle's halls, getting closer and closer to her own room to lay down. Just as she reached the door, however, the nausea in her stomach spiked horribly, sending a spout of bile up her throat.
She pushed her door open haphazardly, fumbling towards her bathroom in a panic. There might have been enough rooms in Evernight for everyone to get their pick of space, but she knew the room wasn't truly hers. It was Salem's, all of it. She refused to let her cause of death be pissing off an immortal witch by leaving a puke stain on her centuries-old carpet.
Fortunately, she made it to the ceramic tile floor of the bathroom just in time, spilling only a little over the side before the rest made it into the toilet. She sat on her knees, waiting for the sickness to pass, before slowly standing up again, making her way to the sink and bathroom mirror.
She turned the cap, splashed some water in her face, and looked up to inspect the damage. She only had a couple hours before her next visit to Cinder, and on the off chance she let her in, she didn't want any stray throwup on her face. She might die for real if Cinder saw her like that.
Looking over her reflection, she was relieved to find nothing to clean up; just a few stray hairs and a bit of grease on her face (nothing she couldn't take care of after a short nap).
Though, as she stared at herself, that odd sensation she felt earlier that morning returned. And it felt… crisper. Like she could tell where it was more clearly. She reached a hand towards her left eye, and used her fingers to keep her rapidly blinking eyelids open. Peering closer in the mirror, a coldness gripped her heart when she noticed what was different:
A thin green rim of color around the innermost part of her iris. It glowed slightly, sticking out against the rest of the normal shade of red in a faint shimmer.
As she checked her other eye, disbelief growing as she noticed the same change in both, her reflection shifted, ripples wading through it like a toiling river. When the ripples subsided, the face staring back at her was not her own.
Professor Ozpin, his green eyes peeking above a set of dark glasses, looked back at her from the mirror. He studied her face with a forlorn expression, sighing as he brought one hand to the bridge of his nose and massaged his temples in frustration.
"Well," he said, his flat voice not emanating from the reflection, but from deep within Emerald's own mind. "This is a first."