Fandom Distorted Mirror [IC]

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Even with Blake's palm glowing and Spring's rejuvenating energies filling Yang with a reassuring warmth, mending broken flesh and bone, the Hand could feel her patient's prodigious strength ebb further and further even as she gripped the faunus tighter and tighter. The desperate grunts and gasps leaving her lips, along with the occasional soft, sinister growl rumbling up from the back of her throat, formed a majority of what little returned communication Blake received throughout the process; yet there were more positive exclamations sprinkled in, too, mostly babbles of approval drawn by the other woman's touch or words, little more than vague, incoherent affirmation that she was still awake, still listening, still here. By the end it was clear the strong arms around her were squeezing as tight as they were physically capable of, and yet the form trembling against her felt frailer than it ever had, Dragon's every breath a labor under the strain of trying to stay up under her own power, to not slump against Blake so they could continue mutually holding each other upright.

When the Hand looked up, the source of that miscast frailty was immediately and glaringly apparent.

Spoiler

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Whatever roundabout method of draining Blake Dragon was taking had demanded she synthesize with the Grimm almost fully, and the dangers of such were readily evident. All color in her skin had faded to a pale, lifeless white, a kind of bleached purity comparable to marble or ivory. That sight would've been troubling enough in its own right, even if the total lack of complexion hadn't been spreading through her tangled head of hair as well, its standard brilliant gold washed out to a sickly straw color that tapered into that same stark platinum near the roots. The sudden contrast only served to highlight the black, engorged veins running along her cheeks, squirming like insects trapped under her top layer of skin, converging on whites of the eyes that had likewise been dyed an inky black and now framed pupils that glowed a deeper and more malevolent shade of red than anything Blake had seen in those eyes outside this state.

For a fleeting instant, even with her ability to process and respond to danger being so effectively pacified, the faunus's instincts didn't miss the twinkle of hungry menace buried deep in those eyes. Instincts not unlike those one might feel from inside the serpent's jaw. It was a patient, restrained hunger, born of one who had no need for nourishment, no fear of the passage of time; not a predator who hunted in the name of survival or the defense of its kin, but for pure pleasure and sport. Who claimed its prey only at the time of its choosing, not a second before, but whose proximity to such a luxurious meal had it genuinely questioning whether that time should be now.

Then those eyes registered how serene Blake's were, how content and at-ease and warming like the sun cresting over the leaves in fall the smile her lips traced was, and the only thing hidden in Yang's gaze was the camera she was using to take a mental snapshot of what that looked like so she could come back to it at any time she wanted for the rest of her life.

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"Pahahaha, awwww! How fucked up is it that that's the nicest thing anyone's ever said to me?"

She threw her head back with a goofy, wholehearted laugh, and in spite of her throat's parched and raspy qualities no one could question the sincerity of it. Least of all, it appeared, her Grimm arm, which gave a contentious shudder and seemed to shrivel somewhat in mass in time with the raucous outburst. Coincidentally or otherwise, some of Yang's more usual vigor seemed to return, her strength sufficient to take Blake properly in her arms again as the deathly pale and corrupted ichor receded from her personage. Her voice dropped to a more modest pitch, Dragon's movements growing weak and sluggish again as she recovered from the tiny jolt of electricity and goosebumps such ardent (if terrifying???) words had given her.

"...B-but... gotta keep it straight with ya, kitty. Wasn't really... in the market... for a new way to kill shit." Her gasps between words were becoming denser at an exponential rate, shortness of breath growing more and more pronounced as the avalanche of negativity she'd sponged from Blake all came surging back. In terrifying amounts, honestly. Her arm's constant gnawing on the wild vortex of emotions inside her was the only thing keeping it from reducing Yang to a gibbering, crying, mindbroken wreck, and the physical toll such a delicate tightrope act must've been enacting was severe if sight was anything to judge by. Dragon was obviously trying to play it off, leaning in a little closer to mask the violent shudder originating in her core and winking. "E-even if she's kinda cute, haha, ha... nah... I just... just—nnnnnnnnnnnnhg!—"

She couldn't quite stop the spike of pain from leaving her doubled over with arms at her gut this time, exiting her lungs as a tiny, muted squeal she made every effort to bite down on and eviscerate before it could pass her teeth. Still, she stayed upright, forcing a measure of composure back into her gaze as she lifted it with a pant.

"...This isn't some fuzzy little circlejerk or like a you-scratch-my-back, I'll-scratch-yours type thing, okay. Not to be a huge dyke, but I just think you deserve a few more chances to smile the way you just smiled at me is all. Actually, you know what? I know the universe owes you that. So... y'know..."

Around the point she met Blake's eyes again to reveal two trails of black tears already rolling down her cheeks was when everything clicked into place; First, the Dragon had managed to use her more emotionally vampiric qualities to gently but surely extract huge swathes of Blake's negative energy without actively letting the beast devour it. Second, using her own body and soul to harbor such potent negativity in such vast amounts on top of her own after conducting it through a Grimm was incurring some intense physiological changes, very few of which appeared to be for the better.

And third, judging from how it occurred to Blake the Grimm hand was no longer touching her and the violent tidal wave of hate, anger and fear had yet to come surging back in with a vengeance, she had no apparent intention of giving a single drop of what she'd just drained back.

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"...Don't be mad?"​

The look of soft surprise, the quiet realization of what exactly the dragon had done, or at least was trying to do, was an expression that belonged to a different Blake entirely. One who still had the memory of the hate, but no longer carried it like the shield and security it was, a comforting embrace of its own right abandoned in favor of something else. So too was what followed, a flash of concern, a newborn fear, entirely different than what had come before it, born out of this loss and gain that had be foisted upon her soul, before a wry, bordering on dry smile that never carried the edge it was supposed to came to fruition as she placed a hand on the side of the Dragon's head, softly brushing her bangs to the side.

"...I'm not. I get it. Maybe not why me, specifically, but I get it. So I'm not mad. But you can't."

She shook her head, what remained of her other hand gesturing towards Yang's skin, the other drifting down to brush the violently dark tears off the side of one cheek.

"You weren't built for this, Xiao long. This would kill you. It is killing you."

Someone like her should've been her biggest threat, the worst opponent for Blake Belladonna of Remnant 2; The sort of heart that would have been the biggest threat to the dream she was striving for, a hole in the world she wanted to build that she would've realized she couldn't replace if it all came to a head the way she wanted so badly. The world denied that; the way was clear, and some dark, shadowy place that still loomed in her heart, the tactician of her own soul that so carefully judged and weighed her own weaknesses, the phantom of Sienna's will that was ingrained all the way into her heart, knew this was a good thing. That someone else broke this one before Blake ever had to cross her on the field of blood and tears.

But that was enough. It was more than enough, far too much, a crime that humanity had levied upon itself, another bloody stone on the scale.

What was left already carried enough; Blake's burden on top of that would shatter what was already cracked.

"It's not that I want it; its that its mine. This is my fight, Yang. Someone has to carry it, and I can do it. Its okay. I was built for it. What you saw didn't break me, it only made sure I would always be able to do what I had to."

There were people who deserved this; to have a champion on the field, the bloody spectre of vengeance the Hand had been forged into. Ilia. Eve. And so many others like them.

"So thank you, really" She said as she leaned forward and brushed a breath of a kiss on Yang's forehead. "But I won't let you kill yourself carrying this."

Then she lunged forward, tackling the Dragon to the ground as her arm wound itself around the Dragons grimm arm and forced the connection once more, the fervent words that followed far more terrible than anything else she'd said this night, solely because it was still born entirely of all the good that was left in Belladonna's heart.

"And I need it to do what I have to."

It was easier than she expected, in some ways. She'd carried it with her so long, she could feel the shape of it, the blazing heat of fury and the freezing depths of despair, spinning around each other while never leveling the other out. But more than that, she could feel it was hers. Whatever Yang carried in her heart was hers and hers alone; Blake didn't think she could grasp it if she tried. But while it may not have been a sentient beast, an ancient curse forcibly grafted onto her body and soul, the dark in Blake's heart was a much a parasite and a symbiosis with her as Yang's arm was. It fueled it, it would kill her, and she accepted that far more readily than she should've.

....

There was a deep, shuddering breath that escaped her as she felt it done her eyes drifting closed as she felt everything settle back into place within her.

When they opened, It was eerie how quick the armor had settled back across everything Blake was; How her eyes flickered across Yang's form, checking for wounds, anger, aggression, any sign that she would have to strike back if the beast underneath her took umbrage with what had just happened, and how clear it was that Blake would fight back with the same vicious practicality she did against any foe.

Yet it drifted away just as quick as it came, and Yang saw something that only a few others had; Still the Hand, the fire and calm together in her voice, but the eyes softer behind it. The only person on this Whale that she'd looked at like an ally, and not another knife in Ozpin's holster.

"...Are you okay?"

 

[Gus Gungus]

The look of soft surprise, the quiet realization of what exactly the dragon had done, or at least was trying to do, was an expression that belonged to a different Blake entirely. One who still had the memory of the hate, but no longer carried it like the shield and security it was, a comforting embrace of its own right abandoned in favor of something else. So too was what followed, a flash of concern, a newborn fear, entirely different than what had come before it, born out of this loss and gain that had be foisted upon her soul, before a wry, bordering on dry smile that never carried the edge it was supposed to came to fruition as she placed a hand on the side of the Dragon's head, softly brushing her bangs to the side.

"...I'm not. I get it. Maybe not why me, specifically, but I get it. So I'm not mad. But you can't."

She shook her head, what remained of her other hand gesturing towards Yang's skin, the other drifting down to brush the violently dark tears off the side of one cheek.

"You weren't built for this, Xiao long. This would kill you. It is killing you."

Someone like her should've been her biggest threat, the worst opponent for Blake Belladonna of Remnant 2; The sort of heart that would have been the biggest threat to the dream she was striving for, a hole in the world she wanted to build that she would've realized she couldn't replace if it all came to a head the way she wanted so badly. The world denied that; the way was clear, and some dark, shadowy place that still loomed in her heart, the tactician of her own soul that so carefully judged and weighed her own weaknesses, the phantom of Sienna's will that was ingrained all the way into her heart, knew this was a good thing. That someone else broke this one before Blake ever had to cross her on the field of blood and tears.

But that was enough. It was more than enough, far too much, a crime that humanity had levied upon itself, another bloody stone on the scale.

What was left already carried enough; Blake's burden on top of that would shatter what was already cracked.

"It's not that I want it; its that its mine. This is my fight, Yang. Someone has to carry it, and I can do it. Its okay. I was built for it. What you saw didn't break me, it only made sure I would always be able to do what I had to."

There were people who deserved this; to have a champion on the field, the bloody spectre of vengeance the Hand had been forged into. Ilia. Eve. And so many others like them.

"So thank you, really" She said as she leaned forward and brushed a breath of a kiss on Yang's forehead. "But I won't let you kill yourself carrying this."

Then she lunged forward, tackling the Dragon to the ground as her arm wound itself around the Dragons grimm arm and forced the connection once more, the fervent words that followed far more terrible than anything else she'd said this night, solely because it was still born entirely of all the good that was left in Belladonna's heart.

"And I need it to do what I have to."

It was easier than she expected, in some ways. She'd carried it with her so long, she could feel the shape of it, the blazing heat of fury and the freezing depths of despair, spinning around each other while never leveling the other out. But more than that, she could feel it was hers. Whatever Yang carried in her heart was hers and hers alone; Blake didn't think she could grasp it if she tried. But while it may not have been a sentient beast, an ancient curse forcibly grafted onto her body and soul, the dark in Blake's heart was a much a parasite and a symbiosis with her as Yang's arm was. It fueled it, it would kill her, and she accepted that far more readily than she should've.

....

There was a deep, shuddering breath that escaped her as she felt it done her eyes drifting closed as she felt everything settle back into place within her.

When they opened, It was eerie how quick the armor had settled back across everything Blake was; How her eyes flickered across Yang's form, checking for wounds, anger, aggression, any sign that she would have to strike back if the beast underneath her took umbrage with what had just happened, and how clear it was that Blake would fight back with the same vicious practicality she did against any foe.

Yet it drifted away just as quick as it came, and Yang saw something that only a few others had; Still the Hand, the fire and calm together in her voice, but the eyes softer behind it. The only person on this Whale that she'd looked at like an ally, and not another knife in Ozpin's holster.

"...Are you okay?"

It was bizarre, contradictory, and frankly a little disquieting. From the moment she took Blake's torment on her shoulders Yang had been in obvious pain, her frame hunched and trembling, black fluid oozing from eyes filled to the brim with it and her hair already midway through the process of draining back to an unnatural shock of white as the mass of darkness she inherited threatened to rip her apart from within. Yet so too was there a part of her that was glowing. Some sense of pride, or relief, or tail-wagging, ears-perked elation that she could do this for the Hand; one that made the gaze waiting to receive Blake's so warm and inviting and (though she would've personally introduced anyone to every single bone in their legs individually for using this adjective to describe anything in her vicinity) soft, despite how corrupted and stained with black it was.

The notes of worry and uncertainty there didn't help either. Shyness wasn't quite the right word for what she was feeling, the Dragon full of far too much open enthusiasm and dauntless confidence for it to be that. A more appropriate term for what she was feeling would've been 'so much, all the time'. That had always been the way with the stupid meat orb some comedian of a God carved out for her chest, whether it was rage or loneliness or anguish or something else making up the dominant strain of emotion, and past anything physical or psychological the Masque or the Tribe or Ozpin had ever put her through in her mind that heart was the true mastermind behind the torture that had seen Yang Xiao Long deteriorate so badly. She just didn't get it. She didn't understand what was so wrong with her that made everyone hate her, or want to leave, and no one ever explained it to her, and because of who she was she could never let it go.

And she couldn't be alone. The day she finally tried had been the same one Ozpin appeared to her, drawn deep into the wilds by a beacon of sadness and rage so intense it burned like an inverted sun. His words were like a certain kind of magic as he helped her realize solitude wasn't really what she wanted at all, his voice expanding to fill her mind and heart, a song that drowned out all else. That was the day she had become his, and from that day forward she never had to think about being alone again.

That had been a long time ago. But it had been longer since she'd felt what she was feeling now, a tune that could bloom her heart's petals from blood red to blossom pink, and rather than any bashfulness or reluctance the minor nerves showing on her face were born from how wary she was of screwing it all up. She tracked Blake's hand carefully when it came to brush her hair aside, and though the way she bit her lower lip during it stood as a minor display of jitters the small smile she wore when her eyes came back to the faunus's was as hopeful as anyone had seen her look in years.

Then came the words 'you can't'.

The tone changed as soon as they left the faunus's mouth, a pervasive tension hanging in the air now as Dragon immediately went stiff. She didn't pull away, kept letting Blake's hand glide over her, even leaned into the touch. But her eyes carried a crestfallen frustration now as they drifted to the floor, so sharp it poked through the dark cloud the Grimm in her was wrestling with just as readily as all that affection had, and it would've been obvious to both of them where this was going even if she hadn't brought them back up with a stormy glare and contentious frown.

"You weren't built for this, Xiao long. This would kill you. It is killing you."

"Bullshit. It's killing you."

There was far, far more anger in that sentence than she meant there to be, and none of it was directed at Blake. So much, in fact, that she just kind of quietly fumed her way through the rest of the words, still listening but simultaneously getting drawn further and further into a violent fantasy involving a certain tigress that totally would've made her look racist if she ever said it out loud. It pulled her far enough away that the peck on the forehead was a surprise when it came, shoulders loosening in instinctive reciprocation as some of the tension gripping her melted away, and she snapped her eyes back up with mouth already half-open to deliver a solemn, more imploring retort.

"Look, I—"

Then she lunged forward, tackling the Dragon to the ground as her arm wound itself around the Dragons grimm arm and forced the connection once more, the fervent words that followed far more terrible than anything else she'd said this night, solely because it was still born entirely of all the good that was left in Belladonna's heart.

"And I need it to do what I have to."

"—no, NOOOO!"

Whatever she had been going to say was lost amid the frenzy of howling, ranting and thrashing as Blake took them to the floor, already putting her newly repaired arm through its paces. Under normal circumstances simply trying to grapple the brute down was a course of action even the Hand might have been wise to rethink; but under these ones Blake was faster and slightly less tired, and in scarcely a moment she had Dragon's bucking frame pinned under her, unable to escape without escalating things to a level of violence neither of them wanted.

What she could do was yell a lot, and that much she did with impunity as she twisted, kicked, and did just about everything she could to get Blake off short of hitting her.

"IT'S BULLSHIT, KITTY, IT'S ALL ONE BIG CON, SHE FUCKING—LIED TO YOU! YOU'RE JUST THE FUCKING PATSY! YOU THINK IT'S ALL GONNA MEAN SOMETHING IN THE END BUT IT WON'T, IT DOESN'T MATTER NOTHING MATTERS THERE ARE NO HAPPY ENDINGS! JUST LET ME TAKE IT! I can't, stop, I can't give this back to you you have to let me, I can take it I have to take it I WAS FUCKING BORN TO TAKE IT! YOU—RRRRNNNNnnnnnn—"

There was a deep, shuddering breath that escaped her as she felt it done her eyes drifting closed as she felt everything settle back into place within her.

When they opened, It was eerie how quick the armor had settled back across everything Blake was; How her eyes flickered across Yang's form, checking for wounds, anger, aggression, any sign that she would have to strike back if the beast underneath her took umbrage with what had just happened, and how clear it was that Blake would fight back with the same vicious practicality she did against any foe.

Yet it drifted away just as quick as it came, and Yang saw something that only a few others had; Still the Hand, the fire and calm together in her voice, but the eyes softer behind it. The only person on this Whale that she'd looked at like an ally, and not another knife in Ozpin's holster.

"...Are you okay?"

Dragon gasped when Blake made contact with the Grimm appendage, feeling it shudder and reach out to the Hand's reforged will instead of her own broken one, scrambling all her mental focus into keeping it fed on enough of her own negativity that it didn't just resume its feast on the faunus again. She managed, but focus that had been spent elsewhere became an opportunity seized by the other resident of their body, and Blake finally felt her slacken in the midst of her struggles as her eyes started struggling to remain open, what had been frenetic heaving and shouting a moment ago giving way to muted breathing and one final slurred attempt at speech as her consciousness was flicked off like a lightswitch.

"Yur jus' gonna trn ou' like meeeeee..."

One especially heavy blink saw her eyes refuse to open again, and no further acknowledgment came at the Hand's prompt unless she counted the soft, shallow breaths Yang was taking, the faint clicks and growls from the Grimm arm that rumbled together to sound something like laughter, or the calloused hand squeezing hers so tightly the knuckles turned white.

No further acknowledgment from Dragon, at least.

"Dragon's pain fuels her. You needn't concern yourself."

Blake was aware of her approach, of course. The chill that crept into the room, invading their spines. The unhurried clack of heels still slightly encumbered by a mind entirely unused to walking in them, even if the feet wearing them were. The harmonious growls and chirps of the Grimm as they called out to their master.

All things Weiss was recreating with impeccable accuracy, because no one ever forgot the first time they saw that man enter the room. And Weiss personally would never forget how much of an idiot he looked doddering around in her body for the first time.

As her leisurely stride carried her past the two of them, Ozwen didn't turn their head nor speak any further; yet it was obvious that she expected the Hand to fall into step without being told. Her eyes were far away, her bearing was curt, and her dark scowl could've just as easily been traced back to the Weiss side of their composite existence as it could Ozma's. One thing working in her favor was the fact that with every new form the immortal inherited new traits, becoming more akin to the one whose soul they were currently merging with than any of the ones before it; a second was that this, shockingly, was all still fairly new, and she was reasonably certain Belladonna hadn't spent enough time in the presence of her new lord to get a good sense of precisely who 'Ozwen' was. Or how much she was going to hate her.

Weiss was a good liar. An excellent one, in fact. But if she was going to make a sustained play of this then she needed to know she could deceive the one person who, for various reasons, had the most potential of dispelling the ruse at just about any given moment, and she needed to orient herself the right way.

Trial by fire it was.

This was going to be a very uncomfortable fit for both of them.



"So. Many miles to Vacuo, and yet it would appear our enemies already grow desperate. I trust nothing unfolded beyond your ability to deal with... daughter."

For various reasons.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

It was bizarre, contradictory, and frankly a little disquieting. From the moment she took Blake's torment on her shoulders Yang had been in obvious pain, her frame hunched and trembling, black fluid oozing from eyes filled to the brim with it and her hair already midway through the process of draining back to an unnatural shock of white as the mass of darkness she inherited threatened to rip her apart from within. Yet so too was there a part of her that was glowing. Some sense of pride, or relief, or tail-wagging, ears-perked elation that she could do this for the Hand; one that made the gaze waiting to receive Blake's so warm and inviting and (though she would've personally introduced anyone to every single bone in their legs individually for using this adjective to describe anything in her vicinity) soft, despite how corrupted and stained with black it was.

The notes of worry and uncertainty there didn't help either. Shyness wasn't quite the right word for what she was feeling, the Dragon full of far too much open enthusiasm and dauntless confidence for it to be that. A more appropriate term for what she was feeling would've been 'so much, all the time'. That had always been the way with the stupid meat orb some comedian of a God carved out for her chest, whether it was rage or loneliness or anguish or something else making up the dominant strain of emotion, and past anything physical or psychological the Masque or the Tribe or Ozpin had ever put her through in her mind that heart was the true mastermind behind the torture that had seen Yang Xiao Long deteriorate so badly. She just didn't get it. She didn't understand what was so wrong with her that made everyone hate her, or want to leave, and no one ever explained it to her, and because of who she was she could never let it go.

And she couldn't be alone. The day she finally tried had been the same one Ozpin appeared to her, drawn deep into the wilds by a beacon of sadness and rage so intense it burned like an inverted sun. His words were like a certain kind of magic as he helped her realize solitude wasn't really what she wanted at all, his voice expanding to fill her mind and heart, a song that drowned out all else. That was the day she had become his, and from that day forward she never had to think about being alone again.

That had been a long time ago. But it had been longer since she'd felt what she was feeling now, a tune that could bloom her heart's petals from blood red to blossom pink, and rather than any bashfulness or reluctance the minor nerves showing on her face were born from how wary she was of screwing it all up. She tracked Blake's hand carefully when it came to brush her hair aside, and though the way she bit her lower lip during it stood as a minor display of jitters the small smile she wore when her eyes came back to the faunus's was as hopeful as anyone had seen her look in years.

Then came the words 'you can't'.

The tone changed as soon as they left the faunus's mouth, a pervasive tension hanging in the air now as Dragon immediately went stiff. She didn't pull away, kept letting Blake's hand glide over her, even leaned into the touch. But her eyes carried a crestfallen frustration now as they drifted to the floor, so sharp it poked through the dark cloud the Grimm in her was wrestling with just as readily as all that affection had, and it would've been obvious to both of them where this was going even if she hadn't brought them back up with a stormy glare and contentious frown.




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"Bullshit. It's killing you."

There was far, far more anger in that sentence than she meant there to be, and none of it was directed at Blake. So much, in fact, that she just kind of quietly fumed her way through the rest of the words, still listening but simultaneously getting drawn further and further into a violent fantasy involving a certain tigress that totally would've made her look racist if she ever said it out loud. It pulled her far enough away that the peck on the forehead was a surprise when it came, shoulders loosening in instinctive reciprocation as some of the tension gripping her melted away, and she snapped her eyes back up with mouth already half-open to deliver a solemn, more imploring retort.

"Look, I—"




"—no, NOOOO!"

Whatever she had been going to say was lost amid the frenzy of howling, ranting and thrashing as Blake took them to the floor, already putting her newly repaired arm through its paces. Under normal circumstances simply trying to grapple the brute down was a course of action even the Hand might have been wise to rethink; but under these ones Blake was faster and slightly less tired, and in scarcely a moment she had Dragon's bucking frame pinned under her, unable to escape without escalating things to a level of violence neither of them wanted.

What she could do was yell a lot, and that much she did with impunity as she twisted, kicked, and did just about everything she could to get Blake off short of hitting her.

"IT'S BULLSHIT, KITTY, IT'S ALL ONE BIG CON, SHE FUCKING—LIED TO YOU! YOU'RE JUST THE FUCKING PATSY! YOU THINK IT'S ALL GONNA MEAN SOMETHING IN THE END BUT IT WON'T, IT DOESN'T MATTER NOTHING MATTERS THERE ARE NO HAPPY ENDINGS! JUST LET ME TAKE IT! I can't, stop, I can't give this back to you you have to let me, I can take it I have to take it I WAS FUCKING BORN TO TAKE IT! YOU—RRRRNNNNnnnnnn—"




Dragon gasped when Blake made contact with the Grimm appendage, feeling it shudder and reach out to the Hand's reforged will instead of her own broken one, scrambling all her mental focus into keeping it fed on enough of her own negativity that it didn't just resume its feast on the faunus again. She managed, but focus that had been spent elsewhere became an opportunity seized by the other resident of their body, and Blake finally felt her slacken in the midst of her struggles as her eyes started struggling to remain open, what had been frenetic heaving and shouting a moment ago giving way to muted breathing and one final slurred attempt at speech as her consciousness was flicked off like a lightswitch.

"Yur jus' gonna trn ou' like meeeeee..."

One especially heavy blink saw her eyes refuse to open again, and no further acknowledgment came at the Hand's prompt unless she counted the soft, shallow breaths Yang was taking, the faint clicks and growls from the Grimm arm that rumbled together to sound something like laughter, or the calloused hand squeezing hers so tightly the knuckles turned white.

No further acknowledgment from Dragon, at least.

"Dragon's pain fuels her. You needn't concern yourself."

Blake was aware of her approach, of course. The chill that crept into the room, invading their spines. The unhurried clack of heels still slightly encumbered by a mind entirely unused to walking in them, even if the feet wearing them were. The harmonious growls and chirps of the Grimm as they called out to their master.

All things Weiss was recreating with impeccable accuracy, because no one ever forgot the first time they saw that man enter the room. And Weiss personally would never forget how much of an idiot he looked doddering around in her body for the first time.

As her leisurely stride carried her past the two of them, Ozwen didn't turn their head nor speak any further; yet it was obvious that she expected the Hand to fall into step without being told. Her eyes were far away, her bearing was curt, and her dark scowl could've just as easily been traced back to the Weiss side of their composite existence as it could Ozma's. One thing working in her favor was the fact that with every new form the immortal inherited new traits, becoming more akin to the one whose soul they were currently merging with than any of the ones before it; a second was that this, shockingly, was all still fairly new, and she was reasonably certain Belladonna hadn't spent enough time in the presence of her new lord to get a good sense of precisely who 'Ozwen' was. Or how much she was going to hate her.

Weiss was a good liar. An excellent one, in fact. But if she was going to make a sustained play of this then she needed to know she could deceive the one person who, for various reasons, had the most potential of dispelling the ruse at just about any given moment, and she needed to orient herself the right way.

Trial by fire it was.

This was going to be a very uncomfortable fit for both of them.

View attachment 867937

"So. Many miles to Vacuo, and yet it would appear our enemies already grow desperate. I trust nothing unfolded beyond your ability to deal with... daughter."

For various reasons.​

"... She is loyal."

Weiss' task was immediately made even more complicated by how not to character Blake played, veering from the set script from the word go; though whether that was going to make things harder or easier was yet to be seen; She sounded shaken. Ever so slightly, masked in steel and cold, but there. She'd seen Blake angry, in despair, seen the faunus cry and release the tension from her shoulders, if ever so briefly, but not this.

She stayed at the Dragon's side longer than she should of, staring down at her, searching for something, listening to Xiao Long's words over again in her mind, but whatever it was she was looking for, if she found it or not, it didn't show on her face. A gust of wind swept across the room, spinning her mask back into her hand, and only once she settled it back into place did she finally turn and slide into step behind Ozwen.

"From our enemies, I did not" she answered, Ozwen's back prickling with the feeling of a stare that was far from obsequious

 

[Gus Gungus]

"... She is loyal."

Weiss' task was immediately made even more complicated by how not to character Blake played, veering from the set script from the word go; though whether that was going to make things harder or easier was yet to be seen; She sounded shaken. Ever so slightly, masked in steel and cold, but there. She'd seen Blake angry, in despair, seen the faunus cry and release the tension from her shoulders, if ever so briefly, but not this.

She stayed at the Dragon's side longer than she should of, staring down at her, searching for something, listening to Xiao Long's words over again in her mind, but whatever it was she was looking for, if she found it or not, it didn't show on her face. A gust of wind swept across the room, spinning her mask back into her hand, and only once she settled it back into place did she finally turn and slide into step behind Ozwen.

"From our enemies, I did not" she answered, Ozwen's back prickling with the feeling of a stare that was far from obsequious

"Hm."

It was a flat, indulgent noise of acknowledgment, toneless but bordering on dismissive in how it diffused Blake's obvious malcontent with a simple noncommittal hum. She kept a brisk momentum as she trailed a few steps ahead, though had she not Blake might've seen the deepening furrow to her brow and vexed, mulling curl of the lip she wore as she pondered how Ozpin—or Ozwen, she supposed—might acknowledge whatever was supposed to be happening here.

The answer, she decided, was that he wouldn't.

"True loyalty will always be rewarded, as you well know."

A hand swept broadly in the Dragon's direction, and a Seer emerged from around the corner to steadily position itself over her, hovering there as its spiked appendages gently snared her unconscious form and lifted her off to unknown destinations like a prize in a claw game. Ozwen pushed straight through the bone-carved double doors and into the chapel, where the rubble and scorch marks of the melee earlier still gave off faint curls of mist and steam even as the woman strode through it all indifferently to deposit herself in her throne.

"I must confess, I had my doubts about this vessel. Yet as I settle into it I see I've chosen wisely." She folded one leg over the other primly, resting her chin on her knuckle, yet there was an edge of sybaritic satisfaction to how the Schnee frame filled the throne just a bit too convincing to be anything other than earnest. She curled one hand up to the light, almost lethargic in how she inspected her fingers' porcelain frailty with a hint of admiration. "My last host's sadistic tendencies were becoming quite tedious, wouldn't you say? A healthy dose of pragmatism may be just what's needed to finally right the course."

Her red eyes flickered back to Blake with a cold, calculating glare, picking her apart like a frog on a dissection table.

"Which means addressing unrest when it arises, not allowing it to sit and fester. So go on. Speak your mind."​

 

[Gus Gungus]

She was as silent as a grave for most of the rest of the walk as well as during Merc and Em's back and forth at the dead end. A quietness born of a combination of worry, dread and guilt about seeing Neo and Tyrian again, and at Mercury being more distant, and the sheer awkwardness that came with Em. But the silence on her end was broken when they got to the right password. If she even noticed Merc laying it on thick with the dramatic acting, she gave no sign of it. Her gaze rested solidly on the tiger artwork filling up the wall, her mouth slightly open and eyes wide as she stared up in awe. "Wooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwww."

Even for just a moment, all the fear and guilt and concern and everything else faded away. All the troubles, the things she'd done wrong, the mistakes she'd made and friends she had let down weren't weighing her down and she felt even younger than she was. There was just this really really really freaking cool thing drawing her attention! A secret door hidden in artwork and only accessible if you knew the right words?!? How goddamn cool is that!? It was a wonder that she wasn't bouncing in place, her smile widening almost ridiculously so. It was like a magic gateway! Just one more cool thing she'd never have gotten to see if her dad had gotten his way. If she'd never received the power of a maiden, if she had just been a little less lucky. "Arthur! Art!" She shortened his name for the repeat as she tugged on his sleeve. "Art, did you see that? In the--uh, art!" She knew full well he had seen it but it was just so cool!

She wanted to rush right in at a run but she restrained herself to a fast walk, doing her best to listen to what Merc said and follow him exactly, down to where his feet landed with each step, or as best as she could manage anyway. The other side of wherever this led to was likely mundane, pretty normal as things went but the unique way of getting there, well...suffice it to say that got her imagination running. Her mind picturing her stepping out into a whole brand new world, filled with vibrant bright colors and bustling with activity and people and animals and so much energy!

She didn't even think even a little bit about the what not to do warning Mercury didn't get to finish saying.

If anything, Arthur seemed more perturbed by the new nickname than anything, a morose glance shot towards his partner even as he was already stepping forward, intrigued but apparently not particularly worried by the idea of stepping through a sheet of light straight into a brick wall; petty jabs were one thing, but its not like he thought Emerald or mercury were going to purposefully lead them to pain or actual danger as a goofem.

He did take a second to stick a hand through first, just to make sure it didn't turn off as soon as he got up to it and he ran facefirst into it, because that he wouldn't put past them.

Whatever they were expecting on the other side of the strange, faded mural buried in the corner of some dilapidated Vacuan alley, it wasn't it.

Arthur's hand was fine, but the most jarring thing about the tactile test was the sensation. Rather than the quick, seamless transition of one of Raven's portals this made its user feel like a piece of toothpaste being squeezed down a tube, and the headrush meant they needed a second or two to get their balance when they were spat out the other side whether they had taken it cautiously or not, feeling a wetness flood their shoes and socks as they emerged knee-deep in a pool of clear water.

They weren't in a building, nor indeed anything man-made. Instead where they emerged could best be described as a large, natural cistern, likely part of an underground cave system god-knows-where judging from the way their ears popped as they got their bearings.

Strangely, more chalk graffiti decorated the room; gaping tiger maws identical to the one they just emerged from, scrawled at equidistant points around the circular chamber. The portal they'd stepped through was topped by a faded, scratchy font that read BAZAAR in block capitals, and cursory inspection of the others revealed them to be similarly labeled with other districts, villages, and points of interest from all across the kingdom, Shade Academy on one end and the noble quarter on the other; while the three most faded and secluded read VALE, MANTLE and MISTRAL in the order, though the last was scratched out and captioned with much more recently drawn 'DNU' to the right.

Emerald was nowhere to be seen, and Mercury bobbed facedown in the pool near their feet, dead as fuck.​

 

[MyrtenRose]

Whatever they were expecting on the other side of the strange, faded mural buried in the corner of some dilapidated Vacuan alley, it wasn't it.

Arthur's hand was fine, but the most jarring thing about the tactile test was the sensation. Rather than the quick, seamless transition of one of Raven's portals this made its user feel like a piece of toothpaste being squeezed down a tube, and the headrush meant they needed a second or two to get their balance when they were spat out the other side whether they had taken it cautiously or not, feeling a wetness flood their shoes and socks as they emerged knee-deep in a pool of clear water.

They weren't in a building, nor indeed anything man-made. Instead where they emerged could best be described as a large, natural cistern, likely part of an underground cave system god-knows-where judging from the way their ears popped as they got their bearings.

Strangely, more chalk graffiti decorated the room; gaping tiger maws identical to the one they just emerged from, scrawled at equidistant points around the circular chamber. The portal they'd stepped through was topped by a faded, scratchy font that read BAZAAR in block capitals, and cursory inspection of the others revealed them to be similarly labeled with other districts, villages, and points of interest from all across the kingdom, Shade Academy on one end and the noble quarter on the other; while the three most fader and secluded read VALE, MANTLE and MISTRAL in the order, though the last was scratched out and emblazoned with much more recently drawn 'DNU' to the right.

Emerald was nowhere to be seen, and Mercury bobbed facedown in the pool near their feet, dead as fuck.​

The awestruck wonder that Cinder felt going in evaporated in less than a second, any trace that it had ever been there gone by the time she exited on the other side. Her love for seeing new and exciting things as well as her familiarity with magic boosted flight didn't change the fact that she was still a small town girl who hadn't experienced all that much of life outside where she had been raised. It showed when she dropped down to her knees coughing and gagging, the water spreading through her boots and socks joined by her arms getting drenched up to near the elbows. It was more than a disoriented balance that she needed to adjust, she was outright gagging after that sensation. Some might have said it was fortunate that she hadn't eaten anything substantial in a while but she sure didn't feel lucky, going through that and retching up little more than saliva.

That continued for a few more seconds before Cinder struggled up to her feet and floated up out of the water, superheated flame quickly flaring out to dry her off. That done, she finally looked around to see where in the watery heck they had ended up. It was...actually kind of pretty, in that beauty of nature way. Not to mention the more cool works of art scattered around the place. There was even some helpful scrawled out directions, but she barely paid those any mind.

Her one good eye locked on Mercury facedown in the water. "MERC--" Her initial cry of alarm for a friend faded away as she squinted thoughtfully. They had just been tricked by Em and her illusions, after all. Someone who was not in sight in the slightest. The teenage maiden straightened up a bit, her head moving from left to right as she looked around the whole place. "Is...is this a test?! What's this about?"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

"Hm."

It was a flat, indulgent noise of acknowledgment, toneless but bordering on dismissive in how it diffused Blake's obvious malcontent with a simple noncommittal hum. She kept a brisk momentum as she trailed a few steps ahead, though had she not Blake might've seen the deepening furrow to her brow and vexed, mulling curl of the lip she wore as she pondered how Ozpin—or Ozwen, she supposed—might acknowledge whatever was supposed to be happening here.

The answer, she decided, was that he wouldn't.

"True loyalty will always be rewarded, as you well know."

A hand swept broadly in the Dragon's direction, and a Seer emerged from around the corner to steadily position itself over her, hovering there as its spiked appendages gently snared her unconscious form and lifted her off to unknown destinations like a prize in a claw game. Ozwen pushed straight through the bone-carved double doors and into the chapel, where the rubble and scorch marks of the melee earlier still gave off faint curls of mist and steam even as the woman strode through it all indifferently to deposit herself in her throne.

"I must confess, I had my doubts about this vessel. Yet as I settle into it I see I've chosen wisely." She folded one leg over the other primly, resting her chin on her knuckle, yet there was an edge of sybaritic satisfaction to how the Schnee frame filled the throne just a bit too convincing to be anything other than earnest. She curled one hand up to the light, almost lethargic in how she inspected her fingers' porcelain frailty with a hint of admiration. "My last host's sadistic tendencies were becoming quite tedious, wouldn't you say? A healthy dose of pragmatism may be just what's needed to finally right the course."

Her red eyes flickered back to Blake with a cold, calculating glare, picking her apart like a frog on a dissection table.

"Which means addressing unrest when it arises, not allowing it to sit and fester. So go on. Speak your mind."​

When Weiss turned to sit, Blake was already on one knee before the throne, her head bowed with the arm bereft of a hand resting atop her knee. Her eyes were tilted upwards though, and Weiss caught them flickering across her form before they turned back to the ground, cataloguing the very new burns and cuts in Weiss' clothes.

The mask, along with her natural stillness, made reading what Blake was thinking in the uncomfortably long silence between her command and The Hand's response as difficult as ever, and the words were slow and measured when they did come.

"....I joined you because it was Sienna's will. Because, if Schnee was at your side, we had to be as well. But I have stayed because you alone have the strength to finally raze the kingdoms, my lord. To build something new. I understand its place in these halls. I understand that the beast you have... gifted the Dragon with is strong indeed."

Her head tilted back up to face Weiss in full, the eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and edge of something besides loyal reverence creeping back into her tone.

"But it will kill her. It wants me as well. It may be tamed again now, but no trust can I give it; so should its bare its fangs at me again, it will die. Strength to strength. My own against its. And Xiao Long, who saw what I could not, and gifted you Atlas, has earned better than that."

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Whatever they were expecting on the other side of the strange, faded mural buried in the corner of some dilapidated Vacuan alley, it wasn't it.

Arthur's hand was fine, but the most jarring thing about the tactile test was the sensation. Rather than the quick, seamless transition of one of Raven's portals this made its user feel like a piece of toothpaste being squeezed down a tube, and the headrush meant they needed a second or two to get their balance when they were spat out the other side whether they had taken it cautiously or not, feeling a wetness flood their shoes and socks as they emerged knee-deep in a pool of clear water.

They weren't in a building, nor indeed anything man-made. Instead where they emerged could best be described as a large, natural cistern, likely part of an underground cave system god-knows-where judging from the way their ears popped as they got their bearings.

Strangely, more chalk graffiti decorated the room; gaping tiger maws identical to the one they just emerged from, scrawled at equidistant points around the circular chamber. The portal they'd stepped through was topped by a faded, scratchy font that read BAZAAR in block capitals, and cursory inspection of the others revealed them to be similarly labeled with other districts, villages, and points of interest from all across the kingdom, Shade Academy on one end and the noble quarter on the other; while the three most faded and secluded read VALE, MANTLE and MISTRAL in the order, though the last was scratched out and captioned with much more recently drawn 'DNU' to the right.

Emerald was nowhere to be seen, and Mercury bobbed facedown in the pool near their feet, dead as fuck.​

The awestruck wonder that Cinder felt going in evaporated in less than a second, any trace that it had ever been there gone by the time she exited on the other side. Her love for seeing new and exciting things as well as her familiarity with magic boosted flight didn't change the fact that she was still a small town girl who hadn't experienced all that much of life outside where she had been raised. It showed when she dropped down to her knees coughing and gagging, the water spreading through her boots and socks joined by her arms getting drenched up to near the elbows. It was more than a disoriented balance that she needed to adjust, she was outright gagging after that sensation. Some might have said it was fortunate that she hadn't eaten anything substantial in a while but she sure didn't feel lucky, going through that and retching up little more than saliva.

That continued for a few more seconds before Cinder struggled up to her feet and floated up out of the water, superheated flame quickly flaring out to dry her off. That done, she finally looked around to see where in the watery heck they had ended up. It was...actually kind of pretty, in that beauty of nature way. Not to mention the more cool works of art scattered around the place. There was even some helpful scrawled out directions, but she barely paid those any mind.

Her one good eye locked on Mercury facedown in the water. "MERC--" Her initial cry of alarm for a friend faded away as she squinted thoughtfully. They had just been tricked by Em and her illusions, after all. Someone who was not in sight in the slightest. The teenage maiden straightened up a bit, her head moving from left to right as she looked around the whole place. "Is...is this a test?! What's this about?"​

"Eugh" Was Watts' initial, distinctive response as he boots slashed into the water, and he almost immediately hopped up to ride his little scooter-mobile sidesaddle, its hovering gently pushing against the water beneath it in waves as he took in the room around him. It was.... interesting. The cavern was clearly natural, and yet if those markings were true, and if they worked similar to the one they had just exited, then....

his eyes settled on Merc, and there was some moment of... not panic, but cold, hard, acceptence of the familiar, his own response much quieter in the face of Cinder's panic then confusion.

when he did speak his voice was dry in a way that didn't quite break the curt scowl on his face "I liked the one of me in the tree better. Bit more jarring, while also amusingly cartoonish."

 

[Gus Gungus]

When Weiss turned to sit, Blake was already on one knee before the throne, her head bowed with the arm bereft of a hand resting atop her knee. Her eyes were tilted upwards though, and Weiss caught them flickering across her form before they turned back to the ground, cataloguing the very new burns and cuts in Weiss' clothes.

The mask, along with her natural stillness, made reading what Blake was thinking in the uncomfortably long silence between her command and The Hand's response as difficult as ever, and the words were slow and measured when they did come.

"....I joined you because it was Sienna's will. Because, if Schnee was at your side, we had to be as well. But I have stayed because you alone have the strength to finally raze the kingdoms, my lord. To build something new. I understand its place in these halls. I understand that the beast you have... gifted the Dragon with is strong indeed."

Her head tilted back up to face Weiss in full, the eyes narrowed ever so slightly, and edge of something besides loyal reverence creeping back into her tone.

"But it will kill her. It wants me as well. It may be tamed again now, but no trust can I give it; so should its bare its fangs at me again, it will die. Strength to strength. My own against its. And Xiao Long, who saw what I could not, and gifted you Atlas, has earned better than that."

The fleeting snatches of defiance the Hand had been chancing did not go unanswered.

"Stand."



Many a time had Blake knelt at the throne of her lord, head bowed in deference to the overwhelming force of presence exuded from the ancient, deathless wizard as his baleful glare hung over her, always rife with malice no matter how restrained his bearing. That force of presence was still there, the sort of coldly detached scrutiny a bug might see through the other end of a magnifying glass, yet nothing diminished how foreign it still felt to watch Ozma's consciousness occupy a new body, speak with different lips and narrow different eyes. Even being weighed by her felt different, to say nothing of the extra twist of irony that came with the features now bearing the ancient consciousness having formerly—insofar as Blake was aware—belonged to Weiss Schnee herself.

Which made it all the more jarring when that familiar dark aura flowed outward from the throne and washed over the room, flickering the lit sconces and plunging the temperature to the vicinity of zero. The boom of a voice riding that pulse of malevolence had always been the hallmark of an Ozpin whose patience had reached its limit with something, and it that seemed to hold true with Ozwen as the command quaked through Blake practically the instant the last word left her mouth, a tone that wasn't quite hostile yet clearly expected immediate compliance and an immediate understanding of that expectation. Presuming Blake complied, the next words to leave her lips were equally cold, albeit spoken at a far less threatening volume, again with the expectation of acquiescence to the order.

"Remove your mask."

Then there was silence, an enduring incisiveness as she beckoned for it. She switched from scanning Blake's exposed features to her mask assuming she once more did as instructed, red eyes betraying nothing of how the heartfelt appeal on the Dragon's behalf had been received. Five seconds passed, then ten, and finally did her lord switch her gaze back to her, voice unexpectedly veering less towards wrathful and more towards forbearing.

"It's an unusual thing, realizing you abhor much of what you were yesterday. My previous life spanned some decades. I had almost forgotten the... complexity of this process." Her lips pulled tight in a scowl, nose wrinkling as her eyes narrowed sharply in a flare of disgust. "Let me be blunt. Ozpin was a pig. He took pleasure in watching you grovel on the floor like an animal, just as he delighted in bending the Dragon's body and will to his own through the years. But he's gone now, and precisely who I am remains to be seen. What I am increasingly certain of is this: whoever I'm becoming finds these excessive shows of veneration servile and pathetic. If you're going to pledge your life to a conviction then you need to stand as an example of it."

The icy winds of judgment washed over Blake direct from Ozwen's glacial stare, but a moment later it had softened somewhat, and she waved a hand from her lap as if in pardon.

"As such, there will be no further need for masks, honorifics or prostration when I brook your presence. I trust my followers to know their place. Should you have an opinion to express you may stand on two feet, look me in the eye and do so. Is that understood?"

Weiss, privately, had reasoned that there were two ways of approaching this. There was the first way, which involved casting her memory back over the five excruciating years she'd suffered Ozpin's vanity and cruelty and pathetic need to dominate, channeling that toxicity into her own performance and essentially carrying off a picture-perfect imitation of their sneering overlord's past life. That was the safe way.

It was not the most efficient.

She had an opportunity here. Not just to successfully carry out a charade; to fix something. To redefine Ozma's narrative. Her time was limited. She harbored no delusions regarding that. That made action item number one maximizing her time in this wretched place, and in that pursuit she had at least one distinct advantage.

Not a one of Ozma's current pawns knew how this worked.

They had all only ever known him; only Ozpin. Thorough research on her part had managed to date the rough time of his last reincarnation to approximately half a century ago. The immortal soul wasn't simply erasing Weiss's own and occupying her hollowed-out body—their two souls were becoming one. The part she hadn't told Yang was that even now, even with Ozma buried and suppressed, she could feel it; deep inside, some intangible pull on the edges of a part of her that should've been beyond her ability to perceive. But Weiss's sense of self was prodigious, her soul bright and shining. Who was to say where she ended and Ozma began? Who was to say who Ozma even was without his prior host's influence?

As it would happen, Weiss Schnee was. She smiled, an almost benevolent upward pull to her lips.

"Now, to Dragon. Your words are not without merit, daughter; you are, of course, correct. The parasite grafted to her soul is killing her." Her smile didn't waver, nary a flicker of anything rising to the surface of the tranquil ocean that were her features as she revealed the information breezily. "Without the resistance afforded to her silver-eyed peers, she will not retain any trace of herself as some of my more intricate creations have. The Grimm will hollow her out and consume her. At the rate she's surrendered herself to it, I anticipate she has a matter of months."

Any reaction the words may have drawn to the surface did little to break the smile, Ozwen clasping her hands graciously on her lap as she continued.

"A final gift from my erstwhile self, and a final cruelty. You recall the Dragon of old, yes? Crude, but focused, dedicated, indomitable; a sharpened instrument of my will."

The masked faunus let out a shrill cry of pain as the explosive shell went off against her, sending her tumbling to the floor in a sprawl that ended with her on all fours, wide eyed and incredulous at the supposed Lieutenant of Ozpin standing their with one arm extended, the barrel of Ember Celica still smoking as she stared back at Blake with a somber glower.

-----------------------------------------------------------

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"

Even though she didn't expect this Blake to take getting shot well, the almost manic desperation in her voice wasn't a sound Yang had heard her own Blake make even at her worse moments, a mixture of anger and abject terror that made Yang's skin crawl. She didn't answer immediately, instead tossing out another shot to shatter the ice clone holding the woman Yang had just totally beat been brawling with.

"...You're crying, Blake. You don't want to do this. You don't have to do this." She eventually answered with an earnest frown. It didn't matter if this was a dream or not anymore. She couldn't watch that go on any longer, couldn't let Blake hurt herself like she'd clearly been about to. Yang might not have understood why this Blake cared for this Eve person, or anything that had happened in the last half hour, but that was a truth she could settle on, in any world, dream or otherwise.

"Since when do you care about anything like that you human monst-?!" Blake froze from where she'd started to circle the pair like a starved beast, eyes locked onto Yang's arm with an incredulous glare. The Xiao Long she knew wasn't a missing an arm. This... this wasn't her, was it? Yet she knew her name, seemed to know Eve, or seemed to think she did. The same weapons, same sister named Ruby, yet lilac eyes instead of red. Blake was already on an emotional spiral trying to deal with Eve, and a huff of a laugh escaped unbidden behind her mask as she looked between the pair.

Was she just completely losing it?

And as the yelling intensified, somebody else charged in with a blast of rounds that both announced her presence and propelled her forward at great speeds. A powerful haymaker struck the redheaded faunus in the face at that point, knocking the bull loose and off Blake. A second after Eve hit the ground wherever, the red sword was thrown like a spear intent to run her through and impale her to the ground. Following that, the blonde glared down harshly at Blake.

"Get up, you dumbass. You aren't allowed to get captured twice. He doesn't need a useless cat stuck in some prison cell. Only so many times that could happen before he decides you're better off discarded for your weakness." There was a grin of such savagery that it seemed she wouldn't personally mind if that did happen, if only to notch another kill to her count. Still, it was his will she followed, not her own.

"Now hurry the hell up."

Blake rolled to her feet in a move of deft grace that was entirely at odds with the violent scream that tore from her as she found her lungs her own again. Gambol's ribbon wrapped around her arm to pull it taut, and it once more pulled the trigger from where it landed to this time return safely to her hand, and Yang found herself staring down its barrel as the wild glare was turned onto her.

"I HAD THAT!"

Blake's anger towards Eve had been raw, wild, and hurt, but her words dripped with a far more venomous and caustic anger when she addressed Yang, meeting her savagery head on; if words could bite, she'd be tearing out the blonde's throat. Somehow, almost all the violence Blake had been forced to inflict since the start of Beacon had been on the very faunus she was trying to save. Mainly Ilia. But Yang was human, and in Blake's eyes, the exact representation of what humanity was down to its core. Violent. Savage. Cruel. Killers who caused pain for the sake of it. Just because this one happened to be on her side didn't mean she wasn't the perfect specimen of what she was fighting so hard against.

Its why that other Yang had thrown her for such a loop. It was like seeing a vicious fighting dog suddenly revert to acting like a puppy.

"I don't care. I don't care who wants or doesn't want to be a friend. I don't care about your vanity, about whoever is foolish enough to be your friend or still consider you family, I don't care about any of it. Cling to them if you want, it doesn't matter. You won't be able to appreciate any of it for that much longer. Not after I'm through doing what needs to be done for the true master of this world."

"Ozpin's craftsmanship. Her anger called to him, you see. Made her the ideal clay. He sought her out in her despair, used his semblance to soothe her fears and shape her thoughts, admired her and named her chosen when none had ever chosen her before. He coaxed her from exile with promises of family and a better world, and then..."

She tilted her head, curling a lock of hair around one finger, and extended another noncommittal hum of reminiscence. The glimpses of Dragon she had mined from the abyss of memories Ozma sought to trap her in had been horrible, enraging, to the point that after perusing no more than a few Weiss had just had to... stop. Yet none of it registered on her face, and she recounted the events as easily as one might recall a holiday memory.

"He broke her. In the years to follow he warped her mind at his leisure, used every means at his disposal to draw rage and pain unparalleled from the depths of her soul the way one draws water from a well. His efforts transformed her, from fractured youth into the foremost emissary of his looming darkness, in a time when his strength was diminished and mortal allies were scarce. She served well as his fist, in those years of shadow; she hated weakness, hated herself, hated everything. But she was a loyal, powerful beast, and he was most satisfied with her results."

Her smirk grew thin, an air of dark ruefulness to it.

"Then came Haven. The two of you spearheaded our attack there together, did you not? Your own strategy in crippling our enemies' communications was carried out to perfection, yet the number of relics in our possession by the night's end remained zero. Do you recall why?"

So it was that as strong as her doppelganger pulled, Yang countered stronger still, wrenching her arms free of the grip with a skyward yell so loud that it might as well have pierced into the heavens and in one fluid move turned to deliver a monstrously ferocious uppercut to her other self's jaw. A punch that rivaled the power Nora had at her disposal when she had engaged Qrow in hand to hand, if not went beyond even that. A blow that sent her double flying high into the sky before eventually descending and crashing through the roof of one of the school buildings. After that she broke into a fit of crazed laughter that struck the likes of Qrow Branwen as reminiscent of his world's Tyrian Callows. Well, and this world's one too, as of late. Yang looked around eagerly at all those present surrounding her.

"Anyone else?!"

She hit the ground behind him so hard that like her counterpart, the floor cracked underneath her boots. A one-two combo followed, using all she could of the power-up she got from the damage she endured plus Jaune's amplification in the two blows. The first absolutely obliterated what was left of Roman's weakened aura. The second? It went right through him. A point-blank shotgun blast tore open a hole in his back that her fist followed through and emerged out the other side so fast that depending on where he was looking, he might have seen the bloodsoaked fist poking through the center of his abdomen before the pain even registered.

Just as quickly she pulled the fist back with a nasty sounding noise, much of her arm now coated in the kid's blood. Following that she kicked him in the back of the leg to force him to his knees before she continued further. The frankly deranged grin on her face in that moment was a spine-chilling sight to behold.

He couldn't even do this much. Couldn't keep his own comrades from dying. If he was better this wouldn't have happened. If he had a semblance this wouldn't have happened. Who was he kidding with this huntsman crap? There was only one thing he was good for.

And unless Jaune's will ultimately buckled and he complied, Mercury twisted around and drove his boot down into the son of a bitch's skull again and again, long past the point of his aura shattering until he stopped moving for good.

It was a soft quiet whimper, not a roar that many might have expected from such an energetic soul, that escaped her lips after the *shnk* sound of Qrow's blade cleaving through her shoulder and digging deeper still. After the sensation of pain coursed through her entire body as intensely as any lightning ever had. Nora collapsed to her knees, the blood already heavily staining her clothes. Her aura had extinguished some time ago. Despite her bold thought of preferring to die on her feet, it seemed she hadn't actually expected she would die here. That she had genuinely not believed Qrow would be capable of going through with it. "So this...this is how it ends, huh?" She fell backwards completely, head coming to rest on the cold stone ground. It was...oddly comforting. Her head turned slightly, looking Ren's way. "R-Ren." Valkyrie coughed out weakly.

"NO NO NO GET OFF LET GO, LEAVE ME ALONE!!!" Vernal yelled frantically, as panicked but heavy repeated elbow strikes immediately impacted into Qrow's ribs and loosened the hold. Even in her fear-riddled mind, she recognized what he had intended to do. Another jab of the elbow followed and she slipped out of the hold, rocketing forward once again.

The flames sputtered though, and in a moment of weakening flight she hit the ground and bounced along it a few times before she came to a halt, the unconscious Cinder sliding along with her. Turning in panic, she thrust a hand out and bolts of lightning shot forth for the spot where she knew Qrow had just been. Following that she grabbed hold of the other maiden and blasted back off, soaring through the air as she did her best to leave him and everybody and everything else far far behind.

Get away get away get away get away get away I just have to get away

She let out an affected, beleaguered sigh, tone like a chiding mother. "The Dragon allowed every aspect of her plan to fall to pieces the moment she set eyes on her unspoiled self. Her sole priority became breaking her down, cementing her own superiority, and she did nothing as the maiden her former tribe materialized fled the scene, denying us our prize. Her mounting bloodlust deafened her to his voice, and her indulgence of it at the expense of the battle's least relevant participant incurred the losses of Arc and Valkyrie in retaliation. Of course, she then ran afoul of the problem you yourself were... unwilling to resolve at Beacon. Nor, indeed, during that very same skirmish."

Her eyes sharpened at that, buffeting Blake with another cold wave of curious accusation where she stood that thankfully passed without incident. No mention was made of a name, though whatever reaction the Hand had to Weiss Schnee's lips referring to Eve that way was carefully noted and filed away with the rest.

"Alas, she was no longer the Dragon when she returned. Something crushed her spirit that night. Whether it was her failure, the loss of limb, or the encounter with her other, I cannot say; but she crawled back to Ozpin a broken ruin, finally dealt the blow she could not rise from. Were he the one sitting here, I have little doubt he'd tell you his means of making her whole again was intended both as punishment and kindness, numbing her pain even as it drags her to the grave. In truth?"

She offered another venerable smile and gave a half-shrug, waving a hand with palm curled as though spelling out the obvious.

"He was bored of her. And with her usefulness effectively crippled, seized the opportunity to begin molding one powerful asset into another. I tell you this freely because I would not make that same judgment now, and should you wish to lay my creation to rest I grant you full leave to do so. There are precious few forces capable of slaying such an ancient beast, but the cleansing light of Spring may prove sufficient."

Her final utterance was practically an afterthought, though the concealed attentiveness with which she gauged Blake's reaction to it was at its most potent. The world had had quite enough of Ozpin. An evil king was not the same as an evil queen.

And if she was being honest with herself, some part of Weiss twinged with worry that this wasn't going to be such an uncomfortable fit for her after all.

"Simply be mindful that Dragon will not survive the process."​

 

[Gus Gungus]

Her one good eye locked on Mercury facedown in the water. "MERC--" Her initial cry of alarm for a friend faded away as she squinted thoughtfully. They had just been tricked by Em and her illusions, after all. Someone who was not in sight in the slightest. The teenage maiden straightened up a bit, her head moving from left to right as she looked around the whole place. "Is...is this a test?! What's this about?"

"NAH, AN AMBUSH!"

Mercury corrected with a bold, triumphant shout as his picture-perfect emulation of a floating cadaver suddenly came to life, gripped one of Cinder and Arthur's ankles each with very much non-illusory hands, and in a frenzied spree of splashing and thrashing sought to yank their footing out from under them so they crashed down hard in the pool on their butts. The momentum of the sudden cobra strike had him land on his own scarcely a second later, already howling with impish laughter as he coughed up a torrential amount of water.

"Eugh" Was Watts' initial, distinctive response as he boots slashed into the water, and he almost immediately hopped up to ride his little scooter-mobile sidesaddle, its hovering gently pushing against the water beneath it in waves as he took in the room around him. It was.... interesting. The cavern was clearly natural, and yet if those markings were true, and if they worked similar to the one they had just exited, then....

his eyes settled on Merc, and there was some moment of... not panic, but cold, hard, acceptence of the familiar, his own response much quieter in the face of Cinder's panic then confusion.

when he did speak his voice was dry in a way that didn't quite break the curt scowl on his face "I liked the one of me in the tree better. Bit more jarring, while also amusingly cartoonish."

Only then did Emerald finally appear, ripples that hadn't been present before disturbing the water as her form shimmered into sight, hands on her hips and whistling an innocent tune as she slugged Watts disarmingly on the shoulder. "Heyyyyyy, look at smart guy. Remembering stuff. I mean, who's to say who really made who see a cartoon lynching of themselves in times of distress? I feel like we've all been there."

It was evident the pickpocket was enjoying being the only person in the cavern who wasn't wet above the knees, and she jerked a charitable thumb at Mercury with an exasperation-fueled roll of the eyes.

"Much as I wanna take credit, this one's all on the Little Rascal here. Getting wet is lame, so I hid. Crazy thing is Morgiana's portals all do this weird time-squeezy thing when you're traveling long distances, so he's been under for like a full minute. Just waiting."

"Worth it." He gurgled, hacking up another lung's worth.

"Yeah, was it though? Anyway. You saps coming, or is your plan to just keep being super embarrassing?" She started sloshing for the other end of the cavern past all the etchings, where the brilliant greens and golds the dust-peppered torches mounted on the wall cast across the cave illuminated a slope leading up into another passage. This one's walls and ceiling were further decorated with a more vibrant and eclectic array of graffiti, paints, pastels and chalk of dizzying variety, deftly woven into a series of murals and graffiti pieces that verged on psychedelic to walk through and all seemed to revolve around cats as figures of wisdom and reverence.

"Because seriously, if you're gonna super embarrass me it'd be a lot cooler if you like, didn't. You're about to meet my old friends, okay? My old-old friends. Do not make me look stupid."

Up ahead they could see where the slope they were ascending tapered up into another, larger chamber that emitted a more firmly golden light than the mishmash of hues they were currently bathed in.​

 

[MyrtenRose]

View attachment 869137

"NAH, AN AMBUSH!"

Mercury corrected with a bold, triumphant shout as his picture-perfect emulation of a floating cadaver suddenly came to life, gripped one of Cinder and Arthur's ankles each with very much non-illusory hands, and in a frenzied spree of splashing and thrashing sought to yank their footing out from under them so they crashed down hard in the pool on their butts. The momentum of the sudden cobra strike had him land on his own scarcely a second later, already howling with impish laughter as he coughed up a torrential amount of water.




View attachment 869146

Only then did Emerald finally appear, ripples that hadn't been present before disturbing the water as her form shimmered into sight, hands on her hips and whistling an innocent tune as she slugged Watts disarmingly on the shoulder. "Heyyyyyy, look at smart guy. Remembering stuff. I mean, who's to say who really made who see a cartoon lynching of themselves in times of stress? I feel like we've all been there."

It was evident the pickpocket was enjoying being the only person in the cavern who wasn't wet above the knees, and she jerked a charitable thumb at Mercury with an exasperation-fueled roll of the eyes.

"Much as I wanna take credit, this one's all on the Little Rascal here. Getting wet is lame, so I hid. Crazy thing is Morgiana's portals all do this weird time-squeezy thing when you're traveling long distances, so he's been under for like a full minute. Just waiting."

"Worth it." He gurgled, hacking up another lung's worth.

"Yeah, was it though? Anyway. You saps coming, or is your plan to just keep being super embarrassing?" She started sloshing for the other end of the cavern past all the etchings, where the brilliant greens and golds the dust-peppered torches mounted on the wall cast across the cave illuminated a slope leading up into another passage. This one's walls and ceiling were further decorated with a more vibrant and eclectic array of graffiti, paints, pastels and chalk of dizzying variety, deftly woven into a series of murals and graffiti pieces that verged on psychedelic to walk through and all seemed to revolve around cats as figures of wisdom and reverence.

"Because seriously, if you're gonna super embarrass me it'd be a lot cooler if you like, didn't. You're about to meet my old friends, okay? My old-old friends. Do not make me look stupid."

Up ahead they could see where the slope they were ascending tapered up into another, larger chamber that emitted a more firmly golden light than the mishmash of hues they were currently bathed in.​

As far as being super ultra mega cool and not the epitome of embarrassing went, Cinder was already failing pretty hard at that. Even with her having expected some kind of trick, Mercury just springing up like that still got her to nearly jump out of her own skin and left her wide open for his joke ambush. She fell hard on her ass, the new clothes that she had JUST TRIED TO DRY once again soaking wet as Mercury laughed up a storm.

Yet that didn’t provoke any anger as might have been expected. Mainly because she too was laughing at her genius partner suffering the same humiliating fate. That made it both more laughable and easier to bear, and her echoing giggles rivaled even Merc’s own. But that ambush did not go unanswered either, even if he was coughing up tons of water. Her eye glowed, she waved a hand and a pretty large wave of water followed to crash into him, which only got Cinder to laugh even freaking harder.

That continued for some time even as they walked up, with Cinder only getting the last of it out of her system and regaining her composure when they neared the chamber that shined with golden light. “Right. Be cool. Don’t make you look stupid. I can do that.”

I can’t do that. She worriedly thought to herself a second later.​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

he fleeting snatches of defiance the Hand had been chancing did not go unanswered.

"Stand."


Many a time had Blake knelt at the throne of her lord, head bowed in deference to the overwhelming force of presence exuded from the ancient, deathless wizard as his baleful glare hung over her, always rife with malice no matter how restrained his bearing. That force of presence was still there, the sort of coldly detached scrutiny a bug might see through the other end of a magnifying glass, yet nothing diminished how foreign it still felt to watch Ozma's consciousness occupy a new body, speak with different lips and narrow different eyes. Even being weighed by her felt different, to say nothing of the extra twist of irony that came with the features now bearing the ancient consciousness having formerly—insofar as Blake was aware—belonged to Weiss Schnee herself.

Which made it all the more jarring when that familiar dark aura flowed outward from the throne and washed over the room, flickering the lit sconces and plunging the temperature to the vicinity of zero. The boom of a voice riding that pulse of malevolence had always been the hallmark of an Ozpin whose patience had reached its limit with something, and it that seemed to hold true with Ozwen as the command quaked through Blake practically the instant the last word left her mouth, a tone that wasn't quite hostile yet clearly expected immediate compliance and an immediate understanding of that expectation. Presuming Blake complied, the next words to leave her lips were equally cold, albeit spoken at a far less threatening volume, again with the expectation of acquiescence to the order.

"Remove your mask."

The first order was followed so swiftly it barely even registered Blake was moving; one moment she was at her knees, the other she was standing, her hands clasped behind her, her gaze straight ahead.

The second order was a much different affair. Her eyes widened slightly behind the mask, but eventually her hand unclasped from behind her and slowly moved to grab the mask. Even then there was a pause, a bone deep hesitance of at least a few seconds wholly unbecoming Ozpin's blade and Sienna's hand, before she finally removed it from herself, letting her arms fall to either side with her one hand still gripping the mask tightly.

The face underneath it was troubled, confused, bits of cold anger left from after her own declaration and before Ozwen's orders still flaking away to give way to something new as she listened.

"It's an unusual thing, realizing you abhor much of what you were yesterday. My previous life spanned some decades. I had almost forgotten the... complexity of this process." Her lips pulled tight in a scowl, nose wrinkling as her eyes narrowed sharply in a flare of disgust. "Let me be blunt. Ozpin was a pig. He took pleasure in watching you grovel on the floor like an animal, just as he delighted in bending the Dragon's body and will to his own through the years. But he's gone now, and precisely who I am remains to be seen. What I am increasingly certain of is this: whoever I'm becoming finds these excessive shows of veneration servile and pathetic. If you're going to pledge your life to a conviction then you need to stand as an example of it."

The icy winds of judgment washed over Blake direct from Ozwen's glacial stare, but a moment later it had softened somewhat, and she waved a hand from her lap as if in pardon.

"As such, there will be no further need for masks, honorifics or prostration when I brook your presence. I trust my followers to know their place. Should you have an opinion to express you may stand on two feet, look me in the eye and do so. Is that understood?"

She began to bow, only to catch herself partway down, realizing that was exactly what Ozwen had told her not to do, and instead straightened, and felt her eyes narrow of their own accord.

The rest of Weiss' words would have to come later, as Blake found herself declaring rather than asking, her words slow but sure.

"You are not the same. Even as a few minutes ago. Something happened, in between when we last spoke and now. The dragon was not the only one struck."

 

[Gus Gungus]

She began to bow, only to catch herself partway down, realizing that was exactly what Ozwen had told her not to do, and instead straightened, and felt her eyes narrow of their own accord.

The rest of Weiss' words would have to come later, as Blake found herself declaring rather than asking, her words slow but sure.

"You are not the same. Even as a few minutes ago. Something happened, in between when we last spoke and now. The dragon was not the only one struck."

If Blake's eyes were searching for any sign of a flinch, any tell or indicator at all that the accusatory twinge to her tone was cause for concern in the seated woman's mind, there was none. Instead she smiled knowingly, if with a hint of teeth, a gentle incline to her head where it rested on her chin.

"Indeed. It would appear dear Weiss's inorganic method of reaping the gifts you now hold came with the unintended consequence of forging a link between her and the Branwen woman's soul, potent enough to meet the conditions of her semblance. A link which I, apparently, have inherited."

The smirk grew dark, that familiar sinister tension building in the air as the shadows in the room danced and flickered.

"The assault on Dragon was merely a diversion. Part of a larger attempt to isolate me for capture, presumably founded on the notion that a majority of my magical reserves are depleted in the wake of my reincarnation. Not untrue. But foolish all the same." Ozwen's sinister eyes pulsed with power, and a rotating snowflake glyph colored not soft blue but glaring crimson appeared by the throne before a grotesque black tendril erupted through the symbol at its center. It shot out to twist around Blake's mask, beginning to tighten around the material until it bent and inevitably snapped. "Lie Ren sensed their intrusion, and repelling their misbegotten offensive alongside him proved quite enlightening in how to best use these 'glyphs' I now wield to supplement the magic that has returned to me. Wielding them in conjunction hastened the rate of synthesis between my soul and hers. She was initially proving troublesome, but it will no doubt please you to hear everything that encompassed her has been by and large..."

She gave a breath of a chuckle, the way she spoke the next word serene as a gentle breeze yet somehow still enough to draw a chill in the air.

"...Digested. She is a part of me, now, as I am all of her. And just as I inherited her link to the Branwen, so too did I inherit an abject contempt for my previous life and his wretched ways. It truly is remarkable she managed to conceal this from me for so long." There were droll notes in the begrudging compliment, glancing away and drumming her fingers on the throne's armrest momentarily before her incisive gaze returned to needling Blake with icicles. "So yes, you have the right of it. I am most changed. I have been changing, daughter, before your very eyes. I would say your High Leader was lax in preparing you for this eventuality, but how could she have? Salem kept the secret of my immortality from her inner circle for years."

Her stare once more shifted to a more lenient smile, her tone ominous but somehow assuring as she waved her hand.

"Our goals, on the other hand, remain the same. But the coming weeks will be a period of... recalibration. In a sense, I'm older than the known world; yet it would be equally true to say I, personally, have only just been born. Hmph. It's all rather energizing." She expressed as much in the form of a dry sniff, though the air of self-satisfaction that came with it was of a different vein than Ozpin's aggressive, domineering complacency and disdain for all lessers. It was almost mordant.



"Let me be perfectly clear. I will have no need of leashed, bootlicking lapdogs during this time. Your Hands, Dragons and what have you. There are legions of Grimm slavering just outside these walls for that express purpose. What I will require is an advisor, and a regular sparring partner to ensure that when the time comes to fall on our enemies once more I'll wield this body and soul as ably as Weiss herself once did. My magic will take further time to accumulate, after all."

Her eyes lidded slightly, a bit of prickly scrutiny in the stern brow she leveled Blake with as her tone grew sharp with authority.

"I trust this isn't too far outside your purview?"​

 

[MidwayLives]

It'd taken far more time than Tiger would have liked. But once Masque had ceased her struggling and the faunus focused, she managed to find what at the very least constituted somewhere to hold the feral woman in her hands. "The innards of this whale are certainly...annoying to traverse." She muttered aloud as she stepped further into the room. Masque said nothing in response. Something that Tiger was absolutely fine with. Letting go of the Masque, it looked as though some kind of fleshy substance moved to engulf the Masque's hand and stump and her feet as well to hold her in place. Something Tiger immediately stepped back from. Didn't really want any of that getting anywhere near her. But it seemed as though it'd hold the previously thrashing and screaming Masque still. For however long or for whatever plans Blake or the others had in mind for her.

"I must go now. I have my own punishment to face."

Tiger turned to leave...but there was that same feeling again. The one she'd gotten back when Masque had awoken. The menacing presence of something other than the savage girl before her. Her ears twitched and she looked over her shoulder. Masque's eyes were staring straight ahead, her nostrils flaring, fresh blood mixed in with dried blood across her face.

"You're....one of Blake's friends....aren't you?"

Masque's voice sounded rough. Likely a side effect of her screaming.

"...I suppose friend is putting it too far but I follow her, yes."

Masque pulled slightly with both limbs against her fleshy restraints.

"...Good. Then *cough cough* you tell her something for me..."

Tiger didn't say anything but Ruby went on.

"If she ever threatens me again or lays a finger on me..."

"I'll make it my goal to see her dead."

Tiger's ears twitched again and she couldn't help but laugh.

"...You wouldn't be the first I imagine."

Masque growled, though as Tiger listened, she still had her doubts what she'd heard came from the girl infront of her. It sounded more like a beast...

"I'll be the last."

Tiger didn't laugh this time. Her mind focused and agitated by whatever it was that she...just couldn't figure out about this girl.

'I don't care if she's gotten stronger or if she's spent time training. There's only one person on this planet I'd let hurt me like that.' Masque once again struggled in her bindings. The pain of having found herself a prisoner yet again not lost on her. 'And that bitch....is trying to....STEAL HER FROM ME!!!!!!!'

"GGRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!"​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

If Blake's eyes were searching for any sign of a flinch, any tell or indicator at all that the accusatory twinge to her tone was cause for concern in the seated woman's mind, there was none. Instead she smiled knowingly, if with a hint of teeth, a gentle incline to her head where it rested on her chin.

"Indeed. It would appear dear Weiss's inorganic method of reaping the gifts you now hold came with the unintended consequence of forging a link between her and the Branwen woman's soul, potent enough to meet the conditions of her semblance. A link which I, apparently, have inherited."

The smirk grew dark, that familiar sinister tension building in the air as the shadows in the room danced and flickered.

"The assault on Dragon was merely a diversion. Part of a larger attempt to isolate me for capture, presumably founded on the notion that a majority of my magical reserves are depleted in the wake of my reincarnation. Not untrue. But foolish all the same." Ozwen's sinister eyes pulsed with power, and a rotating snowflake glyph colored not soft blue but glaring crimson appeared by the throne before a grotesque black tendril erupted through the symbol at its center. It shot out to twist around Blake's mask, beginning to tighten around the material until it bent and inevitably snapped. "Lie Ren sensed their intrusion, and repelling their misbegotten offensive alongside him proved quite enlightening in how to best use these 'glyphs' I now wield to supplement the magic that has returned to me. Wielding them in conjunction hastened the rate of synthesis between my soul and hers. She was initially proving troublesome, but it will no doubt please you to hear everything that encompassed her has been by and large..."

She gave a breath of a chuckle, the way she spoke the next word serene as a gentle breeze yet somehow still enough to draw a chill in the air.

"...Digested. She is a part of me, now, as I am all of her. And just as I inherited her link to the Branwen, so too did I inherit an abject contempt for my previous life and his wretched ways. It truly is remarkable she managed to conceal this from me for so long." There were droll notes in the begrudging compliment, glancing away and drumming her fingers on the throne's armrest momentarily before her incisive gaze returned to needling Blake with icicles. "So yes, you have the right of it. I am most changed. I have been changing, daughter, before your very eyes. I would say your High Leader was lax in preparing you for this eventuality, but how could she have? Salem kept the secret of my immortality from her inner circle for years."

Her stare once more shifted to a more lenient smile, her tone ominous but somehow assuring as she waved her hand.

"Our goals, on the other hand, remain the same. But the coming weeks will be a period of... recalibration. In a sense, I'm older than the known world; yet it would be equally true to say I, personally, have only just been born. Hmph. It's all rather energizing." She expressed as much in the form of a dry sniff, though the air of self-satisfaction that came with it was of a different vein than Ozpin's aggressive, domineering complacency and disdain for all lessers. It was almost mordant.

View attachment 869411

"Let me be perfectly clear. I will have no need of leashed, bootlicking lapdogs during this time. Your Hands, Dragons and what have you. There are legions of Grimm slavering just outside these walls for that express purpose. What I will require is an advisor, and a regular sparring partner to ensure that when the time comes to fall on our enemies once more I'll wield this body and soul as ably as Weiss herself once did. My magic will take further time to accumulate, after all."

Her eyes lidded slightly, a bit of prickly scrutiny in the stern brow she leveled Blake with as her tone grew sharp with authority.

"I trust this isn't too far outside your purview?"​

Blake's eyes narrowed ever so farther closer to shut, her eyes still locked straight ahead rather than meeting Ozwen's own. She was being pandered to, in some way. If Weiss was truly gone, her soul fully merged, it was having a far greater affect on Ozma than he had given any indication it was going to. She was not... it was not her place to stand at the side of the leaders, but behind them. More than that, No matter how great an affect the merge might have had, there wasn't any part of her that actually thought Ozma would just... release his desire to dominate, to control.

"...You are not the same master I served."

That was a simple truth.But it was not as if Ozma had not pandered to her before. Honeyed words that nonetheless rang true, promises that went fulfilled. Snake always liked to say that kind words from the devil did not have to be false; that was why they were so dangerous. Her eyes finally lifted fully to catch Ozwen's

"So let me ask then, as your 'advisor'; What are our goals? Your goals? And what do I call you?"

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

View attachment 869137

"NAH, AN AMBUSH!"

Mercury corrected with a bold, triumphant shout as his picture-perfect emulation of a floating cadaver suddenly came to life, gripped one of Cinder and Arthur's ankles each with very much non-illusory hands, and in a frenzied spree of splashing and thrashing sought to yank their footing out from under them so they crashed down hard in the pool on their butts. The momentum of the sudden cobra strike had him land on his own scarcely a second later, already howling with impish laughter as he coughed up a torrential amount of water.




View attachment 869146

Only then did Emerald finally appear, ripples that hadn't been present before disturbing the water as her form shimmered into sight, hands on her hips and whistling an innocent tune as she slugged Watts disarmingly on the shoulder. "Heyyyyyy, look at smart guy. Remembering stuff. I mean, who's to say who really made who see a cartoon lynching of themselves in times of distress? I feel like we've all been there."

It was evident the pickpocket was enjoying being the only person in the cavern who wasn't wet above the knees, and she jerked a charitable thumb at Mercury with an exasperation-fueled roll of the eyes.

"Much as I wanna take credit, this one's all on the Little Rascal here. Getting wet is lame, so I hid. Crazy thing is Morgiana's portals all do this weird time-squeezy thing when you're traveling long distances, so he's been under for like a full minute. Just waiting."

"Worth it." He gurgled, hacking up another lung's worth.

"Yeah, was it though? Anyway. You saps coming, or is your plan to just keep being super embarrassing?" She started sloshing for the other end of the cavern past all the etchings, where the brilliant greens and golds the dust-peppered torches mounted on the wall cast across the cave illuminated a slope leading up into another passage. This one's walls and ceiling were further decorated with a more vibrant and eclectic array of graffiti, paints, pastels and chalk of dizzying variety, deftly woven into a series of murals and graffiti pieces that verged on psychedelic to walk through and all seemed to revolve around cats as figures of wisdom and reverence.

"Because seriously, if you're gonna super embarrass me it'd be a lot cooler if you like, didn't. You're about to meet my old friends, okay? My old-old friends. Do not make me look stupid."

Up ahead they could see where the slope they were ascending tapered up into another, larger chamber that emitted a more firmly golden light than the mishmash of hues they were currently bathed in.​

Watts, much like the murals on the wall, looked like a cat as well, one who'd been given an unwilling bath as he stood in the middle of the water with his arms slightly outstretched to either side and a look that didn't quite threaten murder but did have its lawyers on speeddial and got your license plate number.

"...If you're so enamoured with your associate's initial opinion of us, then I can't imagine why you'd let your partner-"

As far as being super ultra mega cool and not the epitome of embarrassing went, Cinder was already failing pretty hard at that. Even with her having expected some kind of trick, Mercury just springing up like that still got her to nearly jump out of her own skin and left her wide open for his joke ambush. She fell hard on her ass, the new clothes that she had JUST TRIED TO DRY once again soaking wet as Mercury laughed up a storm.

Yet that didn’t provoke any anger as might have been expected. Mainly because she too was laughing at her genius partner suffering the same humiliating fate. That made it both more laughable and easier to bear, and her echoing giggles rivaled even Merc’s own. But that ambush did not go unanswered either, even if he was coughing up tons of water. Her eye glowed, she waved a hand and a pretty large wave of water followed to crash into him, which only got Cinder to laugh even freaking harder.

That continued for some time even as they walked up, with Cinder only getting the last of it out of her system and regaining her composure when they neared the chamber that shined with golden light. “Right. Be cool. Don’t make you look stupid. I can do that.”

I can’t do that. She worriedly thought to herself a second later.​

He was also standing in between Mercury and Cinder, so another gush of water sloshed across the top of him mid sentence as he sputtered slightly but didn't otherwise budge his expression an inch.

"-Nevermind. Lets go"

He hoisted himself back atop his mighty steed and putzed off after emerald, the water churning beneath him as he went.

 

[Gus Gungus]

Blake's eyes narrowed ever so farther closer to shut, her eyes still locked straight ahead rather than meeting Ozwen's own. She was being pandered to, in some way. If Weiss was truly gone, her soul fully merged, it was having a far greater affect on Ozma than he had given any indication it was going to. She was not... it was not her place to stand at the side of the leaders, but behind them. More than that, No matter how great an affect the merge might have had, there wasn't any part of her that actually thought Ozma would just... release his desire to dominate, to control.

"...You are not the same master I served."

That was a simple truth.But it was not as if Ozma had not pandered to her before. Honeyed words that nonetheless rang true, promises that went fulfilled. Snake always liked to say that kind words from the devil did not have to be false; that was why they were so dangerous. Her eyes finally lifted fully to catch Ozwen's

"So let me ask then, as your 'advisor'; What are our goals? Your goals? And what do I call you?"

The evident distinctions between the man called Ozpin and whoever now settled his throne grew broader still as her lips parted in a scoff, on the precipice of a laugh and covered by a few delicately splayed fingers in a dry snapshot of aristocratic courtesy.

"Ah, the patented Belladonna combativeness. I find myself courting two very different shades of appreciation for it. Both exceptionally... patient."

Something flickered across her eyes, a gleam or sheen that sent a tremor of ancient malice pulsing out from a stare that had suddenly turned to ice, cold enough to chill the blood. An unholy uproar of Grimm rang out across the whale in answer, their wails and shrieks nowhere near as inclined to exercise patience of any sort. A single sculpted eyebrow raised, and there was sinister grace to the way she rose up from the throne like a shadow, banishing light from her presence.



"So in the spirit of patience, let's indulge this line of thinking. My goals are as they have always been, child. We make for Vacuo, claim the Sword, and let nothing stop us. Shall we forego the tiresome preamble and proceed to the question truly on your mind? You are wary. You worry for the future I promised you."

Her hands folded primly in front of her, an effortless grace inherent to this form that transcended the singes and tears in her gown as she descended the steps towards Blake one at a time.

"Don't. Rest assured, daughter, I remain the one you serve; and my resolve to carry out our vision burns brighter than ever before. You will come to learn that there were precious few vessels I could've chosen more suited to the task of bringing Salem's institutions to ruin. Just know this."

The moment she set foot off the last step, Blake felt a cold hand grip her chin and sharply jerk her gaze around to lock with her own.

"My patience is finite."

Weiss had absolutely no business holding as much nerve under the circumstances as she did, but charades of this sort had become practically second nature to her; the shift from ballrooms to throne rooms and sycophants to psychopaths were extrinsic. The charade was always the charade. It didn't matter where she was.

Or who she was facing. After all, she had deceived plenty of people who terrified her more than Blake Belladonna.

...She just couldn't think of any.

Still, her pokerface was ridiculous, the stare hard, piercing, and held until she saw some sign of assent on Blake's face, prompting her to finally let go of the faunus with a nigh affectionate brush of a thumb over her cheek and give a pithy sigh as she resumed sweeping past her.

"The adjustments I spoke of will be carried out in the name of efficiency. Ozpin was a man gripped by intemperance and vice; His disregard for those who follow him and predilection for indulging his baser impulses have cost us victories and allies at every turn. An empire that punishes loyalty cannot stand. Thrice now we have shown our hand to the world, and we have not one relic to show for it. That is an unacceptable rate of progress. As I said, I intend to correct the course."

She stopped in the doorway, framed by its ivory carvings and bathed crimson in the soft glow of the whale's bioluminescence as her hand gestured brusquely for the Hand to follow.

"Come. I am in no mood to be questioned, and I've been told we have guests in need of a proper welcome. Besides which, your sudden interest in Dragon is curious to me. Perhaps we might discuss it while we walk?"​

 

[Gus Gungus]

As far as being super ultra mega cool and not the epitome of embarrassing went, Cinder was already failing pretty hard at that. Even with her having expected some kind of trick, Mercury just springing up like that still got her to nearly jump out of her own skin and left her wide open for his joke ambush. She fell hard on her ass, the new clothes that she had JUST TRIED TO DRY once again soaking wet as Mercury laughed up a storm.

Yet that didn’t provoke any anger as might have been expected. Mainly because she too was laughing at her genius partner suffering the same humiliating fate. That made it both more laughable and easier to bear, and her echoing giggles rivaled even Merc’s own. But that ambush did not go unanswered either, even if he was coughing up tons of water. Her eye glowed, she waved a hand and a pretty large wave of water followed to crash into him, which only got Cinder to laugh even freaking harder.

That continued for some time even as they walked up, with Cinder only getting the last of it out of her system and regaining her composure when they neared the chamber that shined with golden light. “Right. Be cool. Don’t make you look stupid. I can do that.”

I can’t do that. She worriedly thought to herself a second later.

Watts, much like the murals on the wall, looked like a cat as well, one who'd been given an unwilling bath as he stood in the middle of the water with his arms slightly outstretched to either side and a look that didn't quite threaten murder but did have its lawyers on speeddial and got your license plate number.

"...If you're so enamoured with your associate's initial opinion of us, then I can't imagine why you'd let your partner-"

He was also standing in between Mercury and Cinder, so another gush of water sloshed across the top of him mid sentence as he sputtered slightly but didn't otherwise budge his expression an inch.

"-Nevermind. Lets go"

He hoisted himself back atop his mighty steed and putzed off after emerald, the water churning beneath him as he went.

"Bahahahablub—"

*Insert miniature tsunami here*



Luckily Mercury had already accepted the risks all splashers did before they committed their heinous acts, so after a momentary incredulous stare he just resumed laughing and flopped back to lazily kick himself over to the exit, expelling a pressurized jet of water from his lips like a fountain. Emerald didn't seem to share his mirth.



"Sure, Artimaeus, I could mean being wet. Or maybe I mean the way you always hijack conversations and monopolize whatever's going on in the room to prove to everyone what an unparalleled genius you are. Ever get tired of being a caricature?"

One could've surmised the idiocy happening behind them made her retort to the other more long-suffering partner more cutthroat than it needed to be, but it was clear there was more to it than that. Nerves flitted around the edges of Emerald's normally poised features, a set of furrowed brows and apprehensively pursed lips making up the finger points of a frown as she led them up the incline, eyes kept forward. As more and more of the passage started being subsumed by their destination chamber's warm tones, she spoke once more.

"So, you guys should probably know—"

"It's a Thieves Guild." Mercury summarized, making some very wet cyborg sounds as he jogged to catch up with them. Emerald made an affronted noise.

"Oh my god, it is not your stupid video game thing. The Forty Thieves—"

"—Guild—"

"—used to regulate all petty crime and thievery in the kingdom, sure, back when Morgiana's dad ran the place. But there are like, five different groups who claim they do that now. Vacuo's too spread out. Crime's gotten too bad for anyone to keep a handle on it, least of all the kingdom authorities. These guys actually used to manage pretty well; story goes their family semblance stretches all the way back to the city's old sultans, from before the War. Those runes you see everywhere." She gestured sweepingly to the wall, where it took some squinting to make out the archaic-looking emblems etched in with the rest, so fluidly were they incorporated into all the flowers and cats defining the wavy, impressionist art style. "They're... a trip. Sometimes it's like not even she knows how they work, you know? Her dad was the only other one who did, but... she lost him a few years back. Ever since she's been trying her best to keep the whole thing afloat, and..."

Her sigh spoke more to how well that was going than words could have.

"Let's just say I don't think this place exactly sees forty members anymore."

"At least they still got you to explain to everyone new who comes in what a Thieves Guild is."

"Your glib comments are enjoyed by nobody. SO—" She turned as she ascended the last few steps, walking backwards to better sell just how serious she was for this part. "Just keep your heads down, act like you belong, stick to us like glue and don't make eye contact if anyone asks you what that thing is. They're trying to steal it."

She nodded towards where Cinder was keeping the lamp concealed.

"You know what? Just don't make eye contact with anyone period! It's not like some of the less judgy huntsmen and huntresses don't come in, but new faces aren't exactly welcomed. And we should really try not to run into Morgiana while we're here, she's under a lot of stress." Mercury tried to say something, his eyes flickering behind her, but she cut him off before he could as a shadow loomed over all of them. "Oh, oh, and if you see a huge guy with muscles bigger than Hazel's—like, wall-to-wall mass, seriously you won't miss him—trust me, no matter what you do, DO NOT look at or interact with him in any—"



"EMERALD!"



That was her name, but the graceless squawk she gave as she turned around and took a large step away from the giant body she'd almost backed into, itself attached to the giant head screaming in her ear, was just about the most un-Emerald thing ever, so much so that it rendered all her talk about them not embarrassing her kind of funny in retrospect. "G-Gorgon!?" She backed up and rotated her position, trying to clear a path for him to head down and surreptitiously motion for the other three to do the same. The man mountain clasped his bushy chin between thumb and forefinger and grinned.

"The very moment I realized you were approaching backwards while speaking ill about someone I knew I had a duty to LEAP INTO ACTION, drowning you out with my mighty lungs and ensuring the wounding words never reach their subject's ears!!!! ALL IN A DAY'S WORK FOR THE BANDIT KING OF THE DUNES!!!!!!!!"

She laughed awkwardly, absolutely none of her customary pickpocket's deftness or smooth-talking poise on display. "Hey, t-thaaaaaanks, man. We're walking, we're just, you know... walking. Up. Up there. Saaaayyy, any idea where Neo and Tyrian are?"

He beamed wider. "INDEED. The air itself has been SINGING with the clang of their blades ever since they sojourned to the sparring den together an hour ago!!! I tell ya, that ape Theo could use hands like your hip young friends' to put his fleshy little lot up at the academy through their paces!!!! No amount of training substitutes for the blessing of having seen TRUE COMBAT!!!!!!"

"For sure, for sure. Tubular. Far out." She rattled off, still stiff as a board and kind of just hoping she could throw affirmations at him until he went away. "We'll, um, we'll just head that way then. Nice seeing you!"

"Hmmm!" He rumbled his approval, starting to lumber past. He stopped before Mercury, Cinder and Watts, sizing the latter two's drenched forms up and down with the special interest of a collector as his eyes drifted over the scooter and the bump where the relic was hidden under the fall maiden's coat.

Then they settled on Mercury, whose utterly confident crossed arms and knowing smirk practically spat in the face of everything Emerald was right now.

"The ankle thing?"

"You know it."

"HA HA! Classic!"

His knuckles met Mercury's in the middle as he exploded in an uproar of mirth, head thrown back and mighty shoulders heaving as he stomped down the slope for the portal room. Emerald's face had drained of all color, her eyes transfixed and unblinking as she watched him round the bend out of sight.

"That guy... has killed more people... than any of us will ever meet."

"Eh, he's chill once you figure out his tempo."

---



The vast cavern the bandit's mammoth frame eventually stepped aside to reveal was actually cooler than anticipated, a series of cozily rustic-looking huts, shanties and lean-tos built into, up and around the natural formations of the cave and interconnected by loose bridges that crisscrossed over the ink-black reservoir below. Most looked to be domiciles, though there were a few of what looked like merchants but could only be fences set up in their own stalls of rare, expensive and exotic-looking goods, including premium grade weapons and a few particularly strains of dust not available for public purchase. There was even a bar, where a few loitering toughs and rapscallion types huddled in loose throngs around tables as they conducted their business, speaking in hushed tones.

It was impressive, no doubt, but it also looked a bit less populous than it should have, and the only thing disrupting the general air of misery were the pockets of flowery graffiti scrawled over everything. Distant notes of metal on metal started to sound as they followed a catwalk around to an enclosed section of the cave, prompting Mercury to shush whoever was talking and stick a finger up in recognition. He strained for a second, listening, then sighed.

"Yup. Tyrian's winning. C'mon, Neo, seriously? You're killing us."

"Better us than Cinder, right? Maybe she'll be too tired to react badly."

"Yeah! Yeah."

Why were they even worried? This was gonna go so smooth.​

 

[MyrtenRose]

One could've surmised the idiocy happening behind them made her retort to the other more long-suffering partner more cutthroat than it needed to be, but it was clear there was more to it than that. Nerves flitted around the edges of Emerald's normally poised features, a set of furrowed brows and apprehensively pursed lips making up the finger points of a frown as she led them up the incline, eyes kept forward. As more and more of the passage started being subsumed by their destination chamber's warm tones, she spoke once more.

The nervous look on the normally pretty unflappable(or at least more than most people Cinder had met) Emerald was not missed, but after that little awkward disaster earlier, the maiden didn't comment on it as she kept pace with the older girl.​

"So, you guys should probably know—"

"It's a Thieves Guild." Mercury summarized, making some very wet cyborg sounds as he jogged to catch up with them. Emerald made an affronted noise.

"Oh my god, it is not your stupid video game thing. The Forty Thieves—"

"—Guild—"

"—used to regulate all petty crime and thievery in the kingdom, sure, back when Morgiana's dad ran the place. But there are like, five different groups who claim they do that now. Vacuo's too spread out. Crime's gotten too bad for anyone to keep a handle on it, least of all the kingdom authorities. These guys actually used to manage pretty well; story goes their family semblance stretches all the way back to the city's old sultans, from before the War. Those runes you see everywhere." She gestured sweepingly to the wall, where it took some squinting to make out the archaic-looking emblems etched in with the rest, so fluidly were they incorporated into all the flowers and cats defining the wavy, impressionist art style. "They're... a trip. Sometimes it's like not even she knows how they work, you know? Her dad was the only other one who did, but... she lost him a few years back. Ever since she's been trying her best to keep the whole thing afloat, and..."

Her sigh spoke more to how well that was going than words could have.

"Let's just say I don't think this place exactly sees forty members anymore."

"At least they still got you to explain to everyone new who comes in what a Thieves Guild is."

"Wow." Cinder muttered softly, listening in with plain interest. A guild of thieves, like a weird family of sorts. Did they have a code or bonds or oaths or anything like that...? Not that she was at all looking to sign up but the shady underbelly of kingdoms just made for such cool reading and learning about. Not to mention the extent of her knowledge on stuff like that was sorely limited to what she picked up on the several times when team WTCH had managed to mess with Valkyrie's schemes back in Vale. These guys had like an official name and a secret base and seemingly all the makings of a great book!​

"Your glib comments are enjoyed by nobody. SO—" She turned as she ascended the last few steps, walking backwards to better sell just how serious she was for this part. "Just keep your heads down, act like you belong, stick to us like glue and don't make eye contact if anyone asks you what that thing is. They're trying to steal it."

She nodded towards where Cinder was keeping the lamp concealed.

Cinder nodded back and even gave an enthusiastic thumbs up. Strongly worded suggestion received!​

"You know what? Just don't make eye contact with anyone period! It's not like some of the less judgy huntsmen and huntresses don't come in, but new faces aren't exactly welcomed. And we should really try not to run into Morgiana while we're here, she's under a lot of stress." Mercury tried to say something, his eyes flickering behind her, but she cut him off before he could as a shadow loomed over all of them. "Oh, oh, and if you see a huge guy with muscles bigger than Hazel's—like, wall-to-wall mass, seriously you won't miss him—trust me, no matter what you do, DO NOT look at or interact with him in any—"

"EMERALD!"

Holy gods I didn't know Remnant even made people in that size.​

That was her name, but the graceless squawk she gave as she turned around and took a large step away from the giant body she'd almost backed into, itself attached to the giant head screaming in her ear, was just about the most un-Emerald thing ever, so much so that it rendered all her talk about them not embarrassing her kind of funny in retrospect. "G-Gorgon!?" She backed up and rotated her position, trying to clear a path for him to head down and surreptitiously motion for the other three to do the same. The man mountain clasped his bushy chin between thumb and forefinger and grinned.

"The very moment I realized you were approaching backwards while speaking ill about someone I knew I had a duty to LEAP INTO ACTION, drowning you out with my mighty lungs and ensuring the wounding words never reach their subject's ears!!!! ALL IN A DAY'S WORK FOR THE BANDIT KING OF THE DUNES!!!!!!!!"

She laughed awkwardly, absolutely none of her customary pickpocket's deftness or smooth-talking poise on display. "Hey, t-thaaaaaanks, man. We're walking, we're just, you know... walking. Up. Up there. Saaaayyy, any idea where Neo and Tyrian are?"

He beamed wider. "INDEED. The air itself has been SINGING with the clang of their blades ever since they sojourned to the sparring den together an hour ago!!! I tell ya, that ape Theo could use hands like your hip young friends' to put his fleshy little lot up at the academy through their paces!!!! No amount of training substitutes for the blessing of having seen TRUE COMBAT!!!!!!"

"For sure, for sure. Tubular. Far out." She rattled off, still stiff as a board and kind of just hoping she could throw affirmations at him until he went away. "We'll, um, we'll just head that way then. Nice seeing you!"

Welp. Too late for her advice to not interact with the guy. At least as far as Emerald herself was concerned, Cinder just tried to make it seem like she was not staring and taking in the man's massiveness when she absolutely was and staying completely silent while she was doing so. Like, goddamn. Junior was a pretty big guy, but she knew Hazel could fold the man over if that was needed. But this guy!!! He could probably fold two Hazels over!!!! Really, what is it with people making me feel super extra small lately!!! Junior, Hazel, Tiger, this guy!!!​

"Hmmm!" He rumbled his approval, starting to lumber past. He stopped before Mercury, Cinder and Watts, sizing the latter two's drenched forms up and down with the special interest of a collector as his eyes drifted over the scooter and the bump where the relic was hidden under the fall maiden's coat.

Still, when his eyes moved over to their stuff, she was ready. She stood up as tall as she possibly could and put on her absolute best game face in an attempt at subtly warding him off from any unwelcome ideas about their things.​

Then they settled on Mercury, whose utterly confident crossed arms and knowing smirk practically spat in the face of everything Emerald was right now.

"The ankle thing?"

"You know it."

"HA HA! Classic!"

His knuckles met Mercury's in the middle as he exploded in an uproar of mirth, head thrown back and mighty shoulders heaving as he stomped down the slope for the portal room. Emerald's face had drained of all color, her eyes transfixed and unblinking as she watched him round the bend out of sight.

When he was gone, Cinder was right there with Emerald, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. "That man was huge. Huge!"​

"That guy... has killed more people... than any of us will ever meet."

"Eh, he's chill once you figure out his tempo."

The vast cavern the bandit's mammoth frame eventually stepped aside to reveal was actually cooler than anticipated, a series of cozily rustic-looking huts, shanties and lean-tos built into, up and around the natural formations of the cave and interconnected by loose bridges that crisscrossed over the ink-black reservoir below. Most looked to be domiciles, though there were a few of what looked like merchants but could only be fences set up in their own stalls of rare, expensive and exotic-looking goods, including premium grade weapons and a few particularly strains of dust not available for public purchase. There was even a bar, where a few loitering toughs and rapscallion types huddled in loose throngs around tables as they conducted their business, speaking in hushed tones.

Yeah, look at that!

A freaking cool secret base! Valkyrie's hideouts back in Vale had nothing on this! Cinder was by the edge of a walkway before anybody could even blink, leaning in with the enthusiasm of a young kid as she took it all in. If she'd had some place like this to run off to back when she was still stuck living with her parents...it would have made it somewhat more bearable. A reservoir of water that was no doubt pretty chill and so much built around it...levels that wrapped around a tree and merchants and huts and lights using the natural walls of the cave for support and and and it was just so...homely looking. Maybe odd for a criminal hideout full of cutthroats and thieves but...it really seemed pretty inviting. Appearances could be deceiving but as long as they were running with somebody who had come from this world like Emerald, then she figured they'd be a-okay.
​

It was impressive, no doubt, but it also looked a bit less populous than it should have, and the only thing disrupting the general air of misery were the pockets of flowery graffiti scrawled over everything. Distant notes of metal on metal started to sound as they followed a catwalk around to an enclosed section of the cave, prompting Mercury to shush whoever was talking and stick a finger up in recognition. He strained for a second, listening, then sighed.

"Yup. Tyrian's winning. C'mon, Neo, seriously? You're killing us."

"Better us than Cinder, right? Maybe she'll be too tired to react badly."

"Yeah! Yeah."

Why were they even worried? This was gonna go so smooth.

Cinder pulled back and followed a step behind the two as they led the way, her enthusiasm about the place fading with each footfall as she got closer to what was likely to be a very very very--

"Yeah, they've really been going at it hard. Letting out some steam or somethin'?" A sudden new voice chimed in behind them all, getting Cinder to jump into the air a little. Something that only got a laugh out of the new arrival who was clearly amused by the fright she'd accidentally given the teenage maiden. "Whoops, sorry, didn't mean to scare ya." Even the apology sounded teasing. The cocky smile Cinder saw when she looked over her shoulder only confirmed that. And also made her feel more at ease, given the smile belonged to at least a kinda sorta familiar face. "Hard to miss you coming in though, what with the big guy doin' his thing, ya know? Figured I'd check it out."

"Sup, hot stuff? Grown a little, looks like." Sun directed at Cinder, the faunus's bluish-green eyes giving the maiden a playful wink. "And sup to all ya too!" She added with a light wave of the hand.​

 

[MidwayLives]

Tyrian had taken enough time to recover from the battle with the Hitman Team and one of the Boss’s Elite Guards. His right hand had been left crushed between two slabs of concrete but after some time to let his aura do it’s thing, he’d been back in fighting shape in no time at all. Which meant that when Neo had approached him in order to spar, he’d accepted the offer without hesitation. This place had turned out to be something of a blast from the past for the faunus. He’d seen all kinds of characters come through the fighting ring as a youth. Characters similar to the kinds he’d laid eyes on that roamed through these halls. If he’d had his way and Trifa the willingness to let him indulge his urges, he’d have picked a fight with each and everyone of them.

In the end though? He’d just have to settle for Neo.

Having discarded his shirt-which by this point seemed customary for him more than anything. Helped let his muscles breath/he didn’t feel as restrained-he spread his feet apart and motioned for his diminutive opponent to kick things off while Trifa and two other tagalongs of note watched from the sidelines. In truth as much as Tyrian enjoyed a good fight, he enjoyed the company of his friend even more. Although he wasn’t as gifted a speaker as he’d have liked, they’d both suffered losses of their own and now here they were-Neo practicing without her semblance and Tyrian just working through some very much built up stress at having not been able to stop the serial killer himself-and he’d do whatever he could to help her out.

Even if in this case it meant very much beating her ass.

…..Well, maybe he wouldn’t have put it like that.

“So...who do you think’s gonna win?”

“I dunno, Char. I mean...Why are we really here, man? The others buried Abyss and bounced and we’re stuck here with a bunch of kids-”

“HEY! ….You treat Pinky with some respect alright? She and I went through some stuff together. If it hadn't been for her then the Boss would have killed me and probably got away scot-free. Would have caught up to the others and offed them like he did....."

The silence had been clear enough. Both men had their regrets for not being stronger/preventing the murder of their leader. Blanche rubbed the back of his head. Having been assumed as dead/beyond help by the remainder of their team, Char and Blanche(mostly Char)had agreed to tag along. Char had his reasons stemming from a newfound respect and loyalty for Neopolitan due to her standing against the Boss with him and Blanche? Well, he didn’t really like or appreciate being beholden to a bunch of kids-least of all ones who he didn’t really respect.-but he couldn’t abandon his partner either. They’d stick with this until they got enough lien and they’d go find the rest of the Hitman Team. Wherever they were…

Trifa sat against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. Having been subjected to periodical torture and unwanted advances by the ‘Jack’ personality of the man who prided himself as the ‘Boss’ of the Bound Ashes, her legs and arms had been beaten to such a degree that she had to be carried by Tyrian out of the mansion. Putting some time in between then and now, her wounds were healing up. Not as quickly as she’d hoped but after being held captive by a serial killer with a fetish for young faunus, she supposed it could have been a lot worse. She pulled off her mask, letting her hair floof out, as she ran a finger over her neck. Remembering how the murderer had struggled between wanting to fawn over her to hesitating at fully strangling her.

Yeah, a lot worse.

Still, as she watched Tyrian block Neo’s attempts at kicks and sweeps, she felt a great deal of unease. It would have been easy enough to be happy for one of her closest friends enjoying himself but having seen firsthand how willing Tyrian had been to commit murder if it meant getting even a step closer to the Shadow Fang/clues on who murdered Ichabod, she could only hope that anger had cooled over somewhat. It'd been something they hadn't had time to discuss but even back in the day having been a bit older than Tyrian/seeing Ichabod's old war medals collecting dust in his office, she knew that the man had never been a saint. Whoever killed him would have to answer for it but the spider faunus truly hoped that the path to get to their answers didn't also cost her the energetic kid she'd been buddies with all these years even as they'd grown apart. Keeping her eyes focused on the match, Trifa only felt that same feeling grow stronger...

~~~~



Neo was no slouch. Of course Tyrian knew that, he'd known that from the first time they'd sparred back at Beacon. Others like the Boss and even Char at first had made the ill assumption of believing that the huntress relied solely on her semblance to get her through battles. They were both wrong and both had bruises to show for it. Tyrian's semblance had potential to be devastating. Being able to erode your opponent's aura was akin to stripping an opponent of their armor with the slightest of effort. It lead Tyrian to many well fought/earned victories in the ring. But...it could also have been used 'differently' in the the wrong hands.

Like those of a person willing to do/hurt whoever they need to...Or maybe even kill.

Anybody with any combat sense at all could have seen the difference between the two fighters. Having forgone the use of her semblance in this spar to further improve her own skills, it was clear enough that Tyrian still held the advantage. Kicks to the side were blocked, sweeps were deftly avoided. Needless to say it hadn't been a cakewalk either. Tyrian was constantly pressured from Neo attacking from different angles, trying to pivot towards whichever one proved to be Tyrian's weakest spot. At the start of the sparring session, it'd been little more than a lighthearted exercise between good friends. Others like Trifa had seen it differently. As a kick caught Tyrian across the face, he skidded back, the soles of his boots scraping against the floor. He rubbed at where he'd been struck as his aura lit up ever so briefly like a shining light. A good opponent in the right state of mind might have congratulated such a well placed blow.

Tyrian just glared.

“Grrr…” Tyrian growled under his breath as Neo moved to capitalize on her previous attack's success, this time with a kick directed towards Tyrian's shoulder. If it landed it'd bring him down to a knee and open him up. One that might have otherwise landed had it not been for one thing. Tyrian’s tail lashed out and tightly wrapped it’s middle around Neo’s ankle and for the briefest of moments as their eyes met, Neo could have seen an anger burning in his eyes. It hadn’t been at all directed at her but in his eyes, Tyrian wasn’t enjoying a friendly spar with a friend he felt some common ground with. He was back in that alleyway fighting Fox or in the desolate warehouse fighting the serial killer. Two men who'd threatened someone he cared about and yet Tyrian hadn't been able to land a single blow on either of them.

All diversions. All fights he’d lost.

He just wasn’t…

“Grrr!”

STRONG ENOUGH!

He whipped Neo a bit too hard. Sending the huntress hard enough against the ground she bounced and her aura flared up. Sprinting forward to quickly close the distance between them, Tyrian lashed out with an elbow strike to knock Neo back down onto the floor. Standing over his friend and fellow huntress, Tyrian's tail raised up to loom over his shoulders. It hadn't been enough to lose to Fox. He'd been completely outmatched and it'd cost Tyrian his best avenue at getting any further information on the Shadow Fang. Not to mention that his weakness had almost resulted in Trifa nearly being killed if it hadn't been for her semblance or others like Neo and the remainder of Team MTEN/Blanco stepping in to help when they had. How...?

How was he ever going to avenge Ichabod...?

Like...?

THIS!?

He swung his fist down on a course to smash right into Neo's face.

*THWIP*

It hadn't been asked for but doing so at least made Trifa feel a bit better. Neo felt and saw a sticky line of webbing stick to her side and yoink her off to where Trifa and the duo had been standing. Tyrian's fist still came down and collided with the floor with a loud thud. Looking over in the direction of where Neo had been pulled, Tyrian turned and stopped as he saw Trifa stand up. Releasing the string of webbing so Neo could pull it off/tear it off, Trifa folded her arms across her chest. "What the hell was that?? I thought this was supposed to be a friendly match but you went at her like she'd hurt you or something, Tyrian!" Trifa looked towards Neo. "Sorry about the sudden webbing by the way. Most folks usually gotta pay for that kinda thing."

Tyrian's tail swung idly from side to side.

"We were just sparring. I don't know what you-"

"Tyrian! Look at the floor!"

Tyrian looked downwards at where he'd punched. He'd punched it hard enough that the aura around his hand had flared up.

"You got way too pissed for no reason! This chick's supposed to be your friend!"

"I....I'm...." Tyrian's tail drooped with the stinger resting against the floor.

"Sorry, Neo. I...I don't know what happened..."

Char and Blanche exchanged glances but said nothing.
​

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

The evident distinctions between the man called Ozpin and whoever now settled his throne grew broader still as her lips parted in a scoff, on the precipice of a laugh and covered by a few delicately splayed fingers in a dry snapshot of aristocratic courtesy.

"Ah, the patented Belladonna combativeness. I find myself courting two very different shades of appreciation for it. Both exceptionally... patient."

Something flickered across her eyes, a gleam or sheen that sent a tremor of ancient malice pulsing out from a stare that had suddenly turned to ice, cold enough to chill the blood. An unholy uproar of Grimm rang out across the whale in answer, their wails and shrieks nowhere near as inclined to exercise patience of any sort. A single sculpted eyebrow raised, and there was sinister grace to the way she rose up from the throne like a shadow, banishing light from her presence.

View attachment 870138

"So in the spirit of patience, let's indulge this line of thinking. My goals are as they have always been, child. We make for Vacuo, claim the Sword, and let nothing stop us. Shall we forego the tiresome preamble and proceed to the question truly on your mind? You are wary. You worry for the future I promised you."

Her hands folded primly in front of her, an effortless grace inherent to this form that transcended the singes and tears in her gown as she descended the steps towards Blake one at a time.

"Don't. Rest assured, daughter, I remain the one you serve; and my resolve to carry out our vision burns brighter than ever before. You will come to learn that there were precious few vessels I could've chosen more suited to the task of bringing Salem's institutions to ruin. Just know this."

The moment she set foot off the last step, Blake felt a cold hand grip her chin and sharply jerk her gaze around to lock with her own.

"My patience is finite."

Weiss had absolutely no business holding as much nerve under the circumstances as she did, but charades of this sort had become practically second nature to her; the shift from ballrooms to throne rooms and sycophants to psychopaths were extrinsic. The charade was always the charade. It didn't matter where she was.

Or who she was facing. After all, she had deceived plenty of people who terrified her more than Blake Belladonna.

...She just couldn't think of any.

Still, her pokerface was ridiculous, the stare hard, piercing, and held until she saw some sign of assent on Blake's face, prompting her to finally let go of the faunus with a nigh affectionate brush of a thumb over her cheek and give a pithy sigh as she resumed sweeping past her.

"The adjustments I spoke of will be carried out in the name of efficiency. Ozpin was a man gripped by intemperance and vice; His disregard for those who follow him and predilection for indulging his baser impulses have cost us victories and allies at every turn. An empire that punishes loyalty cannot stand. Thrice now we have shown our hand to the world, and we have not one relic to show for it. That is an unacceptable rate of progress. As I said, I intend to correct the course."

She stopped in the doorway, framed by its ivory carvings and bathed crimson in the soft glow of the whale's bioluminescence as her hand gestured brusquely for the Hand to follow.

"Come. I am in no mood to be questioned, and I've been told we have guests in need of a proper welcome. Besides which, your sudden interest in Dragon is curious to me. Perhaps we might discuss it while we walk?"​

The hand that gripped Blake's chin found no resistance; completely detached from the suspicious, dangerously edged words she'd spoken, pliable as a doll if it wasn't for how awful the eyes inside its head were. It wouldn't have been a stretch for Weiss to read them as sheer, undeniable proof that she was already made; that Blake had her pinned, blade practically already in hand, ready to take Weiss' throat.

But it wasn't that; The longer Weiss held her own nerve, the more it became clear that wasn't the case;

This was how Blake had always looked at Ozma. The fervent loyalty laid behind the ice. If Weiss asked Blake to take her other hand off, there was almost no doubt in the space between their eyes that Blake would do so, without hesitation. The flesh was hers to use, to wield.

If.

The If had always been there. Whether it was part of the reason Ozma had for so long been so pliable to blake's suggestion, or an amusement he entertained to keep Blake from dulling her usefulness, the same if was as clear to him as it was to Weiss; The Hand was willing to yield, bend and break whatever part of herself necessary, throw herself into the flames of war with nary a scrap of protection at their word,

If they kept to theirs.

It wasn't that Blake had any real inkling that Weiss was in control; it was a question of whether this new form would keep to that word, as Ozma had to this point.

And just as the terms of the unspoken agreement applied to him, so it applied to Weiss now; If this cursed blade thought its wielder no longer worthy, it was their own blood it would draw instead.

Whatever Blake saw in return, it was enough to keep the curse at bay; She gave a bare nod within Weiss' grip, and when she turned to leave, Blake fell into step as her shadow, her step already light and purposeful despite how haggard she still looked from all of this horrible night's events.

"As you saw, Lord- as you say, Ozwen."

 

[Schnee Corp Lawyer]

Tyrian had taken enough time to recover from the battle with the Hitman Team and one of the Boss’s Elite Guards. His right hand had been left crushed between two slabs of concrete but after some time to let his aura do it’s thing, he’d been back in fighting shape in no time at all. Which meant that when Neo had approached him in order to spar, he’d accepted the offer without hesitation. This place had turned out to be something of a blast from the past for the faunus. He’d seen all kinds of characters come through the fighting ring as a youth. Characters similar to the kinds he’d laid eyes on that roamed through these halls. If he’d had his way and Trifa the willingness to let him indulge his urges, he’d have picked a fight with each and everyone of them.

In the end though? He’d just have to settle for Neo.

Having discarded his shirt-which by this point seemed customary for him more than anything. Helped let his muscles breath/he didn’t feel as restrained-he spread his feet apart and motioned for his diminutive opponent to kick things off while Trifa and two other tagalongs of note watched from the sidelines. In truth as much as Tyrian enjoyed a good fight, he enjoyed the company of his friend even more. Although he wasn’t as gifted a speaker as he’d have liked, they’d both suffered losses of their own and now here they were-Neo practicing without her semblance and Tyrian just working through some very much built up stress at having not been able to stop the serial killer himself-and he’d do whatever he could to help her out.

Even if in this case it meant very much beating her ass.

…..Well, maybe he wouldn’t have put it like that.

“So...who do you think’s gonna win?”

“I dunno, Char. I mean...Why are we really here, man? The others buried Abyss and bounced and we’re stuck here with a bunch of kids-”

“HEY! ….You treat Pinky with some respect alright? She and I went through some stuff together. If it hadn't been for her then the Boss would have killed me and probably got away scot-free. Would have caught up to the others and offed them like he did....."

The silence had been clear enough. Both men had their regrets for not being stronger/preventing the murder of their leader. Blanche rubbed the back of his head. Having been assumed as dead/beyond help by the remainder of their team, Char and Blanche(mostly Char)had agreed to tag along. Char had his reasons stemming from a newfound respect and loyalty for Neopolitan due to her standing against the Boss with him and Blanche? Well, he didn’t really like or appreciate being beholden to a bunch of kids-least of all ones who he didn’t really respect.-but he couldn’t abandon his partner either. They’d stick with this until they got enough lien and they’d go find the rest of the Hitman Team. Wherever they were…

Trifa sat against the wall with her arms folded over her chest. Having been subjected to periodical torture and unwanted advances by the ‘Jack’ personality of the man who prided himself as the ‘Boss’ of the Bound Ashes, her legs and arms had been beaten to such a degree that she had to be carried by Tyrian out of the mansion. Putting some time in between then and now, her wounds were healing up. Not as quickly as she’d hoped but after being held captive by a serial killer with a fetish for young faunus, she supposed it could have been a lot worse. She pulled off her mask, letting her hair floof out, as she ran a finger over her neck. Remembering how the murderer had struggled between wanting to fawn over her to hesitating at fully strangling her.

Yeah, a lot worse.

Still, as she watched Tyrian block Neo’s attempts at kicks and sweeps, she felt a great deal of unease. It would have been easy enough to be happy for one of her closest friends enjoying himself but having seen firsthand how willing Tyrian had been to commit murder if it meant getting even a step closer to the Shadow Fang/clues on who murdered Ichabod, she could only hope that anger had cooled over somewhat. It'd been something they hadn't had time to discuss but even back in the day having been a bit older than Tyrian/seeing Ichabod's old war medals collecting dust in his office, she knew that the man had never been a saint. Whoever killed him would have to answer for it but the spider faunus truly hoped that the path to get to their answers didn't also cost her the energetic kid she'd been buddies with all these years even as they'd grown apart. Keeping her eyes focused on the match, Trifa only felt that same feeling grow stronger...

~~~~



Neo was no slouch. Of course Tyrian knew that, he'd known that from the first time they'd sparred back at Beacon. Others like the Boss and even Char at first had made the ill assumption of believing that the huntress relied solely on her semblance to get her through battles. They were both wrong and both had bruises to show for it. Tyrian's semblance had potential to be devastating. Being able to erode your opponent's aura was akin to stripping an opponent of their armor with the slightest of effort. It lead Tyrian to many well fought/earned victories in the ring. But...it could also have been used 'differently' in the the wrong hands.

Like those of a person willing to do/hurt whoever they need to...Or maybe even kill.

Anybody with any combat sense at all could have seen the difference between the two fighters. Having forgone the use of her semblance in this spar to further improve her own skills, it was clear enough that Tyrian still held the advantage. Kicks to the side were blocked, sweeps were deftly avoided. Needless to say it hadn't been a cakewalk either. Tyrian was constantly pressured from Neo attacking from different angles, trying to pivot towards whichever one proved to be Tyrian's weakest spot. At the start of the sparring session, it'd been little more than a lighthearted exercise between good friends. Others like Trifa had seen it differently. As a kick caught Tyrian across the face, he skidded back, the soles of his boots scraping against the floor. He rubbed at where he'd been struck as his aura lit up ever so briefly like a shining light. A good opponent in the right state of mind might have congratulated such a well placed blow.

Tyrian just glared.

“Grrr…” Tyrian growled under his breath as Neo moved to capitalize on her previous attack's success, this time with a kick directed towards Tyrian's shoulder. If it landed it'd bring him down to a knee and open him up. One that might have otherwise landed had it not been for one thing. Tyrian’s tail lashed out and tightly wrapped it’s middle around Neo’s ankle and for the briefest of moments as their eyes met, Neo could have seen an anger burning in his eyes. It hadn’t been at all directed at her but in his eyes, Tyrian wasn’t enjoying a friendly spar with a friend he felt some common ground with. He was back in that alleyway fighting Fox or in the desolate warehouse fighting the serial killer. Two men who'd threatened someone he cared about and yet Tyrian hadn't been able to land a single blow on either of them.

All diversions. All fights he’d lost.

He just wasn’t…

“Grrr!”

STRONG ENOUGH!

He whipped Neo a bit too hard. Sending the huntress hard enough against the ground she bounced and her aura flared up. Sprinting forward to quickly close the distance between them, Tyrian lashed out with an elbow strike to knock Neo back down onto the floor. Standing over his friend and fellow huntress, Tyrian's tail raised up to loom over his shoulders. It hadn't been enough to lose to Fox. He'd been completely outmatched and it'd cost Tyrian his best avenue at getting any further information on the Shadow Fang. Not to mention that his weakness had almost resulted in Trifa nearly being killed if it hadn't been for her semblance or others like Neo and the remainder of Team MTEN/Blanco stepping in to help when they had. How...?

How was he ever going to avenge Ichabod...?

Like...?

THIS!?

He swung his fist down on a course to smash right into Neo's face.

*THWIP*

It hadn't been asked for but doing so at least made Trifa feel a bit better. Neo felt and saw a sticky line of webbing stick to her side and yoink her off to where Trifa and the duo had been standing. Tyrian's fist still came down and collided with the floor with a loud thud. Looking over in the direction of where Neo had been pulled, Tyrian turned and stopped as he saw Trifa stand up. Releasing the string of webbing so Neo could pull it off/tear it off, Trifa folded her arms across her chest. "What the hell was that?? I thought this was supposed to be a friendly match but you went at her like she'd hurt you or something, Tyrian!" Trifa looked towards Neo. "Sorry about the sudden webbing by the way. Most folks usually gotta pay for that kinda thing."

Tyrian's tail swung idly from side to side.

"We were just sparring. I don't know what you-"

"Tyrian! Look at the -
​

That was as far as Trifa got before she felt something prod her in the side, and when she turned-

*bonk*

Hush thwapped against the top of her forehead, Neo's opinion on the fight being interrupted made clear despite the cracks in the gym's floor where Tyrian's fist had landed. It wasn't as if Neo was looking a hundred percent either; that last slam and elbow had hit hard enough that there was a bit of blood smeared along the side of one nostril.

Neos face told the real story though; she wasn't even looking at Trifa; her own eyes were locked with Tyrian's, a dangerous glint in her eyes and smirk on her face as she wiped the blood off the underside of her nose with her arm.

She knew that he got it; More than Mercury and Emerald, or maybe they just didn't want to get it; This was the first time they'd had an audience, but this wasn't the first time her and Tyrian had sparred over the last few months. They both had reasons, and neither of them had taken the time to discuss with the other, but they both understood each other perfectly.

They needed to get stronger.

You didn't get that way going up against an opponent that was taking it easy.

the next breath and Neo wasn't there anymore; not because of an illusion, but because she was already sliding to a stop scant inches from Tyrian's side, her foot whirling towards the underside of his chin, and Hush' top slamming down into his foot to keep him from leaning out of the way.

 

[MidwayLives]

Hush thwapped against the top of her forehead, Neo's opinion on the fight being interrupted made clear despite the cracks in the gym's floor where Tyrian's fist had landed. It wasn't as if Neo was looking a hundred percent either; that last slam and elbow had hit hard enough that there was a bit of blood smeared along the side of one nostril.

Trifa's semblance warned her but she didn't make an effort to move.

In hindsight, she probably deserved that. Stepping back and resuming her place against the wall, she sighed.

"I wouldn't worry about em, kid." Blanche finally quipped with his hands tucked in his pockets.

"But...I just don't get it. Can't it just be a friendly fight?"

"Pinky and the scorpion kid aren't mad at eachother. Least, it's not the vibe I'm gettin off em. They got their own reasons for doing this. You sticking your nose in was like you stepping on what they got going here. Blanche and I noticed from the way the faunus kid moved. Every punch, every kick, even every time he blocked. The look on his face wasn't that of a guy just paling around with his best buddy. It's of someone who's got something to prove." Char knew the look all too well. For the longest time it'd been plastered on his own face. Constantly looked down upon by his peers. The only ones who'd stood up for him were Blanche and Abyss. Blanche was his partner and he'd be there for Char no matter what. No matter how much they may have argued. They understood eachother perfectly. Abyss...She wouldn't have accepted Char as a member of the Hitman Team if she hadn't spotted some kind of potential in him. Potential that he himself didn't fully realize until Neo and her friends pulverized him. "This is their thing and ain't nobody got a right to interfere. Just sit back and watch. If you're really the kid's pal, you'll respect what Pinky and him are doin."

Blanche nodded in agreement.

Trifa didn't argue with Char's assessment. It was likely right on the money if she was being honest. Even back when she'd willingly joined up in the fight club Ichabod and a few other crueler humans ran, Tyrian always preferred to get across how he felt through fighting. It was just something that felt like second nature to him. How an artist can say so much with just the strokes of their brush and a blank canvas to work off, Tyrian preferred his own two hands and whoever was willing to take him on. Fighting was his passion and Ichabod had always praised him for a well earned victory/gave the faunus almost everything that he could ask for. Except for the very thing Tyrian had wanted most of all: public acknowledgment of their friendship. A risk that Ichabod felt would have only gave way to cries of favoritism/endanger the exuberant youth ontop of Ichabod's own personal baggage with the faunus people. The relationship Tyrian wanted just wasn't one Ichabod could afford to give. Trifa had enjoyed the company of the benefactor/war veteran. Just as she'd felt during the fight with Fox though, it'd be a lie to say that upon finding out about Ichabod's past as 'The Burning', she looked upon the memories of the 'kindly older man' ...differently.

'I suppose he's right. I left that life behind when I felt like I'd grown past it. I was able to make that choice.' It'd been as simple as telling Ichabod she'd decided to move on and that was it. Fighting for money and to satiate a crowd-many of whom likely only saw her as eyecandy and not as a fighter or even a person deserving of respect-just wasn't something she wished to spend the rest of her life doing. 'Tyrian never really got that choice.' The last she'd heard straight from Tyrian himself was that after he'd been forced to throw a fight that the other owners of the club had rigged in their favor by threatening Ichabod's life behind the scenes, a riot had ensued with Tyrian's parents forbidding him from ever having anything to do with the establishment. Although the scorpion didn't at all lay the blame at Ichabod's feet, the elder accepted his parent's wishes and declined to ever let Tyrian at the club ever again.

Something that Tyrian never truly accepted.

'...If we find whoever killed him. If we can bring them to justice. I just hope...that you don't lose sight of who you are, Tyrian.' He wasn't a terrorist like Fox or a cold blooded murderer like the Boss/Santana. He was her friend.

She hoped things stayed that way.
​

Neos face told the real story though; she wasn't even looking at Trifa; her own eyes were locked with Tyrian's, a dangerous glint in her eyes and smirk on her face as she wiped the blood off the underside of her nose with her arm.

She knew that he got it; More than Mercury and Emerald, or maybe they just didn't want to get it; This was the first time they'd had an audience, but this wasn't the first time her and Tyrian had sparred over the last few months. They both had reasons, and neither of them had taken the time to discuss with the other, but they both understood each other perfectly.

After having been scolded, Tyrian's tail hadn't risen up from where the stinger rustled against the floor.

He didn't hate Neo or hold any harsh feelings against her. Far from it actually. Time and time again she proved to be the only one who'd understood him. From having awkwardly and sheepishly trying to explain why he'd come out to Mistral(while not really saying much in the process)to a bedraggled Neopolitan to requesting her team's aid to save his childhood friend. There was a understanding between the two. One that he appreciated and Neo hadn't any need to say so much as even a single word. Seeing the look in her eyes, Tyrian saw that Trifa had been wrong. Neo wasn't a waif. A flower to be delicately cradled. She wanted to do this just as much as he did.

For reasons he could assume but they were hers all the same. If the time came and the two could find time to confide in eachother? He'd gladly welcome it.

'Never been much for talking.' Most of the people he'd grown up around hadn't paid too much mind to what he said. He was just the champ or the scrapper. Or a cocky brat that needed to be put in his place. Looking down at his weapons, he exhaled. Helping the faunus make his weapons had been the last thing Ichabod had done for him. It'd...also marked the last time that Tyrian ever saw him.

'If only I'd been there.'

'If only I'd been stronger.'

IF.

'If only I could change everything.'
​

They needed to get stronger.

You didn't get that way going up against an opponent that was taking it easy.

the next breath and Neo wasn't there anymore; not because of an illusion, but because she was already sliding to a stop scant inches from Tyrian's side, her foot whirling towards the underside of his chin, and Hush' top slamming down into his foot to keep him from leaning out of the way.

Tyrian's tail coiled up and his eyes widened at how quickly Neo had resumed the spar.

His tail swung out with the back of the stinger poised to try and knock her in the side of the head.

It stopped just inches away as her foot connected against his chin, causing him to cry out and step back. A trail of saliva flew through the air as his aura glistened under the force of the kick.

He stayed gazing up at the ceiling for another second or more.

Then his gaze met Neo's again.

'But this...this I understand.'

He moved onto all fours with his tail poised to strike. The glare had disappeared into a more excitable grin.

His fingers softly tapped against the floor before he skirted forward and let his tail take lunge after lunge, attempting to keep Neo off balance.​

 

[Gus Gungus]

The hand that gripped Blake's chin found no resistance; completely detached from the suspicious, dangerously edged words she'd spoken, pliable as a doll if it wasn't for how awful the eyes inside its head were. It wouldn't have been a stretch for Weiss to read them as sheer, undeniable proof that she was already made; that Blake had her pinned, blade practically already in hand, ready to take Weiss' throat.

But it wasn't that; The longer Weiss held her own nerve, the more it became clear that wasn't the case;

This was how Blake had always looked at Ozma. The fervent loyalty laid behind the ice. If Weiss asked Blake to take her other hand off, there was almost no doubt in the space between their eyes that Blake would do so, without hesitation. The flesh was hers to use, to wield.

If.

The If had always been there. Whether it was part of the reason Ozma had for so long been so pliable to blake's suggestion, or an amusement he entertained to keep Blake from dulling her usefulness, the same if was as clear to him as it was to Weiss; The Hand was willing to yield, bend and break whatever part of herself necessary, throw herself into the flames of war with nary a scrap of protection at their word,

If they kept to theirs.

It wasn't that Blake had any real inkling that Weiss was in control; it was a question of whether this new form would keep to that word, as Ozma had to this point.

And just as the terms of the unspoken agreement applied to him, so it applied to Weiss now; If this cursed blade thought its wielder no longer worthy, it was their own blood it would draw instead.

Whatever Blake saw in return, it was enough to keep the curse at bay; She gave a bare nod within Weiss' grip, and when she turned to leave, Blake fell into step as her shadow, her step already light and purposeful despite how haggard she still looked from all of this horrible night's events.

"As you saw, Lord- as you say, Ozwen."

Spoiler: A flicker of Weiss buried so deep down inside even Ozma is closer to the light of the sun:

Gods, everything's life or death with this woman. Is there any upside to being so self-serious?

She had kept more from her expression for longer, however, and Blake's razor-edged steel fenced with her imperious iron just long enough for them to get a satisfactory measure of each other before the nod saw her grip on the faunus break. She forged ahead, moving with a calm, dignified grace that was in no hurry to get anywhere as she led the way with palms clasped in front of her, a lightly gratified hum barely rising above the echo of their footsteps at the name Blake addressed her by.

"A little maladroit, but I suppose if I'm not quite Ozpin and not quite Weiss there are few more direct remedies than a portmanteau. Very well. Ozwen will suffice."

---

"—simply be mindful that Dragon will not survive the process."

Amid the dark cloud of uncertainty and enigma brewing around this strange juxtaposition of dark lord and Schnee, one truth was rapidly crystallizing: 'Ozwen' was every bit as fond of her own voice as the sum of her parts had been. Her gliding pace carried them to a brusque halt before another pair of ornate doors carved in bone, Ozwen turning to face Blake with hands still primly clasped and lips still just barely quirked in that ever-present magnanimous smile. The words she spoke were breezy, no more concerned or contrite than those of one recalling fond memories of a childhood pet.

"My beast's roots have grown in. It infests her like a spore by now, makes ready her vessel to receive it. Even with my own affinity for sculpting the flesh of my creations any attempt at drawing the corruption from her person would all but ensure a swift, agonizing demise."

The smile, while still serene, did show the vaguest signs of souring, the woman's sigh once more ringing with a note of exasperated distaste for the actions of a past life. Thankfully feeling distaste toward her own actions was something Weiss could claim plenty of experience in, as was deftly shrugging off any actual responsibility for said distasteful acts, all of which only served to make her facade more natural and fluid. Which was most definitely a good thing, because she imagined she was going to need every drop of silver-tongued audacity she was capable of mustering to end this on the note she wanted free of suspicion. She spoke again, words sure but carefully spoken.

"Alas, at the current rate of infection I estimate it would take a mind with insight into the Grimm years in advance of conventional kingdom practices to do anything for her."

Her lips set back in their poised smirk of assurance, and while it wasn't enough to merit suspicion outright there had to be something discomforting even to Blake's militant demeanor in just how much of Weiss Schnee there was in the cryptic twinkle in her eye when she said that, as if imparting some hidden meaning. To say nothing of how her wrist glided out to alight a few fingers against the Hand's shoulder, touch as light as a feather, holding her in place while Ozwen scrutinized her up and down.

"So, should you happen to find one you may proceed at your discretion. You... aren't presentable." She realized aloud, picking some frayed, tangled thread off the faunus's collar with a tut that espoused composure even in its frustration. Her eyes reverted back to Blake's face, equally discerning as she grasped her chin far more gently between thumb and forefinger and directed her to look up, down, then to the sides, scanning the various lines and dark circles visible in her complexion. "And are in urgent need of sleep. I expect these matters to be addressed before I next have need of you, daughter, is that understood? The faunus will not be championed by some ghastly half-dead ragamuffin, nor will I consort with one. Now go. Bathe. Rest. I'll see to it that our guests feel welcome."

She stepped away, mind seemingly having already moved on to the next thing, the next task; it was almost mechanical in its efficiency, and its focus had turned elsewhere. The words she spoke when she stepped through the doors and turned were almost obligatory, and yet as she looked back Weiss was blindsided a stab of loneliness deep in her chest that cut through all pretenses and charades, flooded her with an inescapable sorrow for what might have been; Or almost was. That sorrow threatened to undo everything, burst the dam and usher in the full scope of the complex range of emotions she felt towards Blake Belladonna.

"Thank you for the walk, Blake. It was most... enjoyable."

But it still never made it as far as her face, and before she even finished shutting the doors it was gone.

---

The figure that entered the room Masque and Raven were being kept in lingered a second or two longer than was necessary, hands gripping the doors and features out of view from their position. Both were suspended from the ceiling, wrists and ankles engulfed by tendrils bearing the color of the whale's insides and the consistency of resin, continuously dulling their auras and rendering any efforts to call on their semblances in vain.

"I'm told I find myself playing host to a pair of tribals."

Both knew the figure standing before them; Had seen her a dozen hours ago, even. But not like this.

She turned, and the searing red eyes were visible before anything else in the gloom as Ozwen stalked her way forward, hands ominously concealed behind her back.

"One who returns to us..." There was a curt, disdainful sharpness in her voice as she cast her eyes Ruby's way, aura of malice sending a foreboding quake through the air, though she willfully allowed her attention to pass over the one who craved it above all else in favor of settling her sinister glare on Raven.

"And one who has eluded us for far, far too long."

The flash of cruelty in her eyes made it readily apparent just how much she approved of the twist of irony in Raven's fate, abandoned by her allies and left alone in a darkened pit to rot.

"Tell me, as one more familiar with Salem today than I. Do you think she even knows you're here?"

Her ambling pace carried her around and behind the two, before she stepped around Raven's opposite shoulder with a followup that was softer yet somehow far more mocking.

"Do you think she cares?"​

 

[MidwayLives]

Masque hadn't stopped struggling with her restraints. Even as Tiger took her leave, she could still hear Masque's growling and snarling like a rabid animal as she went. Her arm and stump pulled and pulled at the fleshy substance holding her in place. Had the opportunity been allowed to her, it wasn't a far off guess that Masque would have been willing to lose her other arm if it meant escaping. 'I'll not be a prisoner again. I won't be...I WON'T!" She'd agreed up and down while working under Weiss that at some point she was going to have to pay some form of retribution for all that she'd done while in Ozpin's service.

She...She just couldn't do prison again.

She absolutely hated it there.

The feeling of being alone terrified her. She'd longed to return to the woods and live among them akin to a hermit. But stuck in a small room with nothing but a bed and a hardlight barrier and the insistent cries of the guards that you be silent. No, she couldn't handle something like that again. At some point Masque felt her throat burning from all the screaming she'd done and her arm aching from all the thrashing.

She just couldn't stop.

"Blake....*cough cough cough* Blake..."

Then she saw somebody in the doorway...
​

Both knew the figure standing before them; Had seen her a dozen hours ago, even. But not like this.

If you slowed down time, you'd see the exact moment Masque's heart shattered.

Weiss had given her sanctuary after she'd fled from Ozpin's side. The two had trained together, Weiss made sure Masque was taken care of.

In the end all Masque had done was disappoint her.

Her eyes followed Ozwen's movements.

Her mouth opened but nothing came out.

What was she to say?

Sorry?
​

"One who returns to us..." There was a curt, disdainful sharpness in her voice as she cast her eyes Ruby's way, aura of malice sending a foreboding quake through the air, though she willfully allowed her attention to pass over the one who craved it above all else in favor of settling her sinister glare on Raven.

....Sorry just wouldn't be good enough.

​