I don't own anything.
BREAK
I ducked, letting the blade pass over my hair harmlessly, whistling through the wind. I heard a second, almost identical whistle come for me, then. With a twist, my shield was brought up, its darkened surface repelling the blow with ease, the blade skittering off harmlessly in a shower of sparks.
I went to step forward, to press my advantage, but I abandoned it immediately, choosing to dive to the ground instead. It was the correct choice, as the ground where I had just been standing erupted, a shower of earthen chips bouncing harmlessly off both myself and my opponents.
I rolled, brought my shield up and blocked another strike. This time, it was both blades at the same time, the boy hoping to break my guard. It didn't work. I stabbed out at him, but he leapt back before Crocea Mors could reach him. I twisted, my shield arm blurring as I drew on Berserk. My shield slammed into the heavy, spiked head of the Morningstar, my borrowed strength sending both it and its owner flying into a tall, towering spire of rock.
I took a breath, though my reprieve ended all too soon.
I blocked a scimitar that came for my throat and stepped forward, ignoring the second blade that came at my leg. Sparks flew as it grated on my aura, I paid it no mind. Ozone flooded my nose as I struck, my own sword humming as it made contact. The boy tried to leap back, to abandon his offense now that his partner wasn't there to bail him out. I didn't let him.
"Blake Belladonna has been eliminated!"
The announcement was like a bucket of cold water that came crashing over me, I shivered. I felt something crash into me, then. The Morningstar. Distracted, I hadn't noticed him getting up, hadn't noticed him hitting me in the back until it was too late. I rolled over the floor, finally coming to a stop almost ten feet further on the cold, hard ground.
Even over the din of the crowd, over the thump thumping of my heart beating to the drums of war, I heard the footsteps draw closer. I twisted, writhed almost like an eel on land. The awkward movement saved me from the next hammer blow that cracked the ground where I had just been.
I got my feet under me again, and the exchange restarted. Block, step back, lean, stab, block. This wasn't going anywhere, I realised, something needed to change. I stepped forward, letting the scimitar crash into my side, resisting the urge to wince. Fire lanced down my legs, my back, my shoulder and arm as I struck out.
Aura cracked, shattered along the boy's chest in a flare of bright, blue light. He fell back, and in the background, I heard Port announce the boy's elimination- Sharp metal spikes dug into my back, sending me flying forward into the boy I'd just eliminated.
I threw myself further into the roll, letting it carry me further from my opponent, and spared a glance for my own aura bar. I was running low, maybe a third of the bar remaining. I heard another announcement, but I couldn't make out what it said over the pounding in my ears. The drums beat their rhythm into me, and all I could do was follow.
I rolled to my feet and turned, just in time to block a heavy, two-handed blow from the Morningstar. I stopped it dead. And so, the dance began anew. Stab, block, twist, bash, repeat. I stepped forward, not allowing the boy to wind up his strike properly and batted it aside in a single, smooth motion. And then I swung for his wrist.
Aura or not, the impact forced him to drop his weapon, and this boy was no Yang. I pushed him back, away from the weapon that would give him a fighting chance. When he tried to move back towards it, I became more aggressive, punishing him for overstepping. It was only a matter of time, then, before I landed another vicious blow to the boy's shoulder, his aura visibly sparking red as it struggled to negate the force.
"Gustavo De La Rosa has been eliminated!"
I allowed myself a breath, two, three even before I straightened. The fight had been hard. Isolated from the others, the two on one had been a nightmare. I suppose they thought I wouldn't be able to stall as well as Pyrrha had. Probably planned on keeping her busy until they could all gang up on her together. It was a good plan, I thought.
I shook my head, the sounds of gunfire cracking the air drawing my attention. I turned towards it and fell into a swift lope, long strides carrying me across the cracked, hard stone floor. It wasn't necessary.
"Adrian Dewitte has been eliminated! Another victory for team BASN!"
I stopped. In front of me, Pyrrha held a tall, lithe boy down under Akuóu, Miló at his throat. She looked up, meeting my eyes as the roar of the crowd washed over me. I grinned, my lips stretching from ear to ear, my teeth showing. She smiled right back.
BREAK
Beacon's halls were quiet in the nighttime. It was so different from the last couple of days, the buzz and noise that seemed to cover not just Beacon, but the entire city in activity was missing now. It felt odd, but nice in a way. Almost like it was easier to breathe now, like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.
The path was a familiar one, a shortcut through one of the school's many courtyards that took me to the dorms. There, where the students slept, there was more noise. Muted voices, laughter and even a shout or two could be heard through the shut doors, each holding a team behind them. Four people, separate, and yet together in almost everything they would do here at the school, and often beyond.
Thoughts of my own team plagued me. We were strong, all of us were, but for all that we'd grown and bonded, it felt like we were back at square one. A nook in the wall, behind a statue of one of the former headmasters reminded me of Blake. We'd made out there, once. We'd been talking on our way back from class, and I hadn't been able to help myself. I'd pulled her in, and she'd laughed.
I felt a pang in my chest. It stung, but it no longer ate at me like it had in the first days since the breakup. Honestly, seeing the distance between us now hurt more than the absence of our relationship. It… I needed to do something.
Our dorm was quiet, still. It had been some time since I'd been there during the night, but it looked just as it always had. The only thing that seemed out of place were a pair of bright, amber orbs.
Blake looked at me, meeting my eyes for the first time in the last week. I crept over to her bed with quiet steps, the sound dampened by the carpet. "Can we talk?" She hesitated, then nodded. Her sheets fell away, revealing her ruffled sleeping attire, a black yukata that drew my eye to her pale skin. I shook my head and turned. She followed.
The music room looked as it always did. The instruments were where they always had been, unused but for the guitar I almost instinctively grasped for comfort. I sat down. As much as it looked the same, it wasn't. This was no longer the room where Blake and I would come at night, to spend time together, to fight or to make up after. It was something other. Something new and uncertain and scary.
I turned back to Blake. She wasn't looking at me anymore. "I…" I began, but I didn't know how to start. How to tell her what I felt. The smell of vanilla and wildflowers flooded my nose. I shook my head again. I laughed. She turned towards me, a frown sitting heavy on her brow.
"I ask you to talk and I don't even know what to say." I let out another laugh, it wasn't very funny. She didn't seem to think so either. "I don't either." I stopped, my eyes snapping to Blake's. "Know what to say, I mean." She finished lamely.
"I don't want it to be like this." The words fell from my mouth like water breaking through a dam, a trickle at first, but one that quickly became a deluge. "We… I want to talk to you. Sometimes I sit and I want to tell you a stupid joke I thought of, or ask you something, or just sit with you like we used to."
"But we can't."
"But we can't." I repeated her own words back to her. It felt good to say, almost like the pit that had formed in my gut got a little smaller, a little fuller. Like saying it made it more solid, more real.
We were silent for a time, neither one of us knowing what to say. We couldn't be like we used to be. That was impossible. I would spend half the time wondering when she would put herself in danger next, when she would disappear again, and if she'd even come back. It would hurt too much.
"We can't be like we used to be." I said again, far more sure of myself. "But that doesn't mean we have to be like this either."
"It doesn't." She echoed, meeting my eyes again. Her eyes shone with tears, but they didn't fall. "It's just…" She trailed off.
"Hard?" She nodded. "I know." I let out another chuckle, one devoid of humour.
"I still love you; you know." Her voice cracked, quiet and in pain. It hurt to hear. I held her gaze, unwilling to look away. "I… I love you too." It felt good to admit it. To put it out there. She nodded, as if she had known already, and I suppose she had.
"But we still can't do this." She said, sounding almost defeated, but she didn't look away either. "But we can be friends again, teammates." She rubbed her arm, "I just… I just need some time." She turned away, turned to leave.
"We'll be okay, right?" She stopped, but didn't turn as she opened the door. "We will be." She told me, and I couldn't help but sigh in relief. I turned and grabbed the acoustic guitar from behind me. I strummed it tunelessly, until I ended up in a familiar melody.
'Come on skinny love, just last the year
Pour a little salt, we were never here
My my my, my my my, my my
Staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer
I tell my love to wreck it all
Cut out all the ropes and let me fall
My my my, my my my, my my
Right in this moment, this order's tall
And you told me to be patient
And you told me to be fine
And you told me to be balanced
And you told me to be kind
And in the morning you'd be with me
But it will be a different kind
And you're holding all the tickets
And I'll be owning all the fines…'
The words flowed easily, the song a familiar one now. Only, it didn't hurt quite as much as it had before. The pit that had sat in my gut for so long felt just a little fuller, just a little less cold.
When I went back to the dorm the next morning, Weiss was already up. Blue eyes met, and after a moment, she seemed to relax just a little, her posture easing up some. She let out a deep breath. "Are you okay?" She asked, and I couldn't tell if she meant me, or Blake, or both. I suppose the answer would be the same either way, though.
"We will be." This time, I believed it.
BREAK
I'm really ill, but I wanted to get this out anyways. I might rewrite this if it doesn't make sense, though.
Have a good one
