Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It wasn't the first time that Robyn had seen her.

The Schnee family was nothing short of royalty — not only from the people of Mantle's standing, no — even among Atlas' upper class the Schnees were regarded as the cream of the crop; nobility amongst aristocracy. It was, therefore, no surprise that they made the tabloids whenever there was anything to report, and that in consequence the whole of Remnant knew their faces. It was also no surprise that when the eldest daughter chose to pursue a military career and subsequently renounced her heirdom, the buzz lasted for weeks. Even years later, the media loved to remind people every time she appeared at military affairs or civil ceremonies. Though Robyn had come to expect seeing her picture whenever there was coverage of these types of events, she still had never gotten used to seeing that porcelain doll in the shadow of the iron general.

So yes, it wasn't the first time Robyn had seen her, but this preliminary electoral soirée was the first time that Robyn saw her in the flesh.

Of course she had known Winter was attractive, anyone with eyes could've seen as much —even from the fuzzy greyscale images plastered on Mantle's newspapers— but… seeing her in person was entirely different. It was absurd how cameras didn't do the woman justice, not in the least. She reminded Robyn of a marble statue; stunningly gorgeous, like she'd been intentionally sculpted to be the pinnacle of majesty: immaculately white, and absolutely still in her military stance. None of the other security personnel staffing the event were remotely as solemn as she.

As the evening progressed, Robyn's attention was periodically drawn to her. Maybe it was because more than once or twice, out of the corner of her eye, she thought she might've caught pale blue orbs stealing glances her way. Robyn was never quite able to catch her in the act; never able to meet her gaze, but it undoubtedly felt like she was being observed. It was probably nothing more than the fact that Robyn was the only representative from Mantle, and though she'd had impressive success in charming some of the figureheads she'd targeted in an effort to make allies, she nevertheless stuck out like a sore thumb. The rugged blonde kept telling herself that was all there was, if Winter Schnee was indeed paying her extra attention —which she wasn't even sure of to begin with. Robyn kept trying to shrug it off, but somewhere down in her gut, she felt a gaze on her. And so, in turn, she was drawn to constantly look Winter's way, drawn to constantly study her.

In doing so, Robyn was struck by Winter's iciness as guests attempted to engage with her. Whether it was attempts to strike up conversation or simple acknowledgements of her presence, it was always a matter of seconds for them to turn the other way. Winter had poise and unwavering focus, and Robyn might have thought that this stoicism of hers was motivated by a directive to avoid mingling, but… it didn't take long for her to notice that the rest of the military personnel present did lightly engage with guests. Not excessively, of course, but they all seemed downright welcoming compared to that ivory figure. Robyn could only conclude that, curiously, the suitably-named Winter Schnee chose to frigidly ward off anyone addressing her.

Or rather, not anyone, Robyn noticed.

Winter wasn't so stone-faced when the Atlas-appointed 'Protector of Mantle', that weapon dressed in a skirt, would check in with her. And from there, it didn't take long for the most unexpected detail to jump out at Robyn.

In a similar, very subtle way, Winter's expression would change when she was addressed by the service people. Her borderline hostile, icy features would soften as she politely nodded at them, silently declining food or drinks.

As Robyn watched this unfold, it was hard not to connect the dots. It appeared that Winter actively applied herself to chasing away the wealthy, almost as if this Schnee disdained their social status and opulence. And if that was an accurate assessment, then it was really no wonder that she'd abandoned her heirdom for the regimented life of the army.

With this realization, suddenly, Robyn couldn't possibly have been more interested in anyone.

Curiosity itched at her, and there was no ignoring that itch — there never was. Maybe it was for this insuppressible urge to uncover the truth that she had developed her semblance, or maybe having developed this compulsion was an unfortunate consequence of having been blessed with that very semblance… but when there was something Robyn was curious about, she just couldn't leave things alone. So, before she knew it, she found herself heading Winter's way.

Having been unable to make eye contact the entire evening, Robyn hadn't realized how acute Winter's gaze was until it was spearing through her. However, it wasn't its sharpness that threw her off, no. What really threw her off was that the moment those crystal clear blue orbs met her own… Robyn's gaydar — horns, bells, sirens, and all — blared red alert. In the same instant, Winter Schnee's unforgivingly severe gaze vacillated, leaving her unsettled for not even half a second. Had she realized she'd been clocked? Or was it clocking Robyn in return that destabilized her?

As if Winter wanted to shake off what had permeated the air for a second, she promptly returned her attention to the crowd. As if she wanted to pretend Robyn wasn't directly headed to her, she stubbornly refrained from looking her way again.

The tall blonde moved to stand next to her newly appointed target. It was a bit of a surprise that the top of the white head of hair barely reached her eye level; from the pictures, Robyn had expected her to be much taller. Winter was in heels too.

For a moment, Robyn stood at her side, watching the crowd as she was, waiting to see if Winter would acknowledge her at all. It rapidly became clear that she wouldn't, so it was up to Robyn to make her do so.

"You seem uncomfortable," Robyn commented to break the ice.

Her icy disposition remained; "I'm not here to be comfortable," was the rigid answer she received.

"Evidently not," she noted, assessing Winter's military stance. Robyn had a nagging feeling that professionalism wasn't the only reason for her stiffness. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it seemed to her like the other woman had an anxious edge. It seemed to her that… Winter might be more relaxed when looking down the barrel of a dust-loaded weapon than she was in the midst of Atlas' bourgeoisie. "What I meant was that you look… actually ill at ease. Way beyond just being on duty," Robyn tried to explain.

No answer this time.

Robyn nevertheless elected to wait for one, observing her. Staring openly didn't seem to impel Winter to indulge her any further but the tan blonde cocked her head, far from discouraged. "I would've thought receptions like these would be your element. Given your upbringing and all."

That comment had clearly hit a nerve; Winter's jaw visibly tensed. "It was never my thing," she groused between clenched teeth.

"...I see," Robyn mouthed awkwardly. "It's not my thing either," she offered.

"Never would've guessed," Winter dryly rejoined.

Robyn raised her eyebrows. "Are you trying to tell me that I don't fit in?"

"To say it nicely."

"Hmm." Given the interactions Robyn had observed with blue collars staffing the event, she hadn't expected Winter to be so cold, not to her anyways. Robyn might've been a guest, but she wasn't part of the upper-class. "Are you always this… delightful?"

"Yes."

"Must be fun for your friends," the blonde commented.

"I don't have any," she flatly answered.

Robyn couldn't tell if she was just saying that, or if it was true. "Most people have at least one or two friends."

"I guess I'm not most people."

She couldn't help but laugh. "That's an understatement."

Winter shot her a wary glance, and again, something almost tangible passed between them when their eyes met. It was an enticing heat suddenly enveloping Robyn, drawing her in, constricting her chest, and… it looked like she wasn't the only one troubled by the heavy pull this chemistry exerted. Once more, Winter couldn't sustain her gaze, and she returned her cool blue eyes to the crowd. Robyn didn't know what possessed her to say what came next; "Maybe we could be friends someday?"

Scoff. "No."

Without knowing what she'd expected, Robyn was nonetheless a little stung. "You didn't even think about it," she lamented.

"I don't need to."

"Why not?"

Winter frowned, still looking out in the distance. "You know why."

Of course she knew why. On one hand, it wouldn't look good for the General's most trusted agent to mingle with a political opponent, and on the other, it wouldn't look good to the people of Mantle for their champion to buddy up with a Schnee.

"What if I don't?" Robyn nevertheless proposed.

"Please," Winter groused, "you're not a fool."

"What if I am a fool?"

"Then my dismissal is all the more justified."

"…Harsh."

"Truthful."

Robyn leaned into the wall, her untouched drink forgotten in her hand. The music filling the room fit the haughtiness of the event. She realized she had lost all desire to mingle, all desire to charm the people she should be attempting to win as allies. Instead, she found herself again looking over at the fixture of a woman she had set her mind to ascertain.

"Do you stand rooted in place like that at every event the General requires you to monitor?"

"Yes."

"Isn't that intimidating for the guests?"

"Not my problem."

Her unwillingness to converse was downright impressive. "Isn't it sorta? I'm sure part of the reason he has you attend is because it's expected for you to be accustomed to receptions like these, and know how to navigate them."

Winter exhaled inaudibly. Her eyes followed a figure somewhere far off at the other end of the room. "He has me attend for security. Nothing more."

"He could pick anyone else for security, doesn't have to be you," Robyn argued.

"All Specialists available are mandated to attend those high-profile events," she curtly explained.

"Specialist?" Robyn repeated in surprise. "Like, Special Ops?"

It had been obvious enough to everyone that this Schnee was a high-ranking official, but unlike Clover Ebi and his team, unlike the 'Protector of Mantle,' Winter's title and her purpose at the General's side remained somewhat nebulous to the broad populace. This in turn gave everyday folks the widespread impression that this woman's mysterious functions might've been bestowed on her for the prestige of her lineage. That popular perception had never sat well with Robyn; given that family's famous hereditary semblance, it was just self-evident to her that Winter was in all likelihood a phenomenal warrior, that she had deserved her position, but… "I had no idea you were that good."

It was almost imperceptible, but it seemed to Robyn that Winter puffed her chest slightly in pride.

"I'd love to spar with you sometime," she continued, encouraged by that positive shift in the other woman's demeanor. Robyn was capable enough as a fighter, but it wasn't her primary vocation and she certainly hadn't had her skills honed by facing peril as often as a military operative. She had no real hopes of facing her on equal footing, but Robyn had never been one to let the odds discourage her.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Are you a fool?"

"I don't know, you're starting to make me think I might be," Robyn grinned.

Winter pursed her lips in discontentment. She continued to obstinately look out into the distance.

In the ensuing silence, a waiter passed by, presenting them some fancy hors-d'oeuvres. While Robyn had been determined to stay sober and in full possession of her wits, she had no qualms about trying the food, and she picked one, thanking him.

Winter's hands remained firmly clasped behind her back and she declined what was offered to her with an almost imperceptible nod of her head. Again, her expression had softened. It was impossibly subtle, but Robyn nevertheless noticed, and she really enjoyed seeing how courteous Winter was with the staff.

"Are you not allowed to eat?" Robyn piped up, her motivation to worm her way into the other woman's mind reinvigorated.

"I'm on duty."

"Doesn't seem to stop the rest of the military personnel," she pointed out. "Every single one of them."

"Penny's not eating."

Robyn snorted. "Did you just compare yourself to a machine?"

"Don't call her that," Winter sharply said.

"What? A machine?" She repeated. "Isn't that exactly what she is?"

"Her body may be artificial, but her aura isn't," Winter explained, the tone of her voice yielding from its glacial, disengaged annoyance to something fiercer, almost emotional. "Penny has a heart and a soul, and that makes her as much of a person as anyone else in this room."

Robyn was left a little stumped. Not only was that the most Winter had spoken at once, it also sounded like they were her genuine words and not a rehearsed answer she'd been instructed to recite. It seemed that the ice queen wholeheartedly believed the Protector of Mantle to be a person… whom she evidently cared about. Which, all in all, explained Winter's gentle behavior when interacting with her. And though Robyn wasn't quite sure what to think of this new piece of Atlas ingenuity, she decided that, for the purpose of this conversation, she'd at least indulge the white warrior. "Okay. But unlike any other person in this room, she doesn't need food, does she?"

"She doesn't." Winter concurred.

"But you do," Robyn then followed up. "Or is your body also artificial?"

"I'm flesh and blood."

Robyn gasped in fake surprise.

Winter tsked disapprovingly and again silence fell. After a minute, she glanced at Robyn from the corner of her eye, an annoyed expression on her face. She looked away just as quickly. "...Why are you still here?" She asked, clearly exasperated. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

The small victory of having pushed her past her apathetic and unfeeling front made it hard for Robyn to suppress the grin that threatened to grace her lips. "Do I bother you?" She nonchalantly asked.

Winter was starting to look upset. "I don't understand what you're gaining with this."

The smile broke upon her face, Robyn no longer able to hold it back. "I don't know, I came over to you because I thought you wanted to chat."

Her expression progressed to something like disbelief bordering on revulsion. "Doubtlessly, you've gathered by now that I don't."

"Oh yeah," she admitted. "You've been plenty disagreeable, plenty enough for me to catch the drift."

"Yes! And yet, you're still here!" She denoted in irritation.

Robyn hadn't expected her to acknowledge being deliberately unpleasant. "I'm still here," she concurred. "I don't know, I keep thinking you might've wanted something. You've been staring at me all evening."

"You've successfully put yourself on the map by stirring the masses, of course I'm keeping an eye on you," Winter explained, becoming more and more exasperated.

"Aaah," the tall blonde leaned closer. "Is that what it was?"

"What else would it have been?"

"My dashing charm," Robyn amusedly answered.

At this, Winter turned her head the other way, such that Robyn couldn't see her profile or her expression anymore. "…No," she murmured somewhat disdainfully.

Attempting to see what Winter had felt the need to hide, Robyn leaned over a little further. "Are we sure about that?"

Winter seemed to realize what she was doing and at once turned to meet her with a harsh glare. "Very sure," she snapped.

To Robyn, it spoke volumes how defensive the other woman had gotten over that playful suggestion, and she couldn't help the ever-widening smirk that stretched her lips. "Would you hold my hand and re-answer that?" She asked, extending her arm.

Winter turned her way completely, facing her for the first time through this conversation. To Robyn's surprise, she extended her hand in return, but didn't take hold of the other woman's. "I will if you want to be seen in public testing one of the General's most trusted operatives," she challenged.

Though she'd only been half-teasing her when she suggested using her semblance, how terrible of an idea it would be, only hit Robyn when she was presented with the opportunity to actually do it. Yes, the question posed was completely innocuous to the affairs of the state... but no one around them could know that. What everyone would see would be Robyn extracting the truth out of a high-ranking official... and that wouldn't be a good look.

A shame. She really would have wanted to know if it was indeed true that the only reason Winter had been watching her was for her political notoriety. Robyn dropped her hand at her side.

In turn, Winter clasped her hands behind her back once more. Eyes steadily riveted to the taller woman's, she remained stone-faced even though she'd managed to get Robyn to back down. Winter didn't seem even a tiny bit self-satisfied.

As someone who undoubtedly would have smugly rubbed it in, the blonde couldn't help but wonder if it was that gloating wasn't part of Winter's personality, or if she didn't derive any gratification from winning a word match. It might've been that this ivory statue would have gloated over gaining the upper hand in a swordfight.

"Miss Hill," a deep voice interjected. "I see you've met my best, Special Operative Schnee."

Robyn turned her attention to the man who'd joined them. "That I did," she answered, her smile returning. "She's great company."

Winter rolled her eyes.

The General laughed, and Robyn could only deduce he knew how his right hand behaved towards guests at events like these.

It was midday; the Happy Huntresses had gathered for Robyn's report of the previous evening. Following Robyn's impressions of and interactions with important political players who'd attended the event, they readjusted their campaign plan and strategy. Robyn had only recently risen to enough prominence to be considered a serious candidate for the council's open seat, and though she believed in her odds more and more every day, it was still all new to her and her team, and there was quite a lot of course correction to do.

As if the campaign wasn't already enough of a handful, reports of confiscated dust shipments being rerouted to the middle of nowhere started surfacing. The first hearsay of this sounded like nothing but fiction, but as other sources reported similar sightings, it became quite obvious it wasn't something to turn a blind eye to. Robyn knew that vigilante work might not make her very popular with the bourgeoisie she was trying to mingle with, but she would be damned if she let dubious operations compromise the safety of Mantle. She decided to split her team for now, delegating Fiona and Joanna to the initial task of determining where the dust shipments originated from and on what schedule they departed, while she and May would keep up their work on the campaign. Convenient, since Robyn had been itching to poke and prod her remaining teammate about a ghost from her past.

Once alone with her, Robyn turned to her friend. "May?"

Her blue-haired teammate didn't raise her head from her scroll, still in the midst of reordering her notes from the meeting. "Yeah?"

"You… went to Atlas Academy around the same time as Winter Schnee, didn't you?"

"She was in my grade," May confirmed. "What about her?"

Robyn strolled closer to where the other woman was sitting, circling her. "She was at the party last night," she opened with her best air of nonchalance. "Any impressions of her you wanna share?"

May still wasn't stirred to glance up at her team leader. "What did ya wanna know?"

Still trying to be as casual as possible, Robyn leaned to half-sit on the table. She crossed her arms and gave a shrug. "Dunno… How was she as a student?"

"Not much to say," her friend answered dismissively. "Probably what you'd expect. She was always top of the class, always awfully serious. Didn't have friends."

"No friends?" Robyn repeated, a little startled. Winter had indeed very plainly told her as much, but… she had pegged it as an exaggeration. "What about her team?"

"Well, she had one, if that's what you're asking," May answered, only stating the obvious; all academies worked with the four-person-team system after all. "But as far as anyone could tell, they were sort of estranged from her."

"So she was a loner." How utterly unsurprising. "You think she figured she was too good to mingle?"

The Happy Huntress paused and raised her head in thought, letting her gaze wander on the ceiling. After taking a moment to reminisce, visibly dredging up and examining old memories, May at last made eye contact with Robyn. "No, I don't think that's what it was. It wasn't like Winter looked down on other people, it was more like…" she trailed off, thinking it through. "Maybe more like, she had no energy left to socialize? Because she was always absorbed in studying and training. Like, excessively wrapped up in it."

Robyn gave a thoughtful hum, finally slumping down in a chair. May's account very much fit the impression Robyn had gotten from observing Winter that evening.

Now that she'd been pried from her notes, the gears started to turn in her head, and May scrutinized her team leader skeptically. "Why are you suddenly interested in her?"

With a nonchalant shrug, Robyn put on her best guileless air. "I told you, I saw her at the party."

It didn't fool her. "You see dozens of new people every time there's any sort of event," May argued.

"Yeah, but you know her, not all these other people, so I'm asking you about her, that's all," Robyn argued in a last ditch attempt to dismiss suspicions.

But May left her scroll on the table and turned towards her, completely abandoning what she'd been doing in favor of investing herself completely in the conversation. "I don't know her. I've been to school with her. It's not the same," she pointed out. "While some of these 'other people' are my cousins and uncles, who I do know and who you're not asking about."

Robyn held eye contact with her teammate for a few seconds, vaguely vexed with her astuteness. Finally, she groaned, giving up her feigned nonchalance. "Fine," she surrendered. "Seeing her got me curious about her, okay? Winter really didn't come off the same way her father does. You know what I mean?"

May squinted one eye dubiously. "Yeah, okay. She doesn't. So what?"

"Well, I don't know, maybe that's worth looking into?"

"Like what? What for? Making her sympathetic to our cause?" May speculated, evidently completely lost as to what her team leader actually meant to propose. "...Are you thinking that making friends with her might eventually have her give up some info about what Ironwood's up to?"

Robyn shrugged, opting to let her believe that any interest was indeed purely strategic. "...I don't know. Maybe. I mean, you'd know better if she might, you've been around her for four years. You have a better idea of who she is."

At last, May lost her suspicious edge. She laid back in her chair. "Like I said, I wasn't friends with her. No one was friends with her," she reiterated. "A lot of them tried in the first year... you know how people tend to flock to the Schnee name and fawn over it, trying to cozy up with them. But Winter wouldn't have it." May smirked at the memories this evoked. "It was sorta fun to watch," she commented, a hint of laughter in her voice, and then shook her head. "But yeah, by the end of the first year, everyone had gotten the message, and it looked like being alone suited her. Like I said, she was just completely wrapped up in performing academically and kept her head down." She cocked her head, as if she had suddenly remembered something else. "Rumour went that she was personally recruited by Ironwood before the end of our second year, and sure enough, as soon as she graduated, she went on to be whatever he's got her doing."

"Specialist," Robyn said. "All the Special Ops were there. There were other soldiers posted outside, but only Specialists and their robot puppet were inside the Hall."

"Maybe she's got another title, like the 'Protector of Mantle'," May suggested.

"Nah, I got it confirmed, she is a Specialist," Robyn said, deciding to omit who she got it confirmed from. She cleared her throat. "Guess all that studying paid off," she then added, trying to guide her friend back to her account of their academic days.

"Yeah, guess so," May contemplatively rejoined, unstirred to continue.

"It's sort of admirable to be so focused on a goal from so young," Robyn persisted.

For a few seconds, it felt like that's where the conversation was going to end. May seemed absorbed in her thoughts, staring at her scroll abandoned on the table. "I don't know if it was focus," she pondered, taking the bait to Robyn's great delight. May turned to her again, an unsure frown gracing her features. "Maybe from when Ironwood recruited her, then it became focus, but… I don't know. She'd been training hard from the very beginning, but in the first year, Winter always had that sober, sort of grim expression. Nothing like resolve or focus…" May trailed off, making a circular motion with her hand, trying to pinpoint a suitable descriptor. "I don't know. She was bleak and gloomy, so it looked more like she trained the way she did out of… maybe… desperation?"

This was not what Robyn had expected. "Desperation?"

Her friend frowned at her own word. "It's the only way I can put it," she explained. "You know. Like someone trying to lose themselves into what they're doing. Like they've got nothing else."

"But she had so much," Robyn mused out loud, and as she said this, it hit her. All that Winter had, she had given up. Unlike her younger sister who'd recently been disinherited — which in and of itself was an entirely different brand of impressive — Winter had renounced what would have been rightfully hers. She didn't want it; it made her unhappy.

For a moment, May stared at the tan blonde wordlessly, they'd both seemed to have realized the same thing.

"Money doesn't buy happiness," May eventually stated, voicing what they were both thinking. If anyone could understand that sentiment, she could. She'd also been born with a silver spoon, and just like Winter, had turned her back on that world and its expectations. The blue-haired girl had grown more austere. "It's such a cliché, but it really doesn't. It didn't for me, and obviously, it didn't for her either," she vented, her expression having turned downright somber.

Robyn knew that this shift in mood was in part because that period of her friend's life had been one of the hardest, and reminiscing about it never left her unaffected. "Hey," she called gently. "No need to dive into it, don't do this to yourself."

May shook her head. "No, I'm fine. It's been a while since I've thought of my school days. But looking back now, how Winter acted… it reminds me a lot of how I was myself," she carefully said. "And... you know. I wasn't doing good," she then added with a sour, forced laugh.

What an understatement. Before transitioning, May had been suicidally depressed. Shedding her old life had been her saving grace.

Robyn took the time to let this sink in. May was suggesting that, albeit not to the same catastrophic depth, Winter had also been suffering from depression back then. And though Robyn had a hard time imagining that statue of a woman struggling with such internal conflict, it wasn't too hard to imagine why someone in her shoes might struggle at all.

All the evidence corroborated the idea that Winter detested that high-society world, so it was a given that she would have despaired at the prospect of inheriting her father's position and estate. With such a burden as the unwanted inheritance of the corrupt SDC monopoly, with the burden of what keeping it afloat entailed — the endless power games, curtsies and fake smiles — and with its ruthless corporate capitalism and the moral weight of its atrocities… that in and of itself would be ample reason to make one want to back out of such an inheritance.

But the cherry on top of the sundae? What if Winter was indeed gay, as Robyn was pretty certain she was? This wasn't Mistral or Vacuo — even Vale was leagues ahead in how they responded to such differences. How backwards the Atlas elite was about all this was why May had ended up making her life in Mantle. Atlesians were likely to shun business relationships over something like this, and the SDC might very well have run to bankruptcy should it come to light that its CEO was a 'deviant.'

Robyn sighed gently. She couldn't imagine being a teenager and living under that sort of pressure. "I can see how she might not have been doing good either," she commented. "If Jacques Schnee was my father and he'd laid out a life plan for me to follow in his footsteps, I'd have been depressed too."

"I don't know that she was depressed, it's all speculation," May reminded her. "But… yeah. From someone who's been through it, it definitely looks like it in retrospect."

"...And you claimed there wasn't much to say," Robyn mused.

"I never took the time to think about it," she shot back. "Plus, I haven't seen her in ages, I had no reason to think back on it."

"We see her all the time in the papers," the tan blonde pointed out.

"I don't take a trip down memory lane every time one of the rich heirs I knew from Atlas Academy shows up in the papers, there'd be no end," May bemoaned, rolling her eyes. She shook her head. "But hey, if Winter was depressed, it looks like being recruited by Ironwood fixed it for her. It looked like she was doing fine starting halfway through our second year and on."

If one was to be uplifted by the prospect of the regimented life of the military of all things… Robyn had to assume that whatever avenue Ironwood had offered her, Winter at least found purpose in it. Finding direction and meaning in the path they'd chosen is the only way Robyn could imagine that a military life might make anyone happier. It was enough to make Robyn wonder what part of Winter's duties could be so important that one would feel it gave their life purpose. The blonde hummed to herself. "When you say she was fine from then on, are you going by mutual friends' reports, or just from looking back you think she acted normal?"

May made a face. "Err... she acted normal-er," she corrected. "Winter never really acted like a normal teenager, she was always way too serious, almost like a machine. And we didn't have friends in common, she still didn't make friends."

That again. "Seriously? No one ever tried being friends with her in four years?"

"I told you they did, a lot of them tried. But she was never easy to approach, and then she renounced her inheritance, which made her less interesting to these people. So everyone just let her be."

"Everyone?" Robyn repeated, a little skeptical. She, for one, knew she wouldn't give up so easily, so she had to consider that at least one group might not be deterred so fast. "...Even hormonal teenage boys? With such a pretty face?"

May snorted. "Sure, they tried. Until she rejected so many of them that people started saying that she was a lesbian, which, you know the people up there, it made her even more of a pariah."

Robyn's eyebrows shot up. Though it might've been a rumor started out of spite, she had the impression that they might've been more right than they knew.

May knew Robyn well enough to read her mind from her expression. "I don't know, maybe?"

"Maybe?"

Her teammate gave a shrug. "It's not like I have any proof, or even any concrete reason to think so, but… even before the rumors started, it did cross my mind back then that she might be some flavor of queer."

"Takes one to know one," Robyn mused, crossing her arms as a nagging smile grew on her lips.

May again leaned back in her chair, staring at her with interest. "Which means you also got that impression when you saw her?"

"Yeah, I couldn't shake it off," she said, feeling herself grin in maybe a little too satisfied a manner. Robyn's split-second assessment didn't seem to have been wishful thinking, and her excitement over this was hard to suppress.

How obviously thrilled she was tipped her friend off; May's face fell. "Wait — that's what you'd been wanting to know all along?"

Busted. Robyn put her hands up defensively. "Not only that, but... I did wonder if you'd confirm my suspicions."

May stared at her like she'd grown a second head; of course she now understood where Robyn's interest truly stemmed from, why it was Winter Schnee who Robyn got so curious about and not Clover Ebi or any of the other Special Ops. May knew exactly what type of woman made her team leader's head turn. "Please don't tell me you're interested."

"I'm not interested," Robyn immediately defended, though aware they both knew it wasn't true.

May shot up, slamming both hands on the table. "Robyn."

"I mean… I've been thinking—"

"No!" She seethed. "Are you crazy? No thinking about it!"

"It's too late for that," she admitted. Somehow, the white figure had occupied her mind since that evening, and Robyn had to admit… her mind's eye had played her a sequence of scenarios in which Winter was much, much warmer to her than her name inspired.

"Well leave it at that; a thought, nothing else. Stay away. Far away."

"Uh… what if I… maybe talked to her a bit?"

May's expression gradually lost its irate tautness, leaving room for incredulous distress to take its place. She plopped back down in her chair "…Officially the worst idea you've ever had."

Robyn shrugged, standing in turn to start pacing the room. "Admittedly, one of the worst, yeah," she acknowledged with a sigh. "But I don't know. I just keep thinking back on the evening… and I really had to talk to her."

"No, you didn't," May argued stubbornly. "In fact, you specifically didn't. You had a clear list of people you had to talk to, and she wasn't on that list," she ranted, a little vexed. "I made that list."

"Yes, okay, true," Robyn nodded walking around the table to sit adjacent to her friend. "But... I couldn't help it, I was too curious," she admitted, knowing her teammate was well aware of how often Robyn's near insuppressible impulses got her into trouble. "You weren't there, May," she pressed, holding eye contact in an attempt to convey her earnestness. It had been a sight to see how completely stoic and unapproachable the woman had been when any guest tried talking to her, and how in contrast, the ice queen's expression thawed for the staff; for the common people. "It was insanely obvious that she not only disliked the guests, but she also respected the workers," Robyn explained. "It took me by surprise."

May shrugged, unswayed. "Respect for the working class isn't too unexpected coming from someone in the military, isn't it?"

"Hmm." She should've realized that. What with being drilled, dragged through the mud, stripped of all comfort, made to do chores, and training until exhaustion… it was part of every recruit's training, no matter their social status or money in the bank. Of which Winter probably didn't have much left if any anyways, having cut ties with her family and inheritance. Although… from May's account, Winter's dislike for the wealthy dated further, at least to their Academy days. "Don't you find it interesting that a Schnee would turn out like that?"

"...Not really," May countered. "I don't know what Jacques Schnee does to his children, but Winter's not the only one who went rogue. Look at what happened with Weiss. Two months ago, the undead Grimm at that reception and then, what…? A week later? She smuggles herself on a dust ship to fuck off and disappear. Still no word of where she's at."

"No need to remind me," Robyn said, feeling herself grin. When the news of that had broken, she'd laughed like she hadn't laughed in a long time. "Okay, so Winter's not the only one, but until these two, the Schnees have always been haughty aristocracy… Doesn't it make you curious? Not even one bit?"

"You're overthinking it."

"Don't I need to, if I want to win her over?" Robyn shot back, realizing the mistake she'd made as soon as the words left her mouth. "I mean, get her on our side, you know?"

May didn't look happy. "Did Winter give you any signs that it wouldn't be useless to try to win her over?"

"…Not really."

"Not really, or not at all?"

The blonde cleared her throat. "She was pretty abrasive when I tried talking to her," she sheepishly admitted, the evening replaying in her mind. "It was kinda obvious she was doing her best to say as few words as possible and be as disagreeable as possible so I'd leave her alone."

May was unimpressed. "And you didn't think you should've just… left her alone?"

"That's no fun," Robyn shot, smiling. But her friend seemed more and more deeply unamused as the conversation went on, so she quickly continued. "I don't know… I don't want to leave her alone, especially not after what we just figured out," she earnestly said, trying to appeal to her friend's soft side. They had no concrete proof for any of it — that Winter abhorred Atlas' upper class, that she'd been depressed at all, or that she might be in the closet — and yet Robyn felt certain that they were correct in their assessment. Robyn stood up again, reinvigorated with decisiveness. "She's like you, May. Even back then, she felt like she didn't belong with the people up there in Atlas. She's not like them and she doesn't like them."

Maybe it was how firmly and certainly Robyn had affirmed this, but May's sour mood eased. She gave a small sigh; "Yeah, okay. I can see that."

"Maybe she'd have been happier if she chose to live freely down here, like you did," Robyn speculated, encouraged by at last getting a favorable reply. "Maybe she didn't see that option back then, so she chose the first escape route she saw."

"She made her choice when she committed to the military," May idly pointed out.

"Maybe she didn't realize there were other paths," Robyn proposed, undeterred.

To which, her teammate didn't just roll her eyes, she rolled her entire head on her shoulders with a groan. "Whether she did or didn't, it's not your problem. She's a grown-ass woman, let her live her life the way she damn pleases. Stop thinking of 'what ifs'."

"I can't not think about it! I mean, imagine how valuable an asset she'd be to us now that she's been Ironwood's darling pupil for years!"

"Yeah, I can imagine all sorts of other unlikely shit that'd be helpful too; what if Ironwood fell on his head and suddenly cared about Mantle and not just Atlas? What if the heating grid magically got renovated? What if the SDC miners had healthcare?"

Robyn squinted at her. "Be serious."

May sighed. "I am serious. My point is, it's wishful thinking. You're getting excited about this idea you have of Winter, but she doesn't seem to me like the type that'd betray her entire life and career just 'cause you're batting your eyelashes at her," she pointed out. "Leave her alone, it's not worth it. You'd only be wasting time and effort"

Her friend wasn't wrong, and Robyn almost felt herself sway. It was true that she was going out on a limb, getting fired up about someone she knew nothing about, getting excited over the assumptions they were making. But her mind's eye again showed her Winter's frigid and callous interactions with the rich guests and her comparative gentility to the working people, and it reinvigorated Robyn's resolve. "No," she disputed. "It's not a waste of time." The vivid image of Winter's vacillating gaze as their eyes met for the first time, and the memory of how, in spite of her best efforts, Winter couldn't remain unfazed when Robyn had dared a playful flirt insisted on worming their way to the forefront of her mind. Robyn shook her head. "You weren't, there May. You haven't seen what I've seen, or how she looked at me. She doesn't like these people, and she's curious about m—…us," she carefully corrected. "She's curious about what we do, what we're fighting for. It's not a waste of time."

"Curious about you?" she repeated, unashamedly exposing her friend's lapsus. "In what way do you mean all that exactly? When you say it's not a waste of time, are you talking about gaining her as an ally, or your chances to woo her?"

"Both?"

"Both, but mainly the second," May confirmed.

Robyn took it in stride. "If I do, odds would be that she'd also become an ally," she pointed out, as if she was being completely reasonable.

May mouthed warily; "...it's a terrible idea, Robyn."

"But is it really?"

"Yes!" Her friend exclaimed in disbelief. "Forget about the fact that you're both on the opposite end of the political spectrum… How do you think it'd look to your supporters, seeing you be all over Atlas' royalty? All that not even knowing if she could ever be interested in you?" She shook her head. "And the icing on the cake? It's not just one of your opponents she's linked to, but two," she reminded , holding her index finger up. "Jacques Schnee." She held out a second finger. "James Ironwood."

Robyn's lips stretched in a bleak smile. "Both her daddies don't like me," she commented with a dejected laugh. Being reminded of it was a sobering fact, and she felt her mood dampen. "I know very well," she repeated, a little grimly.

She hadn't been interested in anyone in a very long time now, and she just had to be drawn to the most challenging and unattainable candidate possible, didn't she? Because, after all, was there any other woman out there who might be a worse choice than Winter Schnee? Robyn certainly couldn't think of any.

And yet, she knew herself enough to know that should she give up without trying, doubts and regrets would forever plague her.

"...Why can't you just find a nice girl down here in Mantle?" May posed, unknowingly echoing the other woman's thoughts. "Why do you go and do that to yourself?"

Robyn shrugged. "I'm not doing anything to myself. It's not like I'm gonna bend over backwards if it turns out to be a dead end. I just thought… she's interesting. That's all."

May didn't seem convinced. "It's gonna be trouble," she muttered forebodingly.

Stepping into the grand hall, Robyn scanned the floor for the immaculate silhouette of the woman she'd taken interest in. As expected, said woman was standing immobile at the edge of the crowd, watching the bustling guests mingle and chat away. It didn't take long for Winter to notice her, and, as soon as she did, she immediately looked away. Only a few seconds later, Winter glanced back at her, like she couldn't contain her curiosity, but again caught herself and promptly fixed her gaze elsewhere. Robyn raised her eyebrows, amused. Despite her delight in the circumstances however, the Mantle representative had actual business to attend to; her whims would have to wait.

Thus, Robyn went forth to mingle with the people her ex-Atlesian teammate had prepared her to charm. She did so exceptionally well given the wariness many of them had towards this newcomer to the political scene. Robyn let the first half of the evening go by, waiting for the attendees to get somewhat tipsy and careless before she stole away to address the person whose gaze she'd felt boring into the back of her skull for hours. Now that Robyn was standing next to her though, the woman was stubbornly snubbing her.

"Hey there," Robyn ventured, an untouched drink in hand and a light smile on her lips. Pale blue eyes slid her way for a second, then Winter resumed supervising the crowd. This was going to be harder than anticipated. "Not even gonna greet me back?"

"Greetings."

How literal; Robyn was impressed. For a moment, she waited to see if anything would follow that begrudging answer or if the other woman would keep pretending she wasn't standing just there, staring directly at her. When it became evident that it was the latter, Robyn took it upon herself to try striking up a conversation. "How've you been since last time? It's been what, two weeks?"

"Twelve days," Winter pointedly corrected.

This made her smile. No surprise there; such a high-ranking soldier would indeed be fastidious. Robyn's teasing bone was tickled. "You count the days between the times you see me?"

Winter stiffened; "I happen to know the amount of days between the dreadful public events I am mandated to attend."

Robyn's nagging grin persisted. "Disappointing. I thought I'd made an impact."

"You have," the military woman granted, to Robyn's bewilderment. Winter locked eyes with her deep purple ones. "You make those events more dreadful."

At this, Robyn couldn't suppress a candid laugh. She couldn't believe just how brazenly insulting Winter was willing to be in her attempt to chase her away, and Robyn wondered what tactic she'd adopt if she knew that this frankly unexpected coarseness only fanned her interest. "Is that your sense of humor showing?"

"No," Winter denied, returning her gaze to the crowd. "And don't hold your breath."

The up-and-coming politician took another moment to observe her, allowing again for her target to continue. She didn't. "So, you haven't answered me. How are you?"

"Alive."

Robyn looked her up and down. "I can see that you are," she acquiesced with exaggerated interest, rewarded with a roll of the other woman's eyes. "I've been well."

"I didn't ask."

"I thought I should let you know anyways," Robyn explained without skipping a beat. She leaned over slightly. "Simple check-ins are a thing when establishing friendships."

The ice queen pursed her lips, her eyes narrowing at the crowd. "Which we are not doing."

"You can say that all you want, but you were staring at me like you were hoping I'd chat you up again," she remarked.

"I was not," Winter objected sharply.

"You were looking at me," Robyn countered. "You can't say you weren't, you know I saw you."

Puffing her chest slightly — in what looked to be indignation — the soldier frowned. "You're a noteworthy guest. I'm instructed to be attentive."

It was a nice save, but Robyn wasn't sold. "Are you sure that's all it is?"

"That's all it is."

"That's really not what it looked like," the blonde grinned.

"That's all it is," Winter repeated adamantly.

"…Sure."

Winter glanced her way, annoyed. "I don't know what you're trying to imply."

So she was going to pretend they didn't both know that they'd caught each other's eye? "Sure you do."

"I really don't."

She really was, huh? Robyn decided she'd circle back to this sometime later, or maybe next time. "If you say so," she shrugged, still smiling.

Winter didn't seem pleased with this answer, but she evidently loathed even more the idea of being made to push this any further; she dropped it.

After a moment of blatantly staring at her intractable target, Robyn decided to give her a break, letting her gaze wander the room instead. The other attendees looked to be having a good time; the room was warm with laughter, and the staff was kept busy maintaining the flow of drinks. Robyn still hadn't touched hers, and had no intention of doing so; aiming to remain as sharp as she could. The only reason she made a point of not being empty-handed was to blend in, in the hope that her new 'friends' might feel comfortable and drop their guard. Speaking of friendships, her eye caught Henry Marigold, May's cousin, and it ignited again Robyn's inclination to probe the ice queen. "So, Winter — I can call you Winter, right?"

Her eyebrows crinkled; "You may not."

She had suspected as much. "Right. How should I address you?"

"Schnee."

Robyn had also expected this, but she didn't love it. "That's so… rigid."

"It's my name."

"So is Winter."

Robyn received a frosty glare in response. A chill ran down her spine, leaving her all at once a little jittery, impressed with the efficiency of that scowl, and also… she didn't hate it? She paused to gather a hold of herself. "Fine — okay! As you wish, Miss Schnee," she complied, but it didn't sound quite right. "Or is Officer Schnee better? Special Ops Schnee? Or just Schnee?"

"I don't care."

The blonde resisted another wiseass comeback. "So anyway, Schnee, I meant to ask you; you know the Marigolds, right?"

"Of course."

"Do you remember Mason Marigold? From your time at the Academy?"

Winter glanced her way. "May Marigold, your teammate."

Robyn's eyebrows went up in surprise. "I'm surprised you're in the loop."

"I wasn't," Winter admitted. "Not until you surfaced."

This made the blonde grin. "So you looked into my entourage? I'm flattered," she teased.

"You're a noteworth—"

"Noteworthy guest, I know," Robyn cut in. She was going to bring up what May had said about Winter, but now that the topic was so naturally within reach, Robyn couldn't resist investigating this particular Schnee's sentiments on the topic of queerness. Was Winter so deeply in the closet that she'd pretend to be offended by the mere idea of it, as would the vast majority of Atlesians? "What do you think of her?" Robyn interestedly asked.

Winter didn't bat an eyelash. "Nothing."

"You've seen her almost every day for four years, and you have no opinion on her?"

"Exactly."

"No thoughts at all?" Robyn still pressed, unwilling to abandon her line of inquiry so easily. "Come on, you must have something to say."

Winter sighed lightly, but appeared to understand that Robyn wouldn't leave it alone until she said something. She took a second to think it over, visibly trying to come up with at least one thing. Finally, she glanced at Robyn. "Her semblance is very useful," she noted.

Robyn stared at her, slightly dumbfounded. That's all she'd found to say? After taking the time to think it through? ...Well, at least Winter had used the correct pronoun, which was more than she could say about any of May's relatives. Robyn still didn't want to give up just yet; "...What about her as a person?"

Winter looked mildly annoyed with her insistence. "I never knew her well."

Well, that was fair. It was somewhat of a wonder that Winter had made the effort to find anything to say at all. On her side, Robyn was satisfied enough by Winter going in stride with the correct pronouns, and not giving a hint, not even a tiny twitch in her expression, that might indicate aversion. If the woman was as placid about this as she was about anything else, then there evidently wasn't any issue. Winter might not be out, but she evidently didn't adopt the typical Atlesian's biggoted attitude, not even in pretense. Robyn found herself smiling. "May didn't know you very well either, and yet she had quite a lot to say about you and your time at the Academy," she revealed.

Some surprise showed on the other woman's face. "Must have been dull," Winter commented.

"Dull?" Robyn repeated. "I didn't think so."

Although she could understand why Winter might think there was nothing much to say; the ice queen did keep a consistently dedicated studying and training program, and didn't mingle at all. Winter couldn't possibly know just how much they had been able to read into May's observations, and Robyn wasn't about to start laying out all their speculation for her. Instead, she decided to broach the most obviously compelling part of Winter's time at Atlas Academy. "I hear that you were recruited by General Ironwood during your second year. Not even halfway through your academic training."

"It's true."

"Does that happen often?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"So you're really special, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say that."

"How modest," Robyn half-mocked, certain that she couldn't really mean it.

Winter frowned, evidently completely serious. "I wasn't special, just convenient," she explained, glancing at Robyn once more. "There was a job, I fit the bill. That's all."

Somewhat at a loss, Robyn held her gaze until the other woman resumed her soldierly stance. This glimpse into Winter's mind was a dismaying one. Convenient, like she was nothing more than a tool — like the sword at her side. Convenient; like that was any way to speak of a human being. Had the woman resolved to cast herself aside such that she saw herself as nothing more than a cog in the General's plan?

And anyways, how 'convenient' does one have to be to get cherry-picked this way? Robyn highly doubted that General Ironwood personally handled hiring every single officer, which absolutely spoke to her being much more than just 'convenient'. Whatever 'job' was personally offered to Winter before she'd even completed her training had to have required a very special person to perform it if no one in the entire Atlesian army had been suited. With this, Robyn decided that whatever that was, whatever Winter's task as Special Ops was, it would be worth looking into. Off the top of her head, Robyn's best guess was that it may have to do with Winter's semblance. Everyone was aware of some of the Schnee's glyphs capacities; time dilation, gravity, summoning… what else would someone with Winter's training be able to do?

It took another moment for Robyn to manage detaching her eyes from the ever-more mystifying woman. She turned to again survey the tipsy crowd, her eyes drawn to the other Special Ops in attendance. There were three: two tan women, one extremely small, the other extremely tall, and their dashing commander. All of them looked more or less relaxed, and although they remained very professional, they humoured the guests who insisted on chatting them up. Unlike this one over here. Oh, Robyn wasn't deploring her object of interest's unengaging disposition; though it made it incredibly challenging to get to know her, it was — after all — the entire reason Robyn had felt Winter worth her effort. The only thing that did bother her was that she still didn't understand why Winter treated her like she did all the wealthy Atlesians. Robyn might've become a prominent figure, but she was a far cry from Atlas' upper class, she was much more like a run-of-the-mill Mantle citizen, like this event's staff, and they were graced with cordial head nods on Winter's part. Did Winter have the wrong idea about her? It couldn't be, right? Winter had investigated her after all. Or maybe… was it because of the palpable chemistry between them? Winter might actively be trying to push her away for all the reasons they both knew they shouldn't even be considering friendship, let alone romance. In spite of it all, Robyn did wish she'd find the crack to worm her way through the stoic woman's shell already.

"Where's your friend?" the rugged blonde ventured, figuring that her present company might be more inclined to chat about something she'd previously shown a hint of emotion about. She was met with a confused frown. "I mean Metal-Girl," she specified.

"Penny," Winter corrected, a hint of irritation tingeing her voice.

"Okay, where's Penny?"

"Busy."

"Well yeah, obviously, since she's not here. Where is she?"

"Classified."

Of course it was. Robyn sighed. "You're a woman of a few words, aren't you," she commented.

"I'm a soldier, not a politician," Winter pointed out.

"Touché," the blonde grinned. "Maybe we'd all benefit from politicians talking less," she added offhandedly. "So many of them are just full of wind, they keep on blathering while saying nothing."

"How very self-aware of you," the ice queen sarcastically shot back.

"Hey, I wouldn't have to make small talk if you were a little more engaging," Robyn countered.

"I don't engage with the likes of you," Winter answered, disdain clear in her tone.

Robyn felt it like a genuine stab. There it was; the reason that Winter hadn't eased up around her as she would with the ordinary people working these events. …What did Winter mean by that, though? "The likes of me?" Robyn repeated, feeling her heart in her throat, disillusionment weighing her stomach as she hoped the words didn't mean what she thought. "What do you mean by 'The likes of me'? People from Mantle?" Did she really have Winter pegged so wrong, or was the other woman simply trying to chase her away at all costs?

Winter threw her the iciest glare yet. "No. The likes of you; people who play games of power."

It was such a delightfully unexpected answer, Robyn felt her heart so abruptly catapulted up from the depths from where it'd sank that she had to take a second to recover and find her bearings again. She loved that answer. She also now completely understood the woman's bullheaded attitude, reinvigorating her interest. "Your father plays games of power," she said, still recovering.

"I don't speak to that goblin."

Robyn had to swallow a would-be boisterous laugh. Her eyebrows were high in surprise, half that Winter had insulted him so freely, but also… after the much mediatized drama surrounding her abdication, there hadn't been much of a follow-up. In the aftermath Winter's relationship with her family had remained nebulous, and Jacques Schnee had always implied they were on good terms.

"I see," Robyn managed, regaining her composure. It wasn't surprising that the SDC CEO had lied about this. Atlas' upper class was all about appearances, and it wouldn't look good if the general public knew ties were entirely severed with his eldest daughter. That Winter hadn't set the public record straight while Jacques Schnee made it look like they had a good relationship truly was a testament to how disinterested she was in political games.

Robyn decided to attack from another angle. "The General plays games of power," she stated.

"He doesn't," Winter countered vehemently, turning to face her. The same fierceness as when she'd defended Penny's personhood had surfaced. "General Ironwood is not playing."

Robyn felt anger rising; "I'm not playing either," she snapped back.

Winter was visibly startled by her pushback.

Robyn was too agitated to stop there. "It's not a game to me either; all this," she fervidly continued, incapable of suppressing what had started to flow out. "I'm not here for fun. I'm here because someone has to step forward and speak for Mantle. Someone has to do something about how bad things have gotten down there!"

The cool blue eyes had remained locked with hers through her tirade, holding steadfast. "Are you telling me that you don't care about status and power?" Winter challenged point-blank. "About the money? About living in Atlas, the city in the sky?" She stepped closer, and though she was markedly shorter than Robyn, it was decidedly intimidating. Winter narrowed her eyes. "Is all that not why you're attempting to hoist yourself above the rest of Mantle's people? Is that not even just a little bit why you want that seat?"

"It's not. I really don't care," Robyn reiterated, unwilling to back down. "I don't intend on living here — not if, but when I get that seat," she asserted, also stepping closer, towering over her. "I don't want to be surrounded by these people any more than you do, but I have to do this if I want Mantle to have a voice, if I want anything to get better down there."

Winter still held her gaze unflinchingly, wordlessly challenging what had been said, yet Robyn wouldn't give an inch. Ultimately, the ice queen seemed satisfied, her eyes swiping down Robyn's figure and up again, sizing her up. Winter gave a thoughtful hum, then stepped back to her original position, again surveilling the crowd. It seemed to Robyn that the stiffness in her posture gave some, even if just a little. Her irritation with Robyn's presence seemed to have dissipated.

Robyn exhaled a tense breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. It was remarkable how threatening the woman could make herself. There was a short silence before the blonde willed herself to address her again. "You thought I was here for my own gain?"

Winter was observing two rambunctious, perhaps overly intoxicated men. "How many people don't do this for their own gain?"

"Good point," Robyn admitted. Every single other attendee in the room unabashedly sought money, fame, power, or all three. "But I'm not," she assuredly repeated. "The only thing I want to gain is better conditions for the people I love. I can't stand idle and do nothing when I have the abilities and opportunity to change things."

Winter gave an almost imperceptible nod, and it seemed to Robyn that her features had softened slightly. "I understand," she acknowledged quietly.

Deeply encouraged by this shift in demeanor, Robyn decided to try her luck. "Is that what you've been trying to do? Why you chose to join the military?"

She hummed in approval.

"…You think working for General Ironwood will help you accomplish that?" She asked, curiosity in her voice.

"I know so."

"How do you know?"

"Classified."

"Right."

Again, Winter looked her way, and it seemed to Robyn that — for the first time — she was really looking at her. This time, Winter wasn't simply glaring at another pompous guest whose presence and whims she had to endure. This time, she wasn't attempting to analyze an incongruous irregularity that she needed to be prepared to react to. Winter was looking at her like - now that she had let go of her preconceptions - she was trying to reassess their previous interactions. There was a keen glimmer of curiosity in her pale blue eyes, and she looked somewhat disconcerted. She clearly didn't know what to make of her, but at least the hostile frost in her gaze had given way.

It felt as though a weight was lifted off, like the air between them was more relaxed, and Robyn was infinitely thankful that somehow the authenticity of what she'd affirmed had come across, that Winter had seen her words to be genuine.

Robyn crossed her arms and looked on, trying to figure out what the other woman was observing with such disinterest. Clover Ebi had intervened with the drunk men, and there was no trace of commotion left. The festive crowd was nowhere as interesting to Robyn as the woman standing by her side. The blonde turned to her again, blatantly boring into her with her gaze for a solid minute.

Winter eventually gave a resigned sigh. "...What?"

"I have to admit, your height surprised me the first time I saw you," Robyn mused.

Winter frowned, evidently not expecting this. "How is my height surprising?"

With a shrug, the tan blonde dug her hands in her pockets. "You hold yourself so tall. I'd only seen you in pictures before, and I… was under the impression that you were way taller."

"I'm of average height," she said.

Robyn hummed. "I guess so," she mused, looking down to double-check that there was indeed a heel to those boots. Winter was in truth even shorter than how she appeared now. "How much of a heel is that?"

"I'm of average height," Winter insisted, and it seemed to Robyn that she straightened her back just a bit more, as if to make herself taller.

How cute. "I didn't say you weren't."

Winter looked peeved, glancing at her again in annoyance.

In response, Robyn gave her the most charming smile she could muster.

Her gaze vacillated from its usual sharpness, showing just a hint of discomfiture, and along with it, her pearly white skin took on a telltale pinkish tint. Winter quickly returned her gaze to the crowd.

Oh, how stupidly cute.

Robyn really would've liked to see her smile, even the tiniest upturn at the edge of her lips would've been delightful. "You don't smile back at people when they smile at you?"

"Smiling isn't part of my repertoire of facial expressions."

Robyn laughed. "Wait, did you just crack a joke?"

Winter didn't answer this time, remaining riveted to the crowd. Her ears were turning red.

"You did," she teasingly gloated. "Didn't you tell me not to hold my breath?"

It was impressive just how deep of a shade of red pale skin like Winter's could turn.

"Does this mean you're kinda starting to like me, Schnee?"

"Leave."

"No way."

It was undeniable; Robyn was starting to grow on her. The thought thrilled her so much that the grin insistently stretching her lips hurt her cheeks. And this, realizing exactly how much she was smiling, hit Robyn like a ton of bricks. The awareness of how much she'd started to care whether or not Winter liked her stifled her breathing with a burning sensation in her lungs. Along with it, cold seeped through her, inducing a shiver down her spine. Her deep purple eyes remained locked to the other woman's profile, her smile gradually losing its tension.

What had been nothing but a curious impulse, nothing but a whim to nosily prod that peculiar woman, had taken a life of its own.

Robyn knew it probably wasn't yet too late to back out, to stop what she'd put into motion. Surely, it wasn't too late to prevent feelings that would be enormously difficult to manage and incredibly unwise to allow to flourish, no matter whether Winter Schnee came to develop any fondness in return. Undoubtedly, if Robyn hit the brakes now, she could turn back the wheel, she could steal away unscathed. And yet… Robyn knew herself well enough to know that it didn't matter how fervently she tried to convince herself; she couldn't remember ever being this interested in anyone, and she was too curious to see where her interest might lead them.

Trying to digest what had just come to light, Robyn sought to turn her attention anywhere else. Back to the crowd that Winter was watching, or maybe to the magnificently high ceiling of the grand hall, to its opulent chandelier. She couldn't help feeling like she should've listened to May. This had been a bad idea from the start.

She glanced again at the profile of the other woman. Her pale blue eyes, sharp and analytic, lingered on the crowd for a few seconds, then darted back to her again, evidently aware she was being watched. Winter, however, didn't seem bothered anymore. She held Robyn's gaze for a moment, before returning it to her rounds of the room.

- TBC

Chapter Text

Winter's day always began with a black coffee, reports from the past eight hours, and a skim of the major news outlets. Opening her scroll, she was greeted with a face plastered over the front page of nearly all medias; one that was becoming more and more familiar to the general public. Winter squinted at her screen in discontentment.

Robyn Hill.

Her behavior those two evenings had really bothered Winter. People usually took the hint when she was being unresponsive or unengaging, but it hadn't seemed to bother her at all. In fact, it felt like Winter's placid, dry, even insulting answers only exacerbated Robyn Hill's interest in her. Winter's best speculation was that Robyn wasn't used to being disregarded so; being the hugely popular public figure that she was, she had swarms of people flocking up to her pretty much everywhere she went. The rugged blonde's agenda had taken Mantle by storm, and despite being such an outsider, her sheer charisma was quickly winning over Atlas too. And an outsider she truly was; Robyn was so unlike the upper class Atlesaian crowd that she stood out like a sore thumb at those soirées.

The woman's high visibility was the reason Winter wanted to blame for how magnetically she drew her eye, but she wasn't that good at lying to herself. Robyn Hill had a mesmerizing charm, and as Winter had followed the up-and-coming politician's rise to notoriety, it had taken her no time at all to realize that she wasn't immune to said charm herself. Which would largely have been fine if the woman had kept her distance. Why did Robyn have to take such an alarming interest in her?

Winter sighed and set down her scroll. With her elbows on her desk, she rested her head in both hands. She resented the tumultuous emotions that so easily arose in the presence of the other woman— a mere picture of Robyn had become enough to set her teetering. Winter exhaled a deep, meditative breath, trying to gather herself. Her eyes found the still-lit scroll she'd discarded, feeling herself again becoming agitated from the featured picture of the Mantle representative's almost smugly confident smirk.

Tearing herself away, she stood up, busying herself with getting ready for her day - starting with a cold shower. Winter had the unsubstantiated certainty that Robyn Hill's interest in her was very personal, as there was undisputable chemistry every time their eyes met. All things considered, however, Winter willed herself to discount that hunch because of how ludicrous the idea was. Given their political positions, Robyn Hill wouldn't even think of approaching her with such intentions. That left one viable reason for Robyn's attention: it had to be a sly ploy to take advantage of Winter's penchant for women to extract classified intel from her. Sure, it wasn't what Winter felt it was, but she really tried to make herself believe it. Which had honestly been much easier to do when she could still realistically imagine Robyn to be just another power-hungry and self-absorbed politician. Back then, willing disdain and antipathy to the surface, keeping up her glacial front had been almost effortless.

The problem was... Winter had the eye to recognize when someone was being genuine. And in Robyn's case, there even was a baseline of comparison to establish authenticity. Winter had observed the Mantle representative interacting with statesmen and wealthy attendees, charming them despite their reservations. She had seen what Robyn's forged smile and disingenuous courtesy looked like, and that face — the face that Robyn would put on for those people — wasn't the same one with which she argued her motives to Winter. There was absolutely no doubt that Robyn cared fiercely about the wellbeing of Mantle, that she'd told the truth about it being her only reason to campaign for that seat. And Winter had to admit, she couldn't think of a more honorable reason to want said seat.

Nevertheless, though she couldn't help the burgeoning respect for the Mantle representative, Winter needed to stay minded; she couldn't soften up to her. Should she be elected, quite a few of the policies Robyn would push for would interfere with the General's work, and although Winter was starting to be uncomfortable with some of the measures they'd had to take… Salem's threat was as real as it got, and sometimes… there were no good options. Someone had to make the difficult decisions, and Winter admired him for being able to do that. She just had to keep her head down, trust that he was making the right calls, and do what needed to be done.

She stared at herself in the mirror, straightening her uniform and making sure that her hair was impeccable before leaving. Winter had enough on her plate already without starting to second-guess the General's decisions, or worrying about that perplexing woman's fooleries; soon, she'd be a major player herself, with all the responsibilities entailed. Incidentally, Winter halted in front of a heavily secured door to which she had exclusive access. She liked to visit Fria daily if possible. Beyond her duty to imprint the old woman's mind with her presence, she had grown fond of her and hated knowing how isolated she was. As she stepped inside the secluded room, Fria stirred from her bed.

"Good morning," Winter greeted. "I'm sorry if I woke you up."

The old woman looked confused for a moment, and she glanced around the room before her gaze settled on Winter again. Finally she seemed to wake for real, a glimmer of recognition brightening her features. "Oh, Winter, good morning," she greeted sleepily. "Nevermind that, come in," she invited.

Following their usual routine, Winter began preparing morning tea. Breakfast would be brought a little later. "Did you sleep well?"

"I did, thank you for asking," she rejoined, searching for her bed's remote. "How's the weather outside?"

"Worse than it's been in a long time," Winter answered, laying out the tea set on a tray as she waited for the water to boil. "The heating grid is holding up, but if it keeps up like this, we might have a real problem on our hands."

Fria hummed, now upright in her hospital bed. "I miss the storms," she said, almost more to herself. "I miss a lot of things."

The guilty expression that undoubtedly washed over Winter's features made the old lady laugh.

"I don't blame any of you. We do what we must for the greater good. For the big picture," Fria reassured. "The world needs someone like you to inherit the powers. Someone who's prepared, and who won't be an easy target for her."

Winter nodded almost imperceptibly. She was very thankful that Fria was such a like-minded person; she didn't want to think of what they may have had to do should the bearer of those powers have been a selfish and uncooperative woman. Winter poured the hot water in the teapot, allowing it to take a deep tawny red before removing the tea infuser.

"I'm lucky to have made it this far, given what the alternative is," Fria continued. "I wish you the same."

Wishing to someone that they may end their lives in a military compound sequestered from their family might have sounded hostile in other circumstances, but with Salem on the move for the first time since the Great War, they both knew what risks came with being the bearer of those powers. Unless they found a way to defeat Salem, being a maiden likely meant an early death, and to Winter, the thought of making it to her eighties was a nice one. With this, Winter brought the tray over to the old woman's bedside, serving two cups without a word. She took her own and sat with her, watching as Fria reached out to the porcelain milk jug. She stared at it in her hand like she wasn't certain what to do with it, then put it down again, and slowly laced her fingers together, completely engrossed in the tea set on the tray.
Moments like these were becoming more and more frequent. Sometimes it was the small things, like losing her train of thought as she was speaking, or forgetting how she liked her tea. Other times, it was more worrisome, like waking up with no idea where she was, or forgetting members of her family. This made it all the more imperative that Winter be the only one to be in contact with her; Winter had to be at the forefront of the old woman's mind when the time came.

Winter set her own cup down. "Do you want me to prepare your tea for you, Fria?"

"If you would, please."

Winter poured milk in the cup and added a single cubed sugar, stirring it gently before handing it to her.

"You're very kind."

"Please, it's nothing."

As Fria slowly sipped from her hot tea, Winter glanced around the room. The old woman was very active in her art production, painting mostly landscapes, with a few portraits far and inbetween. The subject's faces had an increasing tendency to be blurry, as Fria's memory slipped slowly from her grasp. She'd once told Winter that everything she painted were real places and real people, that it was her way of preserving meaningful parts of her life. They were Winter's favorite topic of conversation; they helped her understand Fria better, and helped Fria maintain her grip on reality. Through the prolific paintings, Winter had a glance at the old woman's extensive travels as she'd started her life as a Huntress, and subsequently of her life with her husband and two sons as she'd settled in Atlas working as a nurse. In the last year, as Winter had been preparing to succeed her, she'd had ample time to sit with her and witness her stories before Fria's diseased mind started shrouding them in darkness.

Winter's eyes found the newest piece, still in progress. White fur was almost lost in the icy landscape, but it was there. Whether it was the vast, frozen deserts of Solitas, the labyrinths of Mantle's back alleys, the impressive cliff sides of Anima, or even the lush crimson forest of Forever Fall… Fria always included an arctic fox in the painting. At first, Winter had brushed it off, figuring it had to have been Fria's pet, but the old woman denied ever having one, and as time passed, she continued to insist on including the small animal in discordant scenery. It only ever showed up in depictions of landscapes Fria would have seen as a Huntress, about sixty years ago.

Talking it through and painstakingly poring over Atlas Academy's archives allowed Winter to puzzle out the answer; Fria's broken mind had transformed her then-travelling-partner and old academy teammate, an arctic fox faunus girl, into an actual arctic fox. Winter's cool blue eyes swept from the tiny animal painted on this newer work, to its figure on the multiple other landscapes. It turned out that this teammate of hers had been severely ill from dust-poisoning, having grown up in Mantle's slums in a family of miners. She had passed quite young while on the road with Fria, who inherited the maiden powers from her on that day.

"You never forget her, do you," Winter gently observed, walking up to that newest canvas.

Fria nodded, resting her teacup in its matching saucer. "She's a part of me," she answered.

It wasn't the first time Fria said something of the sort; Winter turned to her. "Do you mean this literally?" she inquired. "Are the previous maidens still… present? Inside you?"

"Oh no," Fria waved her off. "They're not living on in that way, I didn't mean to make it sound like there is a congress in my head," she said with a smile. "But… all their auras have imprinted onto the maiden powers."

"So you can feel traces of them all inside you?"

"I can, but they mostly come together as a single comforting presence," the old lady explained. "Like instruments coming together as a symphony, they feel like a whole. I can single hers out because I knew her so well."

Winter nodded. She'd gotten to know Fria well enough that she was confident that she'd be able to do the same in the not-so-distant future; it was a somewhat comforting thought. With this, she left the unfinished artwork to return to the old woman's bedside. There had been something else that Winter had wished to discuss with Fria today.

When she'd first accepted this duty, Winter hadn't thought it out quite this far, but… the General had recently sat her down to try and establish as far as possible what the line of succession may be. In the event of Winter's death as the maiden; if those powers weren't stolen by Salem's underling, who might be in her last thoughts, and so on. It might've been foolish of Winter to not have considered any of this before now… but being asked this, and subsequently being asked who might inherit from Weiss, should Weiss be killed as her successor, had left her grappling with guilt, fear, and some very dark thoughts.

"Fria, if I may," Winter started, taking the old woman's hand in hers. "Most of your life… there was no plan on who might succeed you," she carefully established. "From what I understand, it wasn't until about fifteen years ago, when the General learned about the stakes and sought you out, that you knew you'd pass on the powers to another warrior. You agreed that he would prepare someone for you."

"Yes?"

"How do you cope with it? Knowing you would burden someone you love with this responsibility?"

"Oh, I didn't know," she dismissed, "my last thoughts would have been of my husband, and then I had my two boys… so I always reckoned my powers would find a stranger."

Winter nodded reluctantly; a maiden being married essentially threw any line of succession out the window, at least until she had a daughter, which hadn't been the case with Fria. She did have granddaughters, but the only period of Fria's life of which she still retained clear memories was between her mid-thirties to her early fifties, and thus it seemed that Fria had forgotten her sons had any children. As ugly as it made Winter feel, it was better not to remind the ill woman of the existence of any loved one who might threaten the passing of the powers to her. "What about when you were younger?" She quickly continued instead. "Wasn't there a friend? A cousin? Someone you were worried for?"

"My memory might be playing tricks on me, but… I don't think there was anyone," she answered, shaking her head. "You know who would succeed you?" She then inquired, somewhat curious. "You're not married, Winter?"

It was at least the fifteenth time that Fria had asked this. "I have no romantic attachments," Winter reexplained patiently. "I was recruited for this young enough that I... " she exhaled. That wasn't true. She'd been recruited at eighteen, but she hadn't known that she had been approached so young because she was being groomed to be a maiden. Having been told about Salem and the impending danger, she had made the decision of her own accord to focus solely on that; to not let any sort of personal relationships distract her from the fight to come. It seemed that this sort of dedication was part of why she'd been chosen. Little did Ironwood know that part of the reason for her dedication had been that it had given her a substantial enough excuse to avoid even thinking of romance, as she had still been struggling to come to terms with her sexuality. What she hadn't expected was that being recruited and seeing her future overtaken with Salem's impending war made romance appear so trivial that it in turn abated the struggle within herself. It was easier to accept that she liked women when she felt it didn't matter because nothing would come of it anyways, having renounced romance. This was all the more true now that she was to receive the Winter Maiden's powers; she knew she couldn't risk falling in love and placing an unsuitable successor next in line.

Winter shook her head. "I was recruited young enough that I didn't have time to develop romantic relationships. And I haven't allowed myself this distraction knowing what it may cost us in this war."

Fria nodded understandingly. "So who are you worried for?"

"My younger sister."

"You don't think that James will try to prime your mind with someone else?"

"No," she grimly said. "Given the situation, we need to be as prepared as possible for all eventualities, so we've recently discussed it. The General knows that Weiss would receive the powers from me; he sees her not only as a viable candidate, but as the best possible contingency plan," Winter explained, warily holding the old woman's gaze. "And I agree, I don't like it, but I agree. Weiss is an accomplished fighter, she's brave, and has a brilliant mind. And she has a good heart. She can be trusted with these powers. She would objectively be a great candidate on all accounts, and all things considered, we're lucky that the person who'd be in my last thoughts is someone who'd unquestionably take up the fight, and do so very capably."

With this, Winter stood abruptly, feeling a sudden need to move, to do something, anything to help the restlessness that these thoughts brought to the surface. "I know this," she insisted, pacing the room. "I know it would be for the best in the grand scheme of things, I've resigned myself to the idea. My head knows. But my heart…" she stopped, again looking over at the bedridden woman. "I… struggle with the idea of not only burdening her with the inheritance of yet another unwanted responsibility from me, but also with making her a target, not to mention... making her cautious about who she allows herself to get close to, as I've become."

Fria watched her with an empathetic expression. "I wish I had some wise piece of advice for you," she deplored. "But that's not something I had to experience."

Dejected, Winter nodded in acceptance. In addition to not having had any young women for which Fria could have been immediately worried, it had also been a different time. Salem had been dormant, or at least, she had gone into hiding for dozens of years. After the Great War, the fighting having stopped among faunus and men, the incidence of negative emotions dropped and the kingdoms fortified. Peace reigned, at least within kingdom borders; it was a time in which the old Osmar, and his subsequent incarnation Ozpin, erected humanity's best defenses against Salem. Which meant that for most of her life, Fria hadn't felt like she had a target on her back. She had no reason to worry about which of her loved ones might become the next target should she fail to safeguard the Winter Maiden's powers.

Winter found herself gazing at the paintings again, at the arctic fox and her ethereal presence in those lush landscapes.

"If it's any consolation," Fria continued, pulling her from her spell, "I believe in you." She patted her bed, gesturing for Winter to join her again, which she did. "When James sought me out, he showed me what candidates he had in mind. None of them seemed quite right to me," she explained. "But a few years later, you enrolled at Atlas Academy. You were still very young, but you were always the most promising candidate to me. And James was also convinced when you grew more as a fighter in your first year at the academy alone than some do in their entire career as Huntsmen."

Had she not already been sitting, Winter would have had to. She had never realized that when she'd first been approached to be recruited as a Special Ops, still unaware that the true intent was to groom her for this destiny, Fria had already been aware of her. "So... you helped? In choosing me?"

"The final choice was always James's, he knew best what qualities were needed for the fight to come," Fria explained. "But you seemed to be born for it, down to your name," she added, smiling. "You know, I saw what your grandfather could do at the height of his prime," she continued, her eyes illuminated with wonder.

It was a story that Winter had heard more times than she could count, but she didn't stop the old woman, as it gave her pleasure to recount it. Fria and he had once crossed paths in the frozen tundra outside of the then-capital Mantle. She had been traveling alone, on her way back from a hunt, while Nicholas and his team had been scouting the area for dust in the hopes of establishing a dust mine. This had happened years before the SDC became the empire it was to be. Fria had joined forces with them to push back a swarm of Beowulves.

Idly listening to her, Winter let her thoughts stray back to her worries. After the Fall of Beacon, she had accepted this responsibility knowing full well that it meant her death if she wasn't good enough. Amber's fate was a grim warning; soon, Salem's most vicious fighter would be coming for the Winter Maiden's powers, and Winter would have to safeguard them. And sure, she trusted her own abilities to unflinchingly take on any of Salem's underlings… but she had never faced off with a maiden before, and this new Fall Maiden had slaughtered Ozpin despite the ancient power within him, despite the memory held within him of thousands of years of combat experience. Last but not least… the undead and immortal thing that Salem had become would of course shake anyone's self-confidence. All of it made Winter very aware of her potential demise, and things seemed all the darker now that the General had the grace of reminding her that she'd gambled much more than her own life when she'd accepted this role.

She felt like a fool for not having anticipated that she may doom Weiss along with herself. Nevertheless, Winter knew very well that she was one of the best candidates on the face of Remnant for this, and, with all things considered —the fate of humanity in the balance against her or her sister's life— Winter's sense of responsibility killed any inclination she might've had to step down. That same sense of responsibility told her that, no matter how much she loathed the idea of deferring to her sister with yet another unasked burden, they were lucky that in a worst case scenario, the person who would inherit from Winter had the skill and heart to be trusted with this power. They were lucky that Winter had isolated herself such that she had no romantic attachments, because that may have fostered a dire situation. What if the woman that Winter had made her life with was a civilian? The maiden powers made one strong, but for someone with no combat skills it wouldn't have been enough to fend off Salem's Fall Maiden underling. Winter couldn't even imagine how catastrophic it might have been should she had loved someone unable —or worse, unwilling to cooperate with the Atlas Military.

Quite against her better judgement, Robyn Hill's cocky grin floated through her mind. Winter shook her head, clearing the image.

Ridiculous.

It had been two weeks since the last event of the sort; two weeks since Winter had last seen her.

Robyn Hill's campaign had gained traction; so much so that she was emerging not only as a serious candidate, but as a front runner. Her appearances on television and in the papers had increased tenfold, posters of her face lined every street of Mantle, and the more popular she became, the more agitated the masses were becoming. Security hadn't yet been increased, but it was only a matter of time. Winter fully expected the other attendees to barrage Robyn with questions about how she planned on keeping Mantle under control.

Though Robyn didn't always attend those events, she would be there tonight. Beyond the fact that she was the hottest topic on Solitas and everyone expected her to be there… Winter had verified the guest list and confirmed the RSVP. She tried not to think about how she'd found herself going out of her way just to confirm the woman would be there. Winter told herself that she'd only done so to quell her restlessness with guessing whether or not she should prepare herself to be barraged with questions again. A little voice at the back of her head called her a liar. That same little voice pestered her mockingly when Robyn Hill finally appeared that evening and Winter simply couldn't detach her eyes from her. It was utterly beyond her control; she scrutinized every gesture, every twitch in her expressions, every shift in her mannerisms. Quite embarrassingly, knowing that Robyn had noticed it —she glanced over to meet her gaze every so often— did nothing to suppress Winter's itch to stare.

And how could one not stare? Robyn was tall —much taller than most women; such that she couldn't have been inconspicuous even had she conformed with the implicitly understood dress etiquette, which she didn't. While the other guests tried to impress each other with lavish demonstrations of wealth, the woman showed up in Huntress gear. Clean and unarmed, to be sure, but her hair still as barely tamed as it always was. Nevertheless, her nonconformity did nothing to detract from her success; even with this crowd, with whom she consorted for hours.

Once the evening had inevitably progressed from networking opportunity to drunken rubbish, Robyn stepped up to her. "Here we are again," she said, a smile dancing on her lips.

"So we are," Winter dryly rejoined.

Always entertained by her deadpan attitude, Robyn's smile only widened. She had the courtesy to place herself at Winter's side, leaving her view of the other guests unobstructed. "How have you been?"

Winter reined in the urge to just keep staring at her, instead looking on straight ahead. "I'm alive."

"I'm alive as well!"

"I had noticed," she grouched, feeling slightly mocked.

"I have to say, I had also noticed you were alive, although you're doing a pretty good job of convincing everyone else that you're a fixture. I didn't see anyone else even try chatting you up today."

The blonde's light ribbing made her somewhat self-conscious, and Winter's more caustic side surfaced. "That's because everyone else isn't as dense as you. They got the message the first time they tried conversing with me," she said, suddenly regretting her words, as the momentary fear that Robyn would decide to actually let her be this time passed through her. As fast as that fear arose, Winter chased it away; she should be driving her off!

"Oof," Robyn laughed, ever-buoyant. "And I thought we were doing better than that."

Emboldened by the other woman's dauntless attitude in this little dance they'd established, she didn't second-guess her pull-no-punches retort this time. "There is no 'we'. No friendship will be established," Winter affirmed, much in an attempt to convince herself.

Robyn snorted with amusement. "Say that all you want, but I've already grown on you."

"That's a bold claim," Winter shot back, though she couldn't bring herself to deny its veracity. "What makes you believe such a thing?"

"Let's see…" she trailed off, pretending to think it over. "Besides how you've been waiting all evening for me to come up to you? For one, I got a joke out of you last time. Two, you've been answering in full sentences," Robyn pointed out. "Before, some of those answers you've given me would have been only one word." With this, she looked Winter over up and down, making a point of exaggeratedly evaluating her posture. "Three, I have to say, you also look less tense; you've been dropping your guard."

Winter pursed her lips, straightening into a more rigid stance.

Robyn chuckled. "Can't let yourself relax around me, now can you?"

"It would be unwise," Winter granted, her eyebrows twitching into a light frown.

"To say the least," the other woman agreed, her ever-present smile audible in her tone.

Though she refused to look her way, Winter could see in the periphery of her vision that her unsolicited company threw her seemingly untouched drink in a nearby potted plant and exchanged her newly empty glass for a fresh one as waiting staff passed by. She had previously noticed that, although Robyn always had a beverage in her hand, she never seemed to drink from it. Winter almost wanted to ask, almost. She knew better than to needlessly engage the blonde; it would only encourage her to stick around.

As a professional conversationalist however, Robyn had no need of Winter's help in finding something to chat about. "It came to my attention that the Ace Ops have finally chosen a replacement for the guy they lost," she said. "I hear you guys have a faunus rookie?"

"We do."

"He's the first faunus to manage something like that, isn't he?"

"He is."

"It's great to see things are finally changing," Robyn commented delightedly. With this, she leaned forward a bit, successfully catching Winter's gaze. "What do you think of him?"

Holding the other woman's riveted stare, Winter was somehow reminded of how emphatically she'd been interrogated about May. She hadn't understood the insistence then, but the common thread of discrimnation was too obvious to miss with this second instance. Robyn wanted to know if Winter held any of the typical Atlesian discriminatory attitudes, and it wasn't hard to project that Robyn would pester her until this was elucidated. "If you're asking about whether or not I care about Marrow being a faunus; I don't. It's inconsequential," Winter frankly said, seeing Robyn's smile widen. "As to what I think of him: he's still a little too reactive."

"Not everyone has it in them to be a living statue," the blonde playfully pointed out.

She knew Robyn was taking a dig at her, but decided to roll with it. "I take pride in this ability."

"As you should, it's impressive," Robyn complimented. "So, does this mean you don't like him?"

"I didn't say that," Winter corrected. "I only said he was too reactive. He'll settle down as he gets more seasoned."

"And in the meantime?"

"He's not my charge to mentor," Winter flatly indicated.

Robyn laughed again; evidently, she really enjoyed these dispassionate, matter-of-fact retorts. "Right, you're not part of the famous team," she waved off in a light-hearted tone, but as she said this, the incongruity seemed to hit her. More seriously she asked; "Why aren't you…? Penny has another title and all, but you don't. Why aren't you part of the Ace Ops?"

It was such a trivial thing, but the fact that Robyn had called Penny by her name this time made Winter want to smile. She did her best not to let it show. "I have different duties," she dismissed.

"Like?"

"It's classified."

Robyn stared at her, unimpressed with this answer. "Are you just saying that to avoid explaining, or is it really?"

"It is truly classified," Winter graciously clarified.

"Right, right. So other duties... which don't include babysitting rookies," the blonde mused out loud.

Winter just couldn't help herself; "They don't, but they seem to include babysitting overgrown children," she jeered, designating the room with a motion.

Robyn had a candid outburst, laughing in a warm and endearing way; Winter hated how exhilarated she felt about obtaining such a reaction. Robyn puffed out a breath as she regained her composure, wiping the corner of her eye. "Would you rather be around real children? You strike me as the type who doesn't like kids much."

"I don't dislike them," Winter answered, telling herself she should focus on the crowd she was meant to supervise instead of making puerile comments to make the other woman laugh.

"Color me surprised," Robyn exclaimed. "I gotta say, I can't picture you playing with a kid," she added. "Seems to me like you'd be a pretty strict mom."

"I wouldn't," Winter expressly refuted, "because I wouldn't be a mother."

"Oh? You already made up your mind about that? Is your significant other on the same page?" Robyn asked offhandedly.

Winter's gaze snapped to the other woman. How blatant. Could she have been more obvious about fishing for information?

Robyn's deep purple, hypnotizing eyes were intractably fixed to her features, on the lookout for any clue of what may be going through Winter's mind. Her voice sounded lower, more luscious as she continued; "...Or is there no significant other?"

Winter's hands, clasped behind her back, tightened over each other. "Respectfully, that's none of your business," she answered, keeping her voice steady.

The tall blonde wasn't deterred; she cocked her head as she took a step closer, though not quite into Winter's personal space. "Even if it's not, what's it cost you to answer?"

Winter narrowed her eyes, refusing to be the one to break eye contact first. Robyn was unbothered by the developing strain in the air; the ghost of a smile she perpetually sported unwavering. Staring at her straight-on, up close and for an extended period, Winter couldn't help reflecting on how Robyn's highly feminine facial features didn't fit her cocky swagger or her rugged, masculine style. The discrepancy was exceedingly attractive.

As she mused over this, Winter realized her train of thought was getting derailed, and tore her gaze away, returning to the crowd. Gathering herself, her frazzled brain reminded her of just how easy that information would be for Robyn to find out and that she might as well give it up. "I'm married to my job," Winter finally groused.

"Is it a happy marriage?"

"It's a rewarding one."

"Even when you have to work events like these?"

Quite involuntary, Winter grimaced. Robyn laughed again, and Winter couldn't help but look her way again. The way her eyes shone when delight illuminated her features was so enticing that Winter couldn't suppress the urge to witness it; seeing it again made her heart flutter.

With one hand on her hip and her forgotten drink in the other, the tall blonde gazed back at her for a moment in silence, that amused gleam not completely faded. "Here's an idea," Robyn suggested, "why don't you have the rookie do this job in your stead?"

"It's not advisable."

"Because his impression of a statue still has room for improvement?" She guessed.

Her eyebrows raised in an unimpressed manner. Robyn was world-savvy enough; she should've known why. "Miss Hill," Winter calmly said, "he's a faunus."

For the first time that evening, Robyn's demeanor lost some of its implacable joviality. "So…? What? You're hiding him?"

Though Winter kept reminding herself that she should be taking any opportunity to make the other woman want to leave her alone, she also didn't want to misrepresent her peers. "We're not; he wouldn't have been chosen if him being a faunus was an issue," Winter said. "But he was just appointed, and these people aren't ready to treat him with respect. In addition, he wouldn't take their prejudice impassively. In a few weeks, when he's proved himself, made a reputation for himself, and when these people have had some time to get used to the idea of a faunus they have to act respectful towards; then he'll be in attendance at events of this sort," she explained. Her attention had drifted to the far ends of the room; each on their respective side, Vine and Elm were cordially interacting with some of the guests. Marrow certainly wouldn't be getting the same treatment, not yet anyways. "There's simply no sense in unnecessarily exposing him to these people's cruelty when there's plenty else for him to do."

"You're protecting him," Robyn surmised. She gave a pleased hum. "You people aren't all bad, are you?"

"Our duty is to protect the people and the peace," Winter answered, "this means everyone, Miss Hill."

There was a short silence. Robyn put her free hand in her pocket, also staring out at the crowd in front of them. "Everyone, but the ones with money first," she said under her breath.

Given the lavishness of the event at which they were in attendance and the caliber of the security detail, it was hard to deny. Winter realized her shoulders had slumped, and she straightened again; her own priorities weren't reflected in this. "Money doesn't govern the work that I do," she contested.

"Oh, I believe that coming from you," Robyn granted. "But that's how the world works, and you of all people should know that better than most; you know what money can buy."

This stung more than Winter would have cared to admit. She exhaled gently, somewhat dejected; "...I also know all too well what it can't buy."

It caught her interest such that Robyn didn't just look her way; she turned completely to her to stare interestedly. "And what's that, Schnee?"

Money hadn't been the answer to any of her grievous feelings — her nihilism in the face of a dismal future charted for her as her father's heir, her intense loathing for the vain society she had been expected to take part in, the abyss within herself at the thought of her life being a meaningless masquerade, and the conflict within as she wrestled with who she was and her repressed sexuality. The pressure of expectations and the fear of judgement had crippled her for years. Winter wouldn't have known where to start even had she wanted to share; "It doesn't matter," she quietly waved off.

"It matters to me," Robyn affirmed, evidently pressing ahead because of the change in mood. "I'd love to know what it is that the entire Schnee estate couldn't offer you."

Just thinking about it made her feel worn out, and somehow Winter couldn't muster the strength to keep the defensive façade. "There were a multitude of areas in which my family's estate left me unfulfilled," she disclosed, surprising even herself with what she was revealing to the other woman. "But my work with General Ironwood has helped for the better part." It was the truth; it had liberated her from the life she never wanted, and instead gave her a vocation, a role that was meaningful; to which she could dedicate herself with pride.

"For the most part huh?" Robyn mused. "What's left unfulfilled?"

The only thing that had been left unattended was her very human need for love and intimacy, which she'd voluntarily cast aside. Winter made the mistake of glancing at her present company as she reflected on what yearning she kept locked away and the loneliness that it brought. Robyn's magnetic almond-shaped eyes, with their deep, rich purple color and lush eyelashes; her radiant, silken tan skin; her high, sculpted cheekbones; and her full, plump lips left Winter helpless to stop herself from admiring her, and she just knew that what longing she felt had transpired in her gaze as Robyn's expression changed.

With her amusement somewhat abated, the tall blonde tilted her head. "I see," she said, almost more to herself. She stepped a little closer; she was definitely in Winter's personal space now. "Is it something I could help with?" She suggested, her voice warm and enticing.

Winter's heart was suddenly pounding. Robyn was close enough that a somewhat hazelnutty fragrance that Winter hadn't noticed until now filled her senses. The blonde's presence overpowered her; for a few seconds, Winter lost track of anyone else in the room, or even where they were. She was severely tempted to say yes, to end this ambiguous dance, to surrender to the bewitching chemistry between them. She more or less managed to take a hold of herself. "I can't accept that," she managed, her voice frustratingly strained.

Robyn's now smug expression told of how aware she was of the effect she had. "Why not? It'd be a shame for you to be left wanting if I can do something about it."

Winter still couldn't detach her gaze from those intractable, spellbinding purple eyes. "I'm fine," she claimed. "If anything, you're doing the very opposite of helping."

"What?" Her lips drew into a corner smile, flashing pearly white teeth. "What am I doing?"

Just how helpless Winter was suddenly caught up with her, prompting her defensive instincts to flare up. "That's a very good question," she retorted. Having caught herself, she stepped back, putting a more conservative distance between them. "What are you doing?" It was obvious that Robyn was playing on that undeniable attraction, but Winter couldn't accept that such a smart and savvy woman would be heedless enough to ever consider acting on it— it was just too outlandish. There had to be some form of political gain to be made, some way that Robyn was looking to exploit Winter's capacities or position.

"Why are you spending part of every evening with me? State your intentions," Winter demanded.

Robyn smiled innocently. "You're simply the best company in this place."

No matter how wry and unfriendly she had forced herself to be, especially in contrast to the jovial atmosphere around them, Winter nevertheless knew that the blonde was being sincere with this claim. "How sad," she deplored.

Robyn laughed that candid and so endearing laugh of hers, and Winter's stomach tied itself in knots. Again, she felt an urgency to push her away; it suddenly felt crucial that Winter put an end to this habit that had formed of chatting through those never-ending evenings. "You should be mingling with the people who you need to win over," she urged.

"Maybe I am doing just that," she suggested.

"If you expect me to clandestinely roam the back alleys of Mantle with your rag-tag band of hooligans, you have me pegged very wrong."

"I expect no such thing," Robyn rejoined, apparently still in a marvelous mood.

"I'm very committed to my duty, and loyal to the General," Winter nevertheless insisted.

"I see that you are," the rugged blonde acquiesced. "That's not what I meant when I suggested winning you over," she added before leaning over, her voice lower, "and you know it."

Winter's entire body tensed as sudden warmth washed over her; she could tell her face had reddened.

Robyn unflinchingly gazed at her, amusement written all across her face. "I think I'm doing pretty well too."

"You've reached your limit," Winter resisted, dread leadening her stomach.

"Schnee," a male voice interjected, making her jump. She'd been so wrapped up in Robyn's provocative insinuations that she hadn't noticed Clover as he'd approached them. Making a motion of his head, he indicated the main door. "You're required; emergency communication from Argus."

Winter frowned deeply, instantly shifting to business mode, wordlessly moving with him towards the exit. She spared Robyn, who waved goodbye, a last glance before leaving. "What's happening?" She asked, once out of earshot of any guests.

"Argus has just received word from Haven, there was a coup."

Winter's eyes widened.

"Haven didn't fall," he said, before she could barrage him with questions, "a new faction of the White Fang stopped it, along with some unaffiliated Huntsmen."

"Thank god," she murmured, still in disbelief. "Any reports of Weiss's presence on scene?"

"Nothing about her came up. Not yet anyways," he answered as they hastily walked down the academy corridor. All things considered, they were lucky that this event was being held at the Atlas Academy reception hall. "You truly expect her to turn up wherever there's trouble, huh?"

"Yes, she's fantastic at that," Winter grumbled, quickly heading from the military headquarters area of the academy grounds. "Has the General been alerted to this coup? Are we sending forces to investigate? Will we attempt to track down the perpetrators?"

"He's informed. We're staying put; Argus will send someone to investigate the aftermath."

Winter felt her jaw tighten with vexation. She expected that answer, but it didn't mean she liked it; she had been itching to get out there and find Weiss. There was however no reason to send anyone all the way from Atlas, as word of the coup would have reached Argus by train, it being too remote for the Haven communication tower's range. Which meant that word of it had reached Argus nearly two days after the event. Salem's forces had long vacated already, and all there was left to do was overview the damage and find out a few details.

Clover sensed her aggravation. "You know that even if we were sending people all the way from Atlas, it wouldn't be you," he reminded her. "Not with Fria's deteriorating condition."

"I know," she sighed. As grim as it was, with Fria losing more and more of herself by the day, it was imperative that Winter visit her daily. And if push came to shove; if Fria got so bad that they couldn't trust she would pass the powers on to her, Winter had to be available at the drop of a hat to go through the transferring process with the machine they had developed. Of course, that was to be used only as a last resort; setting aside how it would essentially mean murdering Fria, there were no guarantees that Winter emerging from the machine after the transfer wouldn't emerge as an entirely different person. This machine wouldn't transfer only the maiden powers, it would transfer Fria's aura along with it; making it less a magic solution than a last resort. This caveat had been the entire reason that Ozpin's candidate had hesitated in Beacon, it had been the only reason that the transfer had been delayed and that Cinder Fall could get her hands on the second half of the maiden powers. Winter was fully prepared and wouldn't hesitate to step into that machine should they be backed into a corner, but no one wanted to find out what the process would do to Winter's personality or sense of self if it could be avoided. Which meant she was stuck waiting.

"Bide your time," Clover said encouragingly. "Once the truth is out and we've weathered the storm here, we can move out and help the other kingdoms. You'll get to look for her."

"Yes, but in a disastrously more dangerous world," Winter griped. She didn't even want to think about the crisis that was sure to ensue as the truth was revealed, and especially of Weiss being lost in that chaos. "What else do we know? Any word from Lionheart?"

"He's dead. No news about the spring maiden or Haven's relic," Clover said, as they entered the military facility part of the academy. "We need to brief the envoy on what information we need without explaining the situation. Thus... me coming to get you. Cordovin insists on speaking with you personally."

The thought of that troll of a woman made her roll her eyes. "About what?"

"Questions about the envoy."

She stopped to stare at him. "...You're very capable of giving her directions."

"She still insists on speaking with you," he said. "Not arguing with her again."

"Of course," Winter muttered under her breath. It wasn't the first time that their Anima ambassador went through hoops to speak with Winter personally. That woman had a disproportionately inflated sense of Atlesian patriotism, and she regarded anything and everything purely Atlesian as the God of Light's greatest gifts to Remnant. The Schnee lineage was one of those things.

Her heels clacking on the metal flooring resonated through the empty halls as they made their way to the core of the complex. Winter fumed in silence at the uselessness of being fetched for this.

Clover's voice pulled her from her ruminations. "She likes you, you know."

Of course Cordovin liked her, besides being a Schnee, she was the General's right-hand woman. Cordovin flocked to power —perceived or otherwise— like a moth to flame. "That bootlicker likes my name and my rank," Winter grumbled.

"I meant Hill."

Her heart skipped a beat. "...Oh," she mouthed, realizing the wind had been knocked out of her. He couldn't have overheard what they'd been saying, so he would have deduced it either from body language, or from Robyn insistently hanging around her. Maintaining her composure as best she could, she kept walking, throwing a furtive glance his way. "Yes, I know."

"Why would she ever?" He asked, seemingly very amused.

Having been wondering that herself, Winter was visibly perplexed. "I don't know," she answered softly, completely mystified.

Her somewhat demure answer had Clover's bantering grin leave room for a more empathetic disposition. "...I was just joking, you know, you're not unlikeable."

His awareness of her lukewarm but professional relationship with his team was likely why he had felt the need to retract his jape. It may have appeared to him that she had issues building authentic and congenial relationships; Clover evidently hadn't realized that she was the deliberate architect of her situation. Winter made quite the effort to be distant enough to alienate anyone who might decide to be too friendly with her; she had started doing so while attending Atlas Academy, first for disliking the type of people her name would attract, and subsequently to allow herself the freedom to focus on her training. The privacy afforded by keeping people at a distance was something she'd grown to enjoy quite a lot, so she had never felt the need to modify her behavior. There were a handful of people with whom she had chosen to cultivate friendships or close personal relationships, and those were amply sufficient.

"I put a lot of effort into being unlikable to people like her," Winter explained, opting to leave it up in the air what she meant by that. She knew Clover would understand the designation to mean politicians and party attendees, but... in Robyn's case, Winter also meant to designate attractive women.

"Ah," he gave. "I didn't realize you were like that on purpose."

She came to a full stop, turning to him. "Are you serious?" Winter balked. He had witnessed multiple instances of her being not only frosty, but downright rude to party attendees; had he seriously thought she didn't know better but to behave that way? "You never thought that I might simply not want to engage with these people? You found it more plausible that I wouldn't have any manners?"

He laughed. "No, but you aren't that much friendlier to the team," Clover reminded her, "so I thought… you wear your name well. Some people aren't very warm, and that's fine."

Her gaze dropped to the metal floor for a second; "I'm focused, that's all," she muttered, resuming walking.

"Is that what it is?" He nonchalantly rejoined, following suit. "All work no play is eventually gonna burn you out, you know. Hill's interest might be a good opportunity to let loose and have a little fun while you can."

Winter's heart jumped in her throat, her blood chilled. She'd never told anyone, never acted on her desires, so how could he possibly know? She stopped again, plastering a convincing frown on her features. "What are you trying to suggest...?"

He'd stopped about two steps ahead, and turned back to face her. "Well you know; when the world learns what we're up against, there won't be time for any of that anymore," he said, misunderstanding which part she'd taken issue with. "So now's the time to make a little room to have fun," he reiterated, this time with a wink.

"Are you telling me to-…?" She couldn't even bring herself to voice it, the lump in her throat hurt. "I'm not… like that," she lied.

It took him a second to process, then he looked awfully embarrassed. "Oh. My bad, I thought-"

"Why?" Winter cut in.

"Well you know, Atlas Academy, rumour went."

Winter frowned even deeper. First, she hadn't been aware of any sort of rumour about her, but more importantly, Clover's time at the academy didn't overlap with her own; he was eight years older. Any of that gossip he would have heard from Harriet, Vine, or Elm, who all had one to three years over Winter, and whose time at the academy subsequently did overlap with her own. Did this mean that everyone had heard of this rumour? It made her awfully self-conscious of what her colleagues might have been saying unbeknown to her. Served her right for keeping such an alienating distance with them.

Clover looked apologetic. "Since you took it in stride when I brought up that she's into you, I figured it was true."

"I took it in stride because Robyn Hill's preferences aren't exactly a secret," Winter shot back. "And it's quite obvious that she has taken a liking to me, for whatever reason."

"You're right, I'm sorry," he answered, looking genuinely remorseful. "I shouldn't have relied on baseless rumors. It had to have been spiteful gossip. Kids can be—hell, people can be nasty. And they like to talk."

"Does everyone think that I'm…?"

"A lesbian?" He finished for her, making her wince. Clover didn't seem to notice. "I don't know about everyone. But a lot of people, yeah— we all did."

"Oh." Winter had to let it sink in. There she thought she'd kept that part of herself well under wraps, but a chance slander had outed her this long ago? She felt exposed and vulnerable, and didn't know how to reconcile all that. Trying to put it aside for the sake of the conversation, trying to get a quick handle on herself, she reasoned… none of her peers ever treated her with disrespect or condescension, or in any way that she could attribute to homophobia. It was a somewhat liberating thought, and in that moment, she figured… if it changed nothing, why keep up the lie?

Before she could find it in herself to go back on her word, Clover decided to fill the awkward silence that had pervaded the air. "There wouldn't be those sorts of misunderstandings if you were a little more open, you know, everyone would be happy to know you a little better," he commented, and instantly he seemed to catch himself. "I mean, no pressure if you'd rather remain professional with the team, that's your prerogative. But maybe being isolated as you are isn't helping with rumors; it wouldn't hurt you to make a friend or two."

As the conversation had been sparked because of a certain blonde trying to 'befriend' her, Winter found herself asking; "Do you seriously think that Robyn Hill —of all people— is someone I should be friends with?"

"I didn't necessarily mean her either," he laughed. "Although to be fair, she's the only one I've seen try this hard."

"She can keep trying, I won't budge," Winter claimed firmly, however unconfident she was in her assertion.

There was a small silence as they resumed walking, albeit not in the same hurry. Clover glanced over at her again. "You know, actually… thinking about it, the General may find it useful if we could call Hill friendly," he suggested. General Ironwood had been butting heads into a stalemate with the other two council members, and had taken to bypassing their veto in some instances. "Another council member weighing in in our favor could be a good thing."

"Robyn Hill's policies and ideas will never be in our favor," Winter disputed, very much disliking where this was heading.

"You never know. She's reasonable, unlike the other candidate," Clover said with a grin. "If she has a soft spot for one of our own… it might not be a bad idea to capitalize on it."

"I'm not prostituting myself," Winter flatly said.

"You know that's not what I'm suggesting," he shot back, still smiling. "I meant; she's already chatting you up. It's not too much of a leap to make her friendly."

It went without saying that he hadn't been trying to suggest that, but Winter had hoped that reaching this far might have him drop the conversation. "Surely there are other, better people to make her friendly," she grumbled.

"It's you she's interested in, is it so hard?"

Winter exhaled. "Clover, I'm not a good choice. It can't be me," she disputed, as levelheaded as she could. "Once I have the powers, the line of succession depends entirely on how I feel about the people who surround me," she reminded him. "I have to be careful about… any sort of attachments."

"I get where you're coming from, but I don't think it's worth concerning yourself this far."

Weighing her arguments and where this conversation had brought her, Winter realized it was her chance to be honest. She came to a halt and took a deep breath; here went nothing: "I lied."

Clover stopped walking a few steps ahead again, looking back at her.

Winter made herself hold his gaze. "I lied when I said I wasn't… about that rumour," she guiltily admitted. Seeing understanding dawn in his eyes had her look away, somewhat embarrassed. "I'm sorry. It's not something I ever told anyone about, or acted on… and I… had no idea that somehow people knew," Winter explained. "I'm appalled to learn that… that this thing that I thought I had kept secret was in fact widely assumed."

Clover approached her again. "It's nothing to be ashamed of, you know."

"That's easy to say for someone who didn't grow up in Atlas," she unenthusiastically shot back. As if it'd help clear it a bit, she shook her head. "I've… gotten over it, for the most part," she awkwardly added.

He gave an understanding nod. "So, it's the first time in your life that you've talked about it?"

"...Yes."

"I'm honored."

"Don't be. It simply seemed absurd to insist on a lie now," she explained. "And… I meant for you to realize that I do have to be careful. If I were to let down my defenses and allow Miss Hill to… to get close to me… I fear that I might give her exactly what she wants," she dreadfully admitted, allowing him to grasp how she was already succumbing to Robyn's charm. "And if I did… it would be an impending disaster because… I don't do that. 'Have a little fun' I mean. Being intimate with someone isn't something I could take lightly," she explained.

Clasping her hands behind her back, Winter found herself walking again. It might have been an urge to pace, but they also did have somewhere to be. "War is at our doors, Salem's chosen one will be coming for the maiden powers," she continued, "being the Winter Maiden puts a target on my back and, though I'm confident in my ability to safeguard those powers, I have to be mindful of what sort of successor I could doom you all with." She didn't need to say anything more, his expression told about how well he'd followed her rationale, but she continued nevertheless. "What if I get killed and Robyn Hill gets the powers? How does that sound to you?"

"Point made," he yielded. "She's not a bad person, but…"

"Exactly. It has to stay Weiss."

This didn't seem to sit well with him. Clover looked over at her with some uncertainty. "...And that's fine with you?"

"Yes." Winter inhaled deeply. "There's no helping it. I'm only human; I love my sister with all my heart, I always have. I can't crush feelings that existed long before I was ever chosen for this." They stopped in front of an elevator, and Clover pressed the up button. Winter considered her next words for a short moment. "If the worst happens when the Fall Maiden comes for me, it'll be one of two options; she either overwhelms me such that I fixate on her and pass her the power, or... I don't, and my last thoughts would be with whoever I cherish the most," she outlined, keeping steady eye contact with him. "At the moment, that's unquestionably Weiss, and the only way to spare her that would be if I were to… fall in love." The elevator dinged and they both stepped in. Winter sighed deeply. "How would you go about making me fall in love with someone convenient?" She proposed, watching him closely. "And who? Harriet? Elm?"

Her suggesting this seemed to side-track him. "Are either of them your type?" He piped up interestedly.

"No… I… I don't think I have a type, if any—… It doesn't matter," she quickly waved off, not letting them get sidetracked. "Feelings don't happen on command, and they don't disappear on command." Winter asserted strongly. "Weiss… she's an excellent fighter, she's capable enough to be a valuable asset, and she has a good heart; she'd do the right thing. And she'll cooperate with you. She can be trusted to carry the torch after me; I see no reason to gamble changing that."

Clover stayed silent for a moment, his eyes trained on the glowing number displaying the floors passing by. "So you accept that you need to isolate yourself from real friendships or love... in order to guarantee you can doom your sister to the same fate as you," he surmised quietly. "It's a sad life you've committed to."

"We do what we must," Winter murmured. "My personal happiness is far outweighed by the wellbeing of Remnant."

"...And so is Weiss's personal happiness?"

Winter felt her jaw lock as she grit her teeth against her will. "Yes," she nevertheless answered between clenched teeth. "I know she would understand," she affirmed. Her eyes darted to lock with the other Specialist's. "But make no mistake, knowing that Weiss would succeed me is nothing more than tying up the loose ends," Winter asserted. "I don't intend to die, and I don't intend to let her be saddled with the same thoughts and responsibilities I am," she resolved. "There is a way to defeat Salem and we'll find it. And I will pull through."

With this, the elevator dinged again, the doors opening. Winter stepped off first.

"As time goes by, I understand more and more why the General chose you," Clover offhandedly commented.

"I'm not sure whether you mean that as a compliment," she grievously said.

"I'm not sure either," he admitted. "But I have an insane amount of respect for you."

Winter shot upright in her bed, sweat drenching her back and the covers she'd thrown off leaving her damp skin exposed to the chilly air. The goosebumps went unnoticed, her mind reeling in its attempt to process the dream that had jolted her awake just before dawn. It wasn't the first time that she had an erotic dream, but… usually, she dreamt of faceless strangers. Fantasy women. Never a real person… until now. It made her incredibly aware of how much that woman had gotten under her skin. Winter brushed her hair out of her face, hands shaking, trying to steady her breath. The dream had felt so real; the warmth and weight of another body against hers, the touch of hands impudently transgressing past her pristine uniform, the sound of Robyn's alluringly warm voice in her ear…

Stumbling out of bed, Winter made her way to the bathroom to get some water. She was parched, and it was no wonder; her body felt almost feverish with how dizzyingly riled up it was, and she still felt beads of sweat running down her spine and the back of her legs. The crystal clear images of her dream remained vividly seared in her mind's eye; half-lidded purple eyes and messy blonde hair sticking to moist tan skin, or her tongue running over those plump lips. Along with these scenes, Winter's senses were filled with lingering ghostly sensations; moist breath burning her neck, the intimacy of skin against skin… and she could almost make out the faintly sweet scent that clung to Robyn.

Winter gulped down the water so fast that she had to catch her breath, slamming her glass on the concrete countertop. Her eyes found the icy blue ones of her reflection in the bathroom mirror, and she scowled at herself.

Heedless fool.

Both her hands clasped on the sink, she took deep breaths, trying to appease the tumultuous storm within. She'd been well aware that Robyn Hill had gained some ground in her enterprise to win her over, but she hadn't realized just how much. Winter splashed cold water on her face in a vain attempt to shake off her dream, to shake off the indecent images and the arousal that came in waves with it. There was no way she was going back to sleep like this; even had she wanted to, how livid she was with herself would have prevented her from finding any more rest. She promptly decided that she would benefit from starting her day by working off that pent-up energy; she had ample time to do so before she had anywhere to be.

Quickly changing into the military-issued sweats she trained in, she hurried out the door, tying her hair up in a ponytail as she marched down to the fitness center. Given the early hour, the halls were completely deserted as she crossed from the residences to the training facilities shared with Atlas Academy. Winter nevertheless didn't forecast she would remain alone very long. Her credentials as she moved from building to building would flag her presence, and sooner or later it would draw the attention of the only person who never slept.

"Winter!" The jolly call echoed in the stern grey halls.

As expected. Winter didn't turn around, but she did stop to wait for the hurried footsteps to catch up with her.

Penny promptly appeared to her side, almost vibrating with energy. "You're up early!" she remarked. "You're heading to the training room?"

"Yes, I need to blow off some steam. You're welcome to join me."

"Blow off some steam," the redhead repeated, thinking about it excessively seriously. "This means that you are stressed, correct?"

Winter hummed in disapproval. "Not quite," she readily admitted, though quickly decided it might be for the best to settle with that. "But I guess you could say so," she added. Penny had gotten markedly better at deciphering complexities with emotions, but sexual frustration was a thing that Winter wasn't ready to start explaining, nor did she believe Penny to be in a place where she could understand it.

"I see," Penny nodded. "I understand," she then added with a hiccup.

Glancing her way, Winter shook her head. "I'm sorry, that wasn't clear at all. You can ask me to clarify if I'm not making sense to you," she offered. Many times before, she'd encouraged Penny to talk things out with her if she failed to understand, but some inhibition evidently remained. "I had a dream that agitated me such that I couldn't sleep anymore," Winter vaguely explained.

"Was it a nightmare?"

"It wasn't, but… it didn't sit well with me," she admitted. "It's nothing to concern yourself over. It's simply that it feels like the final straw, adding to a lot of other stressful things I have had a lot on my mind; Weiss's unknown whereabouts, my preparing to take over after Fria, concerns that her declining health may not allow her to pass her powers to me naturally, the never-ending list of to-do for the Amity tower, the recent coup on Haven, anguish over awaiting further news from Argus… and these… political events, at which our presence just seems completely unnecessary..."

Penny cocked her head inquisitively, her ginger hair bouncing lightly as she walked in step with Winter. "I thought you may have liked them since you made a friend."

The white-haired soldier abruptly stopped. "What friend?" She asked, knowing full well what would come next.

"Robyn Hill!" Penny exclaimed. "Isn't she your friend?"

Her throat tightened. Winter found herself unable to deny it the way she would've wished. "What makes you believe that she's my friend?" she instead asked.

"Well, you looked so happy to see her last evening," the redhead explained. "And you never talk to anyone, but you've been talking to her a lot."

At a loss, Winter stared at her companion. "I looked happy?"

"Unquestionably! Excited, even!"

Had it been anyone else saying this, Winter would've rolled her eyes and dismissed it, but… Penny could pick up micro-expressions, muscle tension, and a panoply of other cues unavailable to human eyes. Which meant that Penny had factually read excitement in Winter's features. It didn't matter how Winter had tried reasoning with herself that she should be chasing Robyn away, and it didn't matter that she had done her best not to bask in or let herself enjoy the attention that Robyn insisted on giving her. None of that mattered because those had been efforts that Winter had made to repress what was there, and Penny saw what was in fact there, beyond the attempt at self-control.

"You noticed that I looked excited to see her…" she repeated in dispirited resignation and, as Winter tried to wrap her mind around it, she suddenly became very aware that micro-expressions weren't the only thing that Penny could have picked up on. "Did you see that in my expression, or was there something else?"

"Oh, I noticed that in your expression," Penny beamed. "But I did notice other things!" She added, manifestly delighted to have the opportunity to get into it. "Rise in heart rate and body temperature, dilation of pupils, faint activation of sweat glands, change in voice pitch," she enumerated, counting on her fingers. "I meant to ask Dad about that, but since we're here, you can explain!"

Her head was spinning; how betrayed by her body she felt was beyond words. "They are… things that may happen with stronger emotions," she carefully explained, completely astounded with what fluctuations Penny's systems could detect on the human body. "Anger, embarrassment, excitement, just to name a few, might produce some of those changes."

"Oh, I see," Penny nodded attentively. "So it was excitement? That your friend was there?"

Winter cleared her throat uncomfortably. "It's… something like that," she managed, her voice more or less steady. She wasn't very inclined to explain that this specific grouping of biological reactions were unambiguously caused by attraction, but knowing that Penny could detect it so incontrovertibly… Winter couldn't help taking the opportunity to find out; "What about… her?" She awkwardly inquired. "Does Miss Hill have any... similar… physiological changes? Around me?"

"Yes, she does!" The redhead unabashedly confirmed. "She's also excited to see you!"

Having expected that answer didn't make it any less flustering, and Winter felt the blood rush to her face; she knew she'd reddened, and her head felt light. She hadn't needed this unequivocal confirmation from Penny's readings; Winter had known from the very first time that Robyn had looked her way that Robyn was attracted to her, and even if she hadn't seen it in her gaze… Robyn had verged upon the matter more than once. It still felt different to have this tangible proof. Winter braced herself with a mental slap; sure, it was absolutely certain that Robyn's attraction to her was real, but it didn't discount that Robyn's enterprise may still be an attempt at obtaining classified information, she reminded herself.

"Are you okay, Winter? Your temperature suddenly rose by point forty-six degrees."

"I'm fine," she rapidly waved off, recovering some of her cool. "Listen, Penny," she closed in, lowering her voice even though no one else was around, "could you please do me a favor and keep all this to yourself?"

However puzzled she appeared, Penny nevertheless nodded. "I think I understand," she said. "The General also told you not to make friends?"

Hearing this, Winter had to pause; she blinked rapidly in confusion. Since Penny had been rebuilt, she hadn't been assigned a new team, and the students who had masqueraded as her team during the Vytal Tournament had gone off to other missions all over Remnant. But being almost permanently on Atlas Academy grounds, it wouldn't have been too hard for Penny to develop friendship with some of the students, the way she had when she'd wandered Beacon's ground and had befriended Weiss and her team. "...Is that what he told you? That it's better for you not to make friends?"

"Yes," Penny answered. "He said that there was no time for that."

Did this mean that Penny had been alone outside of her associations with the Ace Ops? Then it was no wonder that she flocked to her whenever she had free time. Winter's gaze remained on the innocent redhead. The General had good reasons for all he did, and if he had come to believe that Penny shouldn't invest her time in building rapports with students, he must have thought it through, Winter decided. "...He simply doesn't want you distracted," she rationalized. "There will be ample time for personal relationships once we've weathered the worst."

"I see," Penny nodded, following Winter to the gym area. "Is this why you want to keep it a secret that you made a friend?"

"No, it's… friendships aren't an issue. The problem is with Miss Hill specifically."

"Why?" She questioned inquisitively; her features then suddenly set in a grave manner. "Is she a bad person?"

Winter shook her head faintly. "That's not it. I believe she's in fact a very good person," she confided, plopping down on a floor mat. "But. She isn't exactly sympathetic to the Atlesian military. The policies she's proposing are in direct opposition to what we need at the moment," Winter explained, placing herself into a hurdler stretch. "She's bad news for us; I shouldn't be warming up to her."

Penny sank to her knees to be on a similar eye-level as she watched her stretch. "So... you're doing something wrong?" She asked hesitantly.

Giving a hum as she switched legs, Winter glanced at her companion. "I wouldn't say wrong per se, but it is ill-advised," she conceded, meeting the vivacious green eyes. "I'm trying to remain professional, but Miss Hill is awfully charming, and I can't help being…" Winter exhaled a little shakily, trying to decide on how to phrase it. "I can't help being somewhat fond of her." With this she moved both legs under her, preparing for her next position. "It's a delicate situation, and I would rather it not be advertised."

"I see." The redhead answered. She nodded earnestly. "I understand! I will keep quiet."

"Thank you," Winter said gently. Eager to change topics, she gave Penny a light smile. "Onto a more worthwhile topic; you start your solo patrols in Mantle on Monday. How are you feeling about it? Do you feel ready?"

Penny lit up with enthusiasm. "I'm nervous but excited! It will be my first unaccompanied assignment! I will be fully independent!"

Winter's cool blue eyes bore into the back of the woman's head.

Almost every night she'd been having those dreams, and she had mulled them over more than she was comfortable with. Beyond pondering over how much significance she should grant them, Winter had caught herself incessantly speculating over how close to reality those recurring dreams might be. Things like… what did Robyn's body actually look like under all those layers she wore, or would Robyn be as assertive as her mind's eye insisted on painting her? It had all brought her to a place where she had been equally dreading seeing Robyn again… and impatiently anticipating this evening. She couldn't believe she would ever be looking forward to an event like this one, and even less how adolescently her mind was gallivanting.

Nevertheless, Winter's attention was locked inflexibly on her, as she'd been unable to stop herself from doing over the course of the last weeks. But unlike how she would usually fixate on Robyn's features, observing her expressions and mannerisms, that evening Winter couldn't help how her gaze wandered. Her incessant fantasizing raised the same questions again and again, and their constant reiteration coerced her into trying to elucidate some of them. Robyn's huntress gear consisted of four layers of clothing and two belts; a total of six layers; effective against the cold, and also effectively hiding her waistline. It was impossible to tell if the woman had a pronounced hourglass figure or if she had a strong, thick core. It was easier to gauge the size of her chest; none of these layers could camouflage it. Nor were they hiding her broad shoulders or the substantial muscle mass in her arms. She might have been a politician, but she certainly wasn't a defenceless citizen, and Atlas Academy records corroborated that; Robyn had graduated with honors. She had chosen the hard work to be done in Mantle over the cozy position in the military. It wasn't a scenario unfamiliar to Winter; she could have been wallowing in a nauseatingly luxurious lifestyle had she taken her birthright.

Hours ticked away until quite late in the evening, yet Winter was still alone. Robyn had made eye contact a few times throughout the event, but had somehow gotten lost in the crowd. Some guests had started leaving and Winter found that she was fretting over whether or not the Mantle representative might have lost interest in her. The prospect of going back to solitary never-ending soirées left her embarrassingly despondent.

Dwelling on this, Winter noticed an unmoving presence at her side. She didn't need to look to know who might've rooted themselves at her side this way.

"Took you long enough," Winter griped in her best detached voice.

"Were you waiting for me?" Robyn's smile was evident in her tone.

Her face warmed. "I expected you, it's not the same," she corrected.

"I've gotten predictable?"

"You're anything but predictable."

"I'm at least this predictable," Robyn disputed, laughing. "We both know I wouldn't have gone the evening without making time for you."

"I didn't know. The novelty might have worn off, and you could have remained with the people you were actually here to see," Winter explained.

"Were you fretting over that?" The rugged blonde posed, unknowingly hitting a bullseye. "You don't have to worry about that, I'm not gonna bail on my only friend here."

"We're not friends," Winter instantly countered.

Robyn snorted, ever-amused. "How defensive," she remarked light-heartedly. "Either way. It's comforting to have company who equally dislikes these events."

Winter felt the same, but she refrained from commenting on that. Her lack of repartee might also have stemmed from being taken off guard by Robyn calling her presence comforting, of all things. Aside from Weiss, she couldn't think of the last time someone might have felt that way about her presence. Discreetly, she glanced over at her counterpart.

Robyn seemed temporarily engrossed with the glass she held. With a twist of her wrist, she made the beverage in her glass swirl, watching the liquid sway. The ice had long melted, diluting the untouched drink to a pale color. As she sometimes would, she poured the contents of her glass in a nearby potted plant and, as a waiter passed by, she exchanged her empty glass for a full one. Resuming her position, she came aware of Winter having watched the entire thing.

"I prefer to keep my mind clear, so I never drink at events like these," Robyn kindly offered, finally elucidating a behavior that Winter had refused to ask about. "But… I also don't want any of them to be on their guard, so I'd rather they think I'm drinking as much as they are. Hence, cycling these," she finished, raising her fresh glass.

That was a clever strategy; Winter almost smiled. "Hmm."

Robyn gasped. "Was that a pleased hum?"

"I suppose," she admitted.

"So you approve of at least one thing about me," she playfully said. "I'd toast to that, but it's not like either of us will drink."

"Indeed."

"Maybe we can toast together when you're not on duty," Robyn proposed with a wink. "Come down to Mantle one of these days, I'm easy to find."

Winter willed herself not to address the invitation. "I don't drink," she said instead.

Robyn looked surprised. "Ever?"

"Ever."

"Why not?"

Discussing this was rapidly making her feel testy. "I just don't."

"Is it 'cause you're always on duty?"

"I'm not."

"So are you allergic to fun?"

"I don't equate alcohol with fun," Winter snapped aggrievedly. Thanks to one too many wretched childhood memories, the very idea of getting inebriated revolted her. "The sloppiness and disarray of intoxication is repugnant," she acrimoniously added.

There was a short silence, as Robyn evidently considered the immoderate bitterness in what she'd said. Winter could feel the other woman's gaze on her, she deliberately kept her own somewhere far off, on other guests. How she hated when her temper slipped; that it had just now made her mood even fouler.

Robyn watched her cautiously. "One glass isn't an entire bottle," she calmly reasoned.

Winter's features set further in discontentment and she felt her jaw set; if she said anything more at this point, she would regret it. Unpleasant memories pushed their way to the surface despite her best efforts to dismiss them, and Winter's gaze was strenuously fixed to the crowd in front of her.

Exhaling a disheartened sort of short sigh, Robyn moved herself from her side to directly in front of Winter. Because of the height difference, Winter was forced to raise her gaze to Robyn's face in order to not be staring at her chest. For once, there was no trace of amusement on the blonde's features, her eyes holding an empathetic gleam. "You're gonna scare them if you keep glaring like that," she said, bringing her back to the present moment and allowing her to realize that she had started spiralling. "Breathe."

How close Robyn stood cast a shadow over her and created a sense of privacy, a temporary seclusion from the bustling around them. Winter closed her eyes for the length of a deep breath and re-centered herself.

"...Better?"

"Yes," she murmured, still shaking off how taut she'd gotten and more importantly… trying to digest how disquieted she was that Robyn de-escalated her mood so quickly, quietly, and effectively.

After lingering a few extra seconds, Robyn moved to her side again. Her tone was genuinely sympathetic as she asked; "Was that about your mom?"

Winter opted not to answer. As her mother sank further into her addiction, she had stopped attending public events altogether, and though the extent of her problem may not have been widely known to the public, she had made a fool of herself enough times at social gatherings for everyone to be somewhat aware of the situation.

Her silence was telling enough for Robyn; "I see," she softly said. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" Winter rasped, hating that there was still some strain to her voice.

"For pushing it," the blonde offered. "And not realizing any sooner. Sometimes I don't know where to stop when I get curious."

Ruing herself for being so transparent, she shrugged uncomfortably. "I'd rather we leave that alone," she frankly said. "I left it all behind when I enrolled."

"Hmm. You said something like that before," Robyn noted, "when you were saying that money hadn't been the solution to any of your problems and all."

Hearing that, Winter was at once brought back to the conversation they'd been having before Clover had interrupted, and how Robyn had been narrowing to what tangible chemistry there was between them. Her hands clasped behind her back tightened over each other, anticipating this conversation might also be heading there.

"Seems to be a common theme with this generation of Schnees, huh? Your sister also didn't seem to care enough about the money to listen to your dad," Robyn instead said, kindly opting not to put Winter through another tense exchange so soon. The blonde took a second to collect some hors d'oeuvre from the platter of waiting staff passing by. She also got rid of her drink completely. "I'm guessing you two have a close relationship? Seeing as she's taken a page or two from your book and then outdid you spectacularly… I get the feeling that you two were joined at the hip."

What that was meant to refer to —electing to train at a Huntsman academy, defying their father, or doing away with their heirdom— Winter didn't know. She might have paved the way, but Weiss had indeed outdone her on all accounts with the grandiosity of how much further away from the social expectations that their name had burdened them with she had diverged.

"We didn't have that sort of symbiotic camaraderie because of our age difference," Winter said. In childhood and early teenage years, six years was too big of a gap for the sort of closeness that Robyn had described. "But we have a satisfactory relationship."

"Satisfactory…" she repeated. "So not the best even with her, huh?"

"Weiss is the person I care for most in the world."

Robyn's eyebrows shot up; "That's not just 'satisfactory'," she rejoined, now smiling. "It's sweet. You're actually pretty close then."

"I don't know about close. Between the age difference and our family situation, most of our lives, Weiss has looked up to me as a role model," Winter explained. She thankfully hadn't had to assume the role of a caretaker to her siblings, there had been Klein and many other domestics to meet those needs, but she had felt the pressure to grow up fast and model the best behavior she could in order to contrast their parents'. "I've… done what I can to set a good example and encourage her the best I know how."

"So she's a mini-you?"

"There was a time where she tried," Winter acknowledged, remembering countless instances in which her sister had tried to emulate her; fom basing her weapon off of Winter's to attempting to mimic her frosty façade. "But she's long outgrown that phase; Weiss is indubitably her own person," she added. Talking about her had Winter grow nostalgic; it was almost despite herself that she continued. "Unlike me, Weiss is… foolhardy, messy, defiant… and also… vibrant, gregarious, open-minded, and really caring," Winter sighed; she missed her.

"You really love her," Robyn noted, her eyes holding a glimmer of affection. "I'd be curious to meet her."

Said glimmer left Winter somewhat troubled. She knew it likely wasn't affection towards her, that the warmth in Robyn's eyes was from enjoying the wholesomeness of the way she spoke of her sister, but still. "Don't count on it," she said more defensively than she intended.

"If you're worried I'd be a bad influence on her, I swear to be on my best behaviour."

"Bad influence or not, Weiss is evidently fully capable of getting herself in trouble all on her own," she muttered glumly. "Either way, she's not even on this continent."

"I heard about that," the blonde chirped.

"Everyone heard about that," Winter griped. "Disappearing such, without a trace."

"Without a trace?" Robyn repeated in surprise. "Even you don't know where she is?"

"She left shortly before I made it back to Atlas. With the status of global communications, there's no reaching her." If Weiss still had been somewhere on Solitas, she would still have been in range; Winter would have been able to ensure she was safe. "If I could, I'd be out there tracking her in person," Winter admitted.

"What do you mean, if you could? You don't seem to be that busy, you've been at parties like these for the last two months," Robyn pointed out. "I mean, no complaints, I love having the opportunity to make friends with you."

"We're not friends," Winter interjected, though claiming that after the very personal bit of conversation about her family felt like a lie.

"Sure, whatever, the point is, you don't look busy at all. What's keeping you?"

Something that couldn't begin to be explained. "My presence in Atlas is imperative," Winter instead summarized. "I simply have to trust that Weiss can take care of herself until I'm in a position to leave the city."

"So… you're not busy, but you can't leave." Robyn thought out loud. "Which means you're on standby, just like the rest of the military." With the borders closed, the dust embargo, and their entire firepower stationed around the city since the Fall of Beacon, it wasn't hard to deduce this, and it wasn't hard to jump to the next logical conclusion. "You guys really think that after Beacon and Haven, something will happen here too, huh?"

"We don't know," Winter said, although they were certain that there would be an attempt on Atlas. What they didn't know was when. "Until we find out more, we're not taking chances."

"Is that also why dust shipments have started being confiscated?" Robyn promptly inquired. "Thanks to the General's dust embargo, exports stopped. So why would anyone need this much dust?" She questioned, getting visibly agitated.

Glancing her way, a frown developed on Winter's features. This felt similar to what happened earlier, as Robyn had mentioned that she had a hard time stopping once she was onto something. Unlike earlier however, this fed into a narrative that Winter had suspected was the actual purpose for the other woman's persistence with her. Disillusionment started to creep in.

"And as if that wasn't suspicious enough," Robyn continued, "you guys are hoarding supplies that could be used to repair Mantle's perimeter wall. And I've heard from all sorts of manufacturers that custom parts are being special-ordered," she established, broadcasting some of the findings she'd gathered. Robyn stared at her point blank. "Seems to me like you guys are doing something beyond just 'not taking chances'."

She should have known. Yes, Winter had tried to remind herself that this was likely what Robyn's masquerade was all about, but deep down she hadn't been able to convince herself of it. How cheated she felt allowed her to grasp this, and how crestfallen she was forced her to realize how much she'd wanted Robyn to be genuinely into her. "It goes without saying that we wouldn't idly wait for an attack," Winter uttered discontentedly. "Stop this. You're wasting your breath."

The blonde didn't seem deterred in the slightest. "I'll find out sooner or later."

Everyone will when Amity is launched and Salem is revealed to the world, Winter thought. And now that she'd convinced herself that the other woman was playing her, she really wanted to be alone. "You've finally shown your true colors."

"What?"

"You've been circling me feigning other motives, but you want information."

"Of course I want information, everyone does," Robyn snapped back, annoyingly frankly. "Everyone's talking about it, you gotta know that, right? Since the news of the attack on Haven a few days ago, even those sleazy, self-involved clowns, they're speculating and they're worried." Her deep purple eyes were unfalteringly locked with the pale blue ones as she earnestly defended her case. "Come on, Schnee. I'd have to be a moron to think you'd just chat away intel; people like you don't get to be high-ranking officials by being sloppy with state secrets. That's not what I'm doing here."

Winter didn't want to let herself be convinced so easily, but Robyn seemed completely genuine and what she'd argued was sensible. "You said you'd find out sooner or later," she pointed out.

"Yeah, I will," Robyn confidently shot back. "But I'm not expecting to find that out from you."

Winter squinted one eye dubiously. "So?"

"So, I truly haven't been circling you for any other reason than: I like chatting you up, you're interesting."

"It's not the only reason," Winter disputed.

"True," Robyn acknowledged, her smile suddenly stretching her lips again, "it's also because you're really easy on the eyes."

Her face fell— how cheeky! Winter opened her mouth, but she didn't know what she wanted to say to that, so she closed it again. Her heart suddenly thumped so hard that she could feel it in her fingertips, and she could feel herself redden by the second.

Robyn laughed. "Chill, I'm teasing you."

Being thrown from one end of the emotional spectrum to the other had something snap inside of her, and Winter fully turned to face her. "You're not teasing me, you're testing me," she accused under her breath.

Robyn evidently didn't expect to be called out on it, she looked genuinely intrigued. "Why do you say that?"

Winter glanced around to make sure no one was paying attention to them. "This isn't idle talk, it isn't mere teasing," she fumed quietly. "You're prodding to find out if I'm… if I'm receptive."

Robyn didn't lower her voice at all. "Ah, so you believe me? That it's about that and not your connections or intel?"

"I don't know what to believe," Winter admitted, assessing her cautiously. "You must know how absurd an endeavour like this one would be, so how could you be serious?" With this, she again scanned their surroundings, ensuring they hadn't caught anyone's attention. "And what makes you believe I'd even think of indulging this… this whim?"

"...For one, I've made my intentions clear enough and you still haven't shot me down," Robyn pointed out. "Doesn't that mean there's something there?"

Winter wished she'd have been able to stare her square in the eye and vehemently affirm that she wanted nothing to do with her, but she couldn't bring herself to so blatantly lie when they both knew Robyn was right. "You should leave," she instead said, uncomfortably resuming her military stance.

"What?" Robyn laughed. "I'm not done."

"I am."

"I think we should talk about it."

"I don't want to."

Robyn gave her a disingenuous wounded puppy look. "You're hurting my feelings."

"Good," Winter hissed.

"Is that how you treat every woman you've got a crush on?"

Disbelief slacked Winter's features as she gaped at her. Heat flared in her cheeks as the blood rushed to her face so fast it made her dizzy.

"What?" Robyn's lips slowly stretched into that unnerving cocky smirk. "Don't you?"

Even had she been able to find her voice, Winter wouldn't have known how to answer. She couldn't believe the audacity, and she couldn't gather herself.

That brazen grin only widened. "You're really obvious about it, you know."

It had her blood reach a boiling point. "Drop it," Winter warned lowly, much more threateningly than she intended.

Her impishness abruptly doused, Robyn uncertainly stared down at her. It looked like she was trying to gauge how seriously she should take that warning, but all in all, she was clearly intimidated. Ultimately, she opted to concede. "Fine," Robyn puffed, crossing her arms. "I'll leave it alone for now."

With how agitated she'd gotten, Winter wasn't cross to have a second to retrieve her composure. Having had an inkling that Robyn knew she fancied her was one thing, but having it out in the open was another. It definitely felt a more vulnerable position to be in. She glanced at her quickly; Robyn might've desisted from the topic but not from keeping Winter company, as she was still rooted at her side.

Not one to remain silent very long, Robyn's attention had already wandered to another topic of conversation. "Oh hey, your other friend is here today," she chimed, designating Penny with a gesture of her hand.

Other? It took a second for her to realize Robyn was calling herself her friend again.

"Hey, Penny," Robyn called, before Winter could object. "Penny, come chat with us for a second," she invited, beckoning for the redhead to join them with a motion of her hand.

As prompted, she approached them. "Robyn Hill." Penny looked like a deer in headlights. "Salutations."

"Salutations," Robyn answered, evidently amused with the greeting. "I've been meaning to talk to you."

"To me?" Penny unsurely glanced over at Winter, and it didn't take long for the white warrior to understand that the hesitancy was due to the conversation they'd had earlier that week. Penny was apprehensive about socializing with Robyn because Winter had called it 'ill-advised'.

"Yes, you," the tan blonde encouraged. "Since you and the ice queen here are such good buddies, it made me curious about you," she then explained.

"Oh, I see," Penny perked up; she looked really happy with the interest. "And have you and Winter become 'good buddies' too?" She asked, air-quoting with her fingers.

"First name basis huh? Sorta jealous," Robyn commented, meeting the pale blue eyes for a fleeting moment. "She says we're not, I say we are, agree to disagree for now."

"I haven't agreed to disagree about anything," Winter interjected.

"Yeah, well if you're gonna be like that, maybe I'll be Penny's friend then," Robyn casually threw back.

The range of emotions that passed on Penny's features told Winter exactly what had gone through her head; excitement at the idea of making a friend, remembering Winter's caution about befriending Robyn specifically, followed by a dire attempt at containing herself. "Inadvisable," Penny finally managed.

"Why's that?" Robyn inquired, though she didn't look surprised. The redhead was the equivalent of a Special Operative after all, and most of the reasons why befriending Winter would be impolitic for the Mantle champion similarly applied to Penny. But the blonde seemed hellbent on throwing caution to the wind. "You're Mantle's Protector and I'm from Mantle. Shouldn't we be at least a little friendly?"

"That is irrefutable logic," Penny admitted. "But Winter said…" she trailed off, glancing at her eyes wide.

"That she wants to keep me all to herself?" Robyn winked at her, and again, before Winter could object, she turned back to Penny. "By the way, while we're on the topic: 'Protector of Mantle', what's that supposed to be?"

"Are you inquiring about my tasks?" Penny clarified, earning herself a short nod. "The primary aim is rapid response to Grimm breaching the outer perimeter walls. A subordinate yet nonetheless important objective is to keep the peace, and to do so with a less intrusive presence than the Knight patrols," she explained with pride. "I've been adjusting to my new tasks with an accompaniment, but starting next week, I will be doing solo rounds."

The Mantle representative looked somewhat impressed. "You'll be fine without any help?"

"Affirmative!" The redhead exclaimed. "And, I can respond even faster on my own; I can respond at any time of the day or night as I am unburdened by biological necessities. And I can fly there with more ease than a team responding with a ship."

"Makes sense," Robyn acquiesced. Her arms crossed, she looked her up and down swiftly, quite obviously still trying to make up her mind about her. "So I'll be seeing a lot more of you going around in Mantle, won't I?"

"Yes!" Penny smiled a little wider. "Though my father prefers residing in Mantle, I haven't gone out on my own very much. I look forward to being better acquainted with the city!"

"Your father?"

"Dr. Polendina," Winter clarified. "One of the greatest minds in Atlas."

"A scientist," Robyn reflected out loud. "Of course… it's not like you would've come out of an egg."

"An egg—oh that's a joke about my origin," Penny giggled, smiling from ear to ear, "that's funn—" she abruptly stopped, as she caught herself in her amusement. Again, she stared at Robyn with eyes wide as saucers. "I should go!" She declared, promptly doing so.

Watching her escape through the crowd, the tall blonde was a little stumped. "She looked… stressed," Robyn commented, disconcerted. "She really does have emotions, huh?"

"I told you her aura is real; she has a soul," Winter matter-of-factly rejoined. "She's nothing like the Knights or Paladins."

"Huh, so she's not," Robyn pensively said. Finally, she detached her eyes from the still visible ginger antennae and turned to Winter again. "So what's got her so wired up?"

"Talking to you," Winter indifferently explained. "She's too nice to be unfriendly."

This seemed to amuse the blonde tremendously. "What, is she also trying to be a mini-you?"

She rolled her eyes, though the idea of Penny attempting to emulate her did amuse Winter. "That's not it," she nevertheless admitted. "While she evidently enjoyed conversing with you, she was conflicted about it. After she asked about your… insistent lingering in my vicinity, I was forced to explain why neither she nor I should be friendly with you."

"Should," Robyn repeated, nudging Winter with her elbow.

She pursed her lips, choosing to ignore the camaraderie in that gesture. "Are you implying that my behavior is friendly?"

"Yep," Robyn shot back. "Look at you, having full-on conversations with me. If that's not friendly behavior for you…" A buzzing noise distracted her from her train of thought, and Robyn reached for her scroll on the inside of her vest. The face of a young-looking sheep faunus was displayed on the screen next to a message notification.

As Robyn busied herself reading it and answering her teammate, Winter's gaze drifted from the lit up scroll to the woman's features. For someone so frustratingly good-looking, Robyn didn't seem to be too aware of it. Or at least, she didn't rely on that to make people like her, what with her overlooking dressing up for the occasion, opting for no makeup, and her messy ponytail. Now that Winter was closely observing it though, that tousled ponytail made her hair look somewhat coarse from afar, but the pale blonde bangs falling against her cheekbones looked bouncy and supple. Winter wondered if it was because Robyn simply neglected to brush the hair she tied back, and how different it may look if she'd allow someone to give it a proper comb through.

It was stupid, but Winter itched to fix it. If the way her bangs framed her face was any indication of how that mane might sit on her shoulders once properly tamed, it would look stunning. The pale platinum blonde had a warm undertone to it that complimented gorgeously the rich color of her complexion—which was just another thing that Winter couldn't help admiring. Her own skin was so pale that the blue of her veins easily showed through, sometimes almost eerily so; in comparison, Robyn's bronzed skin looked radiant and healthy.

"Do I have something on my face?" Robyn asked.

Snapping out of it, Winter tore her gaze away. She had to stop behaving like an infatuated fool.

"What were you staring at, so longingly?" The tall blonde teasingly insisted.

"Keep dreaming," Winter muttered defensively, though she'd been fully gawking for no other reason than an irrepressible urge to do so.

Robyn was unruffled from her ever-amused disposition. "I don't think I dreamt that up."

Not in the mood for another round of embarrassment, Winter opted to remind her: "You said you'd leave it alone."

"I did," Robyn conceded, "sorry about that."

Though she said that, she hardly looked sorry at all, and Winter absolutely expected her to bring it all up again, sooner rather than later at that. So she pursed her lips, noncommittally scowling at her.

"Don't give me that look," Robyn laughed. With this, she quickly motioned to her scroll as she put it away. "I've got to go. You don't want me to leave on that note, now do you?"

As if such a lukewarm glare would ever discourage Robyn from approaching her again. "Does it matter?"

"To me it does," she frankly said. "I don't know how many more of these events I'll be attending; I think I've gained as much as I could with these people, so it won't be worth coming anymore," Robyn explained. "Might be a while before I see you again."

Hearing this, all traces of crossness melted off her features, taken away by the sense of loss that washed over her. Winter had gotten so used to having the monotony of her week broken up by this irresistible troublemaker, she felt genuinely abandoned at the prospect of returning to her solitude.

"Don't look so disappointed, you'll make me feel bad," Robyn ruefully shot with a light chuckle. "But hey, the offer still stands if you want to—... well, not toast together, but... you know. The drinks are just an excuse for friends to get together."

Her 'we're not friends' quip died in her throat as she realized that she was already calculating how and when she would be able to see Robyn again.

The dashing blonde smiled that oh-so-charming smile of hers. "I'd love to see you when you're not on duty," she said. "I'm not hard to find, so drop by when you have some time off, huh?"

"I can't do that," Winter said, incredulous.

"Sure you can," Robyn assuredly shot back. "I'll make sure you don't regret it."

-TBC

Chapter Text

Bells jingled against the door as Robyn let herself into a local café, Joanna on her heels. Corroborating intel that had come to her attention, her gaze instantly found the figure dressed in immaculate white. She sat calmly; leaning back in her chair, legs crossed, a single teacup in front of her. Winter’s cool blue eyes returned her gaze, as if she had been expecting her. A grin etched itself on Robyn’s features as she strolled to the woman’s table. It was quite a view, seeing her out of her uniform; Winter wore a fitted white blazer over a feminine blouse, and now that Robyn was closer, she noticed that her trousers, which had been obscured by the dim lighting, were in fact a soft blue. The outfit was brought together with a red pump that matched her earrings. Last but not least, her shoulder-length hair was down; it looked airy and soft, and framed her delicate features in a lovely manner. It was the first time that Robyn saw her with her hair down, and she was smitten all over again. All in all, Winter’s look was simple and polished, fitted extremely well, and very much what Robyn would have expected to see her in, should she have ever expected to see her in civilian clothes. Winter also looked incredibly out of place dressed so sharp and pristinely in a dingy Mantle café.

Robyn stood on the other side of the two-person table, her teammate a few steps behind her. “What a surprise, fancy meeting you here,” she said, grabbing the back of the free chair with both hands.

Winter raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Don’t pretend this is a coincidence, you have eyes all over the city.”

“I do, I do,” Robyn nodded. If Winter was aware of the informants, then she’d undeniably known that her presence would come to Robyn’s attention and draw her out. “Which begs the question: are you here to see me?”

“I am.”

The high likelihood of that didn’t dampen her surprise. “...Is that so?”

“I would like to speak with you,” Winter declared, her eyes darting to the tall woman standing behind Robyn. “Alone.”

Unaware of the recent developments between them, Joanna swiftly objected; “Like Hell you’ll—”

“Joanna,” Robyn cut in, completely transfixed by the woman she’d been yearning to see. “It’s okay. Officer Schnee evidently isn’t here on official business.” With this, she gave her teammate a brief glance. “It’ll be fine, you can go back. Fiona and May could use your help.”

“You trust her?” Joanna asked unsurely.

A corner smile stretched Robyn’s lips. “I trust her, yeah,” she affirmed. Completely focused on the white figure in front of her, Robyn waited for her teammate to exit the café before excitedly taking a seat. She couldn’t believe she was sitting across from Winter Schnee in a Mantle café, it was thrilling , her day was made. “Civilian clothes and hair down too, you look good , Schnee,” Robyn complimented, unable to completely suppress her enthusiasm. “Did you decide you wanted to hang out with me after all?” She asked, though she knew it was very unlikely that the woman had simply decided to take her up on that invitation.

“I have a personal request,” Winter instead announced, cutting straight to the point.

Robyn nodded. “Let’s hear it.”

The ice queen delicately grabbed the saucer with her teacup. “As you know, Penny started doing rounds alone a few days ago,” she established.

“I’m aware, yeah.”

“Has it reached your ears that there is some discontentment with her presence?”

“It has,” the blonde corroborated, watching her visitor sip her tea. “And I mean, of course there is. There was already unrest about the increased military presence, the new surveillance— those new recorded messages of you and Ironwood aren't helping by the way,” she enumerated, giving a sigh. “And now with Penny zipping around everywhere in the city? Everyone knows what she is, you know? A lot of people are weirded out.”

Winter shook her head, resting her cup in its saucer. “I know these feelings are expected, I’m not concerned with the general sentiment,” she dismissed. “I’m concerned with the few who are taking vandalistic action.”

Robyn hadn’t heard of anything about that, but it was no surprise; naturally none of them would self-report, and her sentries were conveniently blind to the misdeeds of their own. “What do you mean by that?”

Winter exhaled shortly, holding her gaze contemplatively for a few seconds. “Penny comes back filthy ; marred by all sorts of garbage; rotten fruit… even animal feces,” she disclosed. “They throw things at her unprovoked—worse, sometimes even after she saved their lives. And if you need to see for yourself, the gratuitous nature of their actions has been picked up by surveillance cameras.”

This had flown completely under Robyn’s radar. Speechless, she couldn’t help feeling a little ashamed of her people.

“Penny is genuinely here to protect the citizens; she’s solely tasked with eliminating the Grimm breaching the city walls,” Winter advocated. “She doesn’t understand the distrust, and it’s heartbreaking to see her. She doesn’t deserve that,” she added, her cool façade giving way to an earnest, almost vulnerable gentleness as she pleaded; “Is there any way you can appease these people? They don’t have to like her presence in Mantle, but if they could simply… refrain from acting out against her, I’d be incredibly grateful.”

“...I’ll make sure it stops,” Robyn promised.

Relief washed away what softness had been showing through, and she returned to her cool and collected demeanor. “Thank you.”

The blonde hummed in acknowledgement. “You didn’t have to ask to speak to me alone for that though. Joanna would’ve understood, it’s a perfectly reasonable request.”

This earned her a raised eyebrow. “Does she know what you’ve been up to?” Winter questioned. “Your heedless venture to befriend me, and how it might have led me to assume I could so informally ask a favor out of you?”

“Uh… Yeah. She doesn't know,” Robyn admitted sheepishly. “In fact, she probably would’ve been pretty weirded out about how familiar we’re being.”

Winter acquiesced with a single nod. “Evidently. I imagined you might have omitted to tell your team; this is a foolish initiative.”

Robyn found herself smiling. “Yeah. I know it, you know it, my team— everyone would know it,” she waved off, crossing her arms and leaning back, her grin widening. “But look at us both; we’re still sitting here together against anyone’s better judgement.”

Winter’s gaze dropped to the flat surface of the wooden table, she looked a tad self-conscious.

Though the stated reason for her presence was for Penny’s sake, it was clear as day that Winter had taken the first available alibi to take Robyn up on her offer to come see her in Mantle. The ice queen might not have come had she not been able to give herself an excuse for this lapse in her typical rigidity, but she undeniably was here just as much for Penny as she was for herself. How crestfallen she’d looked at that last soirée when Robyn had told her that they might not see each other for a while, along with the fact that she was there on her own free time only corroborated all this.

In an effort to move along the stiffness that had started creeping back into her present company’s posture, Robyn addressed her again; “I’m happy to see you,” she offered more gently, drawing her gaze again. “I wish the reason that brought you here wasn’t such a fucked up one, but I am happy to see you. And it means a lot to me that you trust me to help.”

Winter shrugged off some tension. “You were the obvious solution.”

The tan blonde smiled lightly. Her eyes fell again on the woman’s pristine clothes. “So… did you come all the way down here on your day off— I imagine it’s your day off given the lack of...” Robyn gestured up and down her figure, “uniform and weapons and all— only to chat me up for three minutes? You could’ve called, I’m sure you guys could unearth my contact info pretty easily.”

Winter brought the teacup to her lips, but she answered before sipping from it. “Obtaining your personal contact information that way would have been an abuse of power and an invasion of privacy.”

“Wouldn’t it have been warranted for defacement of military property, or something?”

“It wouldn’t; you were uninvolved, and coming to you isn’t sanctioned by procedure,” she explained, as any real stickler for the rules would. “I chose to seek you out with a personal request because I knew that obtaining your help was the best way to put an end to it promptly and without commotion.”

Robyn smirked. “And so, you sat in a Mantle café on the off chance that I’d hear about it and show up?”

“On the off chance?” Winter repeated dispassionately. “It went without saying that my presence in Mantle would come to your attention,” she affirmed. “And was there any universe in which you wouldn’t have personally investigated it?”

It got a laugh out of her; the woman really had her figured out. “Touché,” Robyn shot back. “How long have you been waiting?”

“More or less half an hour. I was rather surprised with how quickly you surfaced,” she answered nonchalantly. “Were you in the area when you heard, or did you drop everything and rush to find me?”

“I dropped everything,” Robyn readily admitted, grinning wider.

Having clearly not expected this particular truth, Winter suddenly took interest in the nearly empty cup of tea in her hands, her cheeks taking on some color. How precious it was when that dignified woman had those coy moments roused in Robyn an aggressive urge to crush her against herself. Needless to say, she did nothing of the sort, opting instead to simply scoot closer and lean over the table. “Do you want my contact info?”

Winter looked up to her again.

“Just in case, you know?” Robyn posited. “It’d be a waste of your time to have to resort to something like this if you ever need to talk to me again.”

With this, Winter set her tea down and extended her hand, awaiting Robyn’s scroll, which was promptly offered; it was no surprise that Winter wouldn’t let her own device into anyone else’s hands. 

The ice queen sent herself a message and gave it back. Robyn glanced quickly at her scroll to see that Winter had sent herself a simple R. Initially brushing it off as simply the woman’s very sober manner of going about things, it however quickly came to Robyn that it very well might be that Winter didn’t want to leave any traces of who this new contact was. Did this mean she had to be careful what she wrote to her? Robyn’s eyes found the other woman’s. “Are your personal conversations monitored?”

“The military could have access to my logs if the need arises, but I’m not being monitored,” she explained. “No one would look without good cause— if something were to happen to me or such.”

The blonde pursed her lips. “If you’re so confident that no one will look, why did you do that?” she asked, pointing out the incredibly nondescript single letter on her scroll.

Winter sighed and pulled out her scroll, taking the time to type a message. Robyn’s screen lit up.


Unknown number: 1 Message

13:11 > I’m not monitored, Miss Hill. Nevertheless, do not abuse my contact information to flirt with me.

“Right, okay, convinced,” Robyn laughed, “no promises though.” With this she put away her scroll and, both hands on the table, she laced her fingers together. “Now,” she leaned forward. “I have a personal request too.”

“It’s only fair,” the soldier acknowledged with a nod, “I accept.”

Robyn blinked rapidly in bewilderment, shocked with how liberally the other woman consented. Did Winter so freely accept because she felt forced to, having asked a favor first? The idea didn’t sit well with Robyn. “I’d still make them stop. Even if you didn’t do anything in return.”

“I know,” Winter unflinchingly answered.

Now that was even more of a surprise. “You do?”

“Yes.” Winter picked up her teacup again. “That’s the kind of person you are.”

“Ah? What kind of person am I?” Robyn interestedly asked.

Winter leaned back in her chair. “You’re quite the celebrity, Miss Hill. It’s not hard to look into your entourage or your track record; to get a good sense of who you are.” Her gaze steadfastly locked with the purple orbs, she continued; “You cannot stomach unethical behavior, injustice, or unfairness, regardless of who’s on the receiving end of it, and regardless of what you may gain,” she detailed in a concise summary of what she'd gathered. “Such that, even had I not asked, I have absolutely no doubt that whenever this issue concerning Penny would have reached your ears, you wouldn’t have let the matter go unattended, as it’s simply not right. Similarly, you wouldn’t take advantage of the circumstances to extort something unreasonable out of me; as that would be unscrupulous and unfair; and it isn’t who you are,” she outlined in a bullseye. Winter took the time to drink some of her tea, never once breaking eye contact. “You are truly just,” she flatly summarized, “ that’s the kind of person you are.”

Astonished with the exactitude of that assessment, amazed with what lengths Winter had gone through to learn about her —such that she’d be so certain of this evaluation— and flattered with the implicit trust, Robyn was unable to follow up with her usual repartee, instead finding herself at her a little slack-jawed.

Winter stared right back, unflappable. “Close your mouth, it’s unseemly.”

Rendering her speechless would have amply earned Winter the right to be smug, but the woman remained stone-faced. Had the tables been reversed, Robyn would have jumped on the opportunity to pester and gloat. Winter might have been five years younger, but it certainly felt like she was the more mature of the two.

“So?” Winter questioned. “What do you want in return?”

“Nothing much,” Robyn said, “just to keep you a couple of hours, have the opportunity to talk— really talk.”

Hearing this, something subtle illuminated her features, but Winter quickly caught herself, clearing her throat. “That’s feasible.”

Somehow, it made Robyn laugh. “Were you actually hoping I’d ask for something like that?” She teased. “Give yourself an excuse to spend the evening with me?”

“Are we spending the evening together?” Winter asked in return, deflecting the question. “It’s early afternoon, how long is ‘a couple of hours’ to you?”

“I’ll keep you as long as you’ll stay; two hours, five hours…” Robyn grinned, the urge to tease her rising, “the night...”

The cool blue eyes were locked with hers, unreadable for a moment. She returned her teacup to its saucer on the table. “Should you really be this suggestive under such watchful eyes?” she quietly asked, gesturing vaguely towards a man at a table by the window front, then to a mother with two children paying for her order at the cash register.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that a trained eye like Winter’s would have picked out her informants, but she was spot on , and it remained impressive. “You can tell?”

“I can tell.” 

Admittedly, Robyn might not have dared something so suggestive would her people have been within ear’s range. “They’re not listening right now, just sticking around after flagging your presence. They would’ve followed you if we’d gone our separate ways after this conversation,” she explained. “Are you done with your tea?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s go,” Robyn said, standing up. She gestured to her people that she didn’t want surveillance, knowing that the message would be relayed, and let Winter follow her outside. 

Standing next to her, Robyn suddenly felt awfully under-dressed in her khaki-green wool sweater and slightly-tattered, once-black discolored jeans. She was, however, under the impression that no matter what either of them might’ve been wearing, she’d probably have felt frumpy next to Winter. There was something dignified in the way the woman held herself, an almost regal self-command that seemed effortless to her. How that gravitas never came across as haughtiness inspired an inherent respect, and Robyn couldn’t help thinking that, all in all, Winter deserved the ‘queen’ part of her nickname just as much as she did the ‘ice’ part. And though Robyn generally disdained aristocratic qualities in people, with Winter… it was just incredibly captivating. 

With the unexpected tête-à-tête, Robyn quickly considered how she wanted to use this time with her. Whether or not this happened again might be highly dependent on how today went, and how to make this worth Winter's time was a no-brainer to Robyn.

As they started down the street, heads turned. Robyn didn’t know which of the two of them generally drew the most attention, but being such diametrical opposites in the public eye made being seen together increase that attention tenfold, almost as if a comically large spotlight was shone upon them. Robyn couldn’t help thinking back on her teammate’s vehement reaction to the idea; she’d already known then that May was right, but this was a sobering reality check.

Promptly deciding it would be best to try to keep as low a profile as possible, the tan blonde led her impromptu company away from the main street. Doing so, she was suddenly hit with a new awareness of how decrepit and polluted the city was. “Mantle never really recovered since Atlas was raised to the sky, and it’s been struggling more and more since Ironwood’s dust embargo. Lately though, things have gotten way worse; the attack on Haven and the extra safety measures are making everyone antsy,” she explained. “I wish I could show you a better time and a nicer side of the city, but it’s worse than it’s ever been.”

Winter nodded in understanding. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry,” she offered. “I know of the city’s plight, and I guarantee the General wouldn’t be enforcing such measures if it wasn’t absolutely necessary.”

Though Robyn understood the necessity of the military being recalled and stationed around the kingdom following the Fall of Beacon, the ever-increasing measures certainly didn’t come off as imperative to her. “What’s necessary about any of it?”

“Until we apprehend the people responsible for Beacon and Haven, we can’t allow unregulated comings and goings. It would be negligent and potentially lethal.”

“I hear ya,” Robyn said with a sigh. “But meanwhile, the increased measures aren’t just making life more and more miserable; it’s breeding unrest and attracting Grimm.”

“We do what we must,” Winter answered, walking by her side. “Atlas is very secure, but we know smugglers still come and go in Mantle, and they bring aboard illegal travelers. Any one of them could be one of the criminals responsible for the academy attacks— we need the increased surveillance to keep an eye out for noncitizen presence.” As she explained this, Winter clasped her hands behind her back as she would when she was in uniform; her body language always read as very open and secure, and Robyn had no doubts that she unequivocally believed in the institution she was part of. “The unrest is why Penny’s been on patrol duty, and the new surveillance helps her to respond quickly to Grimm attacks,” she reminded her. “It’s not an ideal situation, but we need to make do, for it is necessary for the moment.”

“And the Knights on patrol?”

“They discourage street fights and other petty criminal activity, all of which breeds negative emotion and attracts even more Grimm,” the soldier pointed out. “It’s better to have them on the ground should something happen while Penny is busy elsewhere.”

Robyn didn’t much like hearing it, and she was certain that there would be better ways to manage the unrest. This was very much part of her agenda, and she couldn’t wait to obtain the legal power to reform this mess. In the meantime however, she was certainly astounded with her present company’s unshakable and seemingly blind conviction in Ironwood’s measures and the established infrastructures. “You really have complete confidence in what you guys are doing and in the safety your security brings, huh?” Robyn uttered, despondent with her date’s steadfast patriotism. “To the point that even though you know there’s unrest, even though you know a lot of people hate you guys and your face is on giant screens every few corners… you’d still go around Mantle unarmed.”

“Oh, I’m never unarmed,” Winter answered impassively. 

Maybe she should have expected that. “Really, huh?” Robyn mused, quickly glancing her up and down again, trying in vain to discern a concealed weapon. “I didn’t know you could do knives, they’re well hidden.”

“I don’t.”

“What, are you a gunslinger?”

“I’m not.”

Winter was annoyingly unforthcoming, and Robyn’s curious streak nagged. “You know you can’t leave it at that, right? If you actually do have a weapon, show me.” 

Winter didn’t even glance her way. “No.”

The tall blonde stopped walking, putting her hands on her hips. “Really now? You agreed to be stuck with me for a couple of hours, and you know I’m not gonna stop pestering you about it until you show me, so why make it hard on yourself?”

“I will not be seen pulling a weapon on you,” Winter responded categorically. “Certainly not one that draws this much attention.”

With that perfectly judicious explanation, Robyn could have left it alone, but did Winter really have to add that second part? How did she expect Robyn to let it go knowing it was something flashy ? “Being seen is the problem?” With this, Robyn signalled for the other woman to follow her, leading her reticent companion to a rather dark back-alley before turning to her, arms crossed expectantly.

Winter exhaled shortly, evidently resigned. Blindingly white light flooded the alley as a glyph drew itself behind her. Robyn had heard of what the Schnee lineage was capable of, but she’d never seen it with her own eyes. The phantasmal beast that emerged was frightfully surreal; the Alpha Beowulf was glowing white and quiet as a ghost. Having fought Grimm countless times before, it was a peculiar experience to be faced with one that wasn’t immediately threatening. It being semi-transparent and white as snow only added to the surrealism of the encounter. The otherworldly beast had two swords stuck in its neck, which Winter took hold of and withdrew in a swift motion, as if she’d unsheathed her blades from their scabbard.

“Happy?” Winter asked, the two ethereal rapiers in hand.

Finally, Robyn focused her attention on the weapons she’d pestered to see. The same as the monster idly standing behind its master, they were a translucent, glowing white. “And you can actually fight with those,” Robyn confirmed in wonder. “They’re solid.”

“Until I let them disintegrate, they are destroyed in combat, or I run out of aura to spare, yes.”

Between its peculiar hereditary quality and the prodigious array of ever-more impressive capacities their glyphs had, the Schnee’s semblance had a quasi-legendary reputation. For the same reason, their actual capabilities were nebulous, as rumours had taken a life of their own and it became hard to distinguish fact from fiction. “I heard before that you guys could summon Grimm,” Robyn admitted, though she hadn’t completely believed it until now. “But what’s up with the random swords stuck in it?”

“They aren’t random, those were mine,” Winter corrected. “Years ago, I used to dual-wield rapiers. As I grew as a fighter and honed my style, I found that they weren’t precisely what I needed anymore, so I made their dust-loaded barrels explode for this victory,” she explained, motioning to the monster behind her. “Destroyed together with the Grimm, the swords gained immortality along with it.”

Did she understand properly? “You can only summon things that have been destroyed? Is that it?

“Not quite; I can only call upon animate or living creatures, and they must have died by my hand for me to have earned the right to call on them. Had I simply destroyed my obsolete blades, I couldn’t have brought them forth,” she outlined. “It was after I slayed my first Geist that I realized that there was a little more to my semblance than I had initially understood. A summoned Geist would materialize bearing whatever item it possessed at the time of its demise, blocks of ice, tree trunks, rocks— if Weiss could get it together and master her ability, she could call upon an armoured one. So I planned this: I sacrificed my swords for the sake of this.” Winter twirled the swords in her hands. “I prefer my current sabre, but these definitely do in a pinch.”

Though she grasped very well what had been explained to her, the unboundedness of this aspect of the Schnee’s semblance seemed preposterous. “ Anything that dies at your hand?” Robyn repeated, trying to wrap her mind around the idea. “So what if you pick a flower?”

As Winter let go of the sword in her right hand, the weapon fragmented to light residue, quickly dissipating as smoke would. She brought up her free hand and a small glyph appeared in the palm of her hand on which ghostly flowers suddenly flourished. Their soft glow illuminated the two of them with a soft, pure white light, and the way the flowers swayed, almost as if they were breathing, gave the surreal impression of life. It was beautiful.

Behind those spectral flowers, the blue of Winter’s eyes appeared to shine an even purer hue as the unearthly light reflected in them. It made her look more impenetrable than her usual stoney mask, and the secrecy it evoked intimated the underlying unholiness of this ability of hers. Before Robyn could think through whether she truly wanted to know, she heard her next question escape her; “...And what if you were to kill someone?”

Winter’s open palm turned into a closed fist, crushing the ethereal flowers to fine particles of light resembling glowing ash. She held unfaltering eye contact as the lingering light faded. “...It’s not them, not really,” she quietly answered. “Just a mindless ghost image with their skills.” 

A heaviness formed in the pit of Robyn’s stomach, watching as the white figure turned and headed to the light of the bustling street. As the Grimm started to follow its master, it evaporated, and so did the remaining sword in the woman’s hand. It took a few seconds for Robyn to go after her. The way Winter had answered implied knowledge from experience. This woman had taken lives… and she had seen the dead obey her.

Robyn couldn’t imagine facing ghostly, undead warriors, even if they were nothing but a lingering after-image. The possibilities mirrored in this knowledge made her very aware of what monsters Winter and her family could have been, had they been so inclined. The posh and privileged image associated with their name was a very welcome scenario in comparison.

Robyn fell in step with the other woman, shaking off the eeriness of what had just transpired. Walking with her, she openly studied her profile. Winter wasn't disinclined to let her do so enough to comment on it, though she didn’t look completely unbothered either. The Schnee’s semblance was visually impressive, more so than the vast majority of catalogued semblances, and knowing that it wasn’t just flashy tricks, that it held genuine power, was sobering. And... what Robyn had witnessed was nothing but a tiny fraction of Winter’s capacities; no wonder she was an elite soldier. And yet, as Robyn contemplated her, nothing in her stature or build suggested how dangerous she was; by no means did Winter look frail , but she certainly didn’t have broad shoulders or a wide back. If one thing gave away her muscle mass, it was the size of her thighs, which did more to add to a voluptuous shape than to broadcast her strength. Robyn grabbed a hold of herself before her mind started wandering. “Your semblance is famous, but seeing it in action is an entirely different ball game,” she commented. “Thanks for showing me.”

“You wanted to see the weapons,” Winter dismissed. 

Though she might have argued that Winter didn’t have to show her, Robyn knew that her threat of pestering her for hours had pretty much removed any other option. “You showed me the flowers, which you didn’t have to.” A smirk grew on her lips. “Or is that one of your go-to tricks to charm women?” 

“You can’t be serious,” she frowned. “I can’t possibly come off as a charmer.”

Robyn laughed at the idea — in no world could she imagine such an undemonstrative woman being a flirt. “You don’t,” she conceded. “But… maybe as a heartbreaker. How many poor souls have you rejected since your academy days?”

The blank expression Winter sported let Robyn guess that she was making an attempt at tallying a previously unheeded count. “I don’t know,” she eventually admitted.

Somehow, that was no surprise; per May’s account, there had been many, and Winter clearly wasn’t the sort who’d keep track of such things. “That many, huh?” The blonde mused, reflecting that she might very well still end up being one of those broken hearts.

With a light shrug and a shake of her head, Winter glanced at her again in disconcertement. “I’m neither friendly nor welcoming. I’m positive that I did nothing to instigate their ardors.”

Was she really perplexed over this? When the explanation was so obvious? Robyn stared down at her for a second, at her extremely fine features and piercing blue eyes, and couldn’t fathom how someone wouldn’t be completely smitten. “You’re exceptionally beautiful, it’s more than enough to explain the heartthrobs. You gotta know that.”

The sigh she gave made it apparent that she’d at least suspected it. “Is that really all it takes?”

Robyn gave a shrug. “People are shallow.”

At this, Winter stopped walking, eyeing her dejectedly. The accusation remained unsaid, but it still felt like a kick to the stomach.

“...That’s not why I’ve been stubborn about you,” Robyn protested swiftly.

“Then, why?” Winter asked. “I was initially quite awful to you, so why else would you so indefatigably chase me?”

“I know you were deliberately abrasive to push me away, I’m not an idiot,” Robyn argued. “I’ve been watching you, you know? From the very first day, I’ve seen peeks of who you really are; how respectful you are to the people that everyone at those events ignores, how gently you talk to Penny, how caring you are with her— case-in-point, you came down to Mantle today and put yourself in a vulnerable position asking a favor of me for her sake.

This didn’t seem to ease her reservations. “You mean to tell me that you’ve put in such effort solely because I was decent to a few working people?”

“No, how you were to them compared to how you drove off the rich shitbags, it’s only what caught my attention; it got me thinking about you. About how you turned your back on the biggest fortune in Remnant in favor of the military, and how you didn’t like me because you thought I was just another one of those self-serving assholes. I liked that you didn’t like me based on that,” she explained, and she could see understanding slowly dawn on the other woman’s features. But now that the floodgates had been opened, Robyn couldn’t help the outpouring; “You could’ve been the top dog, royalty, but class privilege bothers you— discrimination bothers you, and maybe that’s because of growing up queer in Atlas, I don’t know— either way, that’s why I put effort into getting to know you,” she explained. “And… actually talking to you just made me like you more and more. You’re perceptive, quick-witted and surprisingly honest given your position. And you obviously care very much about what’s good for everyone. You’re a really good person. I think you’re fascinating, and I really enjoyed every bit of getting to know you.” Robyn gave her a small, genuine smile. “I do like you for you, Schnee. Your beauty is just the cherry on top.”

Having not anticipated an observant and genuinely thought-out explanation, Winter was visibly stupefied, perhaps even troubled, and it took a few seconds to find her voice. “…Winter,” she mouthed quietly.

Such an unexpected response had Robyn staring back dumbly; a little thrown off.  

“You can call me Winter,” she reiterated, the tone of her voice more secure this time.

With delighted surprise, Robyn’s smile widened from ear to ear. This new concession had Robyn’s heart soar; she felt so light that she was almost dizzy, making her very aware again of how deeply she’d come to care.

“...Don’t look so pleased, I might regret allowing it,” Winter warned before quickly moving onto another topic in an obvious attempt to not linger. “I’ve meant to ask, are we walking aimlessly or were you leading me somewhere?”

“We’re going somewhere; I want to make it worth your while that you chose to spend your day off in Mantle— and I mean beyond the pleasure of my company. We have a couple of blocks to walk.” As she said this, one detail she’d previously overlooked now stood out glaringly. “Maybe we should get a cab.”

“I’m not above walking.”

“Even though you’re in heels?”

Winter frowned. “I wouldn’t wear them if I couldn’t walk in them,” she answered, ever-pragmatic. Robyn should have known; Winter did fight in heeled boots after all. “Who would do that?”

“More women than you’d think,” Robyn divulged.

“That’s absurdly impractical.”

“Yeah,” the blonde agreed, again feeling that unabating teasing streak surface. “But you know. Some women go to great lengths to look good on a date.”

Winter’s retort was as prompt as it was categorical; “This is not a date.”

Robyn laughed. “Are we sure about that?” Again, she couldn’t help taking in her sharp fashion. “You do look really good.”

“I always look good,” Winter matter-of-factly answered. “Taking care of one’s appearance is a matter of self-respect.”

“I guess.”

“Have you never heard of the maxim ‘people will treat you the way you treat yourself’?” The snow-haired woman posed. “Although it’s not the only factor, I find that the self-image I project does in fact irrevocably punctuate my interactions. Besides, I’m notorious enough that in or out of uniform, I represent a prestigious institution. I always make a point of being impeccable.”

“I see.” A lot of the things Winter did, she realized, were exceedingly thought-out, minutiously calculated, and very deliberate; the woman relied very much on implicit cues to manage how other people interacted with her. It was very much in line with how fastidious she was about everything else. “Gotta say I’m a little bummed that it’s not especially for me that you’re dressed so sharp.”

“You made no effort for my sake either.”

“Hey, give me a break, I didn’t have time to prepare for this,” Robyn countered amusedly. “Next time, I’ll make sure to wow you.”

At this, Winter glanced at her with a side-eye swiping down and up her figure; evidently, her curiosity was piqued, but she stayed silent.

As they stopped at an intersection, waiting for their light to cross, Robyn again came aware of how many eyes were on them. As a new politician, she hadn’t yet become accustomed to the ever-present spotlight that running for that seat drew to her, and this was leagues worse. Curious to see how her companion was handling the attention, she glanced at her again only to notice the woman had still been staring at her. Winter had become completely engrossed in studying her features as she would sometimes, and was presently fixated on her lips. Robyn let her be for a spell, keen on seeing how long she’d stare this way. She spoke up only when their light turned green; “You’re staring.”

Winter tore her gaze away. “I’m sorry,” she resumed walking, crossing the street together. “That was rude of me.”

“Don’t apologize, it doesn’t bother me,” Robyn answered, pleasantly surprised with such an open acknowledgement. Incapable of resisting pressing her buttons a little, she added; “You’ve been doing that a lot.”

“I have,” she confirmed.

Well, that was no fun. Robyn leaned over slightly, trying to get her attention again, avid to get a rise out of her. “If there’s something you want, maybe you should go for it,” she suggested.

Winter’s gaze found hers again, yearning so plain and evident in her eyes that Robyn wondered if she was even trying to hide it. It was so blatantly unconcealed that, for a moment, Robyn was convinced that she would finally give in, say something, do something. Yet Winter didn’t, willing herself to look away again

The blonde hummed. “No? Well. You’ve got the entire evening to change your mind,” she commented. And though she knew that she might be toeing the line, she couldn't help herself; deep down, she hoped that each quip would chip at Winter's capacity for stoicism. How Robyn would have loved to see a crack; “Maybe when night falls and we’re alone together?”

Choosing not to acknowledge her ever-bolder provocations, Winter instead changed topics; “Where are you bringing me?”

Was understanding that, semblance or not, Robyn was good at spotting a lie the reason that the ice queen brushed off the flirting instead of disavowing her desires? Or was it simply that Winter didn’t like to lie, even if only to playfully shoot her down?

“We’re actually there,” Robyn answered, pointing to a worn, hand-painted little sign a few doors down. It was a very inconspicuous little shop that might’ve otherwise looked like a residential property.

“Lady Fortuna’s fate readings— discover what your future holds,” Winter read aloud. “Sounds like a con artist.”

Robyn snorted with amusement. “I can see how, but she’s the furthest thing from one, believe me; her semblance allows her to glance at the future,” she revealed, drawing the other woman’s stupefied gaze. “Of course, there are caveats; it’s not all-powerful,” Robyn continued, “she can’t answer specific questions, ‘cause she can only have visions of the future related to memories shared to her— like in a butterfly effect.” The expression that took over Winter’s features broadcasted clear as day what her thoughts were; Robyn decided to anticipate; “For sure, you can choose what memory you tell her about and try to get a peek at what you want to know, but it’s not guaranteed that you’ll get what you were looking for,” she said. “No one really knows how events of our past reverberate into our future.”

“Nonetheless impressive,” Winter commented, still trying to assimilate the exponential range of possibilities. “One might share their entire life story and obtain all the answers they’re looking for.”

The tall blonde shook her head. “With each reading she does for a person, the visions get blurrier until she can’t see anything anymore. Plus it’s pretty taxing on her. So in the end she can really only do three per person,” she explained. “So? Wanna do this?”

Winter appeared to think it through; maybe she was trying to figure out what to ask, maybe she was thinking over what to safely ask without revealing state secrets, maybe she wasn't even sure about wanting to know her future at all. Robyn felt her heart rate start to accelerate as the worry that the woman would get a wrong idea of what Robyn's intent had been with giving her that opportunity. What if Winter decided to believe that this had been a ploy to peer at the future… at Ironwood’s plans?

But Winter nodded, her expression clear of any doubts; “There is something I would love reassurance about.”

The weight that had suddenly crushed Robyn was at once lifted, and she felt herself smile widely in relief. “Great,” she shot, letting herself in.

There was an aroma of myrrh and oud in the small esoteric boutique, and most of the lighting was provided by the warm ambiance of several ornate stained-glass lanterns. The place was overly decorated — up to tapestries on the ceiling — and wasn’t well lit, yet it wasn't claustrophobic despite the clutter.

The old woman was nowhere to be seen and Robyn moved towards the back. “Grandma? I brought a visitor.”

Her call provoked a stirring in the back room, and after some shuffling sounds, the shop owner emerged from behind very ornate, heavy-looking curtains. “Robyn, welcome,” she greeted, waddling to her guests. “What do we have here?” She readjusted her glasses, squinting through them, blinking in astonishment. “The eldest Schnee? Is that right?”

“Yes,” Winter answered. “It’s a pleasure meeting you.”

The tiny geriatric grimaced, scorning the courtesy. She addressed Robyn; “What brings you?”

“Her,” the blonde motioned to her impromptu date. “She’s spending the day in Mantle with me today.”

“Is she now? Well, good; Atlas should remember its roots,” Fortuna uttered, glancing Winter up and down. “Especially the highbred ones.”

Decades of class divide and its resentment unquestionably permeated Winter’s interactions with Mantle citizens, and she had evidently learned not to let herself be bothered, as the old woman’s contempt left her unstirred. Robyn, on her part, couldn’t help being a little miffed; “Don’t be like that, Grandma, she’s one of the good ones.” 

“Is that so?” the fortune-teller questioned idly. She felt the bottom corner of Winter’s white blazer between her fingers, as if examining the texture of the fabric of it would help her get a clearer picture of the woman.  She then reached up and grabbed her chin in one hand to scrutinize her face. “Hm.” The old lady didn’t seem completely convinced, but nevertheless gestured to follow her, leading them to a small, two person table at the very back of the room. “Robyn vouches for you, so you get the real deal.”

The look Winter gave Robyn was clear as day: the old woman was a con artist too . Robyn shrugged, smiling.

Fortuna sat herself on one side of the table, quickly moving aside the bric-a-brac encumbering it. “Now, I trust Robyn has already explained how this works?”

“Yes,” Winter confirmed. “And I’m very thankful for this opportunity.”

As these readings could get very personal, Robyn figured she’d anticipate; “Do you need me to step out?”

“That won’t be necessary, I doubt any sensitive information would come to light,” Winter answered, completely bypassing the aspect of privacy. With this, she approached the table, her hopeful gaze on the tiny old woman. “If I understand correctly, should I retell a memory of my sister and I, you would have a vision of a point in time in the future concerning the two of us, is that correct?”

“Almost certainly,” Fortuna answered, gesturing for Winter to take the other end of the table. “Is there something specific you want?”

“No,” the white-haired soldier answered. “Anything concerning Weiss will do. I need to know that I’ll see her again safe and sound.”

The old lady’s features brightened a little; she evidently hadn’t expected something like this to be one of Winter’s priorities. “I can only do three readings per person. You could find out about some of the biggest moments of your life,” the fortune-teller warned. “You’re sure that’s what you want?”

“Absolutely,” Winter answered unflinchingly, taking a seat in front of her.

“Very well,” she conceded, pouring herself coffee from an old, tarnished dallah. She didn’t offer them any. Fortuna took the time to sip her black, luscious drink from her tiny cup before she started. “People like you, who have experience with aura manipulation— trained Huntsmen and Huntresses and such, if they focus, they may catch a glimpse of my vision. So you might want to do that,” she explained, to which Winter gave a solemn nod. “Also… the clearer the memory, the better. So, careful not to pick something routine— like helping her with homework or such, your memories are falsified by repetition. They blend together such that any memory you think you have isn’t one true memory. So pick something unique.” The old lady’s grin showcased a golden tooth as she extended her hands in front of her, palms up.

“I understand, I’m ready,” Winter announced, resting both hands in the frail, aged ones offered to her. 

Looking on, Robyn felt a twinge of envy; she also immediately felt stupid for it. But she did deeply yearn to touch Winter, and the thought of holding her hands this way warmed her entire body. With any other woman she’d romanced, she’d felt comfortable initiating physical contact in light brushes and casual touches, but… with Winter? Between having previously interacted with her solely during formal events; at which Winter had been on duty; and the fact that Winter was such a standoffish and guarded person, it had never felt appropriate to touch her. In over two months of interest, chatting her up and slowly breaking down her barriers, the only physical contact there had ever been was when Robyn had nudged her with her elbow once . Never before had Robyn felt an invisible wall between her and a woman she’d been interested in, and it had reached a point where the thought of holding Winter’s hand flushed her body with warmth. She felt like a teenager again. She sat herself on a chair to the side, watching the session unfold.

“Close your eyes. Tell me about your sister,” Fortuna instructed.

A pale yellow aura spread from their hands to engulf Winter as she started; “A little over a year after I enrolled, my sister had still been adjusting to her new status as heiress,” she narrated. “On one of my rare visits home, she expressed to me the desire to start training and become a huntress. However much I disliked the idea of Weiss putting herself in the line of danger, I understood the call she felt for greater things and I… I knew what kind of pressure I had deferred onto her shoulders when I renounced the family estate,” the twinge of sorrow and regret in her voice as she said this made it very apparent that the woman was still tormented by a guilty conscience over this. Winter inhaled a little shakily, and Robyn wondered if she’d ever shared this with anyone before. She cleared the throat, resuming; “I understood her need to break free. So… on that day, I unlocked her aura for her; her semblance — our heritage — manifested right away. Like it had been laying in wait, like she was born ready. Like me.” 

The glowing yellow of the aura creeped away from Winter’s form and instead spread to encompass the old woman. Winter must’ve felt the shift, as her features set in concentration, evidently attempting to catch an image of the oncoming vision. 

The fortune-teller hummed. “White walls, and clean corridors,” she said. “You’re leading her through a military compound.”

The way Winter’s features brightened let Robyn guess that she had caught an image of the vision. It was such a rare thing to see her so visibly uplifted, and Robyn thought it was extremely sweet; her heart fluttered.

Fortuna crinkled her brows. “You leave her in a room with a glass overlooking… an old woman in a hospital bed,” she recounted, at which Winter abruptly took back her hands, breaking the link. The glow of the aura dissipated and Winter hastily stood, as if putting some distance between them would further ensure the bond was ruptured. There was a shrewd glint in the old lady’s eyes as she steadily observed her client. “There was more.”

“It’s enough,” Winter firmly answered. “I’m amply satisfied.”

The way she so swiftly put an end to the session made Robyn wonder if, despite Winter’s carefulness both with what she sought to find out and the memory she used, they still had been chancing onto something classified. 

After having paid, thanked the old woman, and made their exit, Robyn ventured inquiring; “Is everything okay? Is one of your grandmothers sick?”

“No, both are already deceased,” Winter dismissed, cementing Robyn’s suspicions. Still visibly shaken from the near-slip and in disbelief of the image of her sister she’d caught, Winter took a moment to gather herself and recover. She brushed non-existent dirt from her white blazer and exhaled an uneasy breath, glancing at Robyn again. “Thank you for bringing me here. Seeing Weiss— knowing that she will be back safe and sound means the world to me.”

Infinitely glad that this was her takeaway, Robyn smiled. “I figured you’d find it worthwhile. I’m glad.”

“Have you gotten three readings already?” Winter inquired in an obvious attempt to draw the attention away from the experience she just had, from how she’d brusquely put an end to the session. 

Robyn didn’t mind going along with it. “I have one left. I’m saving it,” she revealed. “When I decided to run for the council seat, I was tempted to use it to see how it’d pan out, but I figured it wasn’t worth it. Polls show I’m leagues ahead of your father, and I already wasted two readings when I was younger... I don’t want to waste that one too.”

“Wasted?”

“To be fair, I didn’t think I was wasting them when I chose to get them,” Robyn clarified, “but yeah, in retrospect, they really were wasted. The first one, I got the reading and I didn’t know what any of it had to do with the memory I shared or with what I wanted to know. I didn’t understand the ramifications and I wasn’t able to use the knowledge I gained from the vision to prevent something bad, and I— ...I don’t even know if I could’ve changed anything even if I had understood what I could do. I don’t know if the fate she shows us is unavoidable,” she vaguely explained, not very keen on going into further detail. It was a tragic story to recount, and she didn’t feel that now was the time for it. “Anyways— the other, I was actually really stupid about,” Robyn continued, steering her date’s focus onwards. “I tried —don’t judge— to get Grandma to tell me about my one true love.”

This clearly caught Winter’s attention, as she was suddenly very attentive. “And you say it was wasted?” She questioned again. “How do you know?”

“See, I chose a memory with this girl I had a huge crush on at the time,” Robyn started, rolling her eyes at her younger self’s inanity. “I really thought we were meant to be, and I figured: since I had such strong romantic feelings for her, if anything could get me a vision of my one true love it’d be someone who evoked these feelings, right?” To this, Winter gave a conceding sort of shrug, and Robyn leaned in slightly. “And whaddya know, I got a vision of her walking down the aisle.”

“You’ve never married,” Winter noted, cueing Robyn again on the fact that she’d looked into her.

“I never married,” she confirmed.

“And how do you know that this still won’t come to pass? You might still marry her.”

“The vision happened already,” Robyn revealed. “I did see her walk up the aisle. I was invited to her wedding and was sitting pretty near the front,” she laughed. “Because of the memory I chose, I got a vision about her, not about my one true love.”

For a short moment, Winter’s expression was blank, and then her perfectly white teeth flashed for a second as her lips drew into an amused smile; Robyn faltered completely. She had gotten so used to how ever-serious the woman was that she’d forgotten she’d never seen her smile —not in pictures; nor watching from afar as Winter interacted with Penny; nor after hours and hours, evening on evening chatting her up, slowly managing to peel back defensive layer after defensive layer— Robyn had never seen even the slightest upturn at the corner of her lips until now. Such an unfettered smile left her completely awestruck. “You have a gorgeous smile,” Robyn heard herself say, and it disappeared.

Winter’s skin had taken on a self-conscious red tint and, in what looked like a nervous gesture, she finger-combed her white hair behind her left ear. “Thank you.”

“I thought you’d said that ‘smiling isn’t part of your repertoire of facial expressions’,” she quoted playfully.

“Clearly, that was in jest,” Winter answered.

“Well, I was starting to believe it!”

“I’m human, Miss Hill.”

This jarred her; after having received the green light to switch to a first-name basis, Robyn had imagined it would go both ways. “Call me Robyn.”

Winter cleared her throat, her cheeks still pinkish. “I’d rather not.”

“It’s only fair that you do,” she shot. “You don’t have to do it in front of other people.”

“We’re always in front of other people,” Winter said, vaguely gesturing to the bustling crowd around them.

“We don’t have to be,” Robyn said without skipping a beat, that nagging grin again gracing her lips. “How do you feel about being alone, just you and me? Maybe it’s time we go somewhere quieter.”

After having made many provocative innuendos throughout the day, it was no surprise how conflicted Winter looked about being alone together. Before Robyn could offer any assuaging words, the woman nodded. “What do you have in mind?”

Robyn promptly flagged down a passing cab. “My place?” she suggested before opening the door for her.

Standing still for a moment, Winter considered the invitation in silence. Whatever was going through her head seemed to make her a little fretful, but she quickly steeled herself and wordlessly ducked into the car. The driver gave the pair a bewildered look through the rear view mirror when Robyn followed her. As Robyn gave directions —a commercial office building down the street from her flat, for good measure— she slipped in a word soliciting the man’s discretion. The ride went by in silence, in the implicit understanding that, with the driver listening, it was best that they kept conversation at a minimum. Aside from saying anything damning, how familiar they’d gotten with each other was best kept under wraps. 

Reaching their destination, they let the cab disappear around the corner before Robyn led her companion down the street and up the stairs to her flat. “Home sweet home,” Robyn said, unlocking the door and kicking her boots off.

Winter followed her in, removing her shoes and placing them neatly by the door. She had all at once lost about three inches of height, and as she passed by Robyn, the top of her head barely reached her shoulder level. Winter was Fiona’s height, and Robyn needed every ounce of her self-restraint in repressing the urge to pass a comment on her stature. “I live alone; no one will walk in on us,” she said instead, and what this could insinuate hit her only after she’d spoken. Winter consequently gave her an uncertain look. Robyn cleared her throat. “I’m just saying, you can let your guard down,” she clarified, sitting on a sofa arm as her guest walked through the living room, observing the memorabilia displayed. Robyn, on her part, watched the woman in wonder. Though she had blindly decided to try her luck, she had always known that her chances had been pretty slim that Winter would reciprocate her interest, and even slimmer that she’d give into it. Seeing her in the middle of her living room was almost surreal. “What do you think?”

Winter stopped in front of a large shelf library full of books, framed pictures, ornamental keepsakes and mementos. “It’s less minimalist than I would’ve anticipated,” she observed, tilting her head to read some book titles.

”Oh yeah?”

“You come off as someone who wouldn’t value material objects much,” she explained, scrutinizing a displayed group picture.

“I can see that,” Robyn granted. “And I guess it’s true for luxury items and all; I couldn’t care less about that. But I’m a sucker when it comes to trinkets with sentimental value or anything that reminds me of the people I love.”

Winter turned to glance at her. “You’re sensitive," she noted, resuming her examination of the room. “That’s not unexpected.”

“It’s not?” Robyn was genuinely surprised; sensitive wasn’t a descriptive that she felt her image projected in any way.

“It takes someone especially sensitive to others’ pain to go the lengths you are with this political campaign,” the white-haired soldier pointed out as she swiped dust off a wooden console with one finger, leaving the politician wishing she could blame the accumulation on her busy schedule, but she'd always had a tendency towards untidiness. It was in fact quite a feat that there wasn't any dirty clothing or used dishes lying around.

“Maybe I’m just angry with the system,” Robyn suggested.

Winter looked her way again. “Yours isn’t anger born out of envy or resentment; it’s not spiteful anger. It’s anger born out of compassion, out of the pain you feel seeing others suffer,” she remarked, hitting a bullseye. “You are sensitive.”

The blonde blinked rapidly in bafflement. Between this and her earlier bit at the café, Robyn couldn’t help wondering how far had Winter analyzed her personality. And all this made her realize…“You’ve thought about me a lot, huh?”

“Much more than I should,” the ice queen conceded ruefully.

The delight sparked by this response was dampened by how grievously conflicted Winter clearly felt about it. Robyn yearned to assuage that pain. “...I think of you a lot too,” she offered, hoping it’d ease the other woman’s bad conscience. She hoped that maybe, just maybe, she might draw another smile from her; “I’m happy that you’re here with me. I’ve wanted to be alone with you for a while.”

At this, Winter came to a halt. Tension started to visibly stiffen her posture, making it look like she might be gathering her courage. “Let’s cut to the chase,” she said, turning to her fully. “I can’t give you what you want.”

Interesting. Robyn crossed her arms. “What do I want?”

Winter was stumped; she unsurely stared back at her.

“You finally want to talk about it, let’s talk,” Robyn said. “Tell me what exactly we’re talking about here, what do you think I want?”

“I’m not certain,” Winter admitted. “You’ve claimed wanting to befriend me, but mere friendship clearly isn’t what you’re looking for.”

“That’s true,” Robyn acknowledged, waiting for her to continue. “So what do you think is happening here?”

“You’re expecting… sex?”

Her eyebrows shot up in surprise. “ Wow , okay, that’s… several steps ahead,” she mouthed to herself, instantly realizing she’d gone overboard with the innuendos and suggestive comments she’d dropped. Their profusion had stacked up enough for Winter to have mistaken her playfulness for pushiness. Sure, it was something Robyn ultimately did want, and she was certain that Winter reciprocated, but Robyn’s intent with those quips had first and foremost been nothing more than an attempt at getting a rise out of her. She hated that Winter had come to think she expected sex, and this misunderstanding was absolutely her own fault. “Winter, I’m sorry if it came across that anything like that was expected out of you,” she started, “and though I can’t say I wouldn’t like that… that’s not why I wanted to spend this time alone with you,” Robyn asserted. “I wanted you to have a chance to relax and be yourself, you were obviously not going to do that out there— not with so many eyes on us,” she explained. “I wanted to give us a chance to interact freely, without worrying about keeping a distance or not looking too friendly. And then maybe… see where that leads. See if maybe we could eventually become something.”

“...Then I'll tell you right then and there; there's no chance of that,” Winter affirmed.

Robyn’s brow twitched. “Why not? Are you gonna try telling me that you don't like me like that? ‘Cause that’d be a fat lie.”

“No, I… I admit that I’m...” she exhaled nervously. “I’m… quite infatuated, if I’m to be honest,” she said, her gorgeous blue eyes searching Robyn’s. Winter quickly took a hold of herself. “But that’s inconsequential; I’m in no position to foster any sort of relationship.”

“I’m not asking for commitment, we don’t know each other nearly well enough for that,” Robyn pointed out. “Just spending some time together, see where it goes.”

“You’re not understanding me,” Winter said. “I can’t see where it goes. I can’t even risk developing feelings for anyone, not with the responsibilities that rest on my shoulders.”

Robyn’s frown deepened; what an odd claim. “Your responsibilities won’t allow you to have feelings for someone?”

“Exactly.”

“And those responsibilities are classified.”

“Yes.”

She felt her features set into discontentment. “So… you won’t tell me why, but even though you straight up admit you’re into me, you won’t give this a try,” Robyn clarified. 

“...Yes.” This one wasn’t as firm.

Staring at Winter in silence, Robyn contemplated the day they had spent together and how the other woman’s behavior was so contradictory to what she claimed. The longer she stayed silent, the more uncomfortable Winter appeared. Robyn eventually gave a discouraged sigh. “So... why did you come all the way down to Mantle to see me?” 

“Penny—”

“Bullshit,” she cut in. That might have been the excuse Winter had given herself but they both knew it wasn’t the real reason she was there. “You said it yourself; I’d have put a stop to it whether or not you asked me. All you needed to do was make sure I learned of it one way or another,” Robyn outlined annoyedly; why was Winter trying to put up any sort of pretense now ? “But you came to see me in person, on your day off, free to stay and ready to, knowing I would keep you.” 

Winter couldn’t answer this. Already, she’d appeared fretful as she followed Robyn home, and clearly stressed broaching this conversation. As said conversation progressed, her typical countenance was more shaken than the tall blonde had ever seen before.

This didn’t discourage Robyn from pressing ahead. “So? Why did you decide to spend so much time with me today? When you knew you didn’t have to do so for me to help? When this was always gonna be your answer?” As Robyn progressed in her line of questioning, she realized she was incrementally pumping herself up despite her best wishes. She couldn’t help being agitated; Winter’s actions were diametrically opposite to her claims, which meant she was either oblivious, lying, or that Robyn was missing something. She stood, taking a few steps towards her, feeling an urge to move, to narrow in on the other woman. “Why did you decide to allow moving to first name basis?”

Winter parted her lips but made no sound. At this point, any traces of her customary cool-headedness were long out the window; she looked uncharacteristically overwrought. The shallow breaths she took and the way the skin of her face and chest had started to flush made it impossibly clear what duress she was under. Her cool blue eyes held a jittery uneasiness.

Had she been more composed, Robyn might have been halted by noticing how much pressure she was putting on her guest, but she was on too much of a roll to stop herself. “Why did you accept being alone with me? Coming into my home? Does any of that make sense to you?” She flat out questioned. “What are you even doing? Why are you here?”

Struggling, but nevertheless managing to maintain eye contact, Winter didn’t seem to know whether or not this barrage of questions had been rhetorical, so Robyn waited expectantly with a pointed stare, making it clear they were not.

Winter exhaled shakily, attempting to recover some of her composure. “...I’m here because…” Her voice died in her throat. She swallowed nervously, evidently doing everything she could to get a hold of herself. “Because...” she trailed off again. In the moment of silence, time seemed suspended for a breath, and something finally seemed to give in her expression. Like shattered glass, Winter’s features contorted in pain. “…Because you make me so weak ,” she rasped, her voice cracking. “I’ve always abstained from indulging any— any attraction that I— But then you come along, and you’re just so … bold , and implacable, and frustratingly charming, and you’re always at the back of my mind, and I needed to see you— I can’t stop myself ,” she ranted, seemingly all in one breath; it looked like she might start to hyperventilate.

Seeing her pain, Robyn’s heart broke instantly. “Hey, hey,” she closed the distance between them, “it’s okay, I didn’t mean to push you like that.” Approaching her, she had meant to comfortingly grab her shoulder or touch her arm, but found herself faltering. With any other woman, Robyn wouldn’t have hesitated, but in that moment, she realized just how much this ever-present distance had permeated what bond they’d established. At this point, it almost felt forbidden to touch her.

“I shouldn’t be here,” Winter continued to vent, her eyes welling up. “I’m sorry I gave you hope, I can’t — a-and yet, I just… I-I-I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, I can't reason with myself…!”

“Winter, hey,” Robyn soothed, willing herself to break past the perceived boundary and bringing her hands to her shoulders. “It’s fine,” she reassured. “Sorry, I backed you into a corner.”

As Winter gazed up at her, she looked so pitiful that Robyn felt a painful squeeze constrict her heart. Multiple times that day had the other woman caused strong visceral emotions to grip her so ferociously. Robyn was no stranger to what this meant, and she was left to wonder when exactly it was that she’d taken the fall. At what point had she gone from being curious and amused by that statue of a woman to being so irrecoverably taken with her?

The worst of it was that Robyn had seen it coming: Very early as she’d started investing herself in this heedless venture, as she’d gotten a good grasp of who Winter was, Robyn had realized how demeasurely she cared whether or not the woman liked her. From that moment on, she’d known she was coursing full speed ahead towards a precipice, and instead of wising up, hitting the brakes, and abandoning her pursuit, she’d closed her eyes, slammed the accelerator and allowed herself to go off the deep end.

Very gently, Robyn let her hands slide from Winter’s shoulders to her back, around her, as she moved closer. Winter gave no sign of resisting being hugged so Robyn closed the distance completely, holding her securely against herself. Winter let her do so, but she was completely rigid and the tempestuous thumping of her heart reverberated so hard that the tall blonde could feel it against her own ribcage.

“I won’t try anything, it’s just a hug,” Robyn reassured.

After another moment of stillness, of seeing that nothing more was happening, Winter exhaled the breath she’d been holding, the stiffness in her body gradually easing up. Robyn felt fingers awkwardly touch her waist, like the woman didn’t know where to put her hands, or maybe like she wasn’t sure if she was allowed to touch her back. Without moving, Robyn waited to feel her palms fully settle, for her to decide what she was comfortable with. As Winter seemed to acclimate to the closeness, she leaned in very slightly. She let her head rest against Robyn’s shoulder, almost in the crook of her neck, and her hands circled around Robyn’s body to rest on the small of her back; how much that felt like a caress gave her goosebumps. The silky white hair smelled of a clean and crisp perfume; Robyn resisted the urge to bury her nose in it, opting instead to lean her cheek against the top of her head. Winter felt warm and relaxed against her, her breathing slowing. It felt incredible to hold her. “Feeling better?” Robyn ventured softly.

There was an almost imperceptible nod. “Yes,” Winter admitted very quietly. “I… didn’t know I needed this, thank you.”

“Anytime,” Robyn murmured, unable to rein in the impulse to pull her a little closer, unable to prevent herself from noticing details of the other woman’s body against herself. Both Winter’s uniform and fashion style subdued her assets, and her chest pressed against Robyn’s body felt a little larger than Robyn would have estimated. Moreover, Winter didn’t appear to have much bulk in her upper body, but as Robyn comfortingly stroked her back, it definitely felt very solid, all lean muscle. Or maybe not all , as some of its solidity was undeniably accumulated tension. Robyn slowly moved her hand to the base of her neck, under the white hair to gently rub her neck. With a quiet hum, Winter allowed her head to lean a little heavier on Robyn’s upper chest, relaxing into her and nuzzling her nose lightly into her sweater. This level of tenderness had Robyn melting. It almost surprised her to hear Winter speak up again.

“...So... you really didn’t bring me here for sex?”

“I really didn’t,” Robyn confirmed, continuing to knead her neck and back. “Is that really what you thought when I invited you to my place?” she mused, as something else dawned on her; “...And you still came with me?”

Silence. Robyn felt the hands on her lower back slowly curl into fists as the wool of her sweater gathered in Winter’s fingers.

Robyn became completely motionless, to the point of even holding her breath. As the understanding that Winter had made up her mind about going through with it as she accepted to be alone together washed over her, she was impossibly aware of what was within her reach should she decide to take it.

Slowly, Robyn brought a hand to the back of the other woman’s head, gently combing the white hair with her fingers. No matter how tempted she was, Robyn also knew that jumping on the opportunity now, when Winter seemed so conflicted and vulnerable, was an awful idea. Sure, Winter had let herself be led up to this point expecting it would happen, but it seemed to Robyn like she had done so with rueful guilt, and Robyn had the unshakable certainty that after the deed was done, Winter would resent it happening and berate herself. And this wasn’t how Robyn wanted Winter to feel about being intimate with her. 

It would destroy the fragile bond they had, and along with it any chances Robyn felt she had to win the other woman’s heart.

“Would you be disappointed if I thought that we needed more time before something like that happened…?” The blonde eventually asked.

“... I’m relieved,” Winter answered. “However much I know that I shouldn’t be here and I shouldn’t indulge any of this, I…” she swallowed nervously, and, as if her body needed to speak its truth, her embrace tightened. “I don’t know how I would have resisted had it been something you wanted,” she confided.

How the other woman pressed herself closer gave Robyn a full-body shiver. “Oh, I want it, don’t get me wrong,” she breathed, feeling Winter’s heart rate jump again against her chest. Robyn’s hand tangled in the white hair instead found its way around her shoulders to return the tight embrace. “But I really like you, and I don’t want to fuck it up— I really don’t think it’s a good idea to rush it,” she explained. “We can take our time, we’ll get there eventually; there’s no reason to jump ahead.”

Winter sighed lightly and separated just enough to look up at her, eyeing her dejectedly. “There can’t be any ’ahead’. I shouldn’t have come here today, and I can’t allow myself to do so again.”

For a moment, Robyn wondered if this was a subtle way to plead with her to take the shot while she had the opportunity, or if the warning she gave was nothing more than exactly that. Either way, Robyn didn’t want to accept that they’d reached a dead end; she didn’t want to accept that she was meant to simply give up when they were both so strongly drawn to the other. But she also felt that pushing now, arguing to make a case for them, wasn’t the best use of the time they had together. Robyn figured that if Winter couldn’t help herself today and had given into her desire to spend time with her, chances were she would lack resolve the same way in the future, and this wasn’t truly final. Robyn decided to turn her attention to making the best of this evening.

“Alright. So you won’t come back,” she said. “But since you’re here now… stay a bit longer? I’ll make you dinner.”

Clearly conflicted, Winter nevertheless gave a slow nod. Again, her gaze dropped to Robyn’s lips, and it made Robyn incredibly aware of how close they were. Kissing her would be a matter of leaning in no more than a few inches, and oh how tempted she was to actually do it. Warmth spread through her body and Robyn realized her heartbeat had accelerated; it felt like it would be right to kiss her, though she knew very well now wasn’t the time for that, not with what Winter had just said. Summoning all her willpower, Robyn let go before she did something stupid.

Winter lingered a few extra seconds, her arms around her and eyes on her lips, incidentally substantiating what she’d expressed about finding her irresistible. Slowly, her hands on Robyn’s lower back circled to her hips, and Winter took a deep breath, as if bracing herself before letting go. How she joined her hands together as she stepped back, her gaze downcast demurely, only made Robyn want to hug her again; she wouldn’t have minded spending the entire evening holding her.

Forcing herself to move on, Robyn motioned for the other woman to follow her to the kitchen as she made a mental inventory of her pantry, calculating what her options were. “How does pasta sound?”

“Good. I’m not difficult.”

“Yeah? Pasta’s a pretty safe bet, but either way I wouldn’t have thought you a picky eater,” Robyn remarked, collecting what she needed from the cupboards, “you’re too pragmatic for that.”

Winter gave a conceding sort of nod. “I have to say, military rations will give you an appreciation for any fresh food.”

Robyn rolled up her sleeves and washed her hands. “You get those? Even though you’re a high ranking official?”

“I wasn’t always,” Winter pointed out. “Besides, high-ranking or not, it makes no difference when journeying through Solitas’s frozen tundra; rations are the only option.”

“Oh, yeah,” she measured out the flour and made a little nest for the eggs, oil and salt. “I don’t know, but it’s hard imagining you as a private; feels like you’ve always been at the top.”

This comment went over Winter’s head; she was completely engrossed with what Robyn was doing. “You’re making the pasta from scratch?”

Both hands in what was starting to become dough, the blonde shrugged. “Yeah?”

She looked baffled. “Do you cook often?”

“Used to be most days,” Robyn answered. “I’m getting busier and busier with the upcoming election though, so it’s been takeout more often than not these days.”

Her guest was visibly impressed. “I wouldn’t have imagined you to be so… domestic.”

Robyn laughed. “I don’t know if I should be offended by that,” she shot back playfully, and Winter looked self-conscious with her assumption. Robyn offered her a more genuine smile. “I’m gonna be honest though; domestic probably isn’t right anyways, since I’ve never been great at being neat and orderly. It’s just cooking that I do,” she revealed. And certainly, that was consistent with her primary love language; being of service, dotting over the people she loved had always been her way of showing she cared. “It’s something to share, you know? Makes me happy to do something for friends, family, girlfriends; taking care of people is something I like doing.”

Winter hummed in understanding. “Does this mean that you typically cook for your dates?”

Hearing this question, Robyn felt her lips stretch into a grin; she was happier than she had imagined this would make her. “...So this is a date, huh?”

Winter’s eyes widened; “It’s—...” But she evidently gave up on whatever denial was about to pour out; what had been implied by her query couldn’t have been clearer, and she was looking more embarrassed by the second.

“Don’t get too flustered,” Robyn laughed. “I hoped you thought of this as a date.”

Disapproval was written all over her face; “I really shouldn’t be.”

That again. “Can you stop worrying about what you should or shouldn’t be doing?” The blonde requested. “You’re here now, and you said it’ll be just the one time and it’s over. So enjoy it, yeah? Even if it’s just this once.”

Winter’s thought process as she internally bargained with herself deconstructed itself on her features and eventually, she yielded; “Fine,” she sighed, taking a seat on one of the bar stools at the kitchen counter.

Invigorated by a thrilled high, Robyn expended that energy in her kneading

“What will you tell your people?”

Focused on her hands, the blonde didn’t glance up. “What about?”

“No matter the precautions you took with the driver, some of your informants will have seen me come in here with you,” Winter established. “It’s easy to dismiss being seen with me if all we’re doing is walking outside. But bringing me here? I can’t imagine it won’t raise questions.”

That was true. Walking around the city could easily be explained away as being an attempt to show the General’s right-hand woman what his measures were doing to an already suffering populace. Inviting Winter to her home, though…? “I haven’t thought about it yet,” Robyn admitted.

“Aren’t you worried that your support would dwindle if your intentions towards me were to come to the public’s attention?”

“They’d see me trying to align myself with two of my political adversaries, huh? Jacques Schnee’s firstborn and Ironwood’s dutiful second-in-command.”

“That doesn’t worry you?”

Robyn shrugged sheepishly. “Obviously not enough to keep away,” she answered, and Winter gave her a bit of a scolding look. How the blue of her eyes pierced through her gave Robyn shivers, and she did her best to shake it off. “Listen… I know it’s not great , but I… really think you’re worth what backlash I could ge—”

“Would get,” Winter interjected. “Definitely would, without a doubt.”

“Right,” Robyn conceded. “But… I’m sure that once the initial shock passed, things would be fine. For one, you did a good job of separating yourself from your family’s estate; when your name comes up, people think of the Atlas military, not the SDC,” she explained. “As for the rest... the General isn’t entirely disliked down here,” Robyn admitted. “He’s done a lot of good in the past, and since the Fall of Beacon, with how much fear there’s been, he’s made a lot of people feel safer. And though a good chunk of us think that his ever-increasing measures are starting to be excessive, a decent portion of Mantle citizens still believe in him.”

Winter looked relieved to learn that. “He’s doing his best,” she acknowledged quietly. “These are uncertain times, and we need to be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

Her features had settled into an even, thoughtful mask. “That’s the question,” she said, almost more to herself.

As they both reflected on what had been said, about the uncertainty lurking the future, the silence that fell was unexpectedly comfortable. The dough under Robyn’s hands was nearly ready and she glanced up at her guest again to notice that somewhere along the line, Winter had become overly engrossed with watching the kneading. The glow in her eyes undoubtedly wasn’t about the food or its making process.

Robyn didn’t hate seeing it. “You hungry?” she shot, drawing Winter’s attention back up to her amused smirk. “What were you thinking about, watching my hands so intently?”

Her guest laced her fingers in her lap. “Nothing important.”

“Humour me.”

Winter cleared her throat, letting a nonchalant gaze wander to the ingredients on the counter. “I hadn’t realized how much tension I held in my body until you were massaging my back.”

“So you were thinking of my hands on you?”

Her eyes snapped to the purple ones. Again, Winter remained silent in the face of her provocations.

And still, Robyn couldn’t help nudging a little more. “A girl’s got needs, huh?” she mused, setting the dough aside. “I could rub your back a bit more after we eat.”

Winter leaned back in her seat, as if she needed to put more distance between them, even if only a few inches. “That’s an awful idea.”

With a brow arched, the blonde stopped in the middle of gathering what she needed to make the sauce. “What? Don’t tell me you wouldn’t like it.”

“I’d like it too much.”

Robyn felt herself grow hotter. After having avoided engaging the entire day and having skirted the topic for over two months, it was completely destabilizing for Winter to so openly own up to her desires. Trying her hardest not to let her mind wander, Robyn instead moved her attention to chopping the onion and garlic.

“What’s the matter?” Winter probed. “I thought you’d get a kick out of my acknowledging this.”

The blonde glanced up, surprised that the ice queen was pursuing this line of conversation. “I’m trying to digest that you actually said that,” Robyn admitted. “You’ve been so hellbent on dodging every pass I made.”

“With what happened earlier, you know what effect you have on me; why pretend otherwise now?”

Robyn raised her eyebrows a little higher. “Make sense,” she conceded, her impish grin returning. “So no massage huh?”

“No.”

“What about another hug?”

Winter looked hesitant. “...Now?”

“Well, no,” Robyn wiped an onion-vapor induced tear with her forearm, dropping everything in an oiled skillet for a satisfying sizzle. “But I don’t know, if you need it again, or when you leave?”

“...Sure,” she replied in her best detached voice.

It might have been that very attempt at indifference that nudged Robyn to dare; “What about a kiss?”

Gobsmacked, it took Winter a second to answer. “I’ll never get used to your impudence,” she uttered stiffly.

Robyn grabbed a bottle from the cupboard. “That’s not a no,” she noted.

The snow-haired woman crossed her arms.

“That’s not a no,” she repeated, smiling wider as she uncorked the wine. Only as she did so did Robyn notice the woman’s gaze on the bottle she had opened and at once remembered Winter’s aversion to alcohol. “I wasn't gonna drink, it's for the sauce,” Robyn explained, “but, uh, you’re fine if I use some in the sauce, right?”

“It’s no issue,” she confirmed. “And it wouldn’t be an issue either if you wanted to have a glass; this is your home, you can drink if you’re so inclined.”

“I’m inclined for you to be comfortable,” Robyn answered.

“I am comfortable with moderate consumption.”

“Yeah?”

“I appreciate your thoughtfulness, but I don’t need to be coddled. I’m not so fragile that something so mundane as a glass of wine would upset me,” she said. “I may not partake, but I have no issue with others responsibly doing so.”

Robyn nevertheless decided against it, re-corking the bottle as soon as she’d splashed some into the skillet to deglaze the browned onions. “You kinda got upset about it last time we broached the topic though.”

Winter watched her chop tomatoes. “What riled me up was your insistence to pry into a sensitive topic, not the simple idea of alcohol.”

“Right,” Robyn yielded, dropping the tomatoes in the skillet. “Sorry again about that.”

“It’s fine.” 

Stirring the already fragrant mixture, she found herself reflecting on what had happened that day. Though Winter was extremely good at maintaining that cool, professional mask, Robyn was even better at picking up on however small changes in expression. Learning to read those accurately had been a natural consequence of her semblance; it had been easy to become proficient at deciphering what those twitches in facial expressions meant when she could test for the absolute truth. And it had been easy for Robyn to see that the woman had been on a downward spiral, no matter how impassive she might’ve seemed to onlookers. “Sorry about… the family situation too,” she offered, adding the dried herbs and spices to the skillet.

Winter exhaled softly. “It’s... fine,” she said again. “I certainly wasn’t there for the worst of it; though I could have commuted from home, I chose to reside in the Atlas Academy dorms to be away from…” she trailed off for a second during which it looked to Robyn like she was debating whether she wanted to delve into this or not. Winter shuffled uncomfortably in her seat, giving the impression that, had she been standing, she would have started pacing. “It might not come as a surprise given his manipulative ways, but my father is emotionally abusive; it’s one of the main reasons for my mother turning to the bottle. As the years went by, my parents’ marriage was degrading rapidly, and… well, ever since I can remember, my mother has had a proclivity for it, but it was only after I left for Atlas Academy that her addiction rendered her completely dysfunctional,” Winter explained, watching Robyn put a pot of salted water on the stove. “I wasn’t the one who suffered the most from my parent’s demons. I... abandoned my siblings; they had to live through the worst of it.”

Hearing her speak with such remorse, the blonde felt a twinge of pain pull at her heart. “You couldn’t have known how bad it’d get,” she disputed.

Though Winter’s features remained mostly even, the uncharacteristic slump in her shoulders betrayed her despondency. “Oh, I could see it coming,” she grievously refuted. “And I saw it degrade every time I visited, which wasn’t as often as I should have for my siblings’ wellbeing.” 

Between what May had retold and what Winter had vaguely corroborated when chatting of what money could or couldn’t buy, Robyn couldn’t comprehend how hard the woman was on herself. How could Winter have been expected to step in when she was barely a teen, struggling with her own mental health and trying to keep up with Huntsman Academy training? Not to mention… Although Winter had brought up her father’s manipulative and abusive tendencies to explain her mother’s situation, Robyn was certain that her mother hadn’t been the sole victim. Which meant Winter’s own need to heal could be heaped onto the pile of other things she had to deal with. “You can't fault yourself for that,” Robyn said.

“Yet, I am,” she drily rejoined, almost immediately catching herself; she shook her head, as if to shake off the cynicism. “I guess… I wish I had been stronger. Strong enough to be more present. Or… I wish that I had been able to shelter them in some way, or that I had been able to do something to spare them the hardships.”

A frown took over as she cleaned the countertop of refuse. “I don’t see what you could’ve done, honestly.”

Winter leaned back in her chair. “I had the recurring desire to take custody,” she confided. “But I had to give up on that idea— it was incredibly unrealistic. When I turned eighteen and could have fought for custody was when I renounced the SDC estate and was cut off financially. Between finding the money to fight my father’s lawyers and attempting to prove that the home environment was a toxic one —my father was doing everything he could to maintain an impeccable public image after all— the battle was already lost. Moreover, how would I have provided for them, made a home for them while still living in the academy dorms?” Winter outlined, flicking a stray tomato stem into Robyn’s reach as she finished cleaning up. “It’s been of some consolation to see Weiss being so resilient and determined to make her own path.”

“You must’ve been elated when she decided to become a Huntress,” Robyn plopped the pasta dough back on the counter.

“I had mixed feelings,” Winter admitted. “Needless to say, I didn’t like the idea of her facing danger, but… yes. I was extremely glad that she would be free of that environment.”

The process of rolling out the tiny pasta bites was essentially a mindless one, and the soldier had Robyn’s undivided attention. “What about your brother?”

Winter watched the repetitive motion of shaping the dough. “After graduating, when I started earning a steady income and was able to get my own appartements, I have looked into taking him, but… between the legal enterprise that it would have proven to be, how busy and absent my work kept me, and… how I never had a good relationship with him, this idea remained just that, an idea,” she confided. 

Without understanding why, Robyn found herself unsurprised to learn that Winter’s relationship with her younger brother was strained. The boy really came off as a tiny version of his father. “Is it because he reminds you of your dad?”

Winter looked perplexed. “Oh, I have no ill feelings towards Whitley, I wouldn’t have considered being his guardian if I did. No, he despises me,” she corrected. “Maybe it’s only natural for a boy to look up to his father, and Father was naturally more inclined to favor his one child who adulated him, but Whitley has always seeked approval from Father. And I… was the child who turned her back on Father. The one who had Father incensed when she renounced the estate,” Winter explained. “Whitley had to witness the storm, and I can’t imagine what Father might have said about me, but our relationship was sealed with this.”

“It’s a shame,” Robyn commented. “He doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

This elicited a small smile from Winter, and the way she gazed back at Robyn was… warm. It was dazzling. “You’re kind,” Winter softly said.

The blonde remembered to breathe. “I’m not trying to be nice, it’s what I really think,” she offered. “And I mean, I’m sure I'm not the only one who thinks so— your sister might’ve told him something along those lines too. Aren’t you like, her hero?”

“Hm.” Winter shrugged lightly, the expression that she sported was subdued but undeniably affectionate. “I don’t know what I did to deserve how enormously Weiss loves me, but I’m certainly glad that she does.”

“You think she wanted to become a Huntress to be like you?”

“No, I believe it’s the other way around,” Winter said. “It’s because she has always had it in her to be a warrior that she looked up to me. Given our hereditary semblance, looking at me, she had a clear image of what she too may be able to do someday,” she speculated. “I wasn’t her inspiration, I was simply embodying her vision of the future.”

That was quite the interesting take. “So you’d guess she’d have become a Huntress no matter what?”

“Absolutely. And I’m also certain that she would have followed that path with or without my blessings, which is why I opted to give her the best chances I could and helped her train the best I knew how,” Winter said. “I was very hard on her, but… given what she has had to face, I’m glad that I was.”

Though Robyn had unquestionably already grasped that her sister was very important to Winter, all that had come to light made it fabulously self-evident why Winter would have wanted to find out about Weiss’s wellbeing from the fortune-teller. Robyn found herself hoping they could be reunited soon. “In the vision you had, did it look like you’d be seeing her sometime soon? Or was it far off in the future?”

“It wasn’t too far into the future, Weiss didn’t look that much older than the last time I saw her.”

“Oh? She looked older though?”

The snow-haired woman still absentmindedly watched Robyn’s hands as she rolled out the pasta. “It has already been well over a year since I last saw her— since before the Fall of Beacon. She turned twenty during that time, she’s not a teen anymore.”

Her saying this made it click what Winter had meant by ‘given what she had to face’ ; Robyn had known this too, how could she have forgotten? “She was at Beacon—  she was there when it happened.”

“She was,” Winter confirmed. “She was thankfully unschathed.”

The blonde nodded, gathering the pasta to drop it into the boiling water. “She fought?”

“Yes, along with her team. I’m proud of her— of them for doing so.”

Knowing the age difference between the Schnee sisters, Robyn quickly calculated how far along in her training Weiss had been. She and her team had less than two years of training under their belt, they probably hadn’t even done unaccompanied missions yet… and still , they had chosen to fight in an attempt to contain the worst catastrophe that Remnant had seen since the Great War. There inarguably was something to be proud of. “I’m glad they were fine.”

“I said that Weiss was fine,” Winter corrected, drawing Robyn’s gaze away from her cooking. The woman’s expression was a little grim. “Two of her teammates weren’t so lucky; one is missing in action and one was dismembered,” she related, making it sink in how dangerous it had been and how lucky Weiss had been unharmed.

Robyn felt a heaviness in her stomach. Having gone through Huntsman Academic training, she couldn’t envision facing this sort of horror with the level of skill she had back then, and she couldn’t imagine what it would have felt like to see her teammates suffer this way.

Winter decided to fill the silence. “I was in Vale just twenty-four hours before Beacon fell,” she confided. “I wish that, somehow, I had stayed— that I had been there. I don’t imagine that things would have gone down much differently had I been present, but… of the thousands of lives lost, I might have saved a handful,” she reflected out loud. With this, she gave a slight shake of her head. “After witnessing the horror and the valiant efforts of Beacon’s students, the General attempted to track down every one of them who chose to fight. He invited them to finish their training at Atlas Academy with full scholarship,” she said. Robyn had almost forgotten that the General had been at Ground Zero, and this bit clarified how Winter had learned of the fate of Weiss’s team. “We unfortunately don’t have the facilities or the teaching staff to accommodate all of Beacon’s students. The ones who fought have shown greater promise as Huntsmen and should be given the opportunity to finish their training, especially with… with the uncertainty and the attacks on the kingdoms.”

“Yeah,” Robyn answered pensively. The image of the entire fleet of the Atlesian military stationed defensively around the kingdom floated through her mind, and she couldn’t help thinking that Ironwood likely had other grounds than altruism to gather such brave aspiring Huntsmen in the kingdom.

Maybe Winter sensed what was going through her mind  because she continued. “The General also attempted to help the students who got injured, whether they wanted to resume their training or not,” she added. “He felt that… the heroism displayed by choosing to make a stand in such an unprecedented disaster should be rewarded. He took care of the medical expenses for dozens of students, and we dispatched several prosthetics; one of them to Weiss’s teammate.”

So the Iron General indeed had a beating heart. “That’s all very generous of him,” she reflected, adding the freshly cooked pasta to the skillet and removing it from the heat.

“He is a good man, Miss Hill.”

Robyn turned to her instantly; “Robyn.”

Winter narrowed her eyes.

The blonde walked around the kitchen island to stand a few inches from her, with one hand on the countertop and the other grabbing the back of Winter’s chair, she leaned in as she locked eyes with her. “ Robyn ,” she repeated with emphasis, pointedly gazing down at her.

Not one to be intimidated, Winter’s piercing blue eyes were locked intractably to her own. While Robyn had meant to put her foot down, she instead found herself taking the opportunity to gaze in awe of the incredibly vibrant hue of blue. What a gorgeous color. What gorgeous eyes. What a gorgeous woman.

The air had become completely still as they stared at each other, and Robyn again came aware of how close she’d gotten. Her annoyance over Winter’s insistence of sticking to her last name went up in smoke. Again, she felt her heart rate accelerate, and warmth spread to her body to her fingertips. It was only a matter of leaning in if she wanted to kiss her… which she did, she really did. And… Winter hadn’t said no, had she? In fact, the way Winter stared up at her had lost its defiant quality. The way she stared up at her now gave Robyn the distinct impression that she…  expected it? Or wanted it? Or maybe, Winter was tempted to do it herself?

Winter parted her lips. “...Fine,” she breathed, “Robyn.” 

Finally hearing her name gave the blonde a full-body shiver. If Robyn didn’t move away, she really was going to kiss her. She made herself step back and, for a short second, Winter looked disheartened. Robyn fleetingly considered stepping right back to her and taking what she wanted. “Come on, take a seat,” she motioned to the dining table as she headed to get tableware from the cupboards.

Without a word, her guest stood. Winter slipped off her blazer as she walked to change seats and hung it on the back of her chair before she sat herself. The blouse she wore underneath was sleeveless, and though it was only her arms that had been uncovered, the sight of skin bared had Robyn stop in her tracks. Winter was always covered up to her neck— even her hands were covered with gloves. Similarly to how the ever present distance between them had made Robyn extremely sensitive to the thought of touching her, this rare sight of bared skin had a ridiculous effect on her. She really had it bad .

Snapping herself out of it, she quickly dressed the table and served the food.

Robyn took a seat in front of her guest. “Go ahead, dig in.”

No matter her current station, Winter had evidently retained some of her rich girl mannerisms; she held her utensils daintily as she carefully prepared her bite, which she then chewed thoroughly. Robyn never knew someone could look so poised as they ate. Naturally, Winter swallowed before addressing her; she wouldn’t have spoken with food in her mouth. “This is delicious, you’re a talented cook.”

Robyn nodded. “Thanks, I’m happy you like it.” She was transfixed by the care and delicacy with which the other woman ate. Maybe she had to be this careful with her food, what with wearing so much white?

Winter’s voice brought her out of her daze. “It’s your turn to tell me about yourself,” she said.

Robyn blinked rapidly. “Like what? Didn’t you already study me?”

“Mantle records are spotty to say the least; aside from Atlas Academy records, I found nothing that dates before your mid-twenties, not even documents as paramount as your birth certificate. I don’t know who your parents are, if you have siblings, what kind of childhood you had,” Winter pointed out. “Besides, though I read your profile, that file doesn’t include your thought process or your motivations; I know the what and when, but not the why. ”

“Yeah, okay, fair,” she granted, starting on her food too. “I don’t have siblings. My mom was a detective with the Mantle police force —in her day, one of the best— and my dad a librarian. What else are you interested in knowing?” 

“So both your parents worked for the city of Mantle,” she noted. “Is that what inspired you to do the same though your formal training was as a Huntress?”

Robyn smiled lightly. She had avoided retelling the story earlier so as to not bring down the mood, but trying to avoid it now after everything that Winter had divulged of her family felt just wrong. “Remember earlier when I said I wasted both fortunes I’ve had?”

Winter gazed at her interestedly. “Yes, of course. You recounted the one you deemed foolish, but not the one you failed to prevent. I was under the impression that you didn’t want to share that one.”

“It’s not like I didn’t want to tell you. I just felt like it wasn’t the right moment,” she explained, to which the other woman gave an understanding nod. Robyn leaned back, raising her gaze contemplatively. It was hard to decide just how far back to go for context. “So… what inspired me to do what I do,” she thought out loud, as she reordered her thoughts. “Mantle’s been struggling for as long as I can remember. With the perimeter walls crumbling, Grimm roaming the streets weren’t uncommon— still aren’t,” she narrated, knowing full well that she didn’t need to go into the details for Winter to fully understand the picture. “And so… when I decided to be a Huntress, it wasn’t because I wanted action and adventure, or because I wanted fame and renown, or because I wanted to be a hero… I just wanted to help people. I didn’t know if I’d be a free-lance Huntress, if I'd enlist, or if I’d end up somewhere else, but I didn’t care. All I knew was that I wanted to help.”

“You mean to tell me that you considered joining the military?” Winter contended in stupefaction.

“I did ,” Robyn shot back. “I was still considering it too, when I first met old lady Fortuna. I was about thirteen, still in combat school, prepping for Atlas Academy. And, you know, since I decided to become a Huntress to help people, I wanted to know if I’d make a difference, so I went to her with the memory of the moment I’d made up my mind to be a Huntress,” she said. “I hoped she’d tell me about something good, something worthwhile that I’d accomplish, something that’d motivate me to keep working hard with my training, right?” Robyn felt her features lose some tension; thinking back on this always dampened her mood. “Instead, she told me about the biggest storm to hit the kingdom of Atlas in a century, the one that happened twelve years ago— you were what? Fourteen? You must remember it, right?”

“I remember hearing of it,” Winter said. “I was still living with my parents and didn’t experience any repercussions; the city of Atlas is impervious to weather calamities.”

“... Yeah,” Robyn nodded faintly. “I was in my third year at the academy at that time, so I also was safe up in Atlas.” With a short sigh, the blonde dejectedly stared back at her guest. It had been years, and she still couldn’t believe how oblivious she had been, how she’d had this information in her hands and done nothing with it. “When I got the reading, I thought that I had made a mistake when I chose the memory of wanting to be a Huntress— because it’s a memory that left it too wide open for anything about my future as a Huntress. I thought I’d just gotten a dumb vision of not being able to go on a mission with my team because of the stupid weather,” she outlined with a wry smile. “At thirteen, when I got the reading, I didn’t understand what a storm of that magnitude could do to Mantle’s crumbling infrastructures. It never crossed my mind that it could shut down the heating grid,” she explained.

Utensils forgotten in her hands, Winter had stopped eating somewhere along the way; she stared back at Robyn with clear foreboding, like she’d guessed where that story was leading.

Robyn decided to cut the chase; “Both of my parents died of hypothermia,” she said. “And… we don’t even know how many people died during those forty-eight hours, really. Like you said… Mantle records are spotty.”

Winter looked genuinely disheartened. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah… me too,” Robyn quietly rejoined. She gave a tense shrug and cleared her throat, trying to shake off the mood. “All we can do now is try to prevent something like that from ever happening again,” she continued. “And that’s why I choose to do the work I do.”

“Certainly, politics would allow you to affect change at a much larger scale than being a Huntress,” Winter thought out loud.

“Exactly,” the blonde shot back. “Although… going into politics was never something that I meant to do, I just… started giving a hand wherever I could; volunteering, and it wasn’t long before my team and I were organizing people and sort of became an unofficial resource in the city. People come to us with all sorts of problems because the city’s services are clogged. When that seat opened, it just felt like… the next logical step, you know? Get some official power, so I can do more and help better,” she explained. No matter how hard they’d worked, things hadn’t really been getting much better. They had at least stopped getting worse until the Fall of Beacon, and that just had highlighted how there was only so much she could do without legal power. Robyn sighed lightly. “I have no illusions, you know; I know that this seat won’t allow me to magically fix everything that’s been going wrong with Mantle” she said. “But I know I’d be able to change thousands of lives for the better, and that’s a good step. It’s better than what any of the other bozos who are running would do with the power that seat would give them… so I need it. I have to win.”

Winter finished chewing and dabbed her mouth with a napkin, though there was nothing to wipe off. “If it means anything, you have my vote,” she offered.

Robyn’s eyes had widened as saucers, it took her a few seconds to find her voice. “It means a lot ,” she managed. “Won’t your boss disapprove?”

“I’m an Atlas citizen, I have the right to vote and to cast my vote how I choose,” Winter pointed out. “Someone must fill that vacant seat, and… better it be someone like you.” With this she leaned back, evidently considering her next words before she went on. “Besides, considering the lead you two have, it will be you or my father who wins... and I’m pretty sure that the General despises my father almost as much as I do.”

Bewildered, it took a second for her to swallow that; no wonder Winter had debated revealing this.

She was suggesting that even James Ironwood may vote for her? Robyn had thought that electing Jacques Schnee as his puppet would have been the plan.  “That’s… good to know,” Robyn mused. She’d been aware that Ironwood was iffy about how much agitation she brought, but she’d been unaware that, despite everything, she was nevertheless his preferred candidate. Maybe there was room to work together after all…? 

And maybe that was a good thing, if she meant to be serious about the woman sitting in front of her.  

With her eyes riveted to the icy blue ones opposite her, Robyn wondered if all that might change something for them. If they did find a way to work together, would it mean that Winter might reconsider her position? Would whatever responsibilities she had alluded to still stand in the way? And if they didn’t, then did that mean that she might be open to dating her publicly? This in turn brought another question; “Hey, if you don’t mind my asking… are you out?”

Winter looked surprised to be asked this. “I thought that I wasn’t,” she answered uneasily, “but I was recently made aware of… a rumour that has apparently been circulating since Atlas Academy.” 

Robyn raised an eyebrow. So Winter hadn’t been aware of that rumour? Maybe it shouldn’t have been a surprise, given how disconnected she’d been from her peers.

In what Robyn had come to understand was a nervous tic, Winter tucked her hair behind her left ear. “Without me having said or done anything to corroborate that rumour, it seems that all my colleagues already believed that I’m a lesbian. And… though how they came to believe this is rooted in falsehoods… it remains true that I am,” she explained, visibly uncomfortable. “I guess that I am out.”

Though Robyn had been thrilled hearing that rumour from May, seeing how it affected Winter was unnerving, and she felt awful for her. “Oh geez, I’m sorry about all that… you should have been able to come out on your own terms,” she empathetically uttered.

Winter shrugged. “As far as I know… it hasn’t reached my family’s ears. That I am able to do that on my own terms is what matters.”

Was that for wanting to see her father’s meltdown in person, or because she didn’t want her sister to hear it from would-be slandering rumours? “By that, do you mean...?”

“I mean Weiss,” Winter clarified. “She’s the only one whose opinion truly matters to me.”

She should’ve known; Winter couldn’t care less what her father thought— not even for getting a kick out of his misery. But given how much she did care about Weiss… “I’m surprised you never told her,” Robyn reflected out loud.

“It took me a while to make peace with myself,” she admitted.

“You’re at peace now?”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

“You’re here, but you’re not exactly feeling good about it.”

“My reluctance has nothing to do with the fact that you’re a woman.”

Robyn felt herself smile. “True,” she conceded. And though that was accurate enough, Robyn suspected that it didn’t matter how comfortable Winter was with herself; she certainly wouldn't consider a real relationship, a public one, without having opened up to Weiss first. “So, are you in a place where you’d want to come out to your sister?”

Being asked this gave Winter pause. “I… don’t know,” she carefully answered. “When Weiss inherited my responsibilities, she tried very hard to fit in and make herself into Father’s idea of the perfect heir. She spent a lot of time with these high-society people; she tried to be one of them, and adopted some of their… somewhat close-minded ideas. In appearance, at least,” she explained. “I’m hoping that her time at Beacon will have broadened her horizons some, but… it still worries me.”

“I’d be inclined to believe that it did change her; lately she’s been coming off as a bit of a rebel,” Robyn offered, an effort to be encouraging. “Maybe it’ll go over better than you imagine.”

“We’ll see when the time comes,” Winter dismissed. “...Were you always comfortable with being gay?”

“Yeah, as far back as I can remember,” Robyn answered. “Even as a kid, we’d play at being Huntsmen and Huntresses, and pretend going on rescue missions. I always wanted to save the damsel in distress, and I always wanted a kiss as a reward,” she retold in amusement.

The unimpressed ice queen expression surfaced. “Is that your type? Defenceless women who would swoon over you?”

It made the blonde laugh. “Give me a little credit, I was a kid. I’ve grown, and so have my preferences.”

“Is that so?” Her guest posed, observing her interestedly. “And what are your preferences now?”

Robyn’s persistent grin widened. “Short military women who could slap me around.”

“I’m not short,” Winter instantly defended before realizing that she was being baited. “Don’t tease me,” she then warned.

“I’m not,” Robyn defended. 

“That’s too specific to be a type.”

“Right,” she conceded jovially, “I meant to say that I like women who are deceptively strong.”

Her eyebrows crinkled. “What do you mean ‘deceptively’ ?”

“I mean: how, seeing you on the streets in civilian clothes, someone who doesn’t know you wouldn’t know that you’re one of the best warriors on the face of Remnant,” the blonde said in hopes that this would be self-explanatory. It evidently wasn’t, as Winter’s frown deepened. Well then, how to explain this without offending her? Robyn straightened up a little in her seat. “Don’t take it wrong, but… you don’t have an especially impressive build,” she said instead of drawing attention to her height again, which in truth wasn’t the only thing Robyn was referring to by underlining her build anyways. Winter certainly looked fit, but she wasn’t muscular in a bulky way, and she wasn’t lean in a way one would expect military life would have made her either; her voluptuous hourglass figure would have any woman green with envy. Between the pure white of hair and her pale skin, Winter almost looked like she was made of porcelain, and only in her uniform did she remotely look the part of the accomplished warrior that she was. Robyn didn’t think she should voice any of that either. “Add to that, you have such delicate features, and… you just don’t come off as the rugged soldier type, you know?”

“Hm. I see what you’re getting at.”

“Right?” She shot, relieved that her point was coming across. “And yet you’re… really fucking dangerous.”

“I am.”

Knowing that Winter wasn’t bragging, that she was only corroborating a fact as plainly as she would have corroborated having ten fingers, made Robyn snort in amusement.

The soldier thoughtfully gazed back at her, still trying to understand. “And so… you… like that my capacities aren’t readily evident,” she confirmed.

“Yeah,” Robyn leaned in. “It’s… I love strong women, but it’s… I don't know, there’s something about the… I guess... the lack of broadcasting your strength. I think it’s one of those ‘don't judge a book by its cover’ things— like there is so much to discover, you know? And sure, I know looks versus strength is actually very superficial, but it still… whether I want to think of it like that or not, it still comes off to me as a tangible representation of depth, of things to discover, of surprises, right? And I’m a curious person; I like to peel off layers and get to the bottom of things.”

Though she rolled her eyes, a playful smile drew itself across her lips. “Yes, that, I have noticed.”

Seeing how more and more often Winter let her emotions show through, how much she was visibly relaxing, had Robyn enchanted. The woman really had a gorgeous smile. “Do I pry too much for your liking?”

“I can live with it,” Winter answered, her smile lingering.

Live with it...? The blonde felt her heart accelerate slightly. Hadn’t Winter said that today was a one-off? Could it be that, no matter her claims, Winter subconsciously knew she’d let herself see Robyn again? It was probably better not to draw attention to that— it might have the ice queen retreat again behind her impassive mask. “And what about you? Do you have a type?”

“I… don’t know,” she admitted. “I never let myself linger on what it was exactly about the women who made my head turn that did make it turn.”

“You don’t see any common thread between the women that you’ve…” Robyn had been about to say dated , but as she spoke, something that Winter had said a little earlier came to mind. “Earlier, you said something about having abstained from it when you felt attraction… ”

“I meant it. I’ve never done this.”

It was certainly a surprise. “You’ve never dated another woman or anything?”

“No,” she said, and though her hair hadn’t moved since she’d tucked it behind her ear, she did the motion again. “Until today, I’ve never as much as… held someone whom I’m attracted to.”

Hearing this seriously dampened Robyn’s previously brilliant mood; no wonder Winter had had trouble letting go of the hug earlier. Between this and having so few friends, she must have been starved for touch. Which led Robyn to wonder; “Did you ever uh… pretend you were straight? Did you date men?”

“I didn’t.”

So she had been utterly solitary. It was hard to conceive that such a desirable woman would have remained so completely sidelined. Though… it didn't matter how attractive she was if she was the one who'd sequestered herself behind near-insurmountable walls of ice. Robyn still found it hard to assimilate. “So you’ve never been… close in any way with anyone ?”

“...No,” Winter admitted under her breath. “Pathetic, isn’t it?”

“No, of course not,” Robyn instantly said. Nevermind that Winter had done this to herself, people have different priorities. One might not want, need, or have time for a relationship for pursuing passion, living a life of travel, chasing a demanding career, or simply for lack of wanting it. Though judging by Winter’s despondency… her solitude might have been by design, but it certainly wasn’t what she had longed for.  “... Wasn't it lonely?"

“...Very.”

Robyn had to smother the impulse to get up and go hug her. Though she understood that a large part of the situation was due to Winter’s career, Robyn couldn’t help thinking that… meeting the right woman might have overhauled her plans. The fact that Winter was in her home today was only proof of that. “Did you never meet anyone who you could see yourself with?”

“I’ve never let anyone close enough to find out,” she confided. “Any woman who I found attractive, I… well, you’ve been on the receiving end,” Winter pointed out. “I drove them off as fast as I could.”

“I thought that you’d only done that with me because you had the wrong idea about what kind of person I was and what I wanted to do,” Robyn said, somewhat taken aback. So it wasn’t just the privileged and powermongers whom she would ward off this way. “You mind telling me why?”

“Hm… the why has changed over the years,” Winter disclosed. “May it be internal turmoil, difficulty coming to terms with my desires, or career focus... there was never a time in my life when I was both ready and able to seek a relationship,” she outlined. “Resulting in this; me promptly terminating any prospect before I could be tempted.”

Yet… Winter was here with her. “So what’s different now?”

The way she gazed at her, Robyn couldn’t read. It was something part apprehensive and part tender. Winter sighed. “Frankly… you ,” she eventually answered. “You’re the first to ever be amused by my attempts at making them dislike me.”

Well, maybe she could have seen that coming. “I was only amused because I understood what you were doing,” Robyn still offered. “I don’t know if I’d have thought it was as much fun if I hadn’t noticed how differently you acted with the workers.”

“Maybe,” Winter conceded, “but you have noticed, no one else ever did. Or if they did, it didn’t matter to them the way it evidently mattered to you.”

“So… are you saying that the only reason that you’re sitting here with me today is ‘cause I’m buttheaded and decided to keep chatting you up anyways?”

It made her smile. “Yes and no,” the snow-haired woman answered. “You gained my respect when you were able to convey how different your motivations are from other political players, when I was able to get a real sense of who you are,” she said. “But… had you not been so incredibly attractive on top of it all, I would have been able to resist going against my better judgement. And I wouldn’t be sitting here.”

Incredibly attractive — it coursed under her skin like an electric jolt. “How flattering,” Robyn grinned from ear to ear. 

Winter’s focus lowered slightly, as it had a few times today, her gaze riveted to Robyn’s mouth. “I didn’t mean to flatter you, it’s only the truth,” she said.

Acknowledging with a hum, Robyn watched her stare for a few seconds. When she’d previously drawn attention to this, Winter had dismissed it, so Robyn decided to be more straightforward this time around. “You want to kiss me, Winter? You’ve been staring at my lips an awful lot.”

Her cool blue eyes tracked up Robyn’s features to hold her gaze in an unyielding, penetrating stare. “Why ask?” She inquired. “You know that I do.”

How bold. Robyn’s heart was suddenly pounding again. “Why haven’t you yet?” She dared. “I’m sure you know I’d be thrilled.”

Allowing a silence, Winter parted her lips to exhale a controlled sort of breath, like she needed to get a hold of herself. “Because it’s not about what I want, it’s about what I must do,” she reiterated.

Duty again. Robyn sighed and leaned back in her chair, staring at her guest pensively. “So… if you were free to do what you want,” she posed, “what might’ve today led to?”

“Led to?” Winter repeated, cocking her head. Something barely concealed and incredibly enticing surfaced in her gaze.  “Are you asking me if I would have slept with you?”

“Uh…” She cleared her throat. “Well I wouldn’t hate knowing that, but I was asking something like… Do you like me enough that there would have been a second date?”

“Unquestionably.”

“And what about... ” She trailed off, thinking it over for a second; Robyn didn’t know how to ask this without coming off as presumptuous, pushy, or desperate. “...Do you think that maybe… it could have been more serious than just a couple of dates?”

Winter’s gaze remained steadily on Robyn’s, unreadable for a moment.

“Sorry,” Robyn quickly said, unsure if the other woman was simply considering the answer or if she felt bothered by repeatedly being put in a position where she had to shoot Robyn down. “I know the deal, I’m not trying to pressure you. I’m just curious.”

It took another moment for her to elect to answer. “After today, I’m certain that given the opportunity… yes, this could have been more. We could have found something right for both of us,” she granted, “something real and true,” she added more quietly. Voicing this seemed to pain her— maybe for denying herself what she desired or maybe for deploring the duty that obliged her to do sowhat could have been. Winter inhaled sharply, trying to regain her composure. “It’s getting late,” she said, standing up somewhat abruptly. She started gathering her cutlery to clean up.

“You don’t have to do that,” Robyn quickly said, standing up too. “I’ll take care of it later,” she added, coming around the table and reaching out to prevent her from gathering the dishes. Her hand brushed Winter’s and they both instantly looked at each other.

For the third time that evening, Robyn felt that energy in the air again, the thing that made her so aware of how easy it would be to lean in and kiss her, the thing that made her feel deep down in her gut that it was all Winter was waiting for, no matter how she claimed she couldn’t. Breathing out shakily, Robyn repeated the motion of her hand, this time caressing Winter’s deliberately, and Winter turned her hand under hers to caress her palm and fingers in return, eliciting goosebumps throughout Robyn’s body. And naturally… Robyn just couldn’t resist this time. Her hand slid up the velvety skin of Winter’s arm to grab hold of her, keeping her still as she leaned over to gently press her lips to hers.

If the entire world had come to an end in that moment, Robyn wouldn’t have known. Her heart was in her throat, her mind both racing and blank, and she was lost in a suspended moment. How completely enraptured she was with her lips was unprecedented; Robyn couldn’t remember ever relishing this much in a kiss. After what seemed like an eternity, she remembered herself and somehow forced herself to draw back.

When Winter’s eyes fluttered open, she stared up at her with her eyes wide, like she couldn’t believe what had just happened. She exhaled shortly, a sort of disbelieving gasp. Without a word, she cupped Robyn’s face with both hands, leaning in again to kiss her, and unlike Robyn had just done, she didn’t simply press her lips to hers, no. Winter kissed her almost forcefully, savoring her lips with longing and undue ardor, and Robyn’s knees weakened underneath her. Winter’s hands caressed down her neck and firmly grabbed the front of her sweater, pulling her closer. Everything that had been suppressed over the last weeks, what urges had remained caged behind every one of Winter’s charged gazes, what desires had been censored behind every dutiful answer she’d given, it all came pouring out as she devoured Robyn’s lips. And yes, Robyn had glimpsed that something tempestuous laid behind that frosty façade of hers, but she never could have imagined what intensity Winter was capable of. How breathtaking.

Robyn wrapped her arms around her and pulled her closer, relishing in the feeling of her body against hers, kissing her back with matching fervor. How impossibly liberating, how cathartic to finally be able to give into something she’d been fantasising about for the better part of two months. She loved her body against hers, she loved her arms hugging... Winter wasn’t truly hugging her back, she now noticed. Yes, her arms were around Robyn, but her hands were busy contouring Robyn’s shoulders and back, running down her waist, getting a good feel of the shape of her body. Winter’s hands circled from her hips to her back again, and the way they hung low on her back gave Robyn the impression for a second that they would slide down to her ass.

Without thinking about it too much, Robyn unsteadily stepped back, inciting the other woman to follow along as they kissed. The dining area was an open space that gave onto the living room and, in Robyn’s small flat, it was only a few steps to the sofa. And though she’d meant to sit them down, consumed with each other as they were, Robyn found herself with Winter under her. Completely losing control, Robyn pushed against her, trying to get their bodies somehow closer, impossibly aware of the other woman’s thighs pressed to each side of her waist, of the way her legs were spread to accommodate Robyn’s body over hers. Winter’s hands fell from her shoulders, caressing down her neckline, but not quite daring further down to her breasts. Her fingers curled around the fabric of her sweater, as if to stop herself.

“It’s okay,” Robyn whispered between kisses, “you can touch me however you want,” and as soon as those words left her mouth, she felt Winter’s hands release her shirt to nervously move down to her chest. As her fingers pressed into Robyn’s flesh, grabbing hold of one of her breasts and feeling her through the fabric, Winter let out a gentle moan that sent goosebumps down Robyn’s spine. And now, the same as Robyn’s kiss had opened the floodgates to a tidal wave, daring this first intimate touch quickly unshackled Winter’s appetite for more. Before Robyn knew it, the only boundary left was her clothing, which she was quickly considering doing away with.

This thought gave her pause, and she somehow made herself draw back to look at her. The vision of Winter with her lipstick smudged and her lips swollen from Robyn’s greedy commandeering of them, with her half-lidded eyes misty with high emotions and darkened by desire, with her white hair sprawled uncharacteristically messily around her had more of an effect on Robyn than even the most explicit images in any of her fantasies had had. 

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” Robyn whispered, gently moving her fingers across her jaw to cup her cheek. Her thumb grazed the corner of her mouth, and Winter, holding her gaze unyieldingly, parted her lips. Robyn felt the wet warmth of her tongue against her thumb, and a hot flash ran down her spine. She exhaled heavily, realizing just how impossibly turned on she’d gotten. Looking down on the other woman laying on her back, hot and ready, Robyn couldn’t help thinking back on what had been said earlier, on what she herself had said; that it was too soon. It suddenly felt like it couldn’t be soon enough. She wanted her so much, she didn’t know how to deny herself. She wanted to make her feel doted on and cherished, she wanted to somehow try to abate the years of solitude and loneliness. She wanted to show her how good it felt to share such intimacy, how amazing it felt when the entire world narrowed down to only one other person. Robyn’s hand on her cheek lost itself in the criminally soft white hair, as she held her gaze, gauging her response as she asked; “...Do you wanna do this?”

Winter breathed shakily, she seemed to come aware of how her hands had strayed because she moved them from Robyn’s ass to her lower back. “You said that it wasn’t why you brought me here,” she whispered.

“It wasn’t,” Robyn confirmed, at a loss with how quickly everything had escalated. “I… I’ve wanted this, but I wasn’t planning on it when I brought you here. I just wanted some privacy to get to know you,” she explained in all honesty. Though she had yearned to close the alienating distance, Robyn could have never guessed, as she sat with her in that café earlier today, where the evening would lead them. She would have never ventured hoping that Winter would let herself be so vulnerable and confide so much in her, or that they would connect so deeply. “I never thought we’d get to a point today where it’d… feel so natural to— and, I mean… I liked you from day one, but I didn’t imagine I’d get to like you this much more this fucking fast,” she admitted.

Her eyes were steadily on Robyn’s. “How much more?”

Robyn gazed back down at her for a moment, trying to assess it for herself. Winter mattered a lot to her, it certainly wasn’t a simple flirt— it probably hadn't been for a while now. Robyn knew for a fact that she had passed the point of no return; she certainly couldn’t relinquish the idea of a future together without harrowing heartache. Trying to come up with an answer, her gaze was lost in that gorgeous hue of blue. 

How much more? The real answer was: probably so much that the truth would scare Winter away. 

“I can’t remember the last time I felt like this about anyone,” Robyn murmured, unsure if she’d ever felt this way before. “You’re… really special.”

Delicately, Winter’s hand found its way over Robyn’s still on her cheek. “You’re special to me too,” she admitted quietly. “I have always had a hard time opening up to people, but with you… it’s effortless. And I’ve never been so… powerlessly drawn to anyone this way before.” Taking a quivering breath, she gently brought Robyn’s hand closer to her mouth to kiss the inside of her palm. “From the first time you approached me, I couldn’t get you out of my head,” she said, reminding Robyn how she had incessantly been drawn to stare at her. “I think of you at all hours; day and night.”

Heat spread through her body again. “Night too, huh?”

“Especially at night.”

Robyn leaned in again. Winter’s fingers as she took her face in her hands were burningly warm, and her palms a little moist. She incited Robyn to lean even closer, gracing her with another head-spinning kiss, and Robyn eagerly responded with matching passion. Again, Winter’s hands fell from her shoulders to caress down her body, this time unashamedly fondling her breasts. Her thumb rolled over a nipple so hard that it could be felt through the heavy wool of Robyn’s sweater.

Incapable of remembering why she had originally decided that the evening should remain chaste, Robyn found herself asking; “Want me to take it off?”

“Yes,” Winter was already urgently pulling it up at the hem.

Robyn promptly kneeled up, getting the garment over her head and throwing it aside. The way Winter gazed up at her told of how, though she’d been touching plenty, she hadn’t realized that Robyn wore nothing underneath. Her surprise was quickly overtaken with fervent hunger and unambiguous lust; Winter sat up, her hands tracing Robyn’s hips, caressing their way up her toned stomach, settling on her waist, blue eyes all the while remaining on her denuded chest. Winter breathed out unsteadily. It was as though she didn’t dare go any further, and it forced Robyn to remember that this was the other woman’s first time being intimate with someone.

Gently, Robyn cupped her cheek, turning her to meet her eyes for a second, then slowly, she drew her into her arms. Winter clutched her in return, burying her face in her chest. Hot, unsteady breath moistened Robyn’s skin, and her balmy hands on her naked back felt tense. Robyn leaned her cheek on top of her head, breathing the incredibly enticing scent of her hair as her fingers comfortingly massaged the base of her neck and her shoulders. How she loved holding her. “You’re okay?”

She hummed in approval, the tension in her body slowly abating. Robyn allowed her to remain nestled in her arms as long as needed, allowing for her to decide if she wanted to proceed or if this was enough for her. Sure enough, after a short moment, Winter slowly moved her head, tentatively kissing her chest. Robyn’s fingers buried themselves in her hair, comfortingly scratching her scalp as lips slowly moved across her skin, and Robyn wondered if the other woman could feel how hard her heart was pounding. It was stupefying how much palpitation she felt; Robyn wasn’t usually nervous or coy when she’d get intimate with a new partner. Feeling her mouth brush against her nipple sent a jolt that electrified her to the tips of her fingers and toes, and feeling her tongue push against it had Robyn gasp despite herself. She shakily brushed the white hair out of the other woman’s face, which got her to glance up at her. What gleamed in Winter’s eyes was hypnotizing, and Robyn couldn’t stifle what rose inside of her; her own desire to ravish her, to make her scream in pleasure, to entirely possess her if only for a few moments. She pushed her down on her back again, crashing her lips to hers, and Winter hungrily kissed her back.

Fingers swiftly unbuttoned the white blouse to uncover skin, and though Robyn’s blood was boiling and her hands were hot, Winter’s bare stomach twitched at the brush of her fingers. How smooth and warm was her skin. Robyn wanted nothing more than to feel her naked body naked against her own— …that was wrong, there was one thing she wanted more in that moment; she drew from the kiss to behold what she’d uncovered.

As Robyn might have ventured guessing, the woman was simply gorgeous , from the round shape of her full breasts, to how her slightly muscular stomach did nothing to diminish her hourglass shape. What did surprise Robyn was, having half-expected military-issue underwear, discovering that Winter was wearing white lace. How appropriately elegant, and how criminally beautiful. Was this typical choice of undergarment typical, or had Winter considered the possibility of Robyn seeing them and picked accordingly…? 

Winter raised herself on her elbows to help get the blouse off completely, and Robyn gathered her again in her arms as soon as she could. The intimacy of skin against skin and the heat building in the air between them, around them, went straight to her head, making her dizzy. 

She needed to know what Winter’s body would feel like completely naked against her own, she craved to learn every curve and every sensitive spot, know the scent of her skin and the taste of her sweat. “Fuck, I want you so much,” Robyn breathed, her nose buried in the white hair, completely intoxicated with its perfume. “I can’t even tell you how much— I’ve wanted you from day one .”

“I know,” Winter whispered in return. Her hands searched Robyn’s back like she was memorizing its shape and her lips burned Robyn’s neck. “The way you looked at me has haunted me ever since.”

Her saying this brought Robyn back to what Winter had said about thinking of her especially at night, and though it was insinuated, Robyn wanted to hear it; “You fantasized about me?”

Winter pressed her forehead against her and inhaled like she might be gathering her nerves. “More than I’d care to admit,” she confessed.

“You’ve touched yourself thinking about me?” she murmured, febrile at the image it evoked in her mind. Feeling Winter’s head against her move in a faint nod again washed Robyn in desire, coursing like fire through her veins. “Thinking about what?”

Winter stayed silent this time, and it was no wonder; Robyn had been somewhat surprised that she had owned up to what she had to begin with. It was perhaps her own turn to offer something, and she shifted just enough to whisper in her ear. “I do it thinking about my tongue inside you,” she admitted, hearing Winter’s breath catch in her throat. With an insuppressible grin stretching her lips, Robyn drew back to look at her; the way Winter stared at her with her eyes wide and full of anticipation spoke loud and clear. 

Keeping eye contact, Robyn slowly undid the button on Winter’s trousers, then the zipper. “I’m gonna make you feel so good,” she murmured, caressing the newly uncovered skin of her lower stomach.

Wordlessly, Winter raised her hips to pull her pants down past her ass. Robyn separated from her enough to rid her of them completely, stopping for a second to admire the view. She wasn’t as muscular as Robyn had expected— or rather, she had a healthy layer of fat hiding some of the definition, but she definitely had substantial muscle mass. There was faint definition on her stomach and her fleshy thighs looked tight and smooth. Though neither her uniform nor her casual clothes completely subdued her assets, Robyn was still awed to see how ridiculously voluptuous she was. Her pale skin was devoid of any sort of blemishes, moles and even of scars— which was uncommon for any trained Huntsmen or Huntresses, let alone seasoned military personnel— was this a testament to her skill, or to the sheer amount of aura she generated? Either way… like the very first time she’d seen her, Robyn was again reminded of a work of art sculpted from marble. Without a doubt, Winter was the most attractive woman she’d had the luck to be with— no, she was unquestionably the most beautiful woman she’d ever laid her eyes on. “You have no right to be this sexy,” she heard herself say.

Winter’s gaze quickly swiped down her nude torso before she met her eyes again. “Look who’s talking,” she answered, her voice low and husky.

Before she knew it, Robyn was over her again, devouring her lips. Winter welcomed her with open arms, her hands finding her breasts again, and Robyn pressed into her touch. She felt like she was losing her mind. Winter’s heavy breath mingled with her own, her naked thighs were warm around Robyn’s waist, and her lace underwear was damp, sticking to Robyn’s stomach. She wanted to bury her face between her legs, she felt herself salivating at the thought of it. “Holy fuck,” Robyn mouthed, hazy with desire. “I could get used to this.”

As she said those last words, Robyn felt hands on her shoulders. “Robyn,” Winter uttered shakily, drawing her gaze. “Remember, I… can’t have— I… I said I couldn’t see you again, this isn’t… ” As she spoke, whatever had originally inhibited her from indulging her desires seemed to come to the forefront of her mind. Robyn watched as what color lust had given her cheeks drained to a sickly white. Winter’s body quickly became rigid under hers, her eyes filling with dread. “Oh my god, what are we doing,” she whispered in disbelief.

Robyn felt her heart sink in her chest.

Still finding her bearings after this abrupt awakening, Winter distraughtly glanced around the room before she made an awkward motion to attempt to extract herself from under Robyn. “I shouldn’t have come here, it was a mistake,” she uttered with difficulty.

Though it was the last thing that she wanted, Robyn moved away to allow her to sit up. “Winter, hang on,” she quickly shot despite not knowing what to say.

“I can’t believe myself, how irresponsible,” Winter griped under her breath, abruptly getting up.

Robyn’s sense of alarm skyrocketed. “Wait, Winter, listen, ” she attempted again though she had no idea how to appease her. This had been exactly what Robyn had been afraid of, the very reason she’d known she had to wait— she’d known! How stupid did she have to be to let herself be carried away like this! Hurriedly, she grabbed her sweatshirt as she watched the other woman gathering her garments. “Winter, stop for a second, will you?”

She barely glanced her way as she slid on her pants. “This can’t happen again, forget it ever—”

“Winter,” Robyn firmly cut in, and Winter stopped her pacing, yet didn’t turn her way. Although Robyn had gotten her to listen, she still had no idea how to assuage her. Desperate to backtrack, desperate for the evening not to end so catastrophically, Robyn nevertheless forced herself to find something to say.  “...Listen, I… can’t even begin to imagine what’s preventing you to— and I know that you can’t tell me, but… I can’t forget today.”

Winter zipped up her pants and slowly slipped her blouse. She stubbornly avoided looking at her, focusing on re-fastening her top. “It’s better that you do, because I will.”

“And how are you gonna do that?”

Winter halted halfway through buttoning her blouse. Her blank stare moved from her immobile hands to finally look at Robyn and she gave a despondent shrug, clearly miserable. “I don’t know, but I have to.”

Between her own desires and seeing Winter’s pain while not knowing why she denied herself this way, Robyn could only be compelled to try and change her mind. “I get that you have a job to do and you can’t be distracted, but it’s not like you can control what you feel or who you think about,” she carefully tried. “And now we actually have a shot at something worthwhile. We can find a way to make this work.”

“You don’t know what’s at stake,” she snapped and, hearing her tone, Winter took a deep breath. Her hands went to her temples to massage them anxiously. “This will pass, it’s— it’s just stupid, childish, meaningless infatuation.” 

Although it was obvious that Winter said this in an attempt to convince herself, it hurt to hear her call it that. “Is it?” Robyn challenged, standing up. “Come on, really ?”

The sudden assertive opposition drew Winter’s attention, and for a second, as she met her eyes, deep yearning surfaced. She tore her gaze away. “ I don’t know, ” she frankly threw back, “but I won’t find out.”

Being hellbent as Robyn generally was to uncover the truth, she couldn’t believe that someone would knowingly avoid finding out what lurked deep within themselves. That rang especially wrong knowing that to get over any sort of emotional baggage, one needed to confront it. “Pretending that it’s not there isn’t gonna make it go away. It’s the opposite; whatever you’re feeling, it’s gonna stay just as is for as long as you don’t touch it,” she contended. “You’re gonna need to know what it is, even if it’s just so you can start to move past it.”

The way Winter glanced at her made it clear that she knew that Robyn was right. “I don’t know what it is, Robyn, but it’s not so big that I won’t be able to ignore it,” she nevertheless said.

Maybe it was in part a projection of her own wishes, but Robyn just couldn’t believe that. She reminded herself how, after all, Winter’s desire to be with her was powerful enough that she found herself acting against what she claimed were her duty and obligations. Not to mention, the way Winter had looked at her only moments ago spoke for itself. “You’ve never let yourself get involved with anyone else before, that you did with me means something ,” Robyn pointed out.

Winter’s jaw visibly set as she evidently steeled herself against the claim. “It means nothing,” she insisted, finally remembering her half-buttoned blouse and busying herself with that. “You’re reading too much into it.” 

They both knew that was false, and it gave rise to some anger in Robyn. “Come on, Winter, cut the crap,” she promptly answered. “For you of all people to —even for just a second— stop caring about your duties, for you to let yourself slip this far, it means that this isn’t nothing.”

Remaining silent this time, Winter’s hands fell to her sides. She didn’t seem to know what to do with herself for a second, and Robyn stepped up to her. Slowly, afraid that she might recoil from her touch, she cupped her cheek. Winter pressed into her hand, her features contorting with grief.

Encouraged by this, she reached out with her other hand, lacing her fingers with hers. “You said it yourself, you think that this could really be something,” Robyn reminded her, gently squeezing her hand in hers. “you don’t want to throw it away.”

Winter let out a pained sort of gasp. “Of course I don’t want to,” she admitted achingly, her eyes glassy. 

“Then why are you?”

“Because it’s not about me, Robyn, none of it is about what I  want,” she answered in desperation. Searching Robyn’s eyes in vain for understanding, Winter seemed to grasp that her motivations were too nebulous to receive it. She let go of Robyn’s hand and stepped away from her touch. “In the grand scheme of things, what you and I want… it doesn’t matter,” she said despondently, “only the greater good does.”

How ominous that sounded made her falter. How in the hell did Winter think the greater good might weigh against what she wanted? “What does that even mean?”

“That I’m not free,” she summarized, grabbing her blazer from the kitchen chair. She slowly slipped it on. “And I can’t harbor any sort of feelings towards you.”
At a loss, Robyn watched as the other woman made her way to the door. How far the evening had led them despite Winter having explained that she couldn’t afford romance was telling of at least one thing: “Don’t you already?”

She halted for a short moment. “It doesn’t matter. I can’t allow it,” Winter said quietly, slipping on her crimson pumps. Her hand on the door handle, she didn’t look back as she uttered; “This never happened.” 

The door closed behind her.

Thursday; weekly meeting. Robyn wasn’t listening. The bulk of what was being said, she had already gone over with her team. This gathering was first and foremost meant to organize volunteers, of which a handful of appointed leaders were present. Robyn couldn’t be bothered to listen, instead staring at the tiny blue screen in her hand. Staring at the lack of response from the woman who had inadvertently conquered her utterly completely. She had sent Winter a handful of messages since that evening, and they’d all gone unanswered; the last two were still unread.

Forget it happened, Winter had demanded. 

Like she could ever.

“Robyn,” Fiona’s scolding tone snapped her back to the present. “Any comments?”

“I wasn’t listening, sorry,” she readily admitted, putting her device down.

Her teammate gave a weary sigh. “Let’s take a break,” she said, signalling to the volunteers that they could and, in fact, should leave the room. Fiona sat with her. “You’ve been out of it for the past few days,” she commented.

The statement was meant to be a question, Robyn knew, but she didn’t feel like engaging. “Yeah,” she unhelpfully acknowledged.

“Did something happen?”

“Yeah,” she sank into her chair and added nothing else.

Fiona waited for a moment, eventually deciding that if it was important, Robyn would speak up. “I take it that it’s nothing we should know?” she carefully confirmed.

The fact that her friend would graze the idea that what Robyn brooded over may concern the Happy Huntresses raised Robyn’s sense of alertness. “What does that mean?”

Fiona’s green eyes remained steadily on her features, on the lookout for any clue that may emerge as she reasoned; “This mood of yours, it started the day after you went to check what was up with Schnee’s presence in Mantle.”

It might have been undiscerning of Robyn to have failed to project that this would be completely obvious. She was nevertheless unwilling to volunteer any of it. “So?”

A sheep ear flicked in annoyance, though Fiona was doing a good job of not letting it show on her features. “Is something going on?” She finally asked, point-blank.

“What makes you think that?”

“You told Joanna you trusted her,” she said, divulging as such that their teammate hadn’t kept that bit to herself. “And then you brought her to your place.” Ah. So their informants reported Robyn’s activities to her team? “And now… you’re clearly not yourself,” Fiona finished.

It was indeed more than enough to raise suspicions. “Okay, all good points.”

Fiona waited a few moments again, yet obtained no explanations. Her irritation with Robyn’s uncooperativeness mounted enough that a small frown broke through. “ So? Is something going on?”

Robyn herself was starting to get peevish with how much her teammate was beating around the bush . Fiona had something specific in mind, they both knew what it was, and yet she wasn't saying it. “What are you asking me?” The blonde flatly asked.

“Were you working on some sort of alliance with General Ironwood that somehow fell through?”

That wasn’t what laid behind this entire questioning. “No,” Robyn firmly answered. “Nothing like that.”

“Okay,” Fiona nodded and, sure enough, she didn’t seem satisfied. “Is there something else we should know, then?”

Robyn stared at her, wishing she’d come out with it already. “Like what?”

Her friend stayed silent. Fiona clearly didn’t want to articulate the accusation on the tip of her tongue. Maybe it was hard for her to conceive that Robyn would be so reckless when this campaign was going so well, when it was their best chance to seize legal power and make a real difference. Maybe it was for a sense of betrayal that Robyn would turn her affections towards a woman from high-society, and not just any of them. Between how the SDC treated faunus and how much Mantle was suffering under the oppressive measures the military enforced for the Iron General, Winter Schnee certainly represented something abhorrent to a vast majority of Mantle citizens.

Fiona stared up at her with a jilted sort of look. “... When have you started being friends with Ironwood’s Special Ops?”

Robyn thought about it for a moment. Was it worth creating turmoil within her team by revealing what had gone down? After all, though she hadn’t given up on Winter, it might still be that nothing further would come of it. Why upset her team if it was over? “I just… got in a bit of a habit of chatting with her during those events I’ve attended in Atlas. We’re… friendly.” Or were. Robyn didn’t know anymore.

“Friendly enough to casually spend a day with her?”

“It’s not like I planned on it. She came down to ask me to stop those people who had been taking their anger out on Penny,” Robyn explained. “Then we… got into talking, and she ended up hanging around.”

“And you brought her to your place,” Fiona squinted a dubious eye.

“We couldn’t be anywhere else without everyone staring at us.”

“I see.” She remained clearly unconvinced.

This tedious tiptoeing reached an aggravating peak, and Robyn groaned. “Just say it,” she said. “I know what you’re thinking, so just say it.”

Her lips tightened disapprovingly, but she kept it together. “She’s your type to a T.”

There, finally. “That’s right.” 

“And that had nothing to do with the fact that you brought her to your place?” She skeptically asked. 

Robyn shrugged noncommittally. “And what if it did?”

Now her face fell. “ Seriously, Robyn‽  She’s literally everything we’ve been fighting against!”

“She’s not,” Robyn snapped in irritation. However unbothered Winter was with what people thought of her, Robyn hated how misunderstood by the general public the woman was. “She’s not the enemy, Fi; she isn’t her father. If anything, she’s more like May . She too turned her back on that life to instead go out there and fight. To try to make things better the best she knows how.” With a deep exhalation, Robyn shook off the mounting aggravation. “She’s a good person, and… that’s great news. ‘Cause when I’m elected, we’ll need to find a way to work with Ironwood. And if choosing her as his second in command is any indication of who the man is, then maybe the situation isn’t as dire as we thought.”

With a half-convinced frown, her faunus teammate seemed to be processing what had been said. In all this, though Robyn had neither confirmed nor infirmed that something had happened between her and Winter, she realized that defending her so adamantly would certainly damn her. Before Fiona could think about it too much or come back to her original accusation, Robyn added: “She said she’d vote for me.”

Momentarily forgetting her concerns, Fiona shot up on her feet. “Oh! That’s great news,” she exclaimed. “We didn’t project that we may get some of the military personnel's votes! We might be further ahead than we thought!”

Before Robyn could answer that, the door slammed open. “Robyn,” May called. “Grimm, two blocks from here.”

Doubly thankful for the interruption —escaping her friend’s grilling and having been anxiously awaiting this kind of opportunity— Robyn was on her feet instantly. “Fucking finally!” She exclaimed, grabbing her coat. Grimm meant that Penny would be turning up, and if Winter wasn’t going to answer Robyn’s messages, then she was going to find another way to talk to her. “You all finish the meeting without me,” she shot, already out the door before either of her teammates could put a word in.

With how fast the mechanical girl flew to and from crisis areas, it had been downright impossible to intercept her. Oh, Penny was certainly very easy to track, but she was equally impossible to catch up with. Robyn had realized that if she wanted a chance to talk to the Protector of Mantle, she needed to anticipate where she would show and hope to make it there before Penny was done with the Grimm.

And sure enough, though Robyn had only been minutes away, she only reached the scene in time to see the black vapor the soulness beasts would leave behind as they disintegrated. A glow appeared under Penny’s feet as she prepared to leave. 

“Penny!” Robyn called out, hoping she’d hear her. 

The redhead turned towards her. “Robyn Hill!” She exclaimed in surprise; the green aura that let her hover subsided and she touched the ground again.

Robyn slowed her jog, stopping a few feet from her. “Geez, you weren't kidding when you said you could respond faster than any team,” she shot, catching her breath. “I was only two blocks away and I can barely get there and yet you’re already done cleaning up the Grimm and moving on! You’re a hard girl to keep up with!”

“I was unaware that you were trying to keep up with me,” she said curiously.

“I’ve been trying to catch you over the last week,” Robyn admitted. “I wanted to chat. How have your patrols been going?”

“Greatly productive!”

Robyn nodded. “I could’ve guessed that,” she said, glancing around at the lack of Grimm. “And is everyone treating you okay now?”

Penny seemed taken aback. “Yes, thank you for your concern.”

So Winter hadn’t told Penny about the request she’d made to Robyn. “That’s good to hear,” she smiled. In the small silence that ensued, it was clear that the redhead was still confused as to why Robyn would have gone out of her way to catch up with her. The tall blonde cleared her throat. “Hey, has Winter been busy lately?”

Penny hummed. “Not any more than usual,” she said, then appeared to think of something else. “Although, it may seem that she is busier given that she seems to have fallen ill, her capacity to complete her tasks is markedly reduced.”

“She’s sick?”

“I believe so.” 

“Like, how sick? A cold? Is she okay?” Robyn probed worriedly.

“She’s fit enough to report for duty every day, but her vital signs have been weaker, and she has been more fatigued,” Penny explained. “Her immune system must be fighting some pesky pathogen.”

Vital signs? Robyn blinked in astonishment. So Penny could read vital signs? It probably shouldn’t be surprising that they would’ve given her this kind of capacity when they built her, but it certainly was something to keep in mind. “So she doesn’t have flu symptoms or anything like that,” Robyn confirmed. “You’re saying that she’s sick because she’s unusually tired and all.”

Penny nodded. “It is expected of the human body as it is fighting a viral infection, especially during the typical twenty-four hours to seventy-two hours of the incubation period.”

“And Winter has been like that for how long?” she asked, completely expecting the date to match up with that evening.

“Five days,” Penny said, then frowned in perplexity.

Bingo. So Winter wasn’t doing well either. Robyn felt a little gross that something deep down rejoiced at the news. But it did mean that Winter was quite emotionally invested if she was affected such, didn’t it? “Seems like it’s something else. Did you try talking to her about it?” 

“I haven’t.” Penny’s eyebrows crinkled in concentration. “What might be the issue then?”

“It might be that there’s nothing wrong physically, but she’s preoccupied.”

The girl looked downright mystified. “I was unaware that emotional turmoil could manifest physically!”

“It can, especially if it disturbs sleep,” Robyn clarified. “You should check up on her,” she suggested. “Winter doesn’t have many friends to be there for her, does she.”

Penny’s hands suddenly balled into little fists. “I will be there for my friend,” she affirmed, extremely motivated.

Robyn smiled lightly. The redhead was starting to grow on her despite all the reservations she’d had, and she was finally starting to understand why Winter was so gentle with her. “Say Penny, could you do me a solid? Do you think you could tell me anything about her schedule? Nothing classified, just stuff like… where she might make a public appearance, or when she has business in Mantle,” she outlined. “I’d like to be able to see her.”

“Are you worried for her too? Because you're friends?”

“... Did she say we were friends?”

Penny grinned happily. “Oh, she didn’t say it, but she’s very friendly with you! She’s always so excited to see you."

“...Excited, huh,” Robyn repeated, thinking back on how Penny could read vital signs. Surely she didn’t mean that , she seemed too innocent.

“Very much,” she naively corroborated. “Winter certainly likes you very much .”

If Penny knew at least this much, then she’d clearly know that Robyn wasn’t a threat, and that asking about her schedule wasn’t to ambush Winter, so she tried asking again.“So do you think that there’s any way I could… meet her quietly for a few minutes? To talk is all.”

Penny thought it over for a short second, and then gave a nod. 

[TBC]

Chapter Text

“What’s this, again?” Winter muttered as she entered the communications room. The giant screen displayed Caroline Cordovin’s uptight mug; instantly illuminating with a beatified smile upon seeing Winter. Before the woman could say anything, Winter motioned to the control operator to cut the feed. “What does she want?”

“She reported agitators, one of them an Atlas citizen, petitioning for special authorization to enter the kingdom, Ma’am,” the young man summarized.

An Atlas citizen? Winter frowned, feeling her stomach tighten. But it couldn’t be, right? After the lengths that Weiss had gone through to escape, there was no way that she’d change her mind willy-nilly and head back home. Winter shook off the thought. “Borders are closed, no exceptions. This isn’t hard.”

“She insists, Ma’am.”

Winter brought her hand to her temple, attempting to massage away an oncoming headache. Caprices like these were the last thing she wanted to deal with, but she also knew what kind of tirade their pint-sized Anima ambassador could throw, and therefore understood very well how she’d found herself called upon again. Winter motioned to resume the feed, watching with dread the older woman’s face reappear on screen. “Cordovin.”

“Special Operative Schnee,” she greeted honeyedly. “What a pleasure to—”

“Borders are closed,” Winter cut in.

“Yes, of course,” Caroline Cordovin acquiesced. “But surely, the great kingdom of Atlas cannot abandon its own blood.”

“Being an Atlas citizen and being a terrorist aren’t mutually exclusive,” she categorically answered. “Anyone who was outside of the kingdom as the attacks on the academies occured has to be considered a suspect.”

Astonishingly, the greyed woman didn’t relent. “I must insist,” she rejoined politely. “I can assure you that we have an innocent— a strayed child only seeking the protective arms of its glorious motherland.”

Never before had Caroline Cordovin resisted one of her direct orders, never had she been anything but teemingly reverent and eager to please; Winter would even go as far as to say that the woman would usually grovel before her. The fact that she pushed so hard for this unnamed citizen with no transit date to be permitted entry made Winter suspect that there had to be something more to it. Maybe Cordovin was being threatened? Did this mean that they had lost their Argus base? But Haven still stood— Salem’s people surely wouldn't have been able to recover from this loss so hastily, at least not enough to take on Atlas’s most well established foreign stronghold. 

In all likelihood, this was a genuine citizen petitioning to come home, but… if it was Salem’s agent, then Atlas could be ready to apprehend them as soon as they flew into their airspace.

“ Fine,” Winter finally yielded. “We'll repatriate the Atlesian. None of these other agitators are stepping foot on the transport ship,” she instructed.

“Marvelous! I assure you that—”

The feed was cut again as Winter signaled to the control operator. “I want to know the moment that this ship leaves Argus. The Ace Ops will be ready to receive them,” she outlined, “and detain them indefinitely.”

With a unified Yes Ma’am from the room, Winter quickly stepped out. The communications control center didn’t usually feel this claustrophobic, but between her mild sleep-deprivation, her constant state of anguish — both because she missed Robyn and because she was reproaching herself that she did miss her this incredibly much, the mounting anxiety caused by the increasingly real possibility that she may need to come clean and tell the General about these new feelings that she’d developed, the foreboding in the pit of her stomach thinking of what she may have to do as she watched Fria’s illness progress, and the restlessness she already felt at Weiss still being missing… Between all of that, Cordovin’s petty circus felt like the straw that threatened to break the camel’s back, and Winter needed a moment to breathe. With one hand shielding her face from the glare of the fluorescent lights inundating the corridors, she leaned back against the wall, exhaling a calming breath.

“Winter?” Penny’s unassuming call made her snap to attention. The redhead looked terribly worried. “Are you okay?”

Dropping her hand to her side, Winter considered her answer for a second. She didn’t want to discount her friend's concern, but she didn’t want to further worry her either. “I’ve been better,” she admitted, “but I’ll be fine.”

Penny didn’t look reassured in the slightest. With her vivid green eyes riveted to her features, she looked to be assessing something beyond Winter’s grasp, until she finally asked; “Are you sad?”

Gobsmacked, Winter stared back dumbly. Since when was Penny able to decipher behaviors engendered by not immediately obvious emotions? Winter knew for a fact she hadn’t looked sad over the last days, maybe just… vaguely weary and atypically unindustrious. 

Her lack of response spoke for itself and Penny brought her hand to her mouth in shock. “Oh no! You are sad,” she balked. “What’s wrong?!”

Having not allowed herself to make space to feel what was brewing inside her, suddenly having it acknowledged and being provided the opportunity to vent abruptly made Winter’s senses blurry and congested. It took all the composure she could muster to push it back down. “Nothing, it’s foolish,” she muttered uneasily.

“If it makes you sad, it is not foolish,” Penny contended.

Winter’s lips tightened as she held the ingenuous redhead’s gaze pitifully. If Penny knew enough to recognize what Winter had been feeling, she still didn’t know enough to recognize in this response the implicit bidding to have the matter left alone. “I had to let go of something that had started to matter much more to me than it should ever have, but I’ll be fine,” she explained as soothingly as she could muster.

Finally, the concern on Penny’s features started to abate. “Are you sure ?” 

Winter nodded. “I’ll manage, I just need some time.” After clearing her throat in another attempt to chase away still tangible emotion, she tried urging the conversation to some other topic. “I’m surprised you realized that there was something wearying me; no one else seems to have. You've gotten much better at reading people.”

The mechanical girl shook her head quickly. “Oh no, the symptoms you exhibited were consistent with a heightened immune response, so I thought that you were ill ,” she revealed. “I was only able to understand that this was emotional turmoil because I had help.”

That was probably the one thing that she hadn’t wanted to hear; if Penny wasn’t the one who had noticed, then it meant that her behavior hadn’t been flying under the radar. Winter could only think of one person who could have consistently observed her moods and sent the redhead to check on her. “Has my work suffered such that Clover noticed?” She had to get a grip on herself if it was that obvious.

“Clover wasn’t the one who helped me.”

So, it turned out that there was one thing that Winter had wanted to hear even less; she felt dread ball up in her stomach. But it couldn’t be right? Because if General Ironwood had noticed, then he would have met with her himself. “The General…?”

With a reluctant shake of her head, Penny shuffled from one foot to the other. She looked ready to be scolded. “Don’t get mad... I know that it’s ill-advised , but... I spoke with Robyn Hill,” she divulged. Whatever showed on Winter’s features caused Penny to swiftly fall into a nervous rant; “I know that I’m not supposed to fraternize with her, but she approached me yesterday during my patrol a-and we spoke, and she’s a really nice person, I understand how you could become frie—"

“What did you talk about?” Winter urgently cut in. “Was she the one who asked about me? How is she?”

Surprised not to be reprimanded, it took a few seconds for Penny to decide on which question to answer. “She was the one who asked about you,” she confirmed. “She said that she wants to see you.”

Hearing this, Winter felt like she was holding on to reality by a thread. Conflicting emotions overtook her in an avalanche, threatening to tear her to pieces; a flash of bright hope and joy, anger with herself that she had felt that joy, anger that Robyn wouldn’t let go, relief that Robyn wouldn’t let go, and the nearly uncontrollable impulse to throw everything out the window and go back on her decision to abstain from allowing what was between them to flourish. It was nothing but the force of habit to fall back on duty that allowed her to stay true to her commitment. “...I can’t do that,” Winter finally contested, hearing hoarseness surface in her voice. Emotion quickly took over, blurring her vision, and she tried desperately to blink it away.

How visibly upset she was getting clearly tipped Penny off; it wasn’t hard to connect the dots between calling it ill-advised to mingle with Robyn, Winter saying that she had to let go of something, and now getting emotional over saying that she couldn’t see Robyn. “Is she why you’re sad?” Penny asked. “Did you have an argument?”

To this, Winter couldn’t will herself to produce an answer; she was scared that saying anything would break the dam, open the floodgates, and she’d spill everything to Penny right there in the hallway.

“It’s normal for friends to fight sometimes,” the redhead offered. “Weiss and Blake were fighting the day I met them, but they talked and were able to make up. I’m sure you could make up too if you talked to her.”

The soldier shook her head. “It’s different.”

“How?”

Though Winter was unaware of the details of that dispute, it didn’t matter. “Weiss was fighting with her teammate,” she pointed out, “which put them in a position where it was better that they made up, even if only for the sake of the four years they were going to be forced to spend together. While in my case… it’s better on all fronts that Rob—Miss Hill and I go our separate ways. It’s better we not be…friends.”

Penny’s compassionate gaze remained set on her, still completely unconvinced by this rationale. “How is it better if it makes you sad?”

Winter exhaled lightly; she was exhausted, and talking about the woman who was commandeering way too much of her internal real estate only exacerbated her fatigue. “I’ve explained before why she’s bad news for us,” she wearily reminded her, to which Penny gave a reticent nod. It wasn’t, however, enough to bring her around, as she kept watching Winter expectantly. “Miss Hill’s electoral base would turn on her should she be perceived to have ties with the military,” Winter added. “I’m bad news for her too.”

Penny’s eyebrows crinkled cutely. “Then why does she still want to be your friend?”

Winter brought her hand to her temple, again futilely attempting to massage away the migraine that was now breaking through. “She’s simply not being reasonable,” she dolorously explained. “So I will be. For both of us.” 

The redhead hesitantly shuffled from one foot to the other, her hands curling around the hem of her skirt. “So, you don’t want to see her?”

Between needing to unload some of the weight of what tormented her and knowing that, should she lie, Penny would see it through her vital signs, Winter couldn’t help admitting;  “I do want to see her.” However small this concession was, as she voiced it aloud Winter felt some of her resolve waver, and she was suddenly overcome with the image of Robyn’s smile, the warmth in her eyes, the warmth of being in her arms, the allure of being in her arms, the allure of what happiness she had dangled in front of her, of what utter bliss she had tempted her with. “I really do want to see her, so much ,” she professed; barely contained desperation seeping into her voice. The pain that reverberated through her body welled up in her eyes for the third time in this short conversation, but now, blinking it away didn’t work; she felt tears streak her cheeks and wiped them away hurriedly.

It stabbed Penny right in the heart; the way she stared back at her was unlike Winter had ever seen. And to be fair, Penny had never seen her like this either. Penny took her friend’s hands in hers. “Why don’t you, then? I don’t understand why you should stay away when it hurts you like this.”

Winter straightened up, trying her best to shake off the emotions she’d lost her grip on, taking a deep break before speaking again. “I’m holding off because it makes no difference what I want, Penny. It doesn’t align with what I need to do… and what I need to do is the only thing that matters.” Steadily holding her friend’s gaze, Winter gently added; “Sadness passes. I can bear it.”

Penny’s concerns clearly weren’t dispelled, but she didn’t press the matter further. Winter excused herself and headed to her office; she had ample paperwork to keep her busy for the rest of the day and hoped to keep herself engrossed enough to find some reprieve from this mounting obsession with the woman she’d chosen to turn her back on.

Unbuckling her weapon from her belt and removing her gloves, she sank in the leather swivel chair tucked behind her desk. And then, as if the universe itself had set against her, Winter’s scroll buzzed with a new notification.

R: 1 Message
how are you doing?

Winter felt her features set in discontentment; You know how I’m doing, you spoke to Penny . With this, she powered off her scroll entirely, putting it away in her breast pocket. Not that she’d be able to focus on her work now that Robyn had had the courtesy of signaling to her again that she was just the touch of a button away. Never could she have anticipated how draining it would be to barricade herself in silence; every time her screen lit up with a new notification, she felt herself fraying at the edges just a little more. She wondered if Robyn had any idea of how much she was wearing her down. Or maybe that was in fact Robyn’s goal? 

As the day progressed to evening, as Winter exerted all her willpower and self-control trying to keep herself in check, it became harder and harder to fend off the permeating thoughts and desires that lurked at the back of her mind. By the time night rolled around, she was at the end of her rope and had no strength left to keep her longing at bay; that’d been her lot ever since that day. Every single night, she dreamed of what had happened in that apartment. Every night, she viscerally remembered Robyn’s body on top of hers, her breath warming her face as they kissed, her hands as she had caressed Winter’s lower stomach… her voice as she’d whispered racy suggestions in her ear. Those words that Robyn had uttered reverberated in her mind over and over as she lay awake in her bed. Winter kept telling herself… she should have let Robyn do it. How incredible would her tongue have felt…?

Every time this thought crossed her mind, she had to violently pull herself out of it. She strenuously reminded herself that she’d done the right thing and painstakingly went over the why again, again, and again. She reminded herself that her life, her desires, her happiness didn’t matter, because this was in the best interests of the world. Yes, these best interests boiled down to a fail-safe, the mitigation of the possibility that Winter would be defeated and the Maiden Powers stolen from her; chances were low in both cases, as Winter was confident that should she be defeated, she had enough self-mastery to not let the powers fall into her attacker’s hands— she was prepared to take her own life if it came down to it. And yes, Robyn might be a good person and a more than decent fighter, someone who, in other circumstances, would be a decent successor, but it remained that Robyn couldn’t be trusted to work together with the General in this counteroffensive against Salem. Which made Robyn a simply unacceptable successor.

After all, for the first time since — at least since recorded memory! — the secret would be broken and all-out resistance against Salem could be launched. The protection of the relics and the dire need to keep them away from that monstrous immortal being would become paramount to every living being, and the General might recruit enough support to not only ensure humanity’s very survival, but finally overcome Salem’s forces. This might finally spell the end of the age of darkness that had engulfed Remnant, the free expansion of kingdoms as the danger of the roaming Grimm vanished.

That’s what mattered. Not Winter’s stupid, selfish desire to be in another woman’s arms.

And so, every morning, she dragged herself out of bed with the firm resolve to crush any trace of emotion, push herself into an numb state of being, willing herself to become an automaton… all the while knowing full well how her self-command would gradually fail her as the sun advanced into the sky, as it set beyond the horizon.

Mulling over her predicament, Winter stared emptily into the untouched cup of tea in her hands.

Her present company’s voice tore her out of her trance. “What’s bothering you, dear?”

Icy blue eyes found the marine ones of the bedridden Winter Maiden. Spending hours upon hours together for months on end, it was only natural that the old woman would become somewhat of a confidante. And although Winter might have normally remained reluctant to share what was currently ailing her, she couldn’t help reflecting that there was no one better to confide this in than someone who’d forget most of it in the next hour. It wasn’t an especially pleasant thought, but it was the ugly reality of things.

Winter fished out her scroll and cut the cameras pointed at them. It was generally understood that she should allow for as much of her visits to be recorded as it was possible, but no one raised any concern over a few missing minutes here and there. It was clear to everyone that Winter had grown close to Fria; that she would confide in her things that she might not want the entire scientific team to know.

Setting her device down, Winter returned both hands to her cup of tea. The warmth seeping through the delicate porcelain in her hands did nothing to comfort her. “I don’t know what to do,” she breathed. “I think I—… I-I have feelings for someone.”

The old woman looked delighted. “You’ve fallen in love?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready to call it... love,” she admitted. “To be completely honest… I’ve been scared of delving into what it is exactly that I feel for fear of discovering that it may be… it may indeed be more powerful than my sense of duty.”

“Love is wonderful my dear, there’s nothing to be scared of,” the old woman reached out to rest her hand on Winter’s wrist. There was a benevolent warmth in her eyes as she gave it a gentle squeeze. “You deserve this happiness.”

This sort of encouragement was the last thing she’d needed. “But I can't be feeling this way,” she rebutted. 

“Why not?”

Winter stared back pitifully at the greyed woman. Fria had been getting markedly worse over the recent weeks; she had more or less forgotten that Winter had sought counsel to her about her concerns over the line of succession.

That sweet smile lingered on the aged features. “Tell me about this lucky lad. What’s his name?”

The tension that abruptly seized Winter set her jaw almost painfully. Atlesians had never been too accepting of any manner of difference; they weren’t now, and it had been worse in Fria’s day. Although Winter had no idea where Fria herself stood on this matter, odds were that coming out with the truth would only amount to upsetting the both of them, and God only knew how that may affect the passing down of the powers. Granted, seeing as the old woman tended to not retain much new information, being truthful might not be such a risk, but… frankly, Winter really didn’t feel like exposing herself to the pain that would be elicited should the old woman react with disgust or indignation. With this in mind, Winter nevertheless answered; “Robyn,” it was a gender-neutral name after all. “I… I think about… h-him, all day, every day— it’s downright obsessive . It’s the first time in my life that I find myself unable to put my feelings aside, I’m at a total loss.”

“Oh, don't be like that, it’s only healthy for a young woman like you to feel so passionately about budding love,” Fria reassured. “Savor it. Such intensity will become harder and harder to find with every year you’ll grow older.”

If she grew older, Winter grimly thought. Unlike with Fria’s era of relative peace, Salem was now on the move. So, setting aside the impending assault on Atlas, who’s to say that Salem wouldn’t send dozens— hundreds of skilled warriors to attempt to steal the Winter Maiden’s power? “Under other circumstances, I would , but the situation is dire enough already,” Winter answered. “These… adolescent feelings of mine, they are compromising the line of succession. I can’t be unreliable, not right now, this kind of uncertainty is the last thing we need.” Ever since the General had inquired with her about the line of succession, Winter had understood that she was mandated to — at the very least — facilitate the tracking of the powers to the best of her ability. This meant that, now that there was uncertainty about Weiss being the next in line… “I’m afraid that I’ve reached a point where… to do the right thing, I would have to tell the General about this,” she said dreadfully.

“I’m sure that James would understand, you can’t help feeling the way that you do.”

“I’ve… I’ve allowed these feelings the opportunity to grow,” Winter ruefully confessed. “ That was completely under my control, and it was utterly irresponsible of me to do so. A-and if the General knew that, of all people , it’s Robyn Hill who I — ... ” she couldn’t even complete her thought. “He’d—… God, he doesn’t need such betrayal. He needs to be able to rely on me.”

“You’re judging yourself very severely,” Fria deplored. “Betrayal is a harsh word; surely the use of a word of that magnitude isn’t warranted.”

“Oh, it is , because Robyn would never follow—” Winter stopped dead in her tracks. Posing the problem to Fria while pretending that Robyn was a man did raise the conundrum of compromising the line of succession, but it did so with the understanding that the powers would be lost to a random soul somewhere in Remnant… not that Robyn could obtain the powers and refuse to submit to the General’s plans. Although Winter had said enough for the old woman to catch on, there was no sign in her features of having picked up on the truth. “I’m sorry,” Winter blurted as she started gathering the empty teacups and dirty cutlery. “I shouldn’t have brought this up.”

The old woman’s gaze remained on her as she brought everything to the sink. “You’re very agitated,” Fria noted.

The soldier stole a furtive glance her way as she took off her gloves. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” Fria waved off.  “I understand that you might feel you can’t tell me everything, and it’s fine. I simply wish I could help you in some way, be of some comfort.”

Watching the tap water wash away the remnants of amber liquid, Winter shook her head; “Lending me an ear is already plenty, thank you for that.”

She obtained a small smile from the sickly woman and, for a moment of silence, Winter busied herself washing the dishes. She took the time to dry everything and put everything away while she retrieved her composure. Once done, Winter approached the old woman again, focusing her attention to the fresh canvas on the easel by her bedside. “You’ve started a new piece.” The would-be painting was nothing but abstract outlines and patches of color, but it was enough for Winter to have a good sense of what city might be depicted. “Is it Argus?”

Fria nodded delightedly. “It is! I’m not surprised that you’d recognize it from such a rough draft, I don’t know how many times we've passed through that port.”

Almost in slow motion, Winter turned to the old woman, eyeing her carefully. “We’ve never traveled anywhere together.”

“What are you saying?” Fria laughed her off. “Silly girl.”

Blood rapidly drained from her extremities, leaving her fingers cold. Her heart was pounding so hard that it made her stomach queasy. “Fria… who am I?”

“Well, you’re—...” Fria held her gaze for an extended moment, and finally realization sparked in her marine eyes. “Winter. I must have been confused,” she said. “Winter.”

“And… I’m sorry to ask this, but… you know my purpose, don’t you?”

“Yes, you’re to be the next Winter Maiden... I’m sorry, it seems that my mind strayed for a moment,” the old woman said, looking troubled to have had such a lapse. Although it was a common occurrence, she didn’t know that; Winter usually indulged her delusions. Fria’s gaze found the corner of one of her paintings, to the white fur of the ethereal animal. “...I think that she might have looked like you,” she said. “My old friend.”

That wasn’t inaccurate. Winter had been able to find an image of the previous Winter Maiden through Atlas Academy records and, although Fria’s then teammate had been a faunus, she and Winter shared enough physical traits for it to be unsurprising that Fria’s diseased mind eventually lapsed; white hair, pale eyes, pale skin, and distinctly northern facial features— one might have thought them cousins. 

Through the months that Winter had spent with Fria, she had listened to increasingly scrambled stories of her youth, in which individuals slowly faded into obscurity and events were patched up together in chaotic, unintelligible ways. Even as the stories that Fria repeated had changed into ghosts of themselves, Winter never rectified any of it; it would have been a losing battle with the progressing  disease and would have only ended up in upsetting the old woman. Not to mention that it was better for Fria to forget the actors of her life, the people who may impede the proper passing of the powers to Winter. Yet now… Fria’s grasp on who Winter was was being threatened, and as it was imperative that Fria be able to distinctly differentiate her old friend from her successor, Winter found herself asking; “Do you want to tell me about her?”

The marine eyes didn’t leave the while blotch on her painting. “She was a white fox, Atlas doesn’t much like her kind.”

“Indeed. What else do you remember about her?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” Fria said, finally turning to her. The sadness and dread she exuded was almost palpable— who wouldn’t feel such distress when faced with the realization that they were losing themselves such? “I’m having doubts about what I thought that I remembered. About whether it really is her or… or if I’m conflating with what I know of you.”

“We can go over it, I’ll help you sort it out,” Winter offered.

After almost two hours of patiently helping untangle and straighten up memories, Winter left the old woman’s room with a heaviness she had rarely experienced before. How long could Fria be trusted to remember why she was in that room, who Winter was, or what critical responsibilities they were both entrusted with? As Winter hadn’t turned the feed back on, this perturbing lapse remained between the two of them, but it was only a matter of time for it to become apparent to the scientific team monitoring Fria that they were reaching a breaking point. The possibility that there would be need for the machine to transfer the powers was starting to be increasingly real, and the more realistic it became, the bleaker Winter felt about using it. 

The vastly unknown consequences of merging Fria’s aura and diseased mind with her own scared her. Using that machine, there had always been the possibility of Winter losing herself entirely, of becoming someone else, but now…? What if Fria’s illness remained as their aura merged and affected the person who Winter became? …What if it made her useless ? Such that she couldn’t be trusted to hold her own against Salem’s fighter? Then the machine couldn’t be reused to get the power from Winter to someone with a healthy mind as it would only repeat the problem; Winter would need to die at one of her colleagues’ hands to ensure the proper passing of the powers. Nausea rose from the pit of her stomach. Dedicating her life to a worthwhile purpose had driven her, and the prospect of being discarded meaninglessly was unnerving.

What’s more, however prepared Winter had always been to do what was necessary, lately… she found that discarding her own wants and needs, discarding herself in the face of the greater good… wasn’t as effortless as it had always been. With Robyn tempting her with the prospect of a happiness that she had thought she’d long forfeited, Winter’s typically resolute focus was wavering. Even putting aside her worries over Fria’s illness being transferred, if Winter remained healthy-minded but was altered to become someone else as their auras merged, what would happen to her feelings towards Robyn? She should have been rejoicing at the notion of being rid of the temptation, but the idea that they might disappear was... unexpectedly spine-chilling. And the idea that Robyn might not yearn for that new version of her was even more so.

To ensure her own self-preservation, would it then be better if Winter instead murdered Fria? However much she abhorred the idea, it was starting to appear to be the best solution for a safe transfer.

Trying to shake off these disconcerting thoughts, she reminded herself again of the very brief but crystal clear image that she had managed to catch in the reading she’d obtained from the fortune teller. In that vision, she had been on her way to show her sister what destiny she’d pledged her life to. The fact that Fria was still alive at that point in time meant that she might not be doing as bad as Winter feared. Worrying over what must be done could wait at least until the temporal landmark of Weiss’s return.

As Winter made her way out of the restricted area of the military base, she unthinkingly pulled out her scroll and found herself re-reading for the millionth time the messages that she had refrained from answering. Every moment of every day, she fought herself in order to not reach out in return. She missed Robyn. She missed her unnervingly cocky smirk and that playful glint in her gorgeous almond shaped eyes. She missed falling into the rich purple hue of her irises, she missed getting lost in her admiration for the woman's divinely crafted features. She missed the inebriating scent that clung to her body— god , she missed her body. She missed her arms greedily pulling her closer, how feverishly she’d kissed her, and how utterly conquered she had felt under her. Robyn was so much taller, and with her muscle mass and her pronounced curves, she was heavy enough to make Winter feel subjugated. Of course, with a little effort, Winter could have thrown an opponent of Robyn’s size like a rag doll, but it hadn’t diminished the sensation of being trapped. She hadn’t known that she wanted that. She hadn’t known that upon being brought to such a limit that her self-control failed her, she would want to let go entirely and submit. The idea of being at Robyn’s mercy was—... she did everything in her power not to think about it, lest it drive her back to Robyn’s appartement.

Winter was already doing quite an awful job at keeping under control; she needed to hear her voice so much that, although she knew how counterproductive it was, she had rewatched interview upon interview until she realized that she had learned by heart every single answer that Robyn had ever given any interviewer, that she could recite word for word any televised speech that Robyn had ever given, and still, still , Winter would rewatch those clips. How she wasn’t sick of them was beyond her, how the urge to hear Robyn’s voice hadn’t abated in the slightest was downright incomprehensible. She didn’t like to think of how that mindless rewatching might have aggravated her need to talk to her, even just a few lines, even just a few words . The very worst of it was that… it was just the touch of a button away. Every time Winter so much as glanced at her scroll, the desire plagued her. She didn’t know how many times she had found herself with her finger hovering over the call button. Not pressing it was an exercise of self-control unlike any other, and never before had she been tested such. Winter breathed out shakily, swiping away from Robyn’s messages. She had other fish to fry; now was not the time to sulk and worry. 

Before she shared her concerns about Fria’s deterioration, Winter resolved to investigate her concerns with the transfer device. After all, if Dr. Polendina could confirm that Fria’s illness wouldn’t somehow infect Winter should their auras be merged, then all concerns would be alleviated. With this, she made up her mind to accompany Penny to her father’s lab that very evening. At this time of the day, Penny was on Grimm patrol in Mantle, but she was due to report back to the headquarters shortly. Winter typed up a quick message, letting her know of her plans to visit Dr. Polendina, and her scroll instantly lit up with about a dozen of colorful gifs and emojis in response. Winter felt a small smile pull at the corner of her lips; her redheaded companion’s undying enthusiasm at the prospect of her company was always touching.

Aside from the few minutes holding her tongue during the debrief, Penny chittered from the moment that she touched down in Atlas, through their itinerary from the academy to the military complex as she accompanied Winter to get a ship, and through the ride back down to Mantle. Although she didn’t have much to say in return, Winter welcomed the distraction. It was only when the ship landed in front of Dr. Polendina’s lab that Penny went quiet. As Winter stepped off the vehicle, she froze. Robyn was leaning against the wall next to the entrance. Penny fretfully glanced between the two of them before scampering off to disappear into her father’s office.

Those deep purple orbs bore into Winter as they stared at each other in silence for an extended moment. Eventually, Robyn straightened up and took a few steps towards her. “I heard that you weren’t doing super well, but I didn’t expect for it to be that noticeable.”

Her heart was in her throat. “What are you doing here?”

The dashing blonde shrugged nonchalantly. “You haven’t been answering my texts, so I figured I’d check up on you in person.”

With her best effort to summon her most glacial disposition, Winter stayed rooted in place. “How did you know to find me here?”

Completely undeterred by the soldier’s attitude, Robyn’s eyebrows twitched upward. “Are you really asking? How do you think I’d happen to know when to be outside her dad’s office?”

There was a spark of irritation. “You put Penny up to this?”

Still annoyingly unbothered, Robyn raised both hands in mock defense. “I didn’t put her up to anything,” she calmly answered, “I just explained that I was worried for my friend and she was eager to help.”

This only aggravated Winter more; she felt her icy mask rapidly melting despite her best efforts. “Don’t put the wrong idea in her head,” she disapprovingly shot back. “She can’t think that we’re friends.”

At this, Robyn’s laid-back airs finally gave way to the dissatisfaction that lay underneath. “Right,” she sourly jeered. “You’re right, we’re not friends, that’s not what either of us want.”

In anger, Winter grabbed her forearm and dragged her to the side of the building into a poorly-lit alley, away from the ship and any would-be passerby’s prying eyes. “I thought I told you to forget what happened,” she seethed under her breath. “What do you think you’re doing?”

Robyn glanced at the hand still clenched around her arm. “You never told me to stop talking to you entirely.”

Winter released her at once. “...Well, stop.”

The tall woman’s gorgeous eyes slid up to meet the icy ones. “Isn’t that a little much?”

“It's what needs to be done.”

There was a short silence as Winter stubbornly held her gaze while the blonde searched her eyes. Finally, Robyn cocked her head. “Do you like me so much that you can’t handle me talking to you without compromising… whatever it is you’re worried about?”

Her blood pressure shot through the roof. “Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Winter bit back defensively.

“You don’t?” Robyn put her hands on her hips. “So I can talk to you?” 

“No.”

“So you do like me that much.”

“I—...”

“You gotta pick one. Which is it?”

Realization washed over her with heavy foreboding and Winter felt her shoulders slump. Robyn was right, it couldn’t be both. As she stared up into those eyes she dreamed about every night, there was no denying it; “I like you too much,” she conceded. “So… stop. I can’t handle it.”

Maybe Robyn had expected her to try and deflect the question or change topics —Winter had done that an awful lot in her attempts to resist Robyn’s initial advances after all— because she clearly hadn't been ready for the truth. 

Winter felt her throat hurt as her heart seemed to attempt to tear right through it. “Are we done, then?” She asked, despite knowing full well that there was no way that the other woman would let the conversation end on that note.

There was unabashed vulnerability in Robyn’s eyes as she stepped closer. “What do you mean by too much?” 

“Just… too much,” Winter answered warily, stepping back in an attempt to maintain distance between them.

“ How much ?” Robyn advanced again.

Winter’s retreat was halted by the sensation of the wall against her back, and, maybe it was being literally cornered, but her ramparts crumbled at once. “I don’t know,” she diffidently admitted. “I don’t want to know; I’ve done my best to stay busy and not think of you.”

The tall blonde’s lips twitched into an unamused corner smile. “And how’s that going?”

Having a sense that Robyn already knew what the answer was had Winter abandon any inclinations to attempt to conceal the truth. “... Awful. I’m incredibly frustrated with how I can’t get you out of my head no matter what I do.”

“Is it really such a bad thing?”

“Yes!” Winter exclaimed, unable to suppress the outburst. “It’s a big problem!”

“How? Maybe if you’d explained why, I—”

“No.”

“Listen—”

“ No ,” Winter cut in again. “ You listen! I’m telling you I’m in no position to do this, it should be enough! Why can’t you respect that‽”

“Because knowing that we both feel this makes it really hard to! I’d have no problem respecting that if you didn’t want me back the way you do,” she argued, visibly pained. “Or, I mean— maybe if you gave me another explanation than your job . ’Cause I’m still willing to do this despite my position, and I have more to lose than you do, don’t I?”

“But you don't ,” Winter countered vehemently, “you don't know what’s being compromised.” Though she could conceive how Robyn would believe herself to be the one risking the most with this affair, the fact of the matter was… Robyn wasn’t aware of what role Winter was to play in this war for humanity’s very survival. “You don’t know what’s at stake.”

“What, would your boss fire you over this?” She infuriatedly threw back. “Because you’re gay? Are you not allowed to be gay? Is Atlas that fucking archaic?”

The soldier’s frown deepened. “It’s nothing like that.” 

“Then, what?”

“It’s classified.”

Robyn grimaced. “I hate that word.”

“How so very like you to,” Winter dryly noted. “It’s still classified.”

Stuffing her hands in her pockets, her blonde head hung as she took a moment to re-collect herself, Robyn silently fumed. Her gaze suddenly snapped up to Winter’s again. “If it’s not because you’re gay, then is it because of me? Because I represent the opposition? When I’m elected, we’ll have to find a way to work together so—”

“Robyn,” she cut in, “stop trying; you won’t guess.” Her patience was running out, every minute she spent with Robyn she felt her resolve weaken, and all it did was erode her patience more and more. “Just understand that this ,” she motioned between the two of them, “is jeopardizing the proper order of things.”

“The proper order of things?” Robyn repeated disgruntledly. “So, what, I’m a liability?”

“ Yes!! ” Winter snapped back. “You’re a liability and a hindrance!”

Uncharacteristically, Robyn had no immediate comeback; she was completely stunned, and very clearly hurt. As it looked like she was trying to swallow what had been said, the silence stretched, and the longer it stretched, the shittier Winter felt. Finally, Robyn exhaled shakily. “Right, okay,” she mouthed with difficulty, still finding her bearings. The ball of emotion in her throat was audible as she continued; “Sorry I took up your time, I’ll let you go.”

Against her own expectations, Winter stood rooted in place. Of all the arguments she’d unremittingly repeated to herself over the last days to futilely attempt to push Robyn out of her thoughts, she could recall none of them. She knew that if she could bring herself to turn her back and leave, she’d never have to address any of this again, and although she knew that it was exactly what she should do, everything in her prevented her from moving.

In return, Robyn also remained motionless, maybe waiting for Winter to be the first to turn her back, to prove that she meant her scathing claim by abandoning her there. The longer this heaviness stretched with nothing happening, the more Robyn’s initial distress gave way to vexation, which eventually reached a breaking point. “What’s keeping you?” She dryly asked. “Isn’t Dr. Polendina waiting for you?”

No words came to Winter. Her feet felt anchored into the ground, and the anxiety caused by the conflict within herself had her whole body tense up more with every second. Somehow, she was also incapable of breaking eye contact, as if blinking away would in some way slight Robyn further. 

After another moment of considering the soldier’s silence with distaste, Robyn had finally had enough; “Fine,” she muttered, turning to leave. 

As though she’d lost all control over her body, Winter caught the other woman’s arm, stopping her in her tracks. Robyn glanced back at her; her eyes flickering to the gloved hand that had so decisively latched onto her, and then to the cool blue eyes staring back at her. “What’s that?” She demanded, Winter’s inconsistency giving rise to anger. There was something accusatory in Robyn’s eyes as she pressed; “You were very clear just now. So what’s that?”

Winter’s fingers curled tighter around the other woman's wrist. “I don’t know,” she admitted miserably, at a loss with her own knee-jerk reaction. The best she could rationalize was that she couldn’t stomach the thought of Robyn hating her or being hurt from misunderstanding her; Winter hadn’t meant to hurt her. “Robyn, I’m sorry, I never meant to be so callous,” she started, still reordering her thoughts. Without knowing just how much she wanted to own up to, the words started pouring out unbidden. “It’s... I'm at the end of my rope. What I feel for you and my attempts at keeping it at bay… It’s been more trying than anything I’ve ever had to contend with,” she confessed. “You see, I—… I thought that I had made my peace with the sacrifices I have to make for the path I chose, and I thought that I had buried any desires I had for companionship. But...Robyn, you’re… everything that I’d never thought I could have, and the thought of you, of what we’ve shared it’s been…” Winter’s breath caught in her throat, staring at Robyn in dismay as the image of her half-naked, the sensation of her body on hers and the warmth of being in her arms filled her again. She wanted to cry. “It’s been consuming me,” she rasped, “a-and I’m forced to reckon with the idea that there was still some hope alive within me, that there was still some part of me that longed for...” Love, she wanted to say, but she didn’t dare ascribe such a powerful word to what she felt or presume that Robyn’s feelings were that serious. Winter shook her head. “It’s…  just… completely tearing me apart. And my work—…” she shouldn’t say anything about Fria. “Everything’s adding up and it’s taking its toll on me, such that I’m starting to lose grip on my ability to keep my composure— of course, none of that is any excuse for being hurtful, but I just— I-I don’t know how to make you back down.”

All traces of combativity and grief had melted off Robyn’s features as she’d listened. Carefully, she took a small step forward, breaching into Winter’s personal space. “You could tell me why you’re pushing me away, maybe I’d understand.”

“I’ve already said as much as I can,” Winter lamented. Her tight grip on Robyn’s wrist slackened, gliding to take her hand in hers instead. Winter gave it a soft squeeze, holding her gaze earnestly. “But… sooner than you imagine, you’ll know everything— everyone will. I promise. Until then, if you have even the slightest esteem for me, please trust my judgment. None of the decisions that have led me to this point have been made lightly.” 

Robyn gently squeezed her hand in return. “So once the truth is out… then what? We can talk about this again?”

“I-I don’t know, it depends how things unfold.”

“Still means you might reconsider though, right?”

The glimmer of hope in her eyes pulled at Winter’s heart. “Please don’t wait on me.”

To this, Robyn sighed. “It’s just logistics that prevents you from giving it a shot. Not waiting sounds crazy to me.”

“But… I can’t give you any guarantees. Attempting to move on would be the wisest—”

“But it wouldn’t,” Robyn interjected. “Listen, Winter… It doesn’t matter whether or not I want to wait; I got you under my skin, and that’s not going away any time soon. If I tried to be with someone else, my heart wouldn’t be in it.” With this, Robyn moved even closer; close enough for Winter to feel her body heat, close enough that the sweet scent that clung to her invaded Winter’s senses. Robyn gently cupped her cheek in her palm. “If I don't make sure I’ve given this my best shot, I know I’ll regret it all my life,” she said, and took a moment to gently kiss her forehead. “You’d always be ‘the one that got away.’”

Winter couldn’'t help herself as she leaned into her touch. How could she argue against that? “I understand,” she murmured, squeezing again the hand she still held. “Believe me, if I could, I...” she trailed off, unable to finish her thought.

Robyn’s breath still warmed her skin; she moved to kiss her temple, and her cheek. Of course, Winter knew where this was going, and she knew she should stop her, but it was beyond her power to. When the other woman’s lips approached hers, Winter’s eyes fluttered closed and she was the one to kiss Robyn. The feeling of her full lips and the intimacy of breathing her breath instantly engulfed Winter with the irrepressible urge to wrap her arms around Robyn. When their bodies came together, the blonde moaned gently, and fire ignited in Winter’s core to ravage her in a flash. She’d never understood how debilitatingly powerful desire could be until the day that Robyn’s lips first touched hers. Never in her life had Winter lost control as she had on that first evening. Or… as she was now, she realized, suddenly coming aware of how her hands were moving on the other woman’s body. Winter conservatively brought her hands back to Robyn's hips. Every cell in her body screamed of how right this felt and every instinct roared for more; something primitive was unshackling itself inside her, and she didn’t know where she found the strength to part from her lips. With throbbing heat through her body and weakness in her legs, she leaned her forehead against the tall blonde’s shoulder. “Robyn,” she exhaled quietly, incapable of making herself put some distance between them yet. “Don’t tempt me like this,” she begged, pushing her nose against her, breathing in her dizzyingly sweet scent, “it’s torture.”

Robyn wrapped her arms around her in an engulfing, protective sort of hug. “Whether I do or I don’t, isn’t it torture either way?”

It certainly was. Before she was tempted further, Winter reminded herself that although keeping her distance may be tortuous, it at least spared her from the guilt that giving into her desires brought on. Mustering her best effort, she made the other woman release her. They were in a discreet location, but nevertheless still in a public space. “Someone could have seen us.”

“Let them,” Robyn leaned in for another kiss.

Winter stopped her. “Let them? What about your campaign?”

The sudden glimmer of realization in the purple eyes made it clear that Robyn had been so enraptured with the moment, so focused on Winter’s reasons for denying her, that she’d somehow momentarily forgotten her own stakes. Winter dejectedly stared up at her, between them was the palpable understanding of what a disaster being seen would be. “This needs to stop. For both our sakes.”

It initially looked like she still wanted to protest, but ultimately Robyn sighed in resignation. “Okay,” she acquiesced, moving a few steps back, effectively clearing the way for Winter to be able to leave. The tall blonde stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat. “I’ll give you some space.”

“Thank you.” Although it needed no adjustments, Winter straightened up her uniform in an awkward motion, maybe in a subconscious attempt to straighten herself. She glanced at the other woman fleetingly. “Take care, Robyn.” With this, she started down the alleyway. It was only a few steps before Robyn’s voice rose again. 

“Winter,” she called, drawing the soldier’s gaze one last time. Robyn watched her so sadly, it reminded Winter of an abandoned puppy. “If you ever change your mind… my door is open, okay?”

How that hadn’t shattered her resolve then and there, Winter didn't know. There was nothing she had ever needed more than to throw herself in her arms. “Noted,” she acknowledged before marching off.

Through the evening, it took every last bit of energy Winter had to be mentally present with Dr. Polendina. The sweet old man was delighted to have company and kept her for dinner, diving deep into the genesis of his invention, how his experiments with transmuting his own aura to Penny paved the way for this revolutionary technology, and what were the hopes they had for Fria and Winter. That last bit in turn allowed Winter to touch upon what had brought her to him that evening. It was unlikely, he said, that Winter would get sick, because Fria’s illness was a disease of the body. Yet, who knew how much of one’s personality or memories were stored in the physical brain as opposed to what might be imprinted on the aura. All in all, as it was unproven technology, there was very little guarantee that could be given. All the same, hearing that it was unlikely alleviated Winter’s worries somewhat. As the evening progressed and the time came for her to take her leave, there was one last thing she needed to see to.

“Penny, if I could have a minute,” she gestured for the redhead to follow her to the airship so they could talk privately. Winter took a long, calming breath as she gathered what she wanted to say and how to say it. 

Penny was the one to break the silence. “Is it about Robyn Hill?”

Even just hearing Robyn’s name gave her a hot flash, rattling her already fragile mood. Her fingers curled into fists, maybe in an attempt to steel herself, maybe to contain her grief.  “Yes.”

“...Are you angry?”

Winter couldn’t hold the bite in her retort; “Yes,” and the redhead flinched. Any other time, seeing that she’d spooked Penny would immediately have dampened Winter’s temper, but she was too aggrieved and weary to find her cool. “Never do this again. Ever,” she sternly said. “Miss Hill isn’t my friend, understood?”

“But… you like her so much…! And she likes you too! Doesn’t that make you friends?”

“I wish it could be this simple, Penny, but it’s not,” she deplored. “You shouldn’t have arranged this meeting.”

“But you said that you wanted to see her,” Penny feebly argued.

“I also said that it didn’t matter what I wanted, I couldn’t ,” Winter instantly shot back. “ And that I wished to be reasonable for the both of us if Miss Hill couldn’t be. My doing so is just as much for her own good as it is for ours; she can not be seen as being friendly to military officials such as us. Remember?”

The vivid green eyes had fallen to the metal flooring of the ship. Penny’s clasped hands in front of her had somewhere along the line started to wring themselves uncomfortably. “I remember, but she doesn’t seem to mind at all… so I thought that it might be okay.”

Winter sighed in consternation. “Even setting aside Miss Hill’s apparent keenness on sabotaging her life’s work by associating with me, it remains that she’s a free radical; she’s also a danger to us ,” she explained with emphasis. Winter paused to allow this to sink in, until the silence drew her friend’s gaze to her again, and the white-haired soldier steadily held eye contact as she continued. “Penny… There is a bigger picture we need to keep in mind— a lot has been sacrificed for its sake, and those sacrifices are about to bear fruit. We’re so close to reestablishing contact with the entire world, so close to being able to mount a worldwide offensive against Salem. We need to maintain the status quo if we’re to succeed in accomplishing any of this. And… Miss Hill… she’s the face of dissension. She’s downright hostile to our policies and, when she wins, not only will she make it an administrative hell for us to do what needs to be done to get supplies for our project, she will also do everything she can to find out what we’re doing with those supplies. But the truth cannot come out before Amity is ready to launch.” Outlining this for Penny was tremendously helpful in consolidating her own resolve and reminding herself why she was doing what she was despite her heart and body’s deafening roars to succumb to her desires. “Miss Hill needs to be kept at bay. From today on, we are not friendly to her, understood?”

At this, Penny broke eye contact. Her silence broadcasted loud and clear her reluctance to abide by this. She awkwardly glanced up at Winter for a second and then returned her attention to her feet.

“Penny. Understood ?”

“Understood,” she mumbled uneasily.

Now that she’d vented what had been eating at her, seeing her normally high-spirited and bubbly friend so downcast, remorse set in. After all, Penny couldn’t have known just how taxing the simple thought of Robyn had been on Winter, and she’d likely been manipulated into arranging this meeting. In that light, although Winter indeed had needed to touch base with Penny about not setting her up this way again, her dismay really didn’t have to come out as rigidly as it had. With a few steps, she closed the distance to touch Penny’s arm reassuringly. “I know that Miss Hill can be persuasive, and I know that you meant well— that you were only trying to help. I do wish that you’d taken me at my word, but I appreciate the intention. I’m sorry for reprimanding you such.”

This drew a tentative smile from the mechanical girl. “So… we’re still friends?”

“ Of course ,” Winter swiftly reassured. “You said it yourself, friends fight sometimes, right? This is nothing but a road bump.”

Relief washed over Penny at once. “Right!”

Later that night, as Winter laid in bed reflecting on the evening, she could only rue herself for allowing things to go down the way they had with Robyn. Although her self-condemnation as she examined her actions could easily have expanded all the way to the very first moment she had stopped being entirely disagreeable to Robyn, it was constrained to the end of their most recent meeting. Winter now recognized that after having hurt Robyn, she should have let her storm off without trying to appease her. Because as it now stood, Winter knew that Robyn would indubitably pick up the phone should she decide to reach out, and Robyn would bend over backwards to arrange to meet should she express the wish to. On the other hand, had she not explained herself and let Robyn be angry, then the door would be shut, and Winter wouldn’t have to fight herself every second of every day in order to not crawl back to her. The knowledge that, should she ever have a moment of weakness, she would find herself in Robyn’s arms in no time flat scared her because... who in the world never ever has any moment of weakness?

Did it mean that she was only delaying the inevitable? 
It sure felt like it.

However, it remained her duty to attempt to fight. And if she couldn’t do it by herself, maybe it was time to take preventive steps by enlisting external help. Maybe it was time to come clean.

The very thought of doing so had her awash with the cold chill and heaviness of such extreme dread that it could be called horror. No; she couldn’t tell the General something like this, could she? Almost intrusively, her conversation with Fria invaded her mind. The old woman had raised the question: Was she in love with Robyn? Winter still didn’t dare exploring that question. Although wasn’t her constant pining bound to eventually fade away if it turned out that she wasn’t? Was it worth saying anything if she wasn’t? Maybe she didn’t need to come clean after all.
 

Telling herself that she would sleep on it ended up being nothing more than a feeble attempt at bargaining before conceding the inevitable. As that next day passed her by, acceptance set in; the fact was that it didn’t matter how uncertain she was of what her precise feelings for Robyn were. Between her dreading attempts at gauging their depth, and her oscillating between fantasizing about Robyn and a mantra she’d established to not think about Robyn… the sheer magnitude of time that she did spend thinking of Robyn already compromised the integrity of the line of succession. When it came down to it, it made absolutely no difference whether or not she was in love with Robyn; she thought about her disproportionately either way. For the time being, the harm was done– ergo, she had to come clean.

Standing a few feet from the grandiose table where the three council heads were sitting, Winter ruminated over this instead of paying attention to the meeting. As she came to terms with what she had to do, Winter’s eyes remained on the back of the salt-and-pepper head of her superior. How was she supposed to tell him? Hadn’t the General chosen her precisely because, aside from her skill, she’d always been so staunchly dedicated to not having a personal life? And now , at what was likely the very worst time, she was straying? And not with just anyone, no. Was there anyone else in the entire kingdom of Atlas that was a worse choice than Robyn Hill ? There was no calling this anything else than betrayal. Maybe even such that the General may want to find someone else to inherit the powers.

No, Winter shook off the thought. With how much work had been put into priming Fria’s mind with Winter as her successor, there was no recanting from this bid. For better or worse, this was now her destiny.

Her eyes drifted to the empty seat, the one that would in less than two months’ time more than likely be Robyn’s. Wariness seeped through her bones at the prospect. How they would manage to keep their composure for hours on end, abstain from any telling gestures or any longing glances, or how they could ever address each other again with nothing but the cold courtesy of strangers was beyond her. Or maybe she wouldn’t have to, since the General would certainly not have her attend council meetings once he’d be aware of how Winter was compromised. He’d likely do all he could to decrease her contact with Robyn.
 
Chatter in her earpiece pulled her from her brooding; the voice of one of the command center operators alerted of an Argus airship descending in Mantle instead of reporting to the military base. Winter sighed. More useless paperwork to review. She tuned out the hubbub, returning a listless gaze to the council members. Sleet had been on a long rant about what liberties the military had been taking, and the General had long since given up on appeasing the man; better to let him tire himself out, nod for now and return to business as usual. They’d all understand once the Amity communication tower was launched. Her attention briskly returned to the twittering in her earpiece when one of the operators mentioned the cameras picking up not Atlesian soldiers, but a group of Huntsmen disembarking from the rogue ship. Winter frowned. “Sir,” she approached the General, effectively interrupting Councilman Sleet, “we have a situation,” she motioned to her earpiece. 

Ironwood looked indubitably grateful for her interruption. Without further ado and paying no mind to the protests, he excused himself from the meeting, inserting his own earpiece. He’d barely had time to be brought up to speed when the operators reported a major breach, Grimm in the streets of Mantle. That was the last thing they needed— forces divided between trying to put a hand on the intruders and fighting off the monsters. 

As they made their ways through the Academy to the military complex, chatter continued into her earpiece. “Visual on the airship’s occupants, they’re near Dr. Polendina’s lab,” said a command center operator. “They’re all armed and they—... they’ve neutralized the Grimm.

The General tapped his earpiece. “Ebi.”

The familiar voice came into Winter's earpiece too; “Already on it, Sir. We’ve apprehended them.”

“Do we have any IDs?”

“No Huntsmen licenses,” Clover answered. “Except one: Qrow Branwen.”

The General’s eyes found Winter’s; she saw in them the same relief she had instantly felt. He touched his earpiece again. “Have them all brought directly to my office.”

There was some surprise in the Ace Ops leader’s voice as he answered; “Yes, Sir.”

Changing course to head to his office instead, the General glanced her way. “Qrow and… Huntsmen with no licenses,” he mused out loud. “His nieces were on your sister’s team.”

“They were, Sir,” Winter said, immediately thinking of the call with their Anima ambassador not even forty-eight hours ago. Things were adding themselves up in her head, falling into place all too well; the Atlas citizen petitioning for special permission to enter the kingdom, the unaffiliated Huntsmen who had helped stop the coup in Haven, and even getting help from a new faction of the White Fang, considering who Weiss’s teammate was. Anticipation built with every step as she marched down the corridor, she barely registered Penny joining them a few turns before they arrived at the General’s office. And as they were about to enter… 

“Oh yay, you made it!” Penny exclaimed. 

Winter turned to the group; there were more of them than she’d anticipated. But… yes, indeed as expected, Ruby Rose, and– 

Weiss poked her head from behind her teammate. “Winter?”

Having anticipated her sister’s probable presence didn’t diminish the feeling of relief that washed over her, like a weight was suddenly being lifted. For a second, Winter’s brain stopped working, her breath catching in her throat.

Wiggling fingers appeared in her line of vision, in front of Weiss’s stunned face. “Anyone wanna give us a hand with these?” The bubble-gum-clad redhead suggested.

Winter straightened her posture, clasping her hands behind her back. Her eyes flew to the soldiers accompanying the group. “You have ten seconds to take those off before I start hurting you.”

As the General welcomed them in his office and debriefed these new, direly needed recruits, Winter assessed the group for herself. Between Weiss’s letters and Penny’s accounts, she felt like she already knew the new arrivals personally. Team RWBY, team JNR, and Qrow, of course. The only one that she couldn’t place was the markedly younger freckled boy. Still paying attention to what was being said, Winter’s attention nevertheless zeroed in on Weiss’s team. 

Ruby Rose had certainly matured since their brief meeting outside of Beacon’s Main Hall. The young woman looked like she’d come into herself; more self-assured and tangibly seasoned. Even her features seemed less juvenile; the contour of her jaw had lost some of its childish roundness in favor of a slightly more angular, adultlike outline. The two-year age difference with the rest of her team had ceased to be so glaringly apparent. Though her gaze was still clear and decisive, there was a heaviness behind it, no doubt a consequence of the many trials that had led her to be standing in this room today. And between the horrors of that fateful night, learning of the secrets of this world, the impending darkness and humanity’s desperate struggle against such an ancient evil, how could one not be changed? It was a wonder that someone so young had not only the valiance and strength of will to undertake such a fight, but also the leadership to inspire all who had followed her here.

Winter’s gaze moved to the girl’s right. 

Yang Xiao Long, Ruby’s older sister. She had advanced through to the singles round to represent the team during the Vytal tournament. Winter’s eyes fell on the prosthetic arm. Judging by how Yang had fought during those matches, it was no surprise that she would have been reckless enough to get herself injured under the duress of that terrorist attack on Beacon. The blonde brawler was quite the loose cannon, but, as her semblance reflected, also had the resilience to weather the consequences of her actions. The young woman had made a remarkable recovery in such an exceptionally short time, and that she had made it here with the rest of her team was a real testament to her internal fortitude. Nevertheless, no one could walk away from such an injury unchanged, and Winter ventured guessing that it wasn’t only the blonde’s brazen temerity that had been doused. Both Weiss’s letters and Penny’s stories had painted the fiery blonde as a jovial and energetic young woman, yet she now came off as quite sober. 

And last, but certainly not least…

Blake Belladonna, Ghira Belladonna’s only child. Upon first starting at Beacon, she must have been appalled to be teamed up with a Schnee, but knowing how tight-knit the team had become, that must not have lasted very long. Winter’s eyes flickered from the cat ears to the young woman’s features. There was something feline about them, as there was about the way she moved, and she had a shrewd and analytical glint in her honey-colored eyes as she listened to the others converse. If any part of her being a quiet bookworm —again, as described by both Weiss and Penny— showed through, this was certainly it, because… dressed in tight blacks and thigh-high leather boots as she was, she looked more like a troublemaker than any sort of bookish individual. As Winter’s gaze remained on the faunus’s features, something else started nagging her, but… it couldn’t be, right? Because… wouldn’t it have been mentioned at some point in one of Weiss’s innumerable letters? Or was it that Weiss didn’t know that one of her teammates was queer…? Because she was , wasn’t she? Winter’s gaydar wasn't infaillible— in fact, she entirely failed to notice at times— but when she did pick up on something, she had yet to be wrong.

Winter narrowed her eyes, as if squinting at the dark-haired young woman would be any help in discerning how accurate her guess was. Maybe it was her faunus senses, but Blake swiftly realized that she was being observed; the gold of her eyes scanned the room to find Winter gazing at her and then darted away instantly.

She’s sharp, Winter noted, no less disinclined to stare for having been noticed. Under that watchful gaze, maybe subconsciously seeking the protection of her team, Blake shuffled almost impercibly closer to her blonde partner although she was already standing awfully close to the other young woman. 

A small frown broke through Winter’s impassive mask; they really were standing very close together. 

The soldier’s gaze tracked to the brawler again, remembering something in one of Weiss’s first letters about needing to get used to the lack of boundaries, constant hugging and such. It wouldn’t be unusual for such a demonstrative person to lack boundaries when it came to personal space, wouldn’t it? It would be natural for her teammates to have gotten into the habit of seeking her out in return. Yet somehow, telling herself this only felt like a shallow attempt to rationalize suspicions that were quickly engulfing her. That sense was only reinforced as the round table rose from the middle of the office; the group spread out around the room to allow it to rise, and those two remained standing as a pair, inches away from the other. Or no, not even inches; they were standing so close, in fact, that their arms brushed. Now that she was onto it, Winter noticed how, with every new bit of information, Blake glanced at her partner to gauge her reaction… and the blonde did meet her gaze in return every time, without fail. Yang didn’t seek her sister —her team leader ’s— assessment… she cared more to see her partner’s reactions and thoughts. How equivocal. Aside from the object of one’s affection, who else’s reactions might be more valued than one’s own family’s or leader’s? Winter couldn’t think of an alternative explanation.

Unable to shake off this suspicion, her eyes drifted again to the faunus in a vain attempt to again gauge the accuracy of her guess, as if something new would magically jump up at her to either confirm or infirm her notion. A cat ear twitched and turned towards Winter, as if acting in the stead of a repressed glance. Evidently, the young woman itched to find out if she was still being scrutinized, but was reigning in the impulse. Seconds later, Blake started fidgeting.

I’m making her uncomfortable , Winter realized, instead fixing her gaze on the General again. Although she refrained from staring anymore, although she managed an impassive expression, the gears in her head were spinning at a dazzling speed. If her hunch was right, did Weiss know? Sharing a room for a year and a half with them, she couldn’t not know, could she? And Weiss had crossed half the world just to reunite with them, she loved them from the bottom of her heart. Did this mean that Winter had been worried over nothing? Would coming out to Weiss change nothing of their relationship? She felt her heart accelerate at the thought. Could it really have been this easy? Had Robyn been right to have such trust that it would turn out for the best? 

Robyn. 

Winter tried to shake the image of her. She breathed out a deep but silent exhalation. She finally had her sister back, shouldn’t that be more than enough to push Robyn from the forefront of her mind?

As the audience came to an end and the General released the newcomers to some well-earned rest, Winter called to her sister before she was out of sight. “Weiss? After you've had time to rest and procure yourself some warmer gear, we should have dinner, catch up.”

Weiss brightened up. “Maybe we could go shopping together tomorrow?”

“I have a lot of work on my plate tomorrow, so that won’t be possible,” Winter admitted. “You should go with your friends; they could stand to do the same… and they will surely need your input on how to dress for Atlas climate.” 

Weiss glanced back at her team. “Oh, yes, certainly.”

“I’ll be sure to be done and have a clear schedule for the evening.”

With a wide smile and a nod, Weiss gave her another hug before following her friends down the hall. Winter caught a glimpse of the Ace Ops awaiting outside the office. The foreboding sensation that she was running out of time overcame her. Team RWBY would be spending a lot of time with the Ace Ops, and it was likely inevitable that they would at one point or another overhear something of those would-be slandering rumours. Winter hated the idea that Weiss would come by this in such a way, which meant she needed to be proactive and speak to Weiss herself. And do it sooner rather than later.

As the next evening rolled around and Winter took a seat at the agreed-upon restaurant she braced herself for this conversation she’d dreaded for over ten years. It looked like Weiss and her team had indeed made the most of their free time as she presented herself in a whole new Huntress outfit. It was the one Winter had seen in her vision, and, though she’d already believed that vision, it made it abruptly clear how much potential there was in the old fortune teller’s semblance. Maybe she would do well to go back to her once Salem was revealed to the world, once Winter didn’t have as many secrets to be concerned with protecting.

“You look smart,” Winter complimented. “This new gear suits you well.”

Weiss’s lips drew themselves into that smile of barely-contained pride that always surfaced when Winter showed any level of approval. “Thank you.”

“Have your teammates also upgraded to warmer attire?”

“Yes, we’ve all freshened up,” she answered, her smile lingering. The same as the previous night in the General’s office, the same as every time they met after an extended time apart, there were stars in Weiss’s eyes. Winter idly wondered if that sparkling love would dull should she find the courage to come out to her. “You, on the other hand, look… tired.”

“...There has been a lot on my plate; stressful decisions. Nothing you should concern yourself with,” she dismissed. They ordered and handed in their menus. “How are you settling in?”

“Very well, although I was somewhat surprised that we were to share a room,” Weiss answered. “Penny had mentioned that every teen gets their own room at Atlas Academy.”

“Spare single rooms were converted in a hurry this last year to accommodate Beacon students. The General offered some scholarships, but we didn’t have the infrastructure to give every single extra student their own room,” Winter outlined. “Most were happy to have the same living arrangements as at Beacon. Is that not your case? Tired of your team already?”

Weiss scoffed. “Of course not, I’m at my best when I’m with them,” she said, and although Winter hadn’t had the opportunity to witness it much in person, she was inclined to agree simply from her sister’s state of mind through the letters she’d written her during her time at Beacon. “They’re not perfect, far from it, but there aren’t many others with whom I’d have wanted to face what we’ve faced.”

“Tell me,” Winter encouraged.

Weiss leaned forward as she launched into her tale; from the details of her escape, to being captured by bandits and her reunion with her first teammate, to learning of Salem’s existence and their victory in Haven, to butting heads with Caroline Cordovin in Argus and the ensuing chaos that ultimately brought them to Atlas on a stolen ship. Weiss spared no details through it all and by the time she was done, they were being served dessert. Winter remembered telling her sister shortly before her admission to Beacon that she wouldn’t always be there to protect her. Thankfully, Weiss had grown enough to handle herself, as well as having found trustworthy companions to have her back. It didn’t however diminish Winter’s desire to shield her to the extent of her ability. She’d always been the one to do so, much more than their parents ever had. Winter’s gaze drifted down to her untouched crème brulée, this last thought bringing her to ask; “Will you be going home?”

Being posed this question visibly put a damper on Weiss’s good mood. “I don’t know if I can bring myself to,” she answered carefully. “My stomach is in knots just thinking about it.”

“Don’t feel obliged to, not if all it will do is bring you pain.”

“I feel like I should at least… call.”

Winter nodded. “There’s no hurry.”

“How often do you go?”

Winter didn’t need much time to consider her answer; her last homecoming had been an eventful one. Despite knowing what awaited her, she had yielded to their mother’s pleas and paid her family a visit. Their father, who she made a point to avoid at all costs, caught wind of her presence and ambushed her, making the evening devolve into a guilt blitzkrieg. Winter hadn’t found it in herself to go back ever since. “The last time I went home was when you were still at Beacon.”

“You haven’t been back home at all in over two years?” Astonished, Weiss had momentarily forgotten her spoonful of dessert halfway to her mouth. “I guess that you were traveling an awful lot, but… haven’t you been here for a while now? — Wait, how long exactly have you been back?”

“Five months,” Winter revealed. “We missed each other by but a few days.”

“ Seriously ?”

Winter finally started on her own dessert. “It might have been for the best. Would you have left Atlas had I been here?”

This gave Weiss pause. “...I wouldn’t have.”

“See? And you were clearly needed elsewhere, given all that you and your group have accomplished.”

At this, the corner of Weiss’s lips tugged into a subdued smile. She really couldn’t contain her glee when offered anything resembling praise on Winter’s part. In fact, although Winter’s stoicism had been something Weiss had always tried hard to emulate, she had never been able to make herself anything less than an open book; her emotions always readily apparent. Winter somewhat envied how it forced her sister to live her life more honestly— although it was something for which Weiss had suffered greatly when home. 

“And even setting your group’s exploits aside, being home doesn’t agree with you,” Winter decided. “Better you be away from that environment; it stifles who you are.”

Weiss’s eyebrows shot up. “I was under the impression that you thought that I needed to pull myself together a little more. You always admonished me for being sloppy.”

“Well, you have been,” she indicated, earning herself a bit of a guilty look. “However… I might have attempted to impose excessive corrections during your formation; I never meant to try to snuff out what makes you you. Striving for impeccable form was my way to competency, but it’s not the only way. It seems that you’re more suited to a more… creative approach. You know how to use unpredictability to your advantage.”

At this, Weiss had a sort of sardonic half-laugh. “You can thank Ruby for that ,” she slung, and to answer Winter's mild startlement, she added; “If you think that I’m unpredictable… brace yourself; Ruby doesn't simply think outside the box, she— she doesn't even live in the same galaxy as the box. It drove me crazy at first.”

“I remember that from your letters.”

“Oh, yes.” Weiss cleared her throat.

“You came to acclimate?”

“Yes, it makes her very resourceful, and that creativity got us out of predicaments more than once,” she explained. “...Don’t tell her that I’ve said that. She’d become insufferable.” With a smile and a nod from Winter, Weiss continued. “Honestly, I… I never could never have suspected how close we would become. Not just with Ruby, but with Blake and Yang too. We’re all so different, but… somehow it works.”

“Maybe because you’re not so different where it matters,” Winter suggested, it was after all how she connected with both Robyn and Penny. “Like your values, or your keenness to take action and do what’s right.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” she answered, giving it a short second to think over, “but I think you’re spot on, we really are on the same wavelength when it comes to our priorities, moral principles and such.”

“It’s the most important when establishing a connection. The superficial differences don’t matter quite as much,” she smiled. “Thinking of it this way, it’s no wonder at all that you were driven to strive to reunite with them.”

At this, Weiss’s face went blank for a second, she forgot about her dessert. “Winter, I didn’t leave in an attempt to reunite with them; if I’d wanted to find them… I think I would have gone back to Vale. Ruby and Yang are from Patch, and even had they not been home, their father could have pointed me on the right trail,” she explained. “But I headed to Anima because I… I overheard Father speaking with the General. I was looking for you .”

Having had never even considered that, Winter was at a loss for words. She felt a cozy warmth flush her body and was momentarily overwhelmed by what she could only describe as a sense of belonging. Although she knew how much her sister loved her, they didn’t often openly express affection and it gave a unique weight to every instance.

Weiss reached out and put her hand on hers. “They aren’t the only ones who matter to me,” she reminded her. “Whether you were physically present or not, you’ve always been somewhat of a guidepost.”

Now her senses blurred and what felt like a boulder developed in her throat. Winter squeezed her hand gently in return. Almost without thinking, she opened her mouth; “There’s something that I need to...” her voice failed her. However much this display of love should have assuaged her fears, it somehow instead made them worse. More acutely aware of what she had to lose than ever, she felt her confession stick in her throat.

“You need to…?”

“...I wanted to speak to you about…” Irregardless of being fairly confident of her assessment of Weiss’s teammates, and thus of Weiss’s lack of prejudice, she couldn’t find the courage to come out with it. “Sorry; about your team. Penny mentioned that when she first met you two, you had some sort of important quarrel with Belladonna. You never mentioned that.”

“Oh, yes, that ,” she looked terribly embarrassed. Winter’s bizarre segway didn't seem to raise any flags, maybe because Weiss was entirely taken with her mortification over this memory. “Blake… hid that she was a faunus for the first few weeks. She wore a bow that hid her ears,” she explained. Although Winter would have recognized the Belladonna name, Weiss had been too young when the uproar began to pay attention to politics and fringe leaders. By the time she was old enough to have a sense of it, Sienna Khan had already been in charge. “I didn’t know, and I… made some unsavory comments about the White Fang— about faunus as a whole, really. Looping them all together. I don’t even know why I did that— I guess when up here in Atlas, it’s the haughty things that we’re expected to say, being part of the… elite,” that last word was filled with disdain. Weiss, who once prided herself as being part of the would-be aristocracy, now disdained it too. She shook her head. “In truth, I was shocked that Blake was a faunus, I won’t deny that, but I… also realized right away that, although I was upset, her being different wasn’t what made me upset. It forced me to think about it, really think about all of it— what I said and how I really felt,” she paused, maybe reordering her thoughts. “I found that my issue was that she hid such an integral part of herself. We were supposed to be a team—we were meant to trust each other enough to put our lives in each other’s hands, and she didn’t even trust us with something this fundamental. I felt… betrayed, I guess.” Weiss leaned back in her chair. “So when we reconciled, I made her promise to talk to us from then on. I didn’t want her to be scared of anything like that again.”

With the help of a sip of water, Winter cleared the tight sensation in her throat as Weiss touched on the idea of concealing a crucial part of oneself. “Did she respect that promise?”

She nodded. “Although I did have to corner her again when I noticed some turmoil, she didn’t run or lie to me again,” then added very offhandedly and almost more to herself; “maybe it was just too obvious that something was going on with Yang for her to try to avoid the conversation.”

Winter felt her heart rate accelerate. “Something going on?”

The way Weiss looked at her, like she just realized what she said and was suddenly on her guard, was unlike Winter had ever witnessed. “I meant… because… Yang is her partner, and they had, uh… communication issues,” she stiffly dismissed, “as most problems stem from.”

It couldn’t be clearer that, not only was Weiss hiding something, she also knew how obvious she was being as she apprehensively stared back at Winter. There ensured a strained silence, and Winter couldn’t tell if her sister was this awkward because she was uncomfortable with the topic of homosexuality, or if it stemmed from her fear of Winter’s reaction to her teammates being in such a relationship. Exactly because she didn’t know which it was, Winter didn’t know how to tell her that she already knew– probably – and that it was no issue at all. 

Weiss hadn’t yet shaken off her discomfort as she addressed her again; “Winter, you… I’m sorry it’s just— Blake seemed to think that you were staring at her yesterday… It wasn’t because… you’re weird about her being a faunus, was it?”

“Oh, Heavens, no! ” Had she made Blake this uncomfortable? Maybe she should have had a modicum of reserve instead of staring point blank the way she had been. “I admit that I was paying her more attention, but… it’s nothing like that,” Winter answered as reassuringly as she could, and, although she knew that now was the time to ask, her nerve failed her. “I had never met her or Xiao Long. I was simply… trying to size them up.”

Weiss looked incredibly relieved. “That’s what I thought! I told her as much.”

“I don't hold any of Father’s bigoted opinions,” Winter added, hoping to open the door if Weiss wanted to confirm what she had clearly circumvented when broaching her teammates’ relationship. 

“I was under the impression that you didn’t, but Blake’s concerns made me hesitate for a second,” Weiss admitted. “Sorry. I know you better than that, I shouldn’t even have doubted.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Although somewhat despondent that this conversation was coming to its natural conclusion without elucidating her suspicions and without having said her piece, she offered a smile. “It was rude of me to stare the way I was, I’ll apologize when I have the opportunity.”

“Oh, you don’t need to, it’s nothing but a misunderstanding after all,” Weiss waved off. “Honestly… after the last few months, it feels good that this is all we have to concern ourselves about,”  she said with a chuckle. “I never thought that it’d feel so good to be back in Atlas or to be settled at Atlas Academy… but here we are, and I’m looking forward to having a routine and some sort of structure; to having someone to guide us.”

“Such as the mission you’re scheduled to undertake with the Ace Ops tomorrow?” Winter said. “Given how your training was cut short, you didn’t have much of an occasion to go on missions with professional Huntsmen, did you.”

“Indeed. We were able to do so once, on Mount Glenn, but that mission got… derailed. Very literally.” Another adventure of team RWBY’s; Winter had heard of that too. “At any rate, it will do us all some good to brush up on training with professionals,” Weiss said, and she suddenly seemed to remember something; something unexpectedly fierce suddenly burned in her eyes. “Which reminds me— Ruby has issued the most absurd challenge.”

This was how, a few days later, as her schedule permitted, Winter found herself in the training room with Weiss, Ruby and Yang standing a few feet away. She hadn’t quite understood what had led Ruby and Weiss to escalate a squabble into this siblings challenge, but everyone looked positively psyched.

Ruby pointed a defiant index at Weiss. “May the best sisters win!!” She bellowed dramatically.

Weiss pointed right back. “Your fate is sealed ,” she declared, just as theatrically. 

Winter’s eyebrows went up in amusement; rarely had she seen her sister so inspirited. Through her letters she’d gotten a small taste of what her friends brought out in Weiss, but it was quite novel seeing it in person. There was no trace of the restraint that her sister strove to maintain when at the Schnee estate; Weiss seemed wonderfully free .

Setting aside her momentary delight, Winter turned her gaze to their opponents. Having watched team RWBY’s matches during the course of the Vytal festival, she had a vague grasp of what the two sisters were capable of. As Yang had not only been the one to give the decisive blows to win team RWBY’s matches, but also the one to advance to the solo round to represent said team, it was no stretch to estimate that her combat abilities were the best out of the two sisters, which meant that she’d in all likelihood take on the strongest fighter. Along with it an organic match-up of eldest against eldest, it was guaranteed that Yang would target Winter from the get-go. What to expect aside from that? Well, the blonde young woman had been able to barrel through her Vytal tournament matches on raw talent and an extremely powerful semblance. As for her technique… if Winter had thought that Weiss was sloppy back then, the fiery blonde, in comparison, had been bumbling chaos. At the time, Yang Xiao Long had also been an impulsive and temperamental young woman, but it had been a year and a half since those matches, a year in which Yang had to relearn how to fight with her prosthetic arm. Winter steeled herself. As she didn’t want to assume her opponent’s capacities, she decided that allowing Yang the first move would be telling.

When the buzzer signaled the beginning of the match, Yang closed the distance in a split-second. Given her muscle mass and a clear preference for strength over agility, she was much faster than anticipated. Winter remained faster however, and the look in the pale violet eyes milliseconds before Winter’s fist connected with her jaw told of how much she’d underestimated the soldier's ability to hold her own in hand-to-hand combat. Knowing that Winter had helped tutor Weiss, Yang had evidently presumed that she shared Weiss’s weaknesses, and so, had expected Winter to be just as defenseless in quarters too close to draw her sword. Let this be a lesson to never make such wild assumptions about a foe.

As the blonde stumbled back, reeling both from the blow and her shattered expectations, Winter decided to put an end to the match then and there— Yang might actually give her a little run for her money if her semblance was allowed to charge up. So, with the firm intent of delivering a blow the brawler would be unable to sustain, Winter threw everything she had into a swift and powerful roundhouse kick. The sound it made as her leg connected to the back of Yang’s head; a heinous cunch; left Winter unsurprised to see her opponent’s aura gauge plummet into a near-empty red as she was sent flying a few feet away. 

Winter instantly resumed her fighting stance, standing grounded and ready, her hand on the hilt of her sword. Although her eyes remained trained on the sprawled fighter, the stillness in the air let her know that both Weiss and Ruby had stopped their would-be offensive in their tracks, in all likelihood witnessing what had just happened. They all waited to see if fire would catch in the blonde hair; if her semblance would activate.

Yang remained motionless and non-luminous.

Did Winter knock her out? She strode over to gaze down at her. “Xiao Long?”

Unresponsive.

Was this a trick? Winter nudged the inert body with the tip of her boot.

Still no response.

Had she overdone it? Winter would never have kicked Weiss with everything she had, but given that pain tolerance was at the heart of Yang’s semblance, she likely wouldn’t have gone down with anything less than Winter’s full strength. She crouched at the blonde’s side and turned her on her back to check up on her. Blood trickled from both her nostrils and Yang’s already bruising jaw hung limply. Just as worry started to creep in on Winter, the young woman cracked open unfocused eyes. “...Weiss?”

“Winter.”

“...Ughh…. right ,” Yang groaned as an annoyed frown developed on her features. Wincing as she sat up, she brought her hand to the back of her head to rub the sore spot. She threw a bit of a stink eye; “ Ow , Winter.”

“Are you okay?” She asked, impressed that her younger opponent recovered so fast. The girl could really take a hit.

Yang gave a dispirited sigh, wiping her nose. “Yeah.”

Winter extended her hand to her and Yang took it. They stood up together, but the blonde wasn’t quite ready to be upright, and promptly stumbled backwards, falling right back down on her ass.

Winter, still standing tall and still holding her hand, gazed down at her. Now that was a little closer to what she’d expected. “...Really, are you okay?”

“Maybe I need to lie down,” Yang admitted as both her teammates joined them.

“Yang, what happened?!” Ruby exclaimed.

“I did something dumb,” she grinned sheepishly. Well, at least she knew it. “I’m good, don’t worry,” she waved off.

“Good enough to resume the match?” Weiss asked.

Yang glanced at Winter dreadfully. “Uh.”

The soldier shook her head. “We’ll reschedule,” she said. She didn’t truly expect a rematch, but she wasn’t averse to one. The fiery brawler would certainly be a more heedful opponent and more of a challenge with that lesson learned. After a quick glance over as her two teammates helped her up, Winter locked eyes with the violet ones. “Get yourself examined by our medical personnel and get some rest.”

“Aye Ma’am.”

“It’s ‘ Yes Ma’am’ . I am neither a naval officer nor a pirate.”

The blonde shrunk a bit. “...Yes Ma’am.”

As the trio made for the exit, Weiss looked torn between her desire to gloat and her concern for her friend.

“How come you can’t do that?” Ruby balked.

“Oh, shut up,” Weiss threw back, settling on gloating now that her team leader had slighted her.

Winter lingered a second to cancel the program settings they had entered in the training room interface. That distraction had been short-lived; she’d hoped to be rid of Robyn for more than a few minutes. Shutting the lights, the soldier exited the training room.

“Maybe you should take it easy on the kids,” the gruff voice sent a shiver of displeasure down her spine.

Her eyes darted to its owner. “Qrow,” she disdainfully acknowledged. He wasn’t alone, the two men had gotten into a habit of going everywhere together. She quite liked Clover and couldn’t understand why a man like him would associate with someone like Qrow if it could be helped. “You two were watching?”

“Ruby and Yang invited me,” Qrow explained. “Dunno what got into them, thinking they could go up against you.”

Clover seemed amused. “I like their guts.”

“Hm,” was Winter’s noncommittal semblance of an answer. However much she knew that their nerve was exactly what had gotten them this far since Beacon days, she couldn’t say that she loved how reckless Weiss’s friends were. Winter felt that the best they could do for them was to train them seriously. “They’ve faced worse, and will likely face even worse,” she pointed out. “Taking it easy on them would be no favor. The girl needs to learn prudence.”

Qrow shrugged. “Believe it or not, she’s leagues better than she was,” he said, “but try and teach fire not to burn, see how that goes.” 

Winter narrowed her eyes. “Discipline is not an inherent trait; it’s a learned skill,” she argued back. Everything about him grated her to her core, but worst of it all had always been his nonchalance. In her current state, she had no patience to keep a hold of her composure and what rose from her stomach felt like venom in her mouth. “But I don’t fault your nieces for their lack of it, seeing as they had you as a role model.”

Silence fell. This was not only a low blow, it had also been gratuitous lashing out, and the malaise in the air made it apparent that it read as such to all three of them. The two men stared at her unsurely.

No matter her personal feelings towards him, taking out her mounting stress on Qrow was inexcusable. “Excuse me,” Winter breathed in disquieted consternation before quickly walking off.

Turning the corner, Clover caught up with her. “Schnee, wait,” she stopped, “are you okay?”

She half-turned his way but didn't look at him. “...I know that what I said was uncalled for,” she said in lieu of answering his question. “I’ll apologize properly at a later time, when I’ve… composed myself.” 

He acknowledged with a nod, but didn't seem satisfied, as he lingered unsurely. The tense silence was disrupted by a notification from Winter’s scroll. She glanced at it right away, hoping for an excuse to cut the moment short.

R: 1 Message

The Mantle politician hadn’t reached out in a week now, effectively respecting her word to give Winter some breathing room, and now effectively making her wretched state worse in a split-second.

Clover’s amused voice brought her back to the present; “Is Penny still texting you fifty times a day?”

Winter put her scroll away. “No. I have another spammer.”

“Let me guess; Weiss?”

“A sensible guess,” she acknowledged, knowing that he would take this as a confirmation. The man gave no signs of letting her be, and it was probably that pesky notification waiting on her that made her exceptionally sensitive, but she was rapidly getting irritated with his lingering. “Is there something I can help you with, Clover?”

“I thought I’d check on you. You’ve been in a bad mood lately, and not just around Qrow– you’ve been in a bad mood before they all landed here.”

“So I have.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I’d rather not.”

“Okay,” Clover sighed, unfortunately still undeterred from dwelling. “Well… he’s here to stay, you know. We need all the help we can get.”

“I can work with him if I absolutely must, but I’d rather avoid him otherwise.”

He put his hands on his hips in mild consternation. “Why are you so hostile to him? Did you two get into a fight?” Before she could answer, he added; “No wait, don’t answer that last one— you destroyed Beacon grounds.”

Winter felt herself redden in embarrassment. She couldn’t believe that she had let Qrow goad her into a fight that day. How utterly humiliating. “The animosity predates any of that,” she disputed. “All our interactions have been tinted by our first meeting. He said some vile things that day.”

“Well, would it help if he apologized?”

“...I don't know.”

Clover was perplexed. “Really, huh? Can I ask what he said?”

“He’s your new best friend, ask him .”

“ See, I did ask him. All he could say was that you didn’t like him from day one, but he doesn’t remember what happened that day, he said that he—...”

“He was too drunk,” Winter wryly finished for him.

What hung in the strained silence that ensued was loaded understanding. It wasn’t hard to make the connection as to why Winter would have such a short fuse when dealing with drunken behavior.

“If it makes any difference… he’s sober now,” Clover said.

“Good for him.”

It was apparent that he was growing bothered with her uncooperativeness. “Look… we both know that it wouldn’t mean anything if he apologized without knowing what happened,” Clover reasoned. “You guys might be able to start putting it behind you if you could have an open conversation.”

“I won’t go up to him and demand apologies,” Winter grumbled begrudgingly.

“That’s fair, I’ll talk to him. What did he say?”

She held his gaze, considering her options. Although she had no energy to spare to try and work on her relationship with Qrow of all people, keeping silent felt childish and unproductive to her. If Clover wanted to make it his cause and expand his energy to resolve this, why not let him? “Paraphrasing,” she forewarned, as she certainly wouldn’t repeat Qrow’s derogatory and downright filthy language, “something about me being an ornamental artifact with no other purpose than to reinforce the public perception of the General’s influence or prestige, immediately followed by some rhetoric about myself being a conceited rich girl with daddy issues … which he then had the grace to follow up with some ‘helpful’ advice that I might resolve both being ‘stuck-up’ and that other issue should I get a certain substitute father figure to— until I can’t walk straight. And some other things along those lines. You get the picture.”

Clover’s expression had become undeniably stilted; his head receding further and further into his neck as she’d spoken like he was slowly recoiling. “I get the picture,” he confirmed. “Really sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize for someone else’s crass behavior.”

“I know, but I’m still sorry that you had to be on the receiving end of that kind of behavior,” he said. “He just went off like that the very first time you met him?”

“Within a few minutes. I imagine that between my position at the General’s side and my name preceding me, he had a fixed idea of who I was before I ever met him.”

Observing her contemplatively, Clover crossed his arms. “So… you don’t know if it’ll help even if he apologized?”

“I’m not claiming that because I want to be difficult,” Winter clarified. “You know just as well as I do that alcohol doesn’t create any thoughts or feelings out of thin air— all it does is remove inhibitions. Which means that Qrow really does think all that of me,” she pointed out. “Him saying ‘I’m sorry that I voiced it’ all the while still believing it truly amounts to nothing. So no, I don’t believe an apology would change anything.”

“I get it,” he sighed gently, then took a second to consider now that all the cards were on the table. “Listen… maybe that really was his first assessment, but I’m willing to bet that he doesn’t believe any of it anymore.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“At the very least, he’s seen you fight— fought you even. He knows what kind of skill you have and that you’re not just there to parade around because of your name,” Clover pointed out. “For the rest… I’ll talk to him.”

Winter shrugged some of her stiffness off, rolling her shoulders lightly. “If you so wish.”

“I so wish,” he answered with a wink. With this, he made to turn and head back to where he’d left his friend.

“Clover,” she called, stopping him in his tracks. Her eyes flickered to the polished floor for a fleeting second before they found her colleague’s again. “...He’s sober? Really?”

“Really,” Clover confirmed.

Her gaze dropped again. “Hm.” 

He huffed a half-laugh. “What does that mean?”

Staring in thought at the white tiled floor, her hands clasped themselves behind her back as she took a moment to pinpoint what exactly it was that she felt. Maybe it was the mounting weariness of the last weeks that had worn her down, but all she felt was that… holding a grudge was exhausting, she wanted to let go of that. And why not give the man a chance if he truly was attempting to better himself? Having a less antagonistic relationship with him could only prove to be productive in the long run. Her eyes found her colleague’s again. “If he really is making such efforts, then… I’m open to moving past everything,” she conceded. “It’s not fair to hold someone to nothing but their rock bottom.”

His amusement abating to a softer smile, Clover gave her a last nod before taking his leave. As Winter watched him disappear around the corner, the conversation lingering within her, she couldn’t help thinking of her mother. Maybe the day would come when they would be able to turn the page and close that unpleasant chapter. Although… Winter suspected that this couldn’t happen unless her parents separated, and she wasn’t holding her breath for it to happen; as her father’s agenda required for things to remain just as they were. That was true for the undisputed control of the Schnee Dust Company he held just as it was true about his political ambitions. Not that he held any chances of victory thanks to…

And of course, she glanced at her scroll again.

R: 1 Message

Robyn hadn’t contacted her since that night they’d spoken outside of Dr. Polendina’s office in Mantle. Wondering where she’d find the strength to make herself reject her advances again, and anxious that this could be the straw that might break the camel’s back, Winter vaguely considered not opening it. Her fingers moved without her consent.

R: > I hear that your sister’s back. I’m happy for you, I hope that having her around cheers you up.

Somehow this message was worse than what Winter had anticipated, because Robyn was only being supportive; no bids to pressure or tempt her meant that Winter couldn’t rightfully be angry with Robyn. There was still some budding irritation, but… it was more a ‘ damned if she did, damned if she didn’t’ situation, as she was vexed with Robyn for being considerate– it would have been so much easier to brush her off in anger if Robyn had been pressuring her. Winter was also irritated with herself that she found it felt good to know that Robyn was still thinking of her, and that it took everything she had to not respond. If she started answering Robyn’s messages it would only make it easier to answer the next one, and the next one, and indulging in this wouldn’t help Winter shoo her away from the ever-present position she held at the forefront of her mind. 

She scrolled through all those unanswered messages again. Knowing that the woman whose touch, whose kiss she yearned for so achingly would readily fulfill her every desire should she simply reach out to her was excruciating. Robyn was just a touch of a button away, a lapse of just a few seconds; one single indulgence; could plunge Winter down a path that would compromise everything. And yet she still stared longingly at those messages, some devious voice at the back of her mind whispering sweet temptations. How many times now had she completely torn herself to shreds holding this internal argument? Her heart was at war with her mind, and it left her prey to another restless night, rest which she would have given much for as the next day rolled around with yet another fire to douse.

Protests were erupting in Mantle over the accessibility of voting locations and fears of voter suppression. Robyn herself had yet to emerge, but all three of her teammates had appeared in various news broadcasts, either straight up interviewed or filmed organizing the crowds. In normal circumstances, Winter would have been dispatched to the ground to overview the security as troops were posted strategically around the inflating crowds. But since her face was on looping broadcasts, everyone had agreed that her presence might actually inflame the crowds more, and so Clover took over that duty for the time being, taking with him half his team. They were going to dispatch everyone to the city, but Megoliaths had been spotted in the vicinity of the Amity launching site, and so, it was left up to Winter to ensure the welfare of their project. For the first time since her broadcast messages had been recorded, Winter was glad to be the spokesperson. Not being on protest grounds and avoiding the risk of seeing Robyn in person again was a relief.

The small, elite team she was to lead felt highly unusual to her; more often than not, she led larger forces, and when she did have to fight, it was alone or with her default partner, Penny. As the Protector of Mantle however, the girl needed to make a show of her presence in the city that day. Winter was otherwise able to choose her pick for her team, and she settled on Elm, Vine, Weiss, Blake, and Yang.

The two Ace Ops were a sensible, reliable pair; neither were headstrong, showy, or foolhardy, and Winter trusted them both to get the job done in the most efficient and unostentatious way. This would leave her the freedom to observe Weiss’s growth, and… maybe, just maybe, finally have the opportunity to figure out what was going on with her teammates. It had been a little over a week since the new recruits had settled in Atlas, and with Winter having barely crossed paths with those two, she hadn’t had much chance to observe them interact. There was always this… sense , however, this unspoken expectation that everyone had of never finding one without the other. It was like everyone implicitly understood that they came as a set, although no one openly acknowledged what may underlie this inseparability, and Winter hadn’t been able to find it in herself to bring it up unprompted or without cause.

The dispatch went without a hitch. Although more Grimm had had time to amass since they’d been briefed, they were able to clean up the area in under an hour. Having had a vague idea of team RWBY’s capacities didn’t prepare her for the full pageantry of their work; it seemed like every member had taken a page or two out of their team leader’s book– the originality and ingenuity was astounding, and Winter was surprised at the ease with which Weiss roped her into their beat. This was almost… fun .

With a last sweep to ensure the site was clear and unscathed, Winter caught up to her sister, who was typing away at her scroll, walking a few steps behind her teammates. 

Yang stretched her arms above her head. “I love those missions. Training’s good and all, but actual destruction has its own special charm,” she excitedly threw. “Feels good to have a bit of space to really blow off steam.”

“Right,” agreed her partner, “and god knows you’ve got pent up energy if you don’t get to work it off in the field.”

“What, is it too much for you to handle?” the blonde teased.

“You tell me,” Blake snarkily shot back. “Haven’t I been handling you fine?”

“More than fine, kitten,” Yang suggestively answered.

The look that they exchanged reeked of sexual tension, such that it managed to destabilize Winter. If she’d been pretty certain from day one, there could now be absolutely no doubt left. It was so blatant in fact that one had to wonder if they were advertising what was between them. Weiss, on her part, didn’t bat an eye; continuing to type away on her scroll as though this was nothing out of the ordinary.

Disconcerted but emboldened, Winter gathered her nerves before this chance slipped by her. With one hand on her sister’s arm, she halted her, allowing some space to stretch with the rest of the group before she addressed her. “Weiss, your teammates…?”

“What about them?”

“They’re an item?”

“Oh, that ,” Weiss rolled her eyes. “They haven’t officially said anything about being together yet, but… it’s been a thing since Beacon. They’re getting around to resolving issues they’ve had; it’s a long story,” she offhandedly explained. Her scroll’s screen was lighting up with all sorts of gifs—Ruby’s method of communication was remarkably similar to Penny’s— and Weiss started typing again as she resumed walking. “For convenience’s sake, just consider that they are together.”

“I see,” Winter said, amazed with how utterly unconcerned her sister was with two of her closest friends being queer. “You’re awfully casual about it.”

At this, Weiss stopped in her path and looked up to her again. Her expression changed in slow motion; something akin to disillusionment settling on her features. “What’s that supposed to mean?” She demanded. “Do you think I shouldn’t be casual about it?”

“ No , no— that’s not it at all.” But Weiss’s expression continued to progress in its disenchantment. “Weiss, that’s not why I—”

“You told me that you didn’t hold any of Father’s bigoted views!”

This being the first time in their entire lives that Weiss cut her off, it took Winter a second to shake off the shock and find her voice again. “I don’t, and that comment wasn’t meant to imply that you shouldn’t be casual about it.”

“Then what did you mean by that?”

“It was nothing but surprise. Before you left home for Beacon, you still held quite a few discriminatory views yourself, at least in appearance.”

Her temper somewhat assuaged, Weiss nevertheless gazed at her with one dubiously squinted eye. “...Yeah, well, I’ve done a lot of growing up since then.”

“I see that,” Winter rejoined, and breaking the still hesitant silence that ensued, she added; “Weiss, I’m glad that you’re rising to your friends’ defense… in fact, it makes me feel silly for worrying so much about talking to you.”

“About what?”

“About… me.”

Weiss’s face went blank as she computed what she was being told. Finally, her jaw slackened. “ Oh ,” she said, her eyes widening. “Oh my god, Winter, I never knew.” She latched onto Winter’s arm with both hands. “I’m so sorry if I ever made you feel like—... Winter, nothing could have ever made me love you any less, certainly not something like this, even back when I was more… sheltered.”

How odd it felt to be comforted such; Winter couldn’t remember another time where Weiss had been the one to reassure her . She exhaled a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and along with it a colossal weight was lifted off her shoulders, dissolving in smoke. She rested her hand over Weiss’s, feeling a smile grow on her features. “It’s an immense relief,” Winter admitted.

Visibly still reeling, Weiss’s mouth kept hanging open as she strained to reorder the million thoughts and questions jumbling themselves in her head. “Now it makes so much sense that you’ve never mentioned any relationships, Father would have been unhinged if—... Is that why you— did Father make you give up your position as heir because of that?”

“No, no, he doesn’t know, neither does Mother or Whitley,” Winter said. “But it certainly factored into why I never wanted the responsibility of being head of the SDC.”

“I totally understand that, people are so narrow-minded here,” Weiss said dazedly, finally beginning to recover from the shock. Giving a glance over to the rest of the group who was now boarding the ship, she lowered her voice slightly. “So… does anyone else know?”

Winter’s gaze lingered on Elm and Vine for a second; she hadn’t told them anything but… “I believe it’s an open secret,” she said. “Although I never addressed it with my colleagues, it seems they were all already under the impression that I preferred women. Or so I heard from Clover.” 

“Oh,” she took a second to digest what that might mean, and her features slackened with a bit of a downcast look. “Then… did you only tell me because you felt like I would find out one way or another?” 

“ No – No, Weiss,” Winter trailed off; after all, for such a long time, telling her had never been on the table. “I… admit that there was a moment in my life when I thought that I’d take that secret to the grave, but… as I accepted it for myself, as I got more comfortable with it, keeping it stifled started to feel claustrophobic. I hoped that there would come a day where I could be honest with you, and… I… Recently, someone in whom I was confiding my concerns about coming out to you brought up something that reassured me— she said that lately, you were coming off to the public as a little rebel.”

Weiss almost dropped her scroll. “A rebel? Me ?”

“Shall I remind you of the uproar you’ve caused in the short time you’ve been back home only to run away?”

“...Okay, she might have had a point.”

Winter felt herself smile lightly. “This perspective made me consider that you’re not one to be told what to think or how to behave, certainly not by Father or by Atlesian expectations, and it gave me hope that it meant that you would be unprejudiced,” she explained, earning a small smile from Weiss in return. “Believe me, knowing that you may overhear something… it only pressured me with a sense of urgency to talk to you; it wasn’t whether or not I told you, it was simply about how fast I could gather the courage to do so.”

She nodded, satisfied. Her gaze darted to the rest of the dispatch team now boarding the ship. “Soooo… it’s not meant to be a secret, then? I don’t have to be careful about not saying anything?”

For a short moment, Winter had to wonder if, to be asking such a thing, her sister expected to be gossiping over her love life… but this train of thought didn’t continue very far. “You mean, you want to know if you have to hold your tongue around your friends?” She asked. “You expect to discuss this with them?”

Weiss gave her a guilty look. “I mean, when Blake came out to me, I told her that I didn’t know anyone who was gay. You made me a liar.”

Although she had the slight impression that this was nothing but a cop-out for her urge to gossip, Winter let it slide. “As I’ve said, it’s an open secret; if they don’t hear it from you, they’ll more than likely hear something from the Ace Ops sooner or later.”

“Right,” Weiss answered, her lips then tightened, like she wasn’t sure if she should ask, but did anyways; “Did it make you uncomfortable that people were gossiping before you were ready to be open about it?”

“Hm. Had I known, it might have. However, it only came to my attention quite recently, when— ” Grazing Robyn’s involvement once had already felt risky enough and bringing this up only felt like asking for trouble, but Winter abhorred the idea of lying about any of this any longer. As much as she could, she needed to be honest. “Clover noticed that— ... that a woman was flirting with me, and was… encouraging for me to entertain the prospect. The fact that he was under the impression that I could reciprocate another woman’s affections brought to light those assumptions which, I learned, are apparently wide-spread.”

“Did you?”

“What?”

“Reciprocate.”

“That’s irrelevant.”

Weiss shrugged with a somewhat fake nonchalance to her. “I think it’s very relevant. Because if Clover had noticed that you did… then maybe all the blame isn’t to be laid at the feet of those rumours.” 

Surprised to be so brazenly exposed, Winter wasn’t able to formulate a concise answer quick enough to avoid Weiss drawing some conclusions. 

“So you did reciprocate!” Weiss exclaimed, bright with unabashed curiosity. “ She’s who you were confiding in about coming out to me, isn’t she? So you’re dating her? What is she like?” 

“I’m not dating anyone,” Winter promptly answered, and to Weiss’s undeterred demeanor, she felt pressured to throw her a bone; “You’re right, yes, she’s the one whom I confided in, but nothing developed; I nipped it in the bud. Now’s not the time for me to divide my energies.”

“I see.” Weiss observed her contemplatively. Although Winter mustered her best composure to cover up how sensitive this topic was, whatever showed through on her features was enough to betray her feelings. “You’re sore about having had to do that,” Weiss noted.

Winter sighed. “I am. But it’s important that I keep my priorities in order,” she motioned to start walking, the rest of the group had all boarded and were waiting for them.

Weiss trotted after her. “So… What is she like?”

Robyn’s cocky smirk floated through her mind. Winter's eyebrows twitched into a frown. “Aggravating.”

“... Aggravating ?”

“Very. She’s impudent, boisterous, and completely unmanageable.” At this, Weiss’s lips drew themselves into a subdued, facetious grin. “What’s so amusing?”

“Oh, nothing,” and to Winter’s expectant silence and single raised eyebrow, Weiss added; “It’s just that… I think that at the back of my mind, I expected you’d like a woman just as composed as yourself, but… in retrospect, this might make more sense. I’ve seen the level-headed one go for the rowdy one before.” Although she hadn’t named names, it wasn’t lost on Winter that Weiss was referring  to her teammates. “Besides, your life is nothing but rigorously regimented order. Maybe it was inevitable that you would find yourself charmed by someone who’d shake things up; no one can live their entire life like this.”

At this, Winter faltered. Weiss knew a thing or two about needing to break free from domineering structure. Granted, Weiss’s had been authoritarianly forced on her by their father, while Winter’s was a self-imposed bid for purposefulness, but… she had to wonder if she’d pushed herself too far. Anything pushed to excess inevitably became pathological. Whether it was self-imposed or not, too much order was stifling— suffocating even. 

Certainly, the draconian discipline by which she had lived had had its place and borne its fruits. For one, in her teens Winter had gotten a hold of her depression by putting herself together in a methodical way, setting her feelings aside and focusing on sculpting herself into someone useful, pushing herself to trudge forward until she stumbled across a path meaningful enough to shine light on the darkness within. It had worked, and she’d since never re-evaluated her way of being. Discarding her pain or desires, to instead focus on doing what she must, no matter the cost, was just how she did things.

Yet now, as she considered what Weiss had said, she suspected that this coping mechanism had become obsolete long ago, and not only that, but without truly realizing it Winter was already starting to leave it behind. Wasn’t her attraction to Robyn evidence of that? Robyn was such a break from form, wasn’t it evidence of Winter being ready for change, of needing change?

What did this mean? Was she to rethink her entire way of being at such a critical time? Rattled by what doubts had emerged, Winter made herself brush it off for the time being. “Maybe your and your friends’ presence will prove to be turbulence enough for me,” she suggested, trying to convince herself by the same token.

Weiss gave her a pointed glance. “We’re not unruly children.”

“Children, no, indeed. But unruly? We’ve already established that you have been,” she reminded her. Weiss sucked in her lips in apparent shame, and Winter rested her hand on her shoulder. “I wasn’t chastising you. You were very stifled by Father, this newfound freedom has done you some good.”

A cheeky grin, Weiss boarded the ship too. Winter exhaled shortly, trying to shake off her newfound doubts about the strict firmness of purpose she’d adhered to; upon which she’d relied on so staunchly to keep Robyn at bay. 

—TBC

Chapter Text

Another breach; five deaths this time.

Robyn pressed her hands to her face as she gathered herself. She took a long inhalation, and slid both hands to the back of her neck as she exhaled, lacing her fingers together. She considered the situation and her dwindling options. The legal avenues increasingly seemed to be too little, too late.

The Mantle perimeter walls were wasting away, crumbling before their eyes. This layer of protection that the kingdom had enjoyed since its genesis had been assiduously maintained and improved – until Atlas had been raised to the sky following the Great War. Since then, its upkeep had fallen by the wayside. It had nevertheless held up remarkably well for the first fifty years; it was in the last thirty that it had been steadily succumbing to Grimm and element exposure; its decline hastening as time went on. An unexplained uptick in the Grimm population over the last three years had severely worsened matters. Makeshift repairs with inadequate materials could only hold so long, and it had become an almost daily occurrence that a handful of rogue beasts managed to breach the wall and terrorize one neighborhood or another. Most of these incidents were resolved by Huntsmen or military personnel before any loss of life, but they weren't always so lucky.

Robyn excused herself from the meeting, donning her heavy coat and slipping on her crossbow bracer before making her way to the outer edge of the city where she knew a cleft had yet to be repaired. A now all-too-familiar message droned in the background: the Iron General's appeal for calm and cooperation. His voice and its empty words turned Robyn's stomach with anger. What an utterly disconnected plea - how were Mantle's citizens supposed to placidly go about their day when the death toll grew heavier almost every week? When the ones in power were funneling all the funds and supplies Mantle desperately needed out into the frozen tundra? To build what; some sort of insane weapon of mass destruction? What for?

About a block from her destination, sirens sounded and up above the buildings a bright green comet trail zoomed above her head, precisely in the direction she'd been heading. Robyn broke into a sprint, again making it there a little too late to be of any help.

"Penny."

Startled by her voice, the redhead whipped around to face her. Penny's typically sunny disposition was locked behind an uneasy, guarded front. Unlike the last time Robyn was able to intercept her, Penny didn't look in the least receptive to chatting with her; it went without saying that this was due to having been scolded for facilitating a meeting with Winter.
Although she had little hope to get through, Robyn decided she had nothing to lose by trying. "Could we have a chat? I wanna know what's up with those trucks you're sending out to the middle of nowhere."

"The content and purpose of those shipments is classified," the mechanical girl answered as the halo of blades hovering around her folded themselves away into her back. "And please refrain from such familiar speech from now on."

As expected. Robyn nevertheless maintained a friendly attitude. "What's wrong? I thought we were getting on pretty well."

Penny's newly reticent behavior wavered, but held. "That was a misjudgement on my part. I am not at liberty to fraternize with you, Miss Hill."

"Winter got angry with you for setting her up, huh?"

Penny's lips tightened and she let silence reign for a moment, reluctant to engage further. "Winter said that we are not friendly with you," she eventually said, corroborating Robyn's guess. "In the future, please bear that in mind."

Robyn's plastic smile was starting to get away from her. "She decides who you get to make friends with?"

Again, Penny vacillated, yet dug in her heels. A pout formed as she attempted to glare; the girl might've been a formidable fighter, but she really didn't know how to make herself threatening. "For the time being, the grander picture requires it."

As silence stretched once more, with every second, all the resentment that had been mounting in the last weeks; over the state of the city, over their government's inaction, over Winter's estrangement; it all bubbled up to the surface. "Fine," Robyn threw bitterly. "Be like that then, Protector of Mantle— great job protecting Mantle, by the way," she gestured to the gash in the wall, "hoarding supplies and shipping them out to the middle of nowhere instead of doing something about the outer walls."

It looked as though Penny had to bite her tongue not to rise to the accusation. Tears welled in her eyes, and the green glow under her intensified as she rose a few feet. "Good day, Miss Hill."

Penny was out of sight in the blink of an eye, and just as fast as Robyn had spewed her bitter words, regret washed over her. The girl was just following orders after all. With a sigh, she kicked a cluster of debris aside and slumped down in a crouching position against the wall, camping there for some time in case more Grimm showed— her abysmal mood might even attract some. Naturally, she had no such luck, and after an hour or so, she made her way back to her headquarters. As she let herself in the meeting room, she was surprised to see it had been cleared of the volunteers. All three members of her team had grave expressions, and Fiona motioned for her to take a seat. Robyn approached, a million and two catastrophic scenarios cascading through her mind. "What happened?"

"You tell us," Joanna answered. "You've been brooding for the past three weeks."

As what was happening sunk in, all at once, her energy was sapped out of her. An intervention. The conversation that was being forced on her made her feel incredibly heavy. Sure, Robyn had anticipated that at one time or another her team would confront her more directly than Fiona had some time ago but, between having never dreamed that they'd go about it in such an organized fashion and it taking so long to happen, she had almost believed that she'd dodged it altogether, and couldn't have been less prepared for it. She didn't want to do this. "I'm fine, just under the weather," Robyn muttered, shrugging off her coat and throwing it on the back of a chair.

"Are you seriously gonna be like that?" May asked.

"What's 'like that'?"

"Make yourself a liar."

With a sigh, Robyn sank in her seat. "What do you want from me?"

Fiona's demand was as deadpan as could be; "the truth."

Naturally, she'd already known that this was exactly what was expected of her, but Robyn still groaned. She brought one hand to her face wearily, taking a second to decide on what to say. Maybe it wasn't too late to dodge admitting what she'd been up to? "I'm dumb. Gambled on a hunch and lost. That's all. Okay?"

Her friends didn't look satisfied, and of course they wouldn't be; though that answer was truthful, Robyn's attempt to dodge addressing the heart of the matter was clear.

"The whole truth," Fiona said, adamant.

"You're not gonna like it," Robyn warned.

"We know," Joanna answered.

This gave Robyn pause; it was clear that they all had some concept of what might be going on, and on second thought, she felt a bit foolish for having tried to circumvent owning up to the truth; between what May had argued when Robyn had initially questioned her about Winter, how oddly Joanna had looked at her when she'd affirmed that she trusted Winter, and how, once confronted about having brought Winter to her place, she had ended up admitting to Fiona she was attracted to her, her team would have pieced together something approximating the truth already. Robyn's gaze moved from each of her friends' foreboding gaze to the next one. How uneasy they all looked only reinforced her sense that they knew well enough what to expect— although, how far she'd let things unravel might still surprise them. The blonde sighed, lacing her fingers together in her lap as she leaned back in her seat. "Winter." The name fell like a looming ice shard that'd grown too hulking. How they all stiffened with apprehension told Robyn all she needed to know about their suspicions. "If you know already, what else am I supposed to say?"

"We know that you've got a raging boner for Her Frost Majesty, doesn't mean we know how much damage we need to brace for," May stated dryly.

"If you're worried about my campaign, no need to be; she shot me down— straight up told me to forget it," Robyn said in a last ditch effort to shorten this ordeal. They didn't need to know how far things had gone with Winter, did they?

Her friends all looked quite relieved, and, although the prospect of dodging getting grilled brought Robyn some level of solace, mostly… she was taken by surprise by how much it stung that they were so relieved. Sure, it was expected that they would be; because it was Winter Schnee who she was pining for; but when it came down to it, no matter how valid their concerns and outlook were… seeing her family so heartened that she didn't get the girl still sucked.

"Thank god," Joanna puffed out. She got up, her mood tremendously alleviated. "Alright so I guess we're done."

"Nah," May pulled the towering woman back to a seat, her eyes still on their team leader. "You know; the brooding."

Fiona had seemed to realize as much too, also remaining focused on Robyn. "That's not like you at all. You usually move on pretty fast."

Robyn felt her lips curl into a wry smile. So there was no avoiding owning up to the depth of the hole she'd dug herself into, was there? "Sorry."

Joanna stared back in consternation. "What the hell? You haven't given up? You're seriously gonna harass a chick who's not into you?" And just as the words left her lips, she seemed to realize what her two teammates flanking her had already grasped; they all knew that Robyn wasn't the kind to bend over backwards on a wild-goose chase. No matter how attractive a woman was, Robyn simply couldn't maintain her enthusiasm if the object of her infatuation didn't reciprocate: she'd completely lose interest in a matter of days. The fact that she did maintain interest in Winter even weeks after she'd last been seen with her made the situation all too clear. Joanna looked like a fish with her mouth hanging open. "Get the fuck out."

"I'd be glad to, if you wanna let me off the hook," her attempt at comedy wasn't well received, and Robyn knew that if she made any attempts to move out of her chair, her friends would tie her to it until everything was sorted out.

"When you say she shot you down…" Fiona trailed off. She didn't seem to know herself what her question was. "How did you end up bringing her to your place if she rejected you?" Her expression tightened with apprehension, and her voice became distinctly strained; "Or was it… after? That she changed her mind?"

After? After they made their way to Robyn's place? Or 'after' as in they were all assuming that Robyn had bedded her? "She never changed her mind," Robyn answered. "From the very first time I talked to her, even though she was clearly interested, she's done everything she could to fight herself on it. We both know we shouldn't, so she wants to do the sensible thing." Although Winter had been clear that she wasn't able to entertain the prospect of a relationship whether it was with her or with another woman, Robyn couldn't explain why that was the case, and it wasn't relevant to the conversation anyways. "That day too. Even though she spent some time with me, she told me from the start that it wasn't going to happen and repeated just that throughout the evening. She was always going to reject me."

"Wait, so, what, you didn't fuck?" May interjected dubiously.

"We didn't." None of her friends seemed to believe her, and it made Robyn feel that she shouldn't pretend the evening had been entirely chaste. She sighed, resigning herself. "Honestly… it was going in that direction, but she put a stop to it, told me again that it just couldn't work out, and then demanded I forget everything and never contact her again."

Fiona didn't look reassured in the slightest. "Which, as you haven't given up, you still intend to do."

"I already tried," Robyn said. "But she got real pissed about it, and… I don't want to antagonize her any more than I already have. I'm not looking to make her hate me." Having sat on all this alone up until now, it made her feel especially vulnerable voicing her thoughts. Robyn felt her throat tighten. "For now I just… I don't know what to do with what I'm feeling."

"Sorry, what?" May's earlier skepticism had progressed to something bordering on alarm. "What do you mean 'what you're feeling'?"

Valid question. Robyn's lips twitched into an uneasy smile. Although she'd known from the start that this was where she'd find herself, although she'd felt the ground open up under her when her lips had first touched Winter's, although she'd been drowning in misery for weeks since Winter had erected a wall between them, Robyn had yet failed to form the words for herself. If she made herself grasp the magnitude of what she felt, delineating its true vastness would make the situation feel more dire than she could bear. "Yeah. I… I have feelings for her."

The silence that ensued almost made her regret saying it. Her three friends looked at each other in a swift attempt to gauge if they were all as thrown off by this turn of events; they had sat her down with suspicions of something akin to this, but it seemed that their assumption had been solely superficial. And fair enough, why wouldn't they assume just that? Physical attraction wasn't much of a leap given Winter's looks, but beyond that…? She was the most reviled woman in Mantle after all, and contrasting that with what Robyn herself represented as Mantle's champion, it just made the whole thing seem all the more preposterous.

Joanna leaned forward unsurely. "We're not talking about you being thirsty there— you have actual feelings for Winter Schnee," she reconfirmed.

"The one and only."

The green tattoos on her face crinkled as Joanna's expression twisted into something bordering revulsion. "Sorry, I don't get it," she said with a disillusioned almost-laugh. "I mean, we're talking about the same woman, right? That woman? The big man's stone-faced puppet?"

Malaise briefly washed over Robyn; although Joanna's description of Winter was somewhat dehumanizing, it remained that she'd censored herself— doubtlessly solely out of respect for Robyn's feelings. Just a few months ago, broadly degrading descriptions such as 'frigid bitch brainwashed into being Ironwood's robot before he could actually get a robot' or 'classist totalitarian prick all too happy to use brute force to preserve the status quo' would have been commonplace between the four of them.

Robyn swallowed an imminent tirade about how wrong they'd been about the snow-haired soldier. "She's not at all what she comes off as."

The mountain of a woman remained unswayed. "This wouldn't be the first time that you're ignoring red flags just 'cause some chick is hot."

"I mean it," Robyn insisted. "Look, you know I thought the same as you did, but meeting her… it… it changed everything— she's—… that image is just that, an image. She wants people to keep away from her, so it suits her to be misunderstood, but really she's…" Robyn sighed shakily. Where to even start? She didn't want to embark on an endlessly glowing rant; it'd most likely have an adverse effect. "She's principled, caring, and selfless. Her heart's in the right place," was as objective and concise an account as she could muster. None of her friends seemed even tempted to buy it, not even the one who had first hand experience with the subject of contention, and Robyn felt a twinge of irritation. "May, can you please back me up?"

"What, me?" She balked. "What do you want from me?"

The blonde frowned; wasn't it obvious? "You were around her for four years, you know she's a good person."

She looked deeply aggravated to be put in that position. "I told you I've never known her all that well, I have no idea how she thinks or who she is."

"No idea?" Robyn scoffed; her friend knew at least this much, so why be so completely unforthcoming? "You two were basically the same person ten years ago— you told me how she's not one of those elitist pricks when I first asked you about her!"

May sighed dramatically, throwing her hands up in the air before crossing her arms and sinking into her seat. It took a few seconds before she gave a verbal answer. "Robyn's not… totally off the rails," she begrudgingly corroborated. "I don't know what Winter actually does value, but… it's not money or power. Back at the academy, she never wanted anything to do with all the rich narcissistic blowhards trying to buddy up with her, and, well… everyone already knows it; but she didn't wanna be the heir to the biggest fortune on Remnant either, so that's anyone's guess what it means about her."

"It doesn't necessarily mean that she's a good person… maybe she just couldn't handle the kind of stress that comes with taking over a multi-billion lien company," Joanna said.

"If she couldn't handle stress, she wouldn't be second in command to the largest army in the world," Fiona quietly pointed out. With this, she again addressed their team leader; "I'm ready to believe she doesn't care about money, but power, on the other hand…"

"If she cared about power, she would have kept the money," Robyn said. Somewhere at the back of her mind, all the instances in which Winter had spoken of herself as nothing more than a cog in the General's plan— a tool for a greater purpose— arose, jumbled and amalgamated into a greater sense of the soldier deferring her sword to the service of something beyond her own ambitions. "She might hold power, but that's definitely not her goal. It's a byproduct of what she's doing."

"And what is she doing?" Joanna posed.

"I don't know," Robyn admitted discontentedly. "She doesn't want to tell me."

"So how do you know that she's a good person?"

"Because I got to know her!" Keeping her cool was progressively harder, and she turned again to the only one who could back her on her claim. "May!"

May glared back at her in silence, and Robyn was washed over by the distinct impression that her friend's resistance was rooted elsewhere than simple irk at being pulled to Robyn's side of this argument; something else bothered her. Was it being sore that her initial advice to stay away hadn't been heeded? Or was there another reason she was so unsympathetic? The blue haired girl made a face, but eventually conceded. "If anything… Winter's probably not a bad person— or at least, back during our academy days, she wasn't."

A little relieved, Robyn gestured in approval. "Right? There you go."

May rolled her eyes. "Still a Schnee and still Der Fuehrer's darling pet."

Just as fast as she'd mellowed, irritation flared again; what the hell was her problem? "And what, so you're still just a Marigold, no different than those chauvinistic piece-of-shit relatives of yours, right?"

"Fuck you, wh—"

"Quit it," Fiona interjected, intervening before the personal attacks could escalate. She eyed their team leader. "Robyn, even putting her lineage aside, she still is General Ironwood's right-hand of her own volition. And you outright admitted that you don't know what she's trying to accomplish."

The blonde dropped back grumpily in her chair. She heavily loathed that they considered Winter as nothing but an extension of the General, but it wasn't like the woman made it easy to refute that idea. "It's not like I don't have any idea what she's trying to do, it's just that I really can't see her angle. She seems to think that this is how she can do the greatest good."

"Seriously‽" May scoffed.

Joanna joined her disbelief; "What greatest good‽ With the Knights at every corner, how they jacked camera surveillance, their new demented border control policies, the dust emb—"

"Yes!" Robyn cut in uncompromisingly, silencing everyone. "When Beacon fell and Ironwood went up on high alert, we got scared that he was just taking the opportunity to seize more control, but… now? With the coup on Haven… ?" She exhaled, considering her words. Ever since the news broke, there has been concern and uncertainty in the air, and the military upping their measures had only worsened the population's general anxiety. Within her own team, they'd focused on the repercussions those measures had on Mantle without speculating much about the cause itself. Broaching it now, Robyn didn't want to sound alarmist, but there was no way around it. "What if there is reason for concern?"

Everyone considered what had been said in a short silence. And fair enough, advancing that sort of dire prospect was deserving of serious scrutiny.

Joanna shifted in her seat, leaning back. "There's always the possibility that Ironwood staged those attacks. It's the perfect narrative to give himself grounds to build the army he's always wanted," she suggested.

"No, Robyn's right," Fiona disputed, gazing steadily at her two teammates. "During the Vytal tournament, when Penny was torn apart and revealed to be a weapon, the woman who hijacked the broadcast and gave that speech… she framed our kingdom as the threat," she reminded them. "If she was working for him, why would Ironwood put a target on his own back like that? Why wouldn't he have pitched himself as a savior right then and there instead? Don't you remember the riots that erupted following that broadcast? How much of a push there was for him to resign?"

"Exactly," Robyn scooted to the edge of her chair, relieved to have some support. "Whatever's been happening, Atlas military aren't the ones doing it; Winter really, truly believes we're not safe either."

Although she hadn't used her semblance to test her, Robyn was convinced beyond the shadow of a doubt that the soldier had been honest with her about that. In fact, Winter had been entirely honest about everything, and when she couldn't say, she would say just that — classified. Her frankness was just another one of those things Robyn appreciated. She leaned forward, elbows supported on her thighs as she laced her fingers together, studying her friends one after the other. "Listen, all these measures they've taken… you know I don't like them one bit either. There has to be a better way to go about things than imposing such a heavy toll on Mantle. But… the point is: they're not doing all that because they're on a power trip. They're scared."

May tsked derisively. "I'm still not buying it," she countered. "Okay, Ironwood might not have orchestrated those attacks, but who's to say that that threat isn't just a convenient reason for him to do what he's always wanted to do— get full control? For all we know, he popped the champagne when all that shit started."

Robyn had no immediate answer to that. Having had long-standing reservations herself, it was hard to refute her friend's. She had to remind herself of how staunchly Winter's faith in him had held, and Winter was no fool, so… the General conceivably acting with good intention was a possibility worth at least considering. "I trust Winter enough to buy that Ironwood doesn't have malicious intentions," Robyn said. "She wouldn't believe in him like that if he did."

Disgust crossed May's features. "So you say, but for all we know, Winter's just too blindly loyal to see any of it and then goes around parroting whatever self-righteous justification propaganda Daddy Ironwood is stuffing her head with."

Robyn grimaced. "Don't be gross."

"Gross?" She scoffed in return. "A powerful old man chooses the prettiest young thing he can find to be his personal assistant, and I'm the one being gross for pointing it out?"

Robyn had expected this to surface sooner or later — the popularly held belief that Winter had been appointed to her position for other reasons than her abilities, whether from nepotism or an illicit relationship. However much she'd known it was bound to turn up, hearing it still sickened her stomach. "It's not like that," she rebuked adamantly, eager to shut this down. Sure, Robyn couldn't know what went on in the head of state's brain or his true motives, but she at least knew that Winter was not only competent enough to earn that position based on her own merit, she also would never debase herself such. If the General would have even just as much as hinted at anything improper, Winter would have never remained at his side. Not to mention, she'd told Robyn in no uncertain terms that she had no sexual experience— but that last part, Robyn would die before sharing. "Winter has self-respect, she'd never accept that."

Her friend could see she'd struck a nerve, so naturally, she doubled down. "Come on; everyone sees how she looks at him, all starry-eyes and puppy-love devotion."

The blonde's frown deepened. May wouldn't let go of her hostility, and Robyn was forced to recognize that it couldn't simply be about snubbed advice; there was something else about Winter that didn't sit well with her blue-haired teammate, though Robyn tried to not get side-tracked. "She looks up to him, nothing more."

"Uh-huh. It's not because she was down for it when you tried to fuck her that it can't be like that with him. Bi people exist."

"Sure, but she's not."

"Yeah well lots of people who don't like dick will still suck it to get where they wanna go, so who actually knows what sort of crass is really going on in that office."

Robyn suddenly stood. "What the fuck is your problem?"

Fiona was on her feet just as fast. "Robyn said it's not like that," she intervened, taking Robyn's side again to everyone's surprise. She had put herself between them, facing May. "You don't have to be offensive just for the sake of it." She motioned for their team leader to sit back down, and allowed for a moment to ensure there wouldn't be any further outburst before she continued. "And even if it was the case that General Ironwood is acting out of hubris, that he wanted control and is trying to hoard power… well, Robyn's point isn't that he's a good person, but that Winter is a good person."

"Why aren't you more against this?" May finally threw.

"Honestly," Joanna rejoined, puzzled. "You should be the most pissed out of all of us."

Although Robyn had held her tongue for being disinclined to question and thus discourage the little aid she'd received, she'd also been startled that out of them all, Fiona would be the one to take her side. She'd in fact expected it out of May, who undoubtedly could relate to Winter to a large extent. While Fiona… as a faunus, had historically been the most victimized by Atlesian customs and society, which Winter very much embodied, and maybe more importantly, on a more personal level… Fiona's long-standing feelings for Robyn were still nebulously present.

The short faunus shrugged. While mustering her answer, she took the time to seat herself again. "Because… well, I haven't met her, but Robyn has. And when has Robyn ever been wrong about someone she could evaluate in person?" She allowed a few seconds for her teammates to try to produce an answer, though none was forthcoming. Fiona sighed tiredly; she pressed both hands to her face for a second before turning to Joanna and May. "Look, I'm not especially thrilled about any of this either, but… I do like the idea that Jacques Schnee's children might not be like him. That makes for a promising future, right?"

"That's true," Joanna allowed, finally letting herself be swayed.

"Still a bootlicker," May shot, adamantly committed to being obtuse.

Fiona ignored the jab, addressing Robyn again. "You really, truly believe that Winter's trying to do what's right? Not just what's lawful, but what's right?"

Although Robyn didn't agree with the way the snow-haired soldier went about doing things, there was no doubting her intentions. "From the bottom of my heart."

Though Fiona didn't look completely convinced, she nevertheless acquiesced; "Then, I– … I really want to trust your judgment."

That didn't sound too confident. "But?"

"But? What do you mean, 'but'?" The faunus snapped. "You're asking a lot out of us here. We'd all chalked her up to be our enemy for years, we can't suddenly forget how we've felt for that long and just like her! I mean— it might have been easier to swallow if she'd only been Atlesian elite, but she's Jacques Schnee's daughter. Or—... or if she'd only been military, but she's General Ironwood's star pupil," Fiona stared at her in disbelief. "That woman's…"

Her friend didn't have to say it. "The one woman in the entire kingdom who I should have most steered clear of," Robyn finished for her.

"Exactly."

The blonde couldn't help the nagging, wry grin, "You know me, always stuffing my nose where I shouldn't."

With this, the group sat in silence, trying to digest this new status quo.

Joanna was the first one to speak up. "So… what does it mean for our operations?"

"Nothing; she shot me down. There's no scandal for the media to feed on, so we continue as if there was never anything there."

"I didn't mean your PR for the campaign. I meant the after-hours operations," Joanna said. "If you trust her, if you think that she's trying to do good, and that the… surveillance, and the embargo, and all those stifling measures might have some justification… then, do you still want to get in their way? Are we still finding out what they're doing?"

Good question, however there was no hesitation on Robyn's part; "We keep going the way we've been. From what I gathered, Winter doesn't seem to like what they're doing either, although she still seems to think it's what's necessary— at the very least, the General convinced her that it is. And although I trust her, I still can't make up my mind about him… so I'd rather not take any chances." Her gaze turned to the giant map of the city that occupied the left wall of the room, all the breaches that they'd marked in red along the perimeter. "We have to know for ourselves what's going on. When we do, we can make an informed decision about whether we let them do whatever it is they're doing, or if we go ahead and take their supplies to rebuild the outer wall."

"Waste of time, we should grab the supplies now, before anyone else dies," May grumbled, "But whatever." With this, she stormed off.

Fiona stood too. The way she now gazed at Robyn; with a dejected sort of resignation; spoke volumes about her reservations. "I hope you're right about her," she said quietly before excusing herself too.

With a sigh, Robyn let her head hang back, gazing emptily at the ceiling. She was relieved that this tense conversation was now behind her. Although… she was happy that it was now out in the open too; keeping it to herself had been sapping her energy more than she could bear. All in all… it could have gone worse. It was no surprise that it would take some time.

For one, although Fiona had been gracious, although she'd obviously tried very hard to be open-minded, Robyn understood very well that there was still a long way to go. They had been teens when Fiona had confessed having feelings for her, but Robyn had never felt the same, and they'd put it behind them… more or less. At times, when Robyn happened to be single, she'd sense her friend's intentions shifting again; toeing an invisible line. Though when she wasn't single, Fiona had never demonstrated any form of jealousy towards whoever Robyn happened to be dating, Robyn had never been so completely taken by anyone before either. This was different, and Robyn had a sense that her friend could feel it. Given those stakes, and given who Winter was… this was understandably harder to swallow.

But May? That one was much more of a riddle. Maybe Robyn could've anticipated her friend would be irritated that, despite all her warnings, Robyn had still been so cavalier and gotten ensnared. That much, she could have fathomed. But all this venom? Why? Winter had the same background as May; heir to a rich Atlesian family, having had to struggle with a queer identity in a repressive environment, and they'd both chosen to be fighters instead of walking in the footsteps of their narcissistic fathers. Robyn's assumption had been that May would have felt a sense of kinship.

Motion out of the corner of her eye let her know that her last teammate had also abandoned her seat. Joanna didn't leave, however. "Of all the women on the face of Remnant," she muttered, finding her way to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room. "You really had to outdo yourself, huh?"

"Sorry," Robyn offered sheepishly.

"How did that happen anyways?"

"That's a long story."

The tall woman crouched down, leisurely reached into the fridge and stood again, two beers in hand. "I got time," she said; unbothered. "Tell me all about her."

Robyn's eyebrows twitched up in surprise. "What, you're really gonna sit there and listen to me fawn over the most hated woman in Mantle?"

Joanna set one of the bottles on top of the fridge and cracked open the one she still had in hand. "Look, Rob, you're family, we owe it to you to at least give a chance to the one person who got to you in—... Well, in… I don't know how many years. She has to be something special to manage that," she said. With that, she opened the second one, and threw the caps in a bin. She turned to her team leader again. "The thing is: that image that you're saying is a front she's putting up? It's not making it exactly easy for us to see what you see in her," she explained, walking up to her. "So you're gonna have to sell her to us." Joanna offered her one of the bottles. "Fi and May might need a second to come around, but I'm ready to hear you out."

Robyn managed a small smile, accepting the presented drink.

In an attempt to keep as busy as she could, Winter had elected to lend a hand to teams assigned some hands-on, straightforward work. It was late in the evening, and she was patiently waiting outside a factory that had just fulfilled an order for some custom-made pieces needed for their Amity project. Although there were quite a number of cameras and solid surveillance in the neighborhood, a scout had been sent to sweep the area; a final check for any would-be prying eyes. It was imperative to keep the knowledge of the Amity communication tower development as contained as possible.

In this lull, with nothing to do but wait, Winter had the unpleasant feeling of being besieged. Campaign signs were plastered on every wall, every lamppost, every fence in sight, and these countless purple eyes all seemed to spear right through her. Robyn's decisive expression made the soldier want to scowl back, and indeed she was scowling back at a poster.

"So, hey…"

Winter turned her gaze to the younger Huntress standing guard with her; the blonde brawler awkwardly scratched the back of her head.

"If— uh," Yang cleared her throat, "so, talking with Weiss the other day, she said…" her lilac eyes darted to the ground, "we weren't specifically talking about you, but, it kinda came up—uh, you kinda came up. I mean, we did specifically talk about you before, but it's not like we really—"

"Get to the point."

Having been cut off in her rambling ruffled Yang enough to silence her entirely.

Winter waited another moment for her present company to come out with whatever was on her mind, yet nothing followed that odd preamble. "What is it, Xiao Long?"

Yang, who had taken an interest in her boots, stuffed her hands in her bomber jacket's pockets. Her violet eyes suddenly snapped up to Winter's. "Remember you said we'd reschedule the match with Weiss and Ruby?" She asked, like she'd at once shaken off her awkwardness. "I'm not really in a hurry about another doubles match, but... I was thinking; do you think we could spar bare-handed some time? I'd like to see how I really measure up, no weapons, no semblance."

Winter raised an unimpressed eyebrow. "I didn't use my weapon or semblance when I knocked you out."

Yang laughed. "Okay true, but the only reason you won that fast was because you took me by surprise— and yeah, that's totally on me; I should have known better; of course you'd have covered all your bases and would also be good at hand-to-hand combat." She took a few steps closer. "But all that's exactly why I'd love to spar! I didn't get a chance to give it a serious go. And I wanna see what the Atlesian army teaches, I can probably learn a thing or two."

"I see."

"So? How about it? You think you can knock me on my ass again?"

Winter frowned lightly. Could she? When it came to the array of skills needed to be a well-rounded warrior, Winter certainly had no glaring weaknesses, but it didn't mean she was an undisputed master at all of them. Certainly, armed and with semblance, she'd unquestionably best the fiery brawler every single time, but… Yang was a talented young Huntress who was extremely proficient at hand-to-hand combat in addition to being almost inhumanely strong, semblance or not. Winter found she couldn't predict how such a match would pan out. "I don't know," she admitted. "I'm not completely confident that I would win."

Again, Yang laughed. "What, so you're mostly confident that you'd win? Come on, let me challenge that."

"Fine."

She brightened up. "Seriously? You're down?"

"Yes."

Yang pumped her arm in victory. She looked awfully amped, and started shadow-boxing in excitement, bouncing lightly from foot to foot. "I'll get Blake to watch this time for sure," she declared. "Last time she said that she'd rather do something productive instead of watching me get my ass handed back to me, so she took up a day mission with Marrow," she explained. "And I mean— she was right about what would happen," she added amusedly before Winter could say anything. "But I know what I'm getting myself into this time, you won't take me by surprise. This is where I shine, this time'll be totally different."

"Indisputably."

"Is it, like, the military that taught you to fight like that or is it part of the Atlas academic program?" She asked curiously. "We had hand-to-hand combat 101 in Beacon, but it was a joke— or at least, it was a joke in the first year— have you seen Ruby throw a punch? Or Wei—no offense, though!"

"None taken. I'm not responsible for my sister's boxing skills— or lack thereof."

"What, really? I thought that you'd taught Weiss?"

"The bulk of her training was imparted by a private instructor."

This explanation appeared to come as an epiphany. "That's why you fight so totally differently!"

"In part." Even should she have been accountable for all of Weiss's training, Winter highly doubted that they would have turned out all that similar. Weiss had such theatrical mannerisms; they would have been reflected in her fighting style one way or another.

Yang was still thinking it over; "I didn't really think about it too much, but that makes so much more sense— you couldn't coach her through all her training, being away at Atlas Academy, and then working and all. I could've sworn she'd said she learned from you though."

"I made a point of regularly testing what she had learned from her tutor," Winter offered; maybe that was where the confusion had arisen from. "Aside from that, at times when I was home to help with her training, I focused on the one thing that I could teach her better than anyone else; our semblance."

"I totally could have guessed that!" Yang shot back. "From day one, Weiss was way ahead with semblance and aura; you could really tell that she had way more advanced coaching than just the basic aura classes we get in combat school."

Winter was pleased to hear that her sister had distinguished herself. And Weiss truly deserved the recognition, this kind of academic excellence had been hard-earned. "I put her through rigorous training."

"Oh yeah, she'd mentioned you were ruthless," Yang rejoined, laughing. "I'll have to second that, you really didn't take it easy on me either," she added, rubbing the back of her head where Winter had bruised her two weeks ago.

Winter was unmoved; she had no grief over the schooling she'd inflicted. "Would you rather I not have taken you seriously?"

Yang's grin split from ear to ear. "No, you're right. That kick hurt like hell, but I'd still rather you didn't hold back— you are gonna take me seriously again when we spar, right?"

"It's my intention."

"Good!"

The conversation having come to its natural end, silence subsequently fell again. Winter was keenly aware of still being the focus of the brawler's attention. Yang kept looking her way as if she was about to address her again, but she'd lose her nerve, glance around awkwardly, then gradually find herself staring at the soldier again. This led Winter to feel that, in retrospect, springing that request for a sparring match may have been a cop-out for failing to speak up about what had truly been on her mind— which clearly still itched at her. The blonde didn't get the opportunity to broach whatever that was; her faunus partner, who had been on scouting duty, faded in from the shadows. Blake gave an all-clear and Winter signaled to the warehouse workers to start loading the cumbersome parts in the truck. Heavy machinery was needed to maneuver them, and they would need to be secured in place with straps before they could be dispatched to Amity; this would all take a while. Leaving the two younger Huntresses to their idle chat, Winter returned to her staring contest with one of the countless electoral posters lining the walls. She wasn't left alone to ruminate this time either, albeit it was unexpectedly Blake's voice that broke her stupor.

"What do you think of her?"

Winter didn't detach her eyes from the poster. "Miss Hill?"

Blake hummed in approval. "Everyone seems to have a lot to say about her."

"Indeed."

The faunus allowed for a short silence, some space for a more elaborate answer. Winter didn't take the implicit invitation to volunteer her perspective, yet Blake wasn't discouraged. "Don't you?"

"I don't tend to advertise my thoughts unprompted."

"I'm prompting."

Talking about Robyn wasn't something she was especially keen on doing. "What would my opinion change among a sea of voices already volunteering theirs?"

The feline presence felt closer, and it drew her cool blue gaze. Blake maintained eye contact in a way people rarely ever did; at the back of her mind, Winter considered that the young woman's early bickering with Weiss might have equipped her to weather that gaze which had earned both siblings the nickname 'Ice Queen'. "Well, for one," the faunus started, "you've had front row seats to this circus for months, so you're better informed than most, aren't you?"

"Not any better informed than Penny or the Special Ops who you've spent so much time training under," Winter pointed out. "I'm sure they've already covered all that there is to say."

"Penny doesn't like talking about her; she just said that being friendly would be ill-advised," the dark-haired young woman said. "As for the Ace Ops… Marrow and Harriet both had a lot to say, but…" Blake sighed; Winter could just picture those two going off on disjointed rants, and she instantly sympathized with the faunus's weariness. "Honestly, even if I could make sense of their viewpoints… I'd much rather have yours. Without having had the opportunity to get to know you all that well, I've at least gotten this: you're a judicious, no-nonsense person, for better or worse. All things considered, your assessment might be the most accurate I could hope to get."

Winter eyed the faunus curiously; very few noncitizens and even fewer young people took interest in politics, yet this one had not only gone around asking multiple of their colleagues about Robyn, but she wasn't taking any partisan answer as gospel either. "Why is Miss Hill of such interest to you?"

"A better question would be: why wouldn't she be of interest to everyone?" Blake countered. "Elections are coming up fast, and the outcome will radically change the landscape of this kingdom. The climate around here is nothing but palpable friction, so much so that it feels like any small street brawl might be the spark that ignites Hell's fires. And Robyn Hill? She's the face of all these disenfranchised people— she's the one they believe in. That means… she has the power to either reason Mantle out of that impending chaos or topple the kingdom into an all-out war. She might very well be the most consequential person in the kingdom right now," Blake outlined, surprising Winter with her understanding of the precariousness of the situation. "So… what's your assessment?"

Winter hummed, considering the poster again. "I think that we should all be prepared to start working with her. She'll win this election by a landslide."

"Most people agree on that forecast; I was looking to have an idea about her as a person," Blake said. "How do you feel about her?"

Winter frowned, meeting the honey-colored eyes again. "How I… feel?"

"You must have met her, right?" Yang brightly chipped in.

Winter's gaze went from one to the other, now pointedly aware of the two young Huntresses' vested interest. "I have, yes," she answered cautiously. They both still stared at her so expectantly that she truly felt put on the spot— it almost made her worry that what had transpired between Robyn and her had somehow been exposed. "I can't say that I understand what it is that you want to know."

Blake hummed, taking a second to formulate her train of thought. "Back when my father stepped down as head of the White Fang, Weiss, Yang, and I were twelve. I figured that being somewhat young when my father's name was relevant was why Weiss didn't know who I was when we initially were placed in a team together— Sienna's would have been the name she associated with the White Fang," she said. "But… you were old enough to have followed all that as it was happening. You must remember the broad sentiment when my father was in charge and what led to his resignation. And… you must have an idea of where I come from without me spelling it out."

How was Winter ever surprised that this young woman would thoroughly grasp the stakes around the Atlas-Mantle power struggle? It should have been so self-evident, Winter felt like kicking herself. Blake had been raised entrenched in activism— her whole upbringing had revolved around fighting tooth and nail for what others took for granted. All her life, she'd seen people like herself struggle, be mistreated, discarded, abused— more than likely, she'd been on the receiving end of some of that herself. Of course she understood what Robyn represented to the disenfranchised citizens of this kingdom.

Winter's understanding signaled with a short nod, Blake continued: "The people who have surrounded me all my life have had… let's say, differing views on what to do about the faunus' situation." Calling all this to mind elicited from Blake a weary sigh. "The White Fang's leaders have had radically different methods from one another, but when it came down to it, they all had to start with rousing the faunus folk to stand— to take their destiny into their own hands. They had to find words that would inspire action." Through all this, Winter had followed well enough for there to be no need for Blake to go on. Regardless, she didn't interrupt. "Robyn Hill's call for action," Blake gestured towards a graffiti that read 'show your teeth', "it feels awfully familiar, and… not necessarily in a good way."

Now what Blake was looking to know was much clearer. Having seen first hand a social justice movement's quest for equality go to Hell, it was no wonder that the girl had forebodings about who Robyn was as a person, or at least, about where Robyn intended to lead her people with such a visceral rallying cry. Winter cocked her head. "Do you fear that Miss Hill could sow violence and destruction in a similar fashion as Adam Taurus?"

His name made Blake visibly cringe; the surprise of hearing it derailed her momentarily.

"That's not what Blake was saying, I think." Yang's hand had found the small of her partner's back, as if to help bolster her up. "We've seen bits and pieces of Hill's interviews, and she seems reasonable enough. He was anything but reasonable." The brawler's features had hardened uncharacteristically, and there was an uncompromising edge in her voice as she spoke of the final White Fang leader; an unquelled rancor that spoke of personal stakes. It couldn't be clearer that there was history between them.

"Yeah, that wasn't exactly it," Blake had swallowed her disquiet; again looking in contemplation at the graffiti boldly plastered across the building side. "That slogan is too tame to belong to someone who's anything like Adam. He wouldn't have settled with a mere display of combativity like showing one's teeth or puffing one's tail. No, he… he would have made anyone who isn't us to be vermin or monsters, and outright called for blood. Someone like Adam would stop at nothing less than carnage," she explained. Speaking of him decidedly wasn't easy; she too had a precarious quality to her voice, and cleared her throat before going on. "While… Hill's slogan? it's…" she searched for accurate words for a second. "Although it is menacing, although it does clearly announce that they won't let themselves be pushed around anymore, it's not like it closes any doors either. It's still not too late to find common ground— peace isn't off the table," Blake said. True enough— showing oneself to be ready to fight wasn't a guarantee of things devolving into the unrecoverable; one sometimes had to adopt such a stance to confront even friends, family, or loved ones in disagreements after all. Truly destructive conflict only came about once sentiment against the other side grew irrecoverably hostile. In that light, Robyn's slogan, by virtue of invigorating her side's combative spirits without villainizing the opposition, still indeed left room for de-escalation and parlay. Blake finally detached her gaze from the colorful letters on the wall, meeting the soldier's pale orbs. "I guess… if anything, I think those words could have been Sienna's. She wasn't looking for domination the way Adam was. She wanted to be recognized as an equal and, above all, she wanted the respect that being an equal entailed. She wanted it at all costs— through fear if necessary. It feels like this is what Hill might be doing."

Winter hummed, considering the notion. Although the comparison between the two women was justified, it still felt off to her. Without being able to immediately identify what felt different, she could nevertheless point to one clue. "I'm not sure I could agree. Miss Hill's slogan might be instigative, but she has stuck to peaceful, legal avenues. While the White Fang's Grimm masks, which marked the start of the descent into terrorism, started under Khan."

Blake shook her head. "But they weren't her idea— she never wore one. It was Adam who started that; and… in retrospect, this idea of his catching such traction was emblematic of the informal transfer of power that was happening behind the scenes."

That'd been a subtlety that Winter had missed. Or rather, maybe it'd been reported on incorrectly by international media. "You're speaking as a witness?"

Blake looked a tad uncomfortable. "Yes," she nevertheless acknowledged. "When my father stepped down, I stayed in the White Fang another four years, I quit only a few months before starting at Beacon. I saw things change from the inside." She shifted her weight from one leg to the other, considering her next words. "I used to believe that Sienna was right, that faunus needed to be aggressively militant to make their place in this world. Her ways brought results in a way my father's didn't."

Winter nodded. Years ago, tensions had mounted within the White Fang's ranks as Ghira Belladonna's methods had been failing to yield substantial results. Members had grown so impatient that it might've been the case that the organization would have torn itself apart and dissolved entirely if he hadn't stepped down. It was with Sienna Khan's ascension that sweeping change was brought about. Her forcefulness earned the faunus respite from downright enslavement in the Kingdom of Atlas, interracial marriage rights and equal opportunity employement in the Kingdom of Mistral, legal protection from discriminatory practices based on race in the Kingdom of Vale, and more. Faunus could breathe better, but… the tigress had accomplished all that through the threat of all-out war— one on an unprecedented scale; not one of kingdom against kingdom, no— this was a threat to divide the population of every single city on the face of Remnant, pitching the faunus population against the human population, and destroying communities, friendships, even families in its slated wake.

The snow-haired soldier considered that such a doomsday ultimatum looming ominously over everyone's head must have been why Blake had spoken in the past tense when admitting to believing in her former leader's methods. "Khan's ways might have brought immediate results, but they never were a viable long-term solution. Making one's place through fear is no way to build something solid," Winter mused. "Security and prosperity only comes about through willing alliances— harmonious change."

"That's right," Blake said. "I didn't have that kind of foresight back then; I didn't understand that coarse methods like Sienna's would only make tensions worse on both sides. Worse— I didn't think ahead to how starting down that path would inevitably lead us to increasingly barbaric methods." Sienna's White Fang had been edging on a precipice, threading too close to a hazardous fall into an abyss of violence. Any madman's nudge would have been enough to topple the organization into that darkness, and sure enough, it had only been a question of time for an extremist like Adam Taurus to come along, taking the reins forcefully to plunge the once peaceful organization into violence. A tangible sadness had colored Blake's features. "My father always said that we had to keep our heads high and do things the right way. That if we compromised on our morals and gave so much as an inch, things would inevitably unravel. Needless to say… he was right. Sienna pushed too hard, fanned the flames of conflict, and unwittingly made room for what came next; Adam's White Fang." She shook her head dejectedly; regret over how history had unfolded coloring her entire being. "All that is to say… if Hill is anything like Sienna… it's not Adam's viciousness, but… it's still a dangerous place to be."

The conflict in the air in Mantle was analogous to where racial tensions had been ten years ago all over Remnant, and Robyn, like Sienna, roused those she represented to stop placidly letting themselves be pushed around. The comparison was legitimate, but with everything that had been said, Winter was able to put her finger on what felt fundamentally different between the two women. Sienna Khan might not have been the terrorist behind the Grimm masks, she might not have been malicious or cruel, but… it remained that she had been brutal. And that wasn't Robyn. "No," Winter decidedly said. "Khan had no qualms about galvanizing conflict or resorting to intimidation; forcefulness and ruthlessness weren't a last recourse, they were her first reflex. That's not Robyn, not at all."

Blake's eyebrows twitched into a light frown, while Yang's shot up. They exchanged a glance, swiftly gauging each other.

Winter immediately heard herself in retrospect and swiftly understood what the pair had gauged each other for; to see if they had picked up on the same thing. Using Robyn's first name and being so confident of who the woman was screamed of a personal connection. Whether it was simply too small an incongruity to call attention to or disinclination to put her on the spot, Winter was granted the small respite of it going unacknowledged.

Yang simply went back to the question that had originally prompted this conversation: "So what is she like?"

"She's... " Words came to Winter in a tattered mess, on one hand, a need to gush over the woman, and on the other all her frustration over her. She leveled her heart the best she could— she could under no circumstances let what was chained inside of her break free. Nevertheless, even keeping her personal feelings in check… there was no going around it; what there was to say about Robyn was objectively broadly positive. "She's a Huntress in the truest sense of the word; the kind of person who would lay down her life to protect the vulnerable. She went into politics solely because she saw it as an avenue in which she can help people more broadly than only when in immediate physical danger," Winter said, the conversation they'd shared over dinner at Robyn's flat having invaded her mind, "and her political platform reflects just that. Her campaign promises to affect change on a scale that hasn't been seen since the city of Atlas was raised to the sky— she's what Mantle has been in desperate need of for at least fifty years. Miss Hill is a revolutionary, but she's a force for good."

Yang's lilac eyes were wide in what looked to be pleasant surprise. "That's… a glowing account if I ever heard one, I don't think I expected that from you." She whipped around to her partner. "But that's good! Right? Blake?"

"It's a relief," the faunus admitted. "Between Salem and all the agitation that this election promises, the last thing needed would have been another morally bankrupt player getting their hands on the means to cause more havoc."

"Yeah, and I mean… we finally found a sense of normalcy after having tried to find some kind footing since the Fall of Beacon."

"That too," Blake nodded. "It's comforting to know that Hill isn't going to make anything worse than it has to be."

This last bit made the blonde brawler crinkle her eyebrows. She turned again to their stoic company. "Why all the fuss around her in HQ then?"

"Belladonna put her finger on it when mentioning agitation," Winter said. "There will be some regardless of who is elected, and… although the sort of agitation Miss Hill will cause won't be maliciously motivated, although she's attempting something admirable… it remains that this is all happening at an impossibly inconvenient moment. The policies she proposes and the reforms that come with them —which she'll waste no time in trying to enforce— will be a colossal detriment to our plans. Yet, with what forces are on the move, the situation is too dire for us to gamble away the current power structure. We need to retain control in order to complete the Amity communication tower as fast as possible, and… that will mean temporarily denying Miss Hill the power that she will have constitutionally earned. Which makes it not only conceivable, but highly likely that Miss Hill will attempt in a number of ways to force us to yield her that power." Winter didn't even want to begin thinking about what Robyn may do then— she had been trying to not think about Robyn in general, after all. "This is why HQ is so febrile about the prospect of her election into office— it's about the situation, not about the content of her character. She's an upstanding woman."

"It sounds like you have a lot of respect for her," Blake noted.

"I do," Winter readily admitted. As they both looked surprised to have this so forthrightly confessed, Winter followed-up with wisdom that encompassed a broader way of being than what happened to concern her personal feelings for Robyn. "She might be a dissident voice, but that doesn't make her an enemy, nor someone to disdain— thinking as such would be dangerous."

With a visible double-take, Yang raised her mechanical hand in a halting sort of motion. "Wait, wait— putting Hill aside, how is it dangerous? If someone's not on our side, how would it be dangerous to consider them an enemy? Better safe than sorry, no?"

Winter frowned; she didn't know how this wasn't more obvious to them, especially with Blake having already extracted the gist of this idea through her understanding of Robyn's slogan. "Escalating animosity unduly is dangerous; we should be able to disagree and remain on good terms."

"Sure, with our friends, but… does it matter when it's someone who's working against us?"

"It matters all the more," Winter countered. "With our loved ones, that love will always be there to mitigate negative sentiment during disagreements. While the absence of that shared ground when disagreeing with strangers or an 'out-group' guarantees that the very day we become unable to recognize the good in them is the day violence becomes inevitable." Her gaze slid to the faunus'. "Wasn't this ultimately the downfall of the White Fang?"

That seemed to have struck a chord; honey-colored eyes became hazy with indefinite wistfulness. Although she blinked that cloudiness away quickly, it still took a few seconds for Blake to find her voice again. "It was," she confirmed rather hoarsely. "It took a turn for the worst when the Faunus leading it started seeing humans as their enemies," she cleared her throat of the emotion. "Sorry… It's something that I understood deep down, but I don't think I had ever put the idea into words myself, so… hearing someone else lay it out so clearly…" It was with renewed interest that she eyed Winter. "That kind of diplomacy is an interesting approach for a soldier."

Did Weiss's teammates believe her to be a warmonger? "I became a soldier to defend our peace, not to wage war."

The two younger Huntresses looked at each other. Clearly, neither had considered such a reason to enlist. "That… makes me feel better about being pseudo-military," Yang mused, a smile sketching itself across her lips.

Although Blake nodded, the same relief didn't show on her features. It was clear that she was still computing some part of the conversation, so, predictably: "There's still something I don't understand," she frowned, addressing the snow-haired warrior. "Why not recruit Hill? She's an experienced Huntress with a seasoned team, who could bolster up our ranks, and who you just admitted was undoubtedly a good person. Above all, she has so much influence in Mantle, she could be an enormous help in coordinating things here if she knew what the General's planning for the Amity coliseum. Wouldn't she be an invaluable asset?"

Winter felt her features grow more rigid. That would have been her dream scenario, and she didn't much enjoy having to explain why it was utterly unviable. "Unfortunately… it isn't so straightforward. Miss Hill isn't the sort of person who, when push comes to shove, could make utilitarian decisions," she said, hoping that this would be enough to give them a sense of why without having to delve further into it. The lack of understanding on their features made it clear that it wasn't. Winter sighed. "She would be unable to stomach what could be required of us for the sake of the bigger picture— or rather, she definitely wouldn't stand aside for what unpalatable sacrifices need to be made."

Ominous doubt visibly overtook her, and Yang asked; "What does that mean? What the hell do you expect us to have to do?"

Her cool blue eyes wandered to the workers as they maneuvered the parts onto the truck; the noise of the machinery made it impossible for any of them to hear any of what was being said. "What Salem is bringing to our doors is nothing less than war," Winter said. "In war, things get ugly, one way or another— in fact, it's already the case that things are ugly: Mantle is suffering tremendously. Through the dust embargo impoverishing the working class, through the rationing as we're confiscating precious supplies for Amity, through the increased surveillance we've imposed on the streets being on the lookout for Salem's agents should they have infiltrated our kingdom… the general sentiment is rank with resentment down here, and that only draws more Grimm, making matters all the worse. And… that's barely just scratching the surface." She shook her head. "Miss Hill —rightfully— isn't standing for any of it. The problem is that… she still wouldn't stand for it even should she be made aware of our end goal. When it comes down to it, she simply won't make that sacrifice. She'll want to find another way, one that wouldn't cost Mantle so much."

"Couldn't we do that?" Blake asked.

"We're already on borrowed time," Winter reminded them. "Salem is on the move for the first time since the Great War. Her attempts to topple Huntsmen academies —which, I will remind you, are each kingdom's central defense system— to obtain the relics would have the potential for a toll of hundreds of thousands of lives worldwide, and if she obtains them all, we could even face complete annihilation. Odds are fifty-fifty that Atlas will be her next target, and it could happen any day. And… we are the only ones with the technological know-how and resources to re-establish global communication. This means that should we be unable to complete the Amity communication tower before she strikes, all kingdoms will remain estranged from each other, keeping us vulnerable and much easier to pick off one after another."

"We're weaker when divided," Yang outlined under her breath. Somewhere along the way, her hand had found her partner's. "This is how she wins."

Winter nodded. "There's no way around it; we don't have the luxury of time or of dividing our energy and supplies. We need to re-establish communication between the kingdoms at all costs— this is how we give ourselves a fighting chance. The future of all life on the planet may very well depend on it." This was their reality, Winter reminded herself as her gaze met Robyn's still-picture again. She bid in a silent plea for the Mantle hometown hero not to put herself in their way again. "Because you've seen what Salem is capable of, you understand what we're facing and what's at stake," she told Weiss's friends, turning to them again. "But… Miss Hill doesn't know. She can't truly seize the urgency of the matter— and even if she were able to wrap her head around the peril we're in… the fact of the matter is, austerity measures that put additional stress on an already struggling Mantle are simply unacceptable to her. The cost imparted right now is too high to her; odds are extremely high that, even should she be told of our plans, she would still find our methods unacceptable and vie for another way— which, there isn't. What she might then do to get her way, to relieve her people's pain… things such as expose our plans, or threaten to do so in order to force our hand into dividing labor between Amity and Mantle, it would all work in Salem's favor one way or another."

"Got it," Blake answered. Some sort of ambivalent resolve had settled on her features, and it gave the sense that, although she still felt for Robyn's position, she'd seized their own predicament well enough to abide by their way of doing things.

Maybe it was how the two younger women had looked to her for answers that made Winter adverse to demoralizing them, or maybe it was having spoken of the importance of unity… or maybe it was her own hopes seeping into the conversation, but Winter felt compelled to end on a positive note. "I do believe that when we finally launch Amity and reveal Salem, Miss Hill will become an invaluable ally. We won't be divided by the toll put on Mantle because, once Amity is up in the sky, we'll be able to funnel help to Mantle at a never before seen rate— we'll have to, to protect the people of this kingdom when panic strikes once Salem becomes public knowledge. At that point, Rob—," twice she'd made the mistake now; the two young women glanced at each other again. Winter went on, pretending it hadn't happened, "Miss Hill will do everything she can to help— in all likelihood she'll even seek us out to offer help without us attempting to recruit her. It's simply until then that she must be kept in the dark."

There was a short silence that ensued with the end of this conversation. The two young Huntresses seemed to digest what had been said. It felt for a second that Winter would escape being put on the spot form of this second lapse, but she had no such luck.

"So uh," Yang cleared her throat. "Do you… usually call her by her first name?" Clearly, this was meant to ask something else, as it had become evident that Winter was more familiar with Robyn than she had wanted to let on.

Winter exhaled shortly. "We're acquainted," she vaguely explained.

"Acquainted? ...'Cause, y'know, we've been here for a minute and you still use our last names," the brawler pointed out.

Winter stared back impassively. She knew what the young woman was trying to insinuate, but opted to remain unforthcoming.

Yang wasn't discouraged. "But, Robyn Hill, first name basis, huh?"

"So?"

"So… you're friends?"

Robyn's words rang in her head 'Right—friendship isn't what either of us want.' Winter's expression might have turned a tad sour. "I wouldn't say that."

The blonde put her hands on her hips. "What would you say, then?"

"I already said: we're acquainted." Was the girl simply not picking up on how deliberately vaguely Winter opted to answer her probing, or was she voluntarily ignoring all cues of Winter's disinclination to delve into it?

Yang snorted. "What does that mean, did you fight her? Like you fought Uncle Qrow?"

"No!" Was this going to haunt her forever? "Our paths crossed at civic events. She and I subsequently had a number of opportunities to—... I've had the opportunity to… mingle."

"Oh, okay," she didn't look entirely satisfied.

Likely because Winter had gotten agitated, the blonde didn't push her questioning further, and silence fell again. Winter decided that returning to her staring contest with Robyn's still image might not be the most constructive use of her time, and she powered up her scroll. The unread notifications on her messaging app jumped out at her again, but she ignored them in favor of the manifest of their current transport mission. It looked like there had been a delay because of a lubricant oil spill inside the warehouse; they would still be on guard duty another twenty minutes or so before they would be able to wrap up and move.

"So, hey, Winter," Yang broke the silence once more, "would you happen to know any good places to go dancing?"

As Winter felt a frown develop, she looked up from the inventory list and gauged Blake's reaction– see if her girlfriend choosing to ask Winter this –of all people– made any sort of sense to her. That the dark-haired faunus appearing just as confused by her significant other's query as Winter had felt was somewhat reassuring. It must have been nothing more than an awkward attempt at conversation. "Do I look like someone who does?"

"Uh. No?" Although she admitted as much, Yang still seemed to be expecting a recommendation.

Winter returned her attention to the faintly glowing light of her scroll and the inventory of parts being loaded displayed on it; only two to go, but they were the most delicate to maneuver. "You've been training with some Atlas Academy students; if you ask, I'm sure one of them will have just the place for you."

"Yeah, but, uh… well, I thought that you might know… gay-friendly spots."

Winter immediately lost interest in the manifest, turning to the young Huntresses again. Yang had her arms crossed tightly, and her expression, stiff and eyes wide, made it apparent that she was bracing for an adverse reaction. Blake was very invested in pretending to be absorbed by what was on her lit up scroll, but one of her cat ears was cocked towards Winter, betraying her true interest. So this had been what Yang had wanted to talk about since the beginning. "Weiss told you."

Yang cleared her throat. "Yeah, uh… it sorta came up."

Winter had trouble fathoming in which circumstances it would simply come up. "Did it?"

There was a blank expression on her face. "...No, she blurted it out completely unprovoked," Yang readily admitted. Ensued a short pause in which she seemingly replayed in her head whatever had gone down with Weiss. "Yeah, like, completely unprovoked. She really needed to tell, I think."

Winter had no answer to that.

The blonde attempted an unconvinced smile. "Is it okay? That she told us?"

"She cleared it with me beforehand; it wasn't meant to be confidential," Winter dismissed, at which she saw all the tension leave the brawler's posture. The entire thing was just so odd to Winter, because; "If you were worried that I might be cross, why bring it up at all?"

This peculiarity hadn't occurred to Yang until it was pointed out, and she scratched her head. "I don't really know. I guess that how nosey I am outweighs how much you scare me?"

"I scare you?"

"Kinda."

Winter's gaze traveled to the faunus again. Blake didn't add anything, but she raised the scroll she had been pretending to be so interested in higher in front of her face, almost as if she was hiding behind it. Winter was somewhat disconcerted. She'd of course been aware of how intimidating she could be when actively trying, such as when she meant to make herself threatening enough to ruffle foes, but she hadn't quite grasped the extent to which she might daunt those who she by no means meant to drive back. "Do I come off as hostile?"

"Nah, nothing like that," Yang dismissed. "It's more like… the sort of scared you get when you're five and you don't wanna get scolded."

Cool blue eyes remained fixed onto the pale lilac ones as Winter considered this. The younger Huntress seemed to shrink with each passing second of eye contact. "You expect me to reprimand you should you misbehave," the soldier eventually outlined, more in an effort to wrap her head around it than as a question.

"Uh. Yeah."

Winter blinked. How she'd heatedly scolded Weiss for risking her safety after their group arrived on a stolen airship floated through her mind. "Fair." At this point, it occurred to her that Yang had not only brought this up out of the blue and despite being nervous about vexing her, but… she'd also tried to touch on it earlier, making this her second attempt; "Circling back; why were you so keen on broaching this?"

Confusion made her frown. "I mean, I don't know, it's not like I really…" Yang trailed off, now apparently gauging her behavior in retrospect. "I guess I was keen on it, huh?" She scratched her head. The ahoge protruding out of the middle of her head looked like a question mark now more than ever. "Maybe— I don't know, maybe…" She huffed, perhaps at her own disarray, and planted her hands on her hips. "Coming out is a huge step in one's life and it's rarely easy, so— yeah! That's really significant and it's worth celebrating! It's amazing!"

This attempt at clarification didn't do much to ease Winter's perplexity. "...I appreciate your enthusiasm, but I don't know what to do with it."

Yang was at a loss, she didn't seem to know herself what sort of reaction from Winter she'd expected. "It's not like I'm expecting you to do anything with it, but like… I just thought…" As a matter of fact, she didn't seem all too self-confident about leading this conversation that she didn't even seem to understand why she'd initiated. Her eyes darted to her partner; "help, Blake?"

Blake, who had remained a subduedly amused spectator through this, now gauged her girlfriend, in an attempt to be of assistance and try to translate the blonde's instincts and actions into a coherent account. "I think…" she hummed thoughtfully, now meeting Winter's gaze again. "When we first arrived, we both quickly gathered that people can be narrow-minded around here, and… we didn't know how okay it was for us to be ourselves. So we can't imagine what that climate has been like for you all your life. I think Yang felt for that, and wanted to break the ice and make some space for you to… speak freely with people who can understand part of your experience if you ever wanted to," she speculated.

Having been nodding along enthusiastically, Yang now pointed at her partner in approval. "This, this, yes!" Her lilac eyes sparkled with delight at how well her significant other could read her mind. She addressed Winter again; "it sucks, being alone with something like this, so."

"I see." How thoughtful of them. Her sister had been infinitely fortunate with who fate had designated as her team. Although she had such appreciative reflections, her expression remained unchanged, which prompted the more verbose of the pair to fill the silence.

"It's like; for my part, I realized that I liked Blake before I ever knew I could even like women, so I guess I skipped over some of the big questioning bit, but when it came down to telling other people, it was… both like I needed everyone to know that I was in love with her, but it was also scary to— not that I'm saying you'd be scared, 'cause I mean, you're that bitch— I mean, I didn't mean to call you a b— is just the, uh—"

"Xiao Long," Winter cut off her rambling before Yang could fit her second foot in her mouth. "I'm only human. You're right; it wasn't exactly easy for me either. Atlas truly isn't ideal to flourish when growing up… different. That it took me this long to share this about myself with Weiss speaks to that."

Yang looked thankful that her language didn't offend the person who she felt might scold her like a five year old. "Had you been wanting to tell her for some time?"

"I…" Without having tangibly contended with the desire to own up to the truth, it was the case that she had felt silence start to stifle her. And such a feeling wouldn't have arisen overnight. "I perhaps have wanted to say something for longer than I had initially been aware of," she admitted. "Although I've known most of my life, I didn't—… for a long time, I was content with not thinking about it and leaving it alone."

"Huh. So why say anything now?"

Why? Well, that stifled sensation was incontestably at the core of it. As to what changed that allowed her to finally take that cathartic step? On one hand, learning that there were rumors that Weiss might overhear, which made taking the leap the most logical course of action. On the other hand… seeing for herself that Weiss was completely non-judgmental in that regard had in fact been the final push she'd needed. Winter didn't feel she had to admit to Weiss's friends that their conspicuous flirting had precipitated her taking that leap. "My circumstances have changed. It was time."

"Huh."

Although that didn't seem very satisfactory of an answer to Yang, she didn't seem to have any follow-up questions, so Winter returned to monitoring the progression of the work. Though the process of securing the cumbersome pieces into the truck had been exceedingly slow, the workers were almost done.

"Got a girlfriend?"

Winter spared a glance at the nosey young woman. "No."

"A wife, then?"

"It's not legal in this kingdom."

"But you travel a lot across Remnant, don't you? You could've gotten married in secret overseas."

Winter's eyebrows twitched into a frown. What a wild imagination. "I don't have a wife."

"But you're seeing someone?" Yang pressed.

Winter powered off her scroll, giving up her attempts to focus on the work at hand. Blake must have misread that because she instantly cautioned; "Yang, leave her be."

Gesturing to the faunus that it was fine, Winter eyed the blonde; the insistence in this line of questioning made it feel like Yang was convinced that Winter was hiding an affair— which… it was arguable that such wasn't too far from the truth. "I'm not seeing anyone. I'm too busy with the state of things."

"There has to be someone you have a crush on then?"

For someone who claimed to have been scared of her, the girl sure had a lot of nerve to pry this much. "Where is all this coming from? Why do you so firmly believe there is someone involved?"

"Well you just said circumstances changed."

Fair enough, she had said that. "Those weren't the circumstances I was referring to."

"Oh." Curiously, Yang appeared disappointed about that. She shared why before Winter could speculate about it; "Damn, I was super curious about what kind of woman someone like you would go for."

Quite involuntarily, Winter's eyes traced back to the poster that they had been looking at a moment earlier. Robyn's grin taunted her again. "I'm sure it'd surprise you."

Unbeknownst to her, Yang had followed her gaze. "...Wait, you think she's hot?"

Her negligent lapse having been noticed and called out flushed Winter's neck with heat. Yang was too focused on Robyn's features to notice how the soldier's porcelain skin had undoubtedly reddened.

The fiery brawler put her hands on her hips. "Well, actually, she really is, huh?"

Winter's heart settled somewhat; the candor with which the young woman agreed made her own self-tatling feel less consequential. "You find her attractive?"

"Isn't she objectively? She's not my type but, I mean, look at her," Yang designated the poster with a sweeping gesture. "Blake, Robyn Hill's totally hot, isn't she?"

Blake shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm biased towards blondes."

Her blonde girlfriend puffed out a laugh; "So she says."

The faunus's eyes fell on the election poster again, she took a second to gaze at the dashing politician. "Although… promotional posters like these would have been retouched— they could be misleading. She might look wildly better on them than she does in person."

"They're not misleading," Winter interjected despite herself. Something deep inside her loathed that anyone might think that Robyn wasn't just as appealing as portrayed. "If anything, she's even more attractive in person."

"Oh, yeah? How?"

"First, a still image doesn't do her charisma justice," Winter explained. "It also doesn't give any sense of how tall she truly is, and there's something about the way she smiles that—…" How astonished the pair appeared as they both stared at her had suddenly made her all too aware of how she sounded. She'd let her guard down too much!

"Wait, no, go on," the conspiratory grin that was growing on Yang's features was all too eager.

"I'm done," Winter stiffly answered. As the two younger huntresses kept staring, she felt her face grow increasingly hot. How could she so unambiguously put on display how smitten she was with Robyn?! Couldn't the ground swallow her already?

In awe, Yang nudged her girlfriend with her elbow. "Did… it sound to you like… she's… pining? A bit?"

Blake had covered her mouth with one hand. "I mean…"

"Don't talk about me like I'm not standing right there," Winter admonished. Giving a short, exasperated sigh, she eyed the poster. She so didn't want to get into any of this. "I was simply answering your query."

"About how Robyn Hill is massively hotter in person."

"Ye–" Winter bit her tongue but the damage was done; Yang looked positively thrilled. She could feel herself grow so red that her ears burned.

"Oh man, who would've thought," the blonde laughed, only to instantly physically recoil from Winter's unmitigated scowl. She raised both hands in defense. "Hey, uh—Blake and I both agreed that she's hot, and from what you've described she seems like an amazing person so uh, it'd be totally no wonder for anyone to have a cru— not that I'm saying this is what this is, but, y'know! She's a very eligible bachelore—" her blathering came to a screeching halt and she threw her girlfriend a questioning look. "Wait, is Robyn single?"

"That should be easy enough to find out," the faunus answered, typing on her scroll.

Winter sighed. If they were to look up anything about Robyn's personal life, it was easy enough to predict the headlines that were bound to come up. Tabloids had been after Robyn for the last two years, and would-be defamatory stories exposing her alleged dating habits and dalliances had run on the regular; being gay was something that some considered scandalous around these parts. Robyn herself hadn't made any public statements confirming or infirming any rumours, nor had she ever had a life partner in the limelight at her side, but the allegations were so widespread and commonplace that none doubted their veracity.

"Wait, Robyn's into women?" Yang didn't even try to contain her excitement a little bit. "Did you know?"

Before Winter could decide if it was wise to disclose the truth, Blake answered for her; "She did," she noted, eyeing her interestedly.

"Oh yeah, of course," Yang was still scrolling through her feed. "There's so many of these articles, you'd hear about it even without reading those kinds of tabloids," she said, yet Winter had the ominous feeling that, somehow, that hadn't been why Blake had discerned that she did. "You had to have known already, right?"

"...Correct," Winter answered guardedly.

Yang's jaw hung in disbelief. "Why didn't you say anything?"

"It bore no relevance to her merit or to her position on our chessboard."

"But it's relevant now!"

"It's not," Winter countered, eager to shut down the conversation. "Don't get any ide—"

"Did you know before meeting her? Was there any chemistry when you met?" The inspirited blonde pressed. "Did you flirt with her? Damn, I can't even imagine you flirting— but please tell me you flir—"

"Enough," Winter vehemently cut in, jolting both young women to attention. "I need you two to focus. We'll be moving shortly."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Robyn watched as the dark-haired faunus roamed the area, bounding weightlessly from wall to wall, slinking into the towering buildings' shadows and reappearing on another roof. A scout meant that there was a covert operation underway, corroborating Robyn's intel. Said scout wasn't wearing the telltale colors of the Atlesian army, but Robyn didn't need such a veneer to identify her as an associated party. After all, the young woman was part of Weiss's team, of which Robyn had encountered the team leader working with Penny and the Ace Ops just a few days ago. Watching her go, it was no wonder that this young Huntress had been chosen for recon; Robyn had absolutely no doubt that, had they not been concealed under one of May's invisibility domes, they'd have been spotted eons before they would have ever spotted her.

Once the scout returned to the location of the operation, Robyn signaled for her friend to move with her. Neither of them had the same litheness as the faunus they'd just watched prowl the darkness, but they managed to approach noiselessly enough to find a vantage point to watch from; close enough to see, but far enough to be out of the earshot of even a faunus. Setting eyes on the scene, Robyn's designs suddenly hit a wall. Why was Winter there? Wasn't grunt work like this below her station?

"Your girl's there," May stated the obvious.

"I saw."

"Does that change anything? Do we abort?" Her friend asked, gauging her attentively.

Robyn considered these new parameters.

Their goal this evening had been to uncover what was being manufactured in such secrecy. Learning anything tonight would give them a clearer idea of what sort of weapon —it had to be a weapon, right?— the Atlas military was building. Having heard half a month ago from her informants that an old, decommissioned factory had seen a lot of come and go lately and, most conspicuously, shipments flanked with military escorts, Robyn had of course attempted to send lookouts. As none of them could get close enough to yield any usable information —those who did dare breach the military perimeter found themselves in handcuffs— it had become evident that they were going to need someone with a semblance such as May's to get any shot at usable intel.

Robyn had decided to accompany her teammate herself with the aim of multiplying their options. For instance, were they to get close enough under the guise of invisibility and discover that the guards on duty were supporters of hers, she might convince them to feed her the information she was looking for, or maybe even let her see the cargo. Robyn had also been prepared for the eventuality that an Ace Op had been there to supervise… and figured that, should May and she get caught, the two of them together would have been able to neutralize even an Ace Op.

But… Winter? And she wasn't alone, which meant that May and she wouldn't be able to tag-team.

Robyn sighed. She didn't want to turn back now, not without giving it a chance. "No, we stay the course for the time being," she decided. Although they were too far to overhear anything, they were closer than any of their people had been able to get. "We might learn enough just watching from here, without any need to risk showing ourselves."

"Okay." Her friend plopped down to a seat, getting comfortable for the stake-out. Her hands remained steadily extended, glowing faintly with her blue aura.

Robyn crouched with her, pensively observing the woman she was agonizing for. Up from their observation post, the immaculately white uniform almost seemed to glow, so pure it was against the decaying landscape. It crossed Robyn's mind that this also happened to be a not-so-inaccurate illustration of Winter's reality as an Atlas elite. Winter herself seemed to be entirely fixated on the posters Robyn's volunteer team had covered every square inch of the city in. Even when the two young women who accompanied her; the faunus scout they'd watched, and an energetic blonde with a mechanical arm who Robyn recognized as another of Weiss's teammates; engaged her in conversation, Winter barely seemed to be able to detach her eyes from the electoral propaganda. It was a guilty satisfaction to Robyn, seeing that she wasn't the only one aching from the void between them. She returned her attention to the broad strokes of the scene; the three Atlas-affiliated Huntresses stood guard on the operation as warehouse workers moved slowly, maneuvering parts wrapped in tarp with forklifts and other noisy machinery onto the waiting truck. It was downright impossible to identify the shipment, wrapped as it was.

"Do I have to say it?" May mouthed.

"No," Robyn grumbled. "I know."

They looked at each other, and May nevertheless confirmed what they both recognized; "We'll have to go down and look underneath the tarps to learn anything."

"...Yeah."

"She won't let us do that."

"I know."

Even knowing that it was an unviable suggestion, her blue-haired friend still asked; "You want me to go without you? I could find a way to get a peek."

Getting a peek would mean moving the tarps, and doing so would all but guarantee alerting the sentries, getting May caught. "Our people were thrown in jail overnight for just lurking close to the perimeter. You move anything, they catch you for sure, and then who knows how long you're in for," Robyn shook her head. She didn't like it, but there was no way around it; "we still need to get something out of tonight. Once they're almost done loading, I'll distract them while you look around at all the parts they manufactured."

May didn't answer immediately. She took a deep, controlled breath and rubbed her temple. Then she eyed her team leader. "You're gonna go out there and just show yourself?"

"Yeah."

"You don't think you'll end up in handcuffs?"

Robyn didn't need to consider the possibility, not even briefly. "She won't arrest me. Not me."

May scoffed. "You really think a fling would make her lenient like that?"

"No, it's not that— you're right, Winter wouldn't give me preferential treatment based on her own feelings," Robyn agreed, finally adjusting from her crouching position to a sitting one, "but… she knows that if she arrests me, I get a criminal record and she completely destroys my campaign." Her deep purple eyes remained steadily fixed on the woman they were discussing. "She cares about me winning. If not for me personally, at least for the good of our kingdom. So I have zero doubt she'll let me go based on that."

This rationale gave her friend pause. Whatever May kept insisting about not knowing Winter all that well, she knew her at least well enough to recognize this subtlety in the soldier's thinking to be true. "Okay," she allowed, "let's say she really does care about the kingdom like that— about our people down here… you don't think she'll be pissed at you that you're using the fact that she cares against her?"

Robyn felt her features tense into a subdued, wry grin. "For sure she'll be pissed. It's a dick move, and I won't blame her for feeling like that," she said. "But hey, I'm pissed about what they're doing, so maybe it's only fair that she gets a taste of what it feels like, huh?" She mused, then adding under her breath; "I guess it's true that all's fair in love and war."

The ensuing silence was heavy with dread; drawing the tall blonde's eyes to her friend's.

May's apprehension, however, wasn't born from the word Robyn had thought she would take issue with; "War? Are we at war with them?"

Robyn leaned back, it suddenly seemed like she needed the wall behind her to stay upright. "Sure feels like it."

"And… you still trust her enough to just waltz in there and distract her."

"...Yep."

Golden eyes narrowed dubiously. "Be honest. Are you really just looking for an excuse to talk to her?"

"I'm not."

"Sure."

"I'm not," Robyn insisted. "Because it's not like I can bring up anything about us when there are other people around. Odds are she's gonna pretend she doesn't even know me."

May shook her head. "I meant; are you really just looking for an excuse to talk to her because you miss talking to her, not because you have anything specific you want to say to her about the two of you."

"Oh." That gave Robyn pause. "... I…" It was entirely undeniable that she agonized for any contact with Winter, such that even an adversarial encounter would ease her longing. "Maybe a bit," she conceded, "just being near her gives me goosebumps."

Her friend chose not to respond to this, and together they watched in silence the operation underway on the street below. Or rather, as they monitored its progress, Robyn remained focused on the object of her heart's desire. Winter was impeccable as ever, rooted in place with perfect posture, her expression almost entirely unchanging as she conversed with the two Huntresses standing guard with her. It felt so unfair that they could just… talk to her. Robyn wanted to talk to her casually like that.

May's attention was also riveted to the woman. "She's always so… serious," she commented.

"I know," Robyn felt herself grin like a doofus. "Isn't it so endearing?"

This earned her a pointed stare. "Being a square is endearing?"

"That's not it," the blonde laughed. "When Winter puts her mind to doing anything, she really wants to do it right and to the best of her ability, so she applies herself with all the seriousness she can muster," Robyn explained. "So when it comes down to it, it's really just earnestness. And I think that's really fucking cute."

"Huh. I didn't see it like that."

Having the sense that she might've just won some ground in selling Winter to her friend who was the most critical of the situation, Robyn smiled to herself. "You'd all like her a lot if you just gave her a chance."

May eyed her. "Maybe I don't want to like her." Having earned herself her team leader's full attention, May maintained eye contact, considering how to phrase what she wanted to say. "I shouldn't have to tell you why any of us liking her on any level just makes things so much more complicated for us."

Finding no answer to her friend's all too sound sentiment, Robyn pursed her lips. Her eyes longingly returned to the pristinely-clad soldier who clashed so much with the rundown landscape of buildings around her.

"Look at you, Rob," she designated, "agonizing over someone who should, by all metrics, disgust you to the highest degree."

"She's not—"

"Maybe not," May interrupted, already familiar with the impending arguments in regard to the content of Winter's character, "but she's doing the big man's bidding, and doing it knowing that Mantle is dying because of them."

Robyn didn't need to be reminded. Hearing it said out loud this way however… It felt like lead lining her lungs, suffocating her. "I know. I know all that," she voiced uneasily. "That's why what I feel for her isn't stopping me from doing what we're doing tonight."

Although reminding her of this decision to ultimately act in the best interest of Mantle quelled May's qualms to an extent, this answer still had her gazing at her team leader in an apprehensive sort of way.

It was a no-brainer; Robyn knew what that look was. 'What she felt for her'; Robyn had used similar language during the intervention at the beginning of the week, which May had called out then. But because Robyn had failed to truly define what she meant by that, the same question hung in the air now. Robyn sighed gently. She'd known it was there for some time, and she couldn't keep tiptoeing around it. "I love her."

May didn't look surprised one bit. "Dumbass."

Robyn hummed in agreement.

The rest of the operation passed by without much conversation. Weiss's teammates seemed to have directed their chat somewhere that agitated Winter. Scratch that, not just agitated, she was getting flustered— Robyn would've given so much to be able to eavesdrop.

"They're about done it seems," May noted. "Time to move."

With her preposterous idea's implementation imminent, Robyn felt her insides slowly tie themselves in knots. However angry she knew that Winter would be and however much she dreaded that, the butterflies kept multiplying themselves at the thought of being in her presence again, and those contrasting sentiments had her stomach upside down. In no hurry, she stood and dusted her butt.

Her lack of enthusiasm stilled May. "Still okay? We're doing this?"

"Yep," Robyn gestured to move.

They both leaped down the side of the building, landing a little more noisily than Robyn would have wished. At this point, her friend hung behind while the blonde passed the invisibility dome boundary, slowly advancing through the grubby alley to the cleared area that was the docking area of the warehouse. The second Robyn stepped out of the shadows, Winter's poise vacillated; hope briefly illuminating her gaze before the circumstances got the better of her again, both dissatisfaction and apprehension showing through before her expression evened out entirely— back to her icy façade.

Both young Huntresses who were accompanying Winter were completely bewildered at Robyn's sudden appearance, and both immediately looked to their senior operative, attempting to appraise how they should react.

The soldier half-turned towards Robyn; it looked like she shifted her weight to be more solidly grounded. "Whatever this is… don't," Winter said.

In response, Robyn put on her most charming smile. "Hi to you too," she said, daring a few steps closer.

"...Robyn," the tone of her voice was low, a clear warning.

It did, for the time being, halt the trespasser's advance. "First name basis? Even with company?" Robyn said in as much of a laid back fashion as she could muster, designating Weiss's teammates. "I thought we weren't doing that?"

Winter seemed to believe that if she tried hard enough, she could shoot icicles from her eyes. "And I thought that we were steering clear of each other."

"Believe it or not, it's not you I'm here for— had no clue you'd grace us with your presence." The tall blonde put her hand on her hip, nonchalantly gesturing with the other. "In fact, why are you here? Isn't this below your pay grade?"

"I'm trying to keep busy," she answered dryly.

"Burying yourself in work, huh?" Robyn mused. And though she knew she should leave it alone, her need for confirmation was stronger than her; "Running from something?"

A speck of anguish fleetingly shifted Winter's features before they abruptly rigidified again from the provocation. She didn't answer.

Maybe it was her own accumulated grief that caused such muteness to rub her the wrong way, but Robyn was simply unable to resist taunting a little further. "Having any success with that? Dodging what you're running from, I mean."

The soldier exhaled quietly; it looked like she was actively applying herself to keeping her composure. "Why are you here?"

On to business, then. "Got wind something was happening here and thought I could learn a thing or two," Robyn pointed towards the truck. "Although… y'all getting those parts manufactured in such a decrepit part of town and moving them at such an ungodly hour can only mean they're classified, huh? No chance you'll let me check out what you've been making, will you."

"Yet, knowing that, you haven't saved yourself the trouble and showed up regardless."

Robyn shrugged. "Figured that, should the sentries be supporters of mine, I might be able to sweet-talk my way in," she said, giving a wink.

Winter was utterly unamused. "And seeing me here, you still decided to give this asinine plan a try," she established, and as she said that, the incongruence of that decision made her frown; suspicion started to color her features.

Although Robyn very much felt that the snow-haired soldier was onto her little distraction and could only be on the verge of figuring out what was really happening, she opted to maintain her carefree attitude, if only to buy May a new extra seconds. "Well y'know. A girl has gotta shoot her shots."

Winter was visibly tallying it all up in her head. Her frown deepened. "Or… whether or not you convinced your target never mattered, as long as you kept them occupied." Her eyes sweeped the area quickly although she probably knew that she wouldn't see anyone. "Xiao Long, Belladonna," Winter gestured to both sides of the truck. "She's buying time. Distracting us while some of her teammates look around– odds are; they're masked by an invisibility field. Be on the lookout for anything stirring on its own."

With a synchronized nod, Weiss's teammates promptly circled the vehicle and relocated to different sides of it, effectively making it orders of magnitude more challenging for May to snoop around.

Welp, that fell through faster than she had expected. Having no idea if her friend had been able to ascertain the cargo yet, Robyn decided to press on. If May hadn't had the opportunity to investigate, all the work they'd put up until here would become null; backing down wasn't an option. Robyn forced her insouciant grin to linger. "Come on now, we worked real hard to find out about this shipment. Don't we deserve a little peek?"

Her gaze and tone were utterly uncompromising. "Desist. Or this will get ugly."

"You won't make it easy, huh?"

"That's literally my entire reason for being here."

Robyn gave a nonchalant shrug. "Hey, it's not like I wanna steal anything. I won't tell on you to your boss if you let me see."

"Out of the question."

As her capacity for artificial lightheartedness reached its breaking point, she felt her features lose tension, and precipitously, her front crumbled. "What's on the truck?"

"Classified."

They stared at each other unflinchingly, the air charged with everything unsaid and the adversity of their positions. As she stood a few feet from the woman she loved, for the first time ever since they started developing a bond, Winter felt like that thing she was trying to make herself out to be: an unyielding, towering fortress of ice, with her heart remote, sequestered to its core.

Utter stalemate.

Robyn sighed, her gaze drifting to the ground as she considered her options. Her head hung low with the burden she felt; the tragedy of the countless lives lost due to their government's utter callousness and of the weight of hope for a better tomorrow from all who were counting on her. She simply couldn't back down and go home empty handed. "If you won't talk to me… I'll do what I have to so I can find out what's going on," she avowed. Her eyes slid back up to meet the cold blue ones; the metal wings of her crossbow's limbs deployed on her forearm.

This succeeded in drawing some humanity out from behind the woman's stone mask; foreboding emerged. "Don't do this," she implored quietly.

"I won't have to if you'd just talk," Robyn reminded her.

The sternness that had previously hardened her voice gave way to a twinge of pain. "You know I can't do that."

"And I can't back down, I need to get something out of tonight," the blonde said. "And… although I will if I have to, I'd still rather not have to force my way through."

"You wouldn't get past me."

A wry smile split Robyn's lips as she squared up her position. "You refused to spar with me before."

Winter remained unmoving. "This wouldn't be sparring," she said. "I'd wipe the floor with you."

There was no doubt about the marked disparity in skill between them, but there was one thing Robyn did doubt: "You'd hurt me?"

"...Haven't I already?" She answered under her breath.

"Ouch," Robyn mouthed.

Regret fleetingly crossed her features; Winter's commitment to being the personification of a frozen wasteland was rapidly getting away from her. "Please, stand down."

Robyn considered this plea. She genuinely, wholeheartedly considered abandoning this admittedly foolhardy effort. She was almost compelled to listen. "I wish I could." Tugging on the mechanism hidden in her hand, a dust arrow nocked itself into her crossbow.

With this, something changed in Winter's gaze. It looked like inevitability. Her fingers prudently found the hilt of her sword. "You don't want to do this. Stand down."

"Believe me, I don't," Robyn said, "but I can't do nothing either." She took a deep breath and leveled her loaded weapon at her.

Any trace of diffidence Winter displayed melted away as it finally sunk in that there was no negotiating out of this impasse. She drew her weapon, entering en garde, and the short blade concealed within her saber fell into her left hand. Unsheathing both blades evoked a sense of irrevocability to the course of events, yet the soldier again ordered in a last ditch effort; "Stand down."

A drawn-out moment of tension kept them both still, gauging each other to see if this was truly going to go down. Robyn knew it was her move, being as how Winter was in the defensive position; she would sheath her sword should Robyn just walk away. When it came down to it, it was all up to her whether or not this was happening. The last echoes of good sense reverberated at the back of her mind; that she didn't have to do this, that she would have other opportunities to unearth precious information, that she was gambling much by instigating an altercation. Not to mention, Winter unquestionably had the ability to completely disable her in a matter of minutes. And yet, Robyn felt no trace of concern regarding any of that. She knew without a shadow of a doubt that the other woman would pull her punches and avoid inflicting real damage. She knew that she was free to ram against that wall of ice and hope to breach it briefly enough to get past her and get a glimpse at the cargo. "...Sorry, Winter."

The dust arrow took flight, yet its target had already bolted out of the line of fire. Glyphs formed, illuminating all corners of the dark street, and as a flurry of small Nevermores swarmed Robyn, Winter used one such glyph to slingshot herself forwards, spearing through the flock at senseless speed. Robyn could barely shield herself in time before the saber clashed in a horizontal slash with the steel of her crossbow's deployed wings. Still mid-air, Winter used the point of contact of sword against shield to spring herself into a counterclockwise motion; the back of her knee hooked around Robyn's throat and she hurled her to the ground. As Robyn rolled back up to a standing position, shots a few dozen feet away let her know that May hadn't succeeded at evading detection— the faint sounds of combat resonated, and Robyn could only hope that the two Huntresses who had been accompanying Winter wouldn't prove too much for May to handle on her own. Letting herself get distracted for a split-second by the parallel battle proved to be a mistake; the soldier had breached her space again, and Robyn struggled to parry slash after slash, Winter's unchanging expression behind the storm of steel she delivered serving a sobering reminder that this level of combat was no strain to her. For a second, it felt like Winter was toying with her, showing her that she was no match. Then, even faster than she'd been delivering her lashing, the soldier brought down her short blade, impaling Robyn's tattered scarf, pinning it to the wall she'd backed her into. Her left hand now free, Winter clasped Robyn's forearm and hauled her around, locking her into a submission hold as she slammed the taller woman's upper body into the wall. The strength concealed in such an unassuming body was astounding. Winter firmly wedged her shoulder in the middle of Robyn's back, crippling her ability to resist. Robyn half-expected to feel handcuffs click around her wrists, but they didn't come. "Why must you be so bullheaded?" The soldier admonished under her breath.

"Look who's talking," Robyn strained.

"I promised you that in time, you'd know the truth," she said. "Just be patient!"

"That's not good enough, Winter! Grimm are still wreaking havoc, and people are still dying. What the hell am I supposed to do? Fucking sit still and watch?"

Silence. Winter relaxed her grip. Robyn didn't struggle to get free; what use would it be? She knew she wasn't getting away unless Winter let her go. The snow-haired soldier exhaled sullenly, regret exuding from her being, and Robyn had the dim impression she might be getting through. Winter pressed her forehead to her shoulder. "We'll reinforce security."

"Fuck security, we don't need any more soldiers choking the population down here, we need to repair the outer wall and prevent Grimm from coming in in the first place! What we need are the supplies on that truck!"

"What's on it would be of no use to you," she insisted.

"So, what's on it?"

Winter didn't have the opportunity to answer; suddenly releasing her, she leapt a few feet back, narrowly avoiding the blade coming down on her. Her eyes found her assailant's. "Marigold."

May was rigidly locked into a fighting stance, ready to strike at any sudden move on the soldier's part. "Schnee."

Robyn tore her scarf free from the short blade still impaled in the wall next to her, quickly joining her friend's side.

Winter leveled her blade at the intruder. "It's been years. You look well."

"Never been better," May smirked. "You though… look right about the same as you always did."

"What a dreadful thing to say," the snow-haired swordswoman deplored, her expression monotonously even. "I'd like to believe that I've also flourished somewhat since our academy days."

May snorted. "From bionic woman to a glorified Paladin, you call that flourishing? Did they also swap your soul for a motherboard? Sometimes I really wonder."

Robyn's brow furrowed unevenly. Cracking a joke?

"Glad to hear you're aware that I do have a soul," Winter answered placidly.

"Right, huh? You really can make it easy to forget," the blue-haired rebel retorted.

The soldier remained unfazed by that; soulless was probably the tamest insult thrown her way this week. The two young Huntresses that had been fighting May joined Winter, flanking her sides and readying their weapons. Her pale blue eyes glided from one Happy Huntress to the other. She gave an aggrieved sigh. "Running around sneaking on classified military operations is the last thing an electoral candidate should be doing. Desist immediately, and I'll close my eyes to what happened tonight."

"You won't arrest them?" The dark-haired faunus asked in surprise.

"...I would rather not," Winter said, sparing a glance to her reinforcements. "A criminal record going into this election would not simply tarnish her campaign, it would make her constitutionally ineligible for office." Her gaze locked with Robyn's again, silently pleading. "I'm doing you a favor. Don't spit on it."

Just as expected. Robyn decided to be gracious and not to try the woman further. "Let's go, May."

Her friend acquiesced and raised an invisibility dome around the two of them, allowing them to vanish from the scene and conceal their exit. They jogged together a few blocks, a short lapse of time during which Robyn replayed again and again what had just gone down. She kept tripping up on the way May had spoken to Winter. It had only been a few lines, but that was more than her friend would spare anyone who she truly hated— not to mention, May was certainly not the type to banter with an adversary she despised. Robyn stopped in her tracks. A few steps ahead now, May stopped too, releasing her semblance as she glanced back at her questioningly. There was no way around it; "...You like her," Robyn accused in consternation.

Not unlike a child caught with her hand in the cookie jar, mortification crossed May's features. "I don't like her," she nevertheless bit back. "Still not into chicks here."

"I mean–" Robyn scoffed, her friend knew what she meant. "I don't mean in the same way that I like her, but you do like her."

"I don't like her!" May maintained adamantly.

"Bullshit," Robyn extended her hand.

May suddenly didn't seem so obstinate. She squinted dubiously, and then her whole face scrunched in distaste. Still, the contrarian queen that she was, she took Robyn's hand and allowed the aura to creep over to her wrist. "I don't like her!"

Maybe May had hoped that wishing hard enough that it wasn't the case would do the trick, but as Robyn had expected, her aura turned a glaring red; her friend abruptly took back her hand. "Why've you been so pissed off about her if you've actually fucking liked her all along?"

As there was no disavowing it anymore, May's features progressed to a pout. "...I—..." she sighed pitifully. "It's… I don't know, it's hard to explain."

"Well, try!" Robyn demanded.

"...She…" May trailed off, her features slowly losing their tension. As she wrestled with what she wanted to say, she slowly crossed her arms, almost as though she was hugging herself. "You don't know what it's like, growing up surrounded by these people," she muttered, staring at the tip of her boots. "The fake smiles and hypocrisy, and the self-importance and vanity. How they expect you to not just ignore the havoc they wreak on everyone who isn't them, but to join in with a smile. How much disgust they have for anyone who doesn't echo their narcissism. How they stifle who you are to the point of choking. You think you can imagine what it's like, but you don't know, you can't know how much of a toll it takes over the years."

With that, she took a second to gather her nerves; her eyes had watered, but she clearly didn't want to let emotion get the better of her. Her vulnerability seemed to frustrate her, and the rest came out in a heated burst. "But, she knows, Robyn," she snapped, pointing back towards the direction they came from. "It was killing her too, maybe not as fast as it was killing me, but it was killing her." She scoffed with disbelief. "So she– what the fuck, you know? How can she choose that cesspool? How can she choose to enforce Atlas' authoritarian bullshit like she wants those people to keep hoarding all the power? How can she protect these people's interests, or throw her weight behind the tin man and his militarist totalitarian bullshit? —I mean, it'd be expected she'd do that if she was a piece of shit, but she's not— we both know she's not! So, what the fuck is wrong with her‽"

All at once, everything fell into place in Robyn's mind; she felt downright stupid for not grasping it sooner. Her instinct had been right from the start— May did feel a sense of kinship with Winter, even if they'd never developed a friendship, and the thing was that… this sense of kinship was stronger than Robyn had ever anticipated. There might be no other person on the planet who had had such similar life experiences as May— they could in fact be called kindred spirits. And so… it was exactly because of this that May was angry with Winter for the path she'd taken. It must've felt like nothing short of betrayal, when Winter had made choices that were simply inexcusable to May. No wonder her friend was so aggrieved. "You expected better from her," Robyn mouthed.

"Exactly!" Her friend retorted vehemently. "She knows how they are, she knows better, she has no excuse not to be better!" Her hand obscured her face for a short moment as she rubbed her temples with her thumb and index. She brought her arm down abruptly in another flush of anger. "Fuck, Robyn! Mantle's at the end of its rope, we're dying here, we need help, we need capable people, and she— she's disgustingly good at everything she does— she could make such a difference! How the fuck can she side with the bigots, money-hungry fascists, and morally bankrupt dickheads, huh‽ How the fuck does she stomach it? How can she live with herself?"

Grabbing May's shoulders with both hands to stagger her riled-up mood, Robyn held steady eye contact. "But that's exactly it," she shot. "Winter's a good person, and she's far from stupid, and yet… yet, she chose this and genuinely believes she's doing the right thing. Doesn't it make you think that we might be missing something?"

This gave her pause. "What?" She wrinkled her nose. "But that's off. She chose to enlist like, ten years ago, it can't have anything to do with today's garbage."

"Why couldn't it?" Robyn posed. "You said yourself: when she was recruited, her attitude changed instantly. And when I tried talking to her about being recruited, all she would say was that she said that there was a job they needed her for— implying that her being Special Ops was just that— the job they've wanted her on since they recruited her." Having not connected those dots herself before now, Robyn paused, allowing it to sink in before voicing what they were both grasping; "This has been brewing for longer than we've known," she outlined. "What happened in Beacon and the coup in Haven… it could be that they've known for a long time that someone out there not only wants to throw the world into chaos, but is moving to do just that. If they've known, then it'd explain Ironwood's apparently hubristic military expansion, their building Penny… how Winter keeps talking of the greater good, right?"

"Why wouldn't they tell everyone we're in danger and openly campaign to defend the kingdoms if that was the case?"

"I… don't know," Robyn readily admitted. "I just can't imagine that Winter would have been so laser focused for so long without real cause."

She narrowed her golden eyes. "Ironwood could've lied to her about what they're doing when he recruited her."

"He could've," Robyn agreed. "But… ten years working for him, and she's got the highest security clearance there is. Don't you think that if this was all a sham for his power mongering ambitions, she would have figured it out by now?" She asked, maintaining level eye contact with her friend. "The way I see it, it can only be one of three things. Either Winter is a dupe, and she let herself be roped in and used by a dictator; or we're both dead wrong about her: she's actually evil, down with the autocratic state and complicit in it; or… we've been missing part of the puzzle, she knows something we don't and she is trying to protect the kingdom. Which one do you think is most likely?"

May hesitated as she weighed the options, but she didn't need to weigh them for long. She sighed, the lingering discontentment evaporating from her demeanor. "Okay. So… if we've been missing something, where do we go from here?"

"Finding out what was on that truck would've begun to answer that if it could've given us a lead about what they're doing," Robyn exhaled, releasing her friend's shoulders. "Did you manage to get anything?"

May shook her head lightly. "I didn't get much. Couldn't move stuff around too much without Blondie and the Cat spotting it. It looked like there might've been oversized turbines, like the ones for a ship like their main mothership. But I don't know why they'd need to keep it secret if they were just building another battleship."

All that for nothing.

Robyn shook her head— it wasn't nothing per se. If anything, she'd at least been able to get to the bottom of her friend's hurt-born hostility. "We'll get another chance to find out what they're up to. Let's go home."

May acquiesced with a short nod, and they strutted down the dimly lit streets of the outer edge of the city towards the middle ring where most of the city's bustling happened. Neon glowed dimly, indicating some of the businesses' late hour open status, their reflection in puddles and wet cobble making the area seem more alive than it truly was. Robyn eyed her teammate. "So… why didn't you become friends with her back then, if you've always liked her?"

May shrugged. "She wasn't exactly making it easy for anyone to be her friend," she dismissed, "and… on my part, lying to everyone about who I was really didn't put me in a mindset where I could make genuine connections, I think."

Robyn swung her arm around her friend's shoulders, obnoxiously bracing her against her side. "You'll get a second chance to make friends"

Remaining unconvinced, May half-heartedly tried to pry herself from Robyn's grip. "...You say that like you know for a fact that she'll be part of our lives."

Doubling down in strength, Robyn kept her firmly wedged into her side, leaning her head to hers. "Positive thinking, Sis!"

As they walked back down a busier street to their HQ, they passed by one of those giant projections displaying the woman who'd been the topic of contention. Winter was reciting a scripted message meant to assuage Mantle's population, one that fell on vastly deaf ears. Her impassive expression as she did so reminded Robyn of the very first time she'd seen her. The dignified impenetrability that was her public mask made her seem incredibly distant, and Robyn wondered how many people had even a vague sense of what lay underneath. She wondered if anyone even suspected that behind all those icy barricades, the woman was in fact endearingly tender. She wondered if, should Winter have let the general public see that side of her, she might have been less antagonized. And… if maybe, just maybe, that would have bettered their odds of being together.

As if May had a sense of what she was thinking, she pointed out; "She's still the worst choice you could've made logistically, you know?"

"Yeah, I know," Robyn concurred, also riveted to the projection. She then felt a grin grow on her features. "And yet… you still approve."

May lightly elbowed her side in response, rolling her eyes. "Shut up."

If Robyn squinted narrowly enough, the faint lights dancing on the ceiling from the street outside were reminiscent of the ethereal glyphs characteristic of the lineage of the woman who had utterly conquered her. She lay on a beat-up couch abandoned in the corner of the meeting room, mulling over what had gone down as May debriefed their teammates. The place was empty aside from the four of them, and it left Robyn the space she needed to contemplate the events of the evening. She turned on her side, replaying them in her head for the hundredth time; Winter's hard, uncompromising gaze, and the hints of sorrow lurking behind it haunted her. Robyn knew she'd hurt her— both by failing to respect the promised distance and by undertaking vigilante activities that'd thrown a wrench in their military operations. Paying no attention to the conversation happening around her, she pulled out her scroll to once more browse through all the unanswered messages she'd sporadically sent the woman. What difference would sending one or three more do at this point?

>about earlier, I didn't mean to put you in that position
> I just can't turn my back on the people who count on me
> sorry

To her surprise, the read notification appeared almost right away; usually, Winter resisted for days before she actually viewed the messages. Robyn could only guess that the woman was just as bothered by the events of the evening as she was. Encouraged by this, Robyn continued;

> thank you for letting us go
> I know it can't have been easy for you to do, so I want you to know that I really am grateful

Those messages were viewed too, but no answer. Robyn was vaguely aware of her teammates wrapping up, and she distractedly answered their goodnights, staying riveted on her tiny screen. Eventually a lingering presence claimed her attention; Fiona didn't make for the exit as the two others did. She appeared to consider what she wanted to do, but ultimately approached. Perching herself on the couch's arm rest near Robyn's feet, she looked down at her sprawled form. "How are you?"

"Hmm?"

"Well… she was there, and now you're…" Fiona gestured to her listlessness.

"She let us go," Robyn stated.

"Yes, May said that."

"She's not even going to report it, we're getting away scot-free."

"So I hear," Fiona concurred again. "Although… I can't understand why she'd do something like that."

How was that even a question? "Because she cares. About me, about what happens if I don't win."

Her friend didn't look all too persuaded. "You say that, but didn't it come down to blows?"

Realizing that May had been out of earshot and didn't witness what had caused the altercation, Robyn readily explained; "I'm the one who shot first, Fi." The events replayed in her head in minute details; the deep navy of Winter's leather glove as she wrapped her fingers around the hilt of her sword, the edge in her voice as she urged her to back down. Robyn felt a boulder in the bottom of her stomach. "I tried to stay minded, to stick to what we're fighting for, to think of the people who rely on us, and ended up picking a fight with her. And even though she warned me that she'd crush me… she… still held back. I don't have a single bruise, not even a tiny scratch. Oh, she made sure to brutally show me that she could in fact easily take me out, but… she didn't hurt me. I'm totally fine."

The way Fiona gazed at her was maybe a little dejected. "But you're not really fine," she gently pointed out.

Robyn's features tugged dowards. She didn't try to contend with the surfacing emotions; she wasn't going to push it down. Her team had insisted on the truth from her, they'd made her put it out there after all, so why hold back? She'd pretty much run out of strength to keep it in anyways. "I'm starting to get a sense of what she's been trying to tell me, that there's a grander picture to consider, but I just—" she felt her throat tie itself. When it came down to it, the political chess game; Robyn could deal with. "What really eats at me is that…. it just… hurts seeing her," she breathed. "May and I were watching her for a while. Weiss's teammates were with her, and I just—... forget that they probably know what's going on when we don't; it's how they were out there just chatting her up so… ordinarily. It made me… jealous. Can you imagine? Jealous of two random kids. But they get to be around her and she'll talk to them no problem." It felt so stupid when said out loud, Robyn laughed sourly. "For a split second, I almost thought… fuck it. I felt like I could give up everything I've been working towards if it meant she'd consider we could have a chance," she said, although this sort of confession would be grounds for her friend to legitimately freak out. Her gaze had found the dancing lights on the ceiling again, and she saw once more Winter's scintillating blue eyes behind the ethereal flowers she'd summoned, or how radiant her smile had been when she'd let her mask fall. It hurt. "I want her to look at me again like she did when we were alone, when we forgot for a second who we were and what we had to do."

The silence that ensued allowed self-awareness to jostle her mood, and Robyn cleared her throat, sitting up. "Sorry, I didn't mean to dump that on you, it has to be the last thing you wanna hear."

Fiona shook her head lightly. "It's okay," she said. "I'm here to offer you support, that includes listening to your feelings about her too."

Somehow, Robyn was skeptical about how truly prepared for that her friend was. "You wanna know how I feel?"

"Of course, Robyn."

"Really, though?"

Fiona cast her gaze down for a moment; she exhaled quietly. "You… love her, don't you?"

Admittedly taken aback by it being addressed so openly, Robyn could only rationalize that the short faunus needed to rip off the bandaid. "...Did May tell you?"

She shook her head. "No, it's… well, have you heard yourself just now? Not to mention… I've never seen you like this about anyone."

Touché. All of her team not figuring it out might've in fact been more astonishing. "I've never been like this about anyone," the blonde acknowledged.

Fiona didn't have any answer to that. In the silence that followed, Robyn studied her friend. Through all this, Fiona had shown a generous amount of goodwill and had been as open-minded as conceivable — maybe even more than had been conceivable. But all in all… she didn't seem fine with any of it at all. It was painfully obvious that she was trampling all over her own feelings to bolster up that kind of tolerance. Odds were that this would reach a breaking point at one time or another, and so Robyn figured that, while they were being honest, now was as good a moment as any to have this conversation. She had meant to clear the air about it for a while. "Do you still love me?"

Mossy green eyes remained leveled on hers. "I think I always will, one way or another."

What a roundabout way to say something while saying nothing. Robyn didn't flinch away from maintaining eye contact. "Do you still love me in a way that it hurts you that I feel this for her?"

This made her look away. Her fingers had found a loose thread coming undone at the edge of the arm rest she was still sitting on, and she idly fiddled with it. "...It stings," Fiona admitted, "but I've already made peace with the fact that it's never going to happen. I'm not what you're looking for and I know I'll never be."

That was a bold statement, considering that Robyn had never clearly known herself what she'd truly needed. "I don't think I ever knew what I was looking for."

To her surprise, Fiona had an answer to that: "Someone you didn't instantly know," she proposed. Maybe she'd had to come up with an answer over the years, for her own peace of mind. "You're good at reading people, you know people. No one really surprises you anymore," she said. "But… she did."

That much was indisputable. Winter, in all her frustrating contradictions, stood out from a seemingly two-dimensional world. "Hm." Maybe that had been the spark that Robyn needed. Of course, that surprise had only had that sort of effect on Robyn because they'd been pleasant surprises— because she admired and treasured what she'd found underneath Winter's public mask — and this precious truth of who Winter actually was, had indeed progressed her infatuation to something irrevocable.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the short faunus rise, stepping in front of Robyn.

Fiona had an unmistakable gleam in her eyes. "What if I did something bold? That would surprise you?"

Robyn exhaled quietly. "It wouldn't surprise me."

"It could distract you."

It was her own fault for having taken her friend up on that offer twice or thrice some years ago. But… the thought of any one else's kiss left a bland taste in Robyn's mouth, and the thought of anyone else's body against hers didn't just fail to rouse her, it made her want to recoil and shun its prospective warmth. Thinking of going through the motions of intimacy felt tedious, when it would have once upon a time have felt like alluring oblivion. When it came down to it, it had to be Winter. Truly, Robyn had never felt this way before. "Sorry," she breathed. "I don't want anyone else but her."

"She doesn't want you, Robyn."

There it was.

Robyn raised her eyes to her friend's. All along, Fiona had been fighting something ugly from surfacing, and now it was spilling out despite her best efforts. It'd been bound to come sooner or later. "You don't know that," Robyn answered.

"And you know that?" She shot back, resent starting to color her tone. "She pushed you away. She won't even talk to you."

"You don't know how things went down. It's not as simple as that."

"Simple or not, it doesn't really matter, does it? The result's the same in the end."

"It matters," Robyn said, feeling her cool slowly slip through her fingers. "She never said that she didn't want me, she said she couldn't want me."

"The result is still the same," Fiona repeated. "You're here alone, without her."

"The result might be the same, but the difference matters. You know it matters," she argued. At this point, she needed a deep controlled breath not to lose her cool. Why were they arguing about this at all? "What are you trying to do anyways?" she asked, although she already had a sense of what was going on. It wasn't like Fiona was hoping to change her mind or attempting to coerce her into sex on any level. Ultimately, the short faunus was simply lashing out from being hurt, hurting Robyn in return. "I'm sorry, I know it sucks— believe me, it sucks for me too, I'd much rather be feeling this for someone I could actually be with."

Her jaw set, Fiona didn't answer. What was there to answer? She looked both angry and miserable. Without a further word, she grabbed her coat and left.

Robyn sighed, falling back into the couch to a lying position. Absently, she picked up her scroll, going back for the millionth time to re-read the unanswered messages she'd sent over the last weeks. Scrolling to the bottom, she noticed the icon showing that Winter was in the chat. Had she been in there since Robyn had messaged her earlier? Or had she simply forgotten her scroll open? No, Winter would never leave her scroll just lying around unlocked like that, even should she be alone. Could she then be re-reading the messages, as Robyn periodically would? Or maybe even… considering answering?

Whatever the answer was… staring at the icon brought Robyn a sense of closeness. It was a connection— a space where they were together, albeit in silence.

For the first time, dots appeared, indicating an answer being typed. In shock, Robyn stared with wide eyes, her heart racing a million miles an hour. Predictably, the dots disappeared without any answer coming through. The icon indicating that Winter was viewing the chat disappeared.

Robyn was still completely gobsmacked. Winter was reconsidering her silence? Was she faltering? It felt like a glimpse of light at the end of a torturously somber tunnel.

Tbc

Chapter Text

She slammed her opponent into the ground and somersaulted backwards a few feet. Sweat rolled down her neck, further dampening her shirt as she waited to see if the brawler had finally capitulated. Winter exhaled in relief as Yang dragged one hand flat across the ground to tap out. She'd won, but in no way as comfortably as their difference in station would have forecasted. It had in fact been very uncomfortable; the muscles of her legs and arms screamed with the strain that'd been put on them. With the back of her hand, she wiped away the sweat trickling down her cheek, still catching her breath. "Good work, Xiao Long."

The young woman strenuously turned onto her side, wheezing her response; "Thanks, Ma'am."

"We're not on duty. Winter is fine." She walked over, and extended her hand to her opponent. "Are you okay?"

"Peachy," she croaked, accepting help to get back to her feet. Although standing, she remained half-doubled over. "Did you do your worst?"

"Yes."

"Huh," Yang glanced up at her uneasily. "I could beat you." The statement wasn't meant as anything other than outlining a fact; Yang was a far more gifted barehanded fighter than Winter was, and once the gap in experience was closed, they could both surmise that such a face-off would have a different outcome. The girl managed a half-grin. "You won't get away so easily next time."

Easily? That hadn't been easy at all. More importantly— next time? Winter hadn't agreed to that. Although… it was good training for herself too; stripped of her semblance and weapon, her victory had come only with her best effort. Yang was taller and heavier, markedly stronger, and yet still nearly as fast as she was. Winter had banked on that narrow edge in speed along with her vaster combat experience to gain the upper hand. In the end, she'd won through an economy of movement, making her opponent exhaust herself while conserving her own energy. That strategy had an expiration date however: Yang had caught on as the match had progressed, but it'd simply been too late by the time she'd realized; she was pretty much running on empty and couldn't recover from the lead Winter had gained. With that lesson learned, however? The blonde brawler would certainly come at her very differently should there be a next time, and Winter would need to draw on new strategies. Although… she knew all too well that it wouldn't be too long for that edge in experience to stop mattering. Yang was simply better at this type of combat than she was. And maybe that was just all the more reason to keep training with her. "Still no aura, no semblances, no weapons?"

"You got it."

Winter hummed non-committedly; she was predisposed to arranging further training matches, but didn't want to promise anything given her increasingly busy schedule. Instead, she found herself gauging the girl; she didn't look all too zesty. "Do you need water?"

"Uh, not right now, I'd throw it up." And like saying it might speak it into existence, she seemed to be hit with a wave of nausea; Yang opted to lay on her back, letting out a queasy groan.

She watched the girl's already pallid face take on a greenish tint; she'd clearly pushed past her limits to keep up with Winter. "Do you need a bucket?"

The younger Huntress draped an arm over her face, blocking the light of the room. "I'll be fine."

Winter, feeling nonetheless obliged to see to her well-being, sat down next to her. In the silence that followed, she found herself considering team RWBY's skill. Ruby herself was so talented that she had skipped a full two years ahead and still saw herself named team leader; Blake had, as a White Fang operative, undoubtedly survived more dire field circumstances than the average Huntsman would in their lifetime, and that was before she had even stepped foot in Beacon Academy; and Yang? She'd just proved that she could hold her own against the very best warriors of the largest army in the world, even being six years Winter's junior. Little wonder that with such fearsome teammates, Weiss had grown so much— she would have had to if she didn't want to be dead weight, left in the dust.

Yang's voice, now markedly less feeble, interrupted those reflections. "You'll be at the electoral debate this Thursday, huh? Penny said you two are gonna manage security."

"So we are," Winter confirmed. Was the girl looking to schedule their next match so soon?

Yang moved her arm to peek up at her; her cheeks having already regained a somewhat healthier color. "This means you're gonna be seeing your massively hot buddy, huh?"

Warmth flushed her at once. This again?

"I'm talking about Robyn Hill."

"I know."

"All the serious candidates have to be there. So she's bound to be there, right?"

Winter sighed grievously. "Doubtlessly."

"What's your plan? Like, to swipe her off her feet."

"There is no plan."

"You don't need one, huh? You think it's already in the bag?"

Winter decided she hadn't heard that. As a matter of fact, she refused to look at her meddlesome self-appointed interviewer at all, hoping that maybe, if she tuned her out entirely, it would discourage her from pursuing this line of conversation. Winter could, however, still feel Yang's point-blank stare.

"You were right by the way, she really is hotter in person," Yang said. "I could see what you meant about the way she smiles. Totally confident and sorta playful, the kind of smile to make ladies swoon."

It was painfully obvious that Yang was offering such commentary in an attempt to provoke a reaction, and Winter refused to give her the satisfaction. The question arose as to why she was simply brushing off Yang's pestering instead of firmly shutting it down, but the answer clamored loudly from the recesses of her mind, already plainly within reach; Winter liked hearing about and talking about Robyn. It was as simple as that. That was all there was to it. Or maybe not all. Winter had to admit that it was somewhat cathartic to have an outlet for what she felt; a space in which this attraction that was eating her alive was capable of being acknowledged. All this really was stupid simple, and Winter hated it, yet it was the reality of things.

Failing to provoke any engagement, Yang moved on. "I gave some of those tabloid articles a read, and wow, oh boy, I get why Weiss wanted to disappear from here and chose to attend Beacon. Your family is all over the gossip magazines and blogs," she mused. "Ain't nothing any of you can do without it being talked about on social media. Doesn't it bother you?"

"I don't pay it any heed."

"Really? Even though you come up this much?— Do you know how much you come up?"

"I know." Being a public figure meant that the media was relentless.

"They don't like you at all. At least Weiss has some good press if only 'cause so many people love her singing, but you… they really don't like you."

"They don't."

"They say you have no soul."

"That is the rumor."

The blonde propped herself up on her elbows. "They talk about you like you're not even human. Doesn't it bother you?"

"It doesn't."

"Huh." Yang picked herself up to a seat fully. Bruises speckling her skin from their duel had already begun to fade away thanks to her aura. "I guess Robyn must know it's all a crock of shit, huh? Since you're friends and all."

Was she ever going to move on? "We're not."

Yang grinned widely. "Come on now, I was standing right next to you! The way she talked to you? That was way more chummy than just being 'acquainted'," she said. "The lady really tried to press your buttons."

"Robyn is the sort who would see a beehive and think it a good idea to poke it with a stick."

Yang laughed. "Just asking for trouble, huh?"

"It's in her nature."

"Okay, okay," she waved with her mechanical hand as she settled somewhat. "So… even if you don't wanna say you're friends, between this and what you were explaining the other day, it still sounds like you understand pretty well how she thinks though. You must've gotten a pretty good feel for her, huh?"

The memory of how Robyn's breasts had felt in her hands made her fingers tingle. "You could say that."

"She'd put this much effort into taunting someone she couldn't care less about, you think?" Yang's grin returned.

Winter felt an eye twitch. "I don't know where you're going with this."

"Come on, you know exactly where I'm going with this," she teased. "I even think that you know that giving it a shot could… lead places," she wiggled her eyebrows, "if ya know what I mean."

If only the girl knew what an understatement that was. Winter knew she'd reddened a tad; she prayed it went unnoticed. "You and I aren't on familiar enough terms for this conversation."

Maybe it was knowing that Winter wouldn't hurt her further that emboldened her to keep going. "Sure, but you know, you only become familiar enough to have these chats with someone by starting having these chats in the first place," she said. "It's a catch twenty-two." Winter was displeased and made no attempt to hide it, yet Yang's eagerness was in no way doused by being scowled at. "Heh? Whaddya say?"

"What I've already said; I will not have this conversation with you," the soldier repeated, still determined to avoid engaging. "And where are you finding the nerve to be so unremitting? What happened to being scared of me?"

"You're not that scary once we get used to you," she said. "Also, now that I know how much you could actually hurt me if you tried your best, I can take my chances! It's a calculated risk."

Winter had no words.

"So, going back to Robyn—"

"No." Deciding that her sparring partner had recovered enough to be abandoned, Winter stood, heading to get her water bottle at the edge of the combat area.

Yang promptly rolled to her feet, following her. "Come on, why don't you wanna talk about it?"

"Because… this," Winter gestured to designate the blonde's chafing enthusiasm. "There's nothing to be spirited about; it's unrealistic to think that such a relationship could be."

"But it's not like she's straight and your likelihood of you scoring is zero," Yang countered. "Although it will be zero if you don't put yourself out there. Which means you can't sit back and do nothing, you should at least try!"

"No, I clearly shouldn't," she argued back. Having reached a saturation point of exasperation, she was incapable of staying committed to her avoidant strategy. "I've painstakingly explained already why Robyn simply can't be brought into the know, so don't you realize how much of a conflict of interests involving personal stakes would be?"

"You mean, it's all about your job?"

"Of course it is! How was that not crystal clear already?"

"Well y'know, finding someone hot doesn't necessarily mean you're interested, so you could have just… not been interested," Yang pointed out. "But, you actually really are, and you're only holding back because of your job, huh?"

Elementary logic, and yet Winter had not anticipated being exposed by such a nuance. She stood there, completely baffled.

The young woman gasped exaggeratedly. "You are!" And as Winter was too dumbstruck to react, it dawned on Yang that she'd actually stumbled onto the contentious truth. Her face fell; "Oh my god you are," she mouthed quietly, all traces of amusement gone.

"That's—" Her throat tied itself. She tried to shake it off, finally grabbing her water bottle. "It doesn't matter. It can't happen."

Yang watched her, something akin to sympathy surfacing. "Maybe for the time being, but… you said yourself that once Amity is launched, Robyn could become an ally. That's a couple of weeks from now, right? So it totally could happen."

Hearing out loud what she had tried to avoid telling herself eroded at Winter's resolve, and she eyed the young woman, feeling herself somewhat swayed.

No.

There was still the maiden situation. Yang didn't know that Winter was next in line to become the winter maiden, she didn't know what was at stake beyond immediate partisanship. Even if Robyn did become their ally mere weeks from now, could she really be trusted to be Winter's successor should the worst come to pass? Robyn would certainly use those powers for good, but… would she lend them to the General? It was too likely that a difference of viewpoint would lead Robyn her own way, taking the maiden powers with her. Winter blinked rapidly, trying to get a hold of herself again; focusing on the gentle sway of the liquid visible through her glass bottle. The tornado in the pit of her stomach filled it entirely, and she couldn't bring herself to drink. "It's not as simple as that."

"How?"

"Because it's not." She didn't want to say more as there was no way she would tell Yang about inheriting the winter maiden powers when she still hadn't told Weiss. "Now, let it go."

"But what's not simple?"

A frown formed itself on her features and her eyes fluttered shut in exasperation, mustering her iciest tone; "Let. It. Go."

"How am I supposed to, now that I know you're getting in your own way like that? When you could have a totally amazing girlfriend already?"

It was then that something else became apparent to Winter; "At any rate, why are you speaking as if this is solely dependent on me? As if, should I make advances, they would indubitably be well received?" It was irrelevant that Robyn actually did reciprocate; it baffled her that Yang was assuming as much. "What has you so convinced that she could even reciprocate interest?"

Yang seemed to be confused at this being put into question. "You're asking seriously?"

"Yes."

"Uh… duh?" The blonde designated Winter top to bottom with a sweeping gesture of her arm. "You're a ten."

"And Robyn comes off as shallow to you?"

"No, but looks usually can get the ball rolling, then you go in and seduce her with—... with, uh…" Yang realized as she was speaking that she didn't know her nearly well enough to finish that thought. "Your… uh— spectacular sword skills. Oh! Amazing vocabulary! …err…" she grinned unconvincingly, "maybe your… charming personality?"

Winter squinted one eye; the girl was mocking her, wasn't she? "Do you know when to stop talking?"

"Why wouldn't she be interested though? You've got brains and looks, you're a successful career woman, and it seems to me like you're a good person. You're a total catch."

"I'm military— in fact, I am the very antithesis of what Robyn stands for. And you've said it yourself; I come up often in those tabloid magazines; given the general public's opinion of me, it's not entirely evident that anyone would think of me as a desirable prospect," she reminded her. "Besides, maybe Robyn likes bubbly women who have a pleasant disposition."

"Nah," Yang didn't think that over even a second before shooting it down. "You're totally still in the running 'cause that's definitely not her type."

How could she be so confident about this when she'd never even spoken to Robyn? "Why would you say that?"

"Just look at the job she chose, campaigning to overhaul the entire kingdom, and what she's doing with her free time, running around, dropping in on classified military operations. No, yeah, you're good. Simple and easy clearly isn't her thing."

"Are you calling me complicated and difficult?"

Yang put her hands on her hips. "You're being difficult now, getting hung up on that."

Winter was now legitimately vexed.

"You said it yourself, looking for trouble is in her nature. And going for you would be trouble all right."

After having just called her complicated and difficult, was this another unabashed dig? "Trouble because of our respective political positions, or because of my personality?"

"I mean…"

How realistic would a cover up be if Winter were to strangle her right then and there?

Yang was either oblivious to her mounting hostility or she just didn't care. "And even if you weren't so painfully obviously her type, you can't just decide on your own that this isn't happening without at least shooting your shot. Maybe you'd even be surprised at what she's into." Yang then gasped quietly, as if at a sudden revelation. "Oh my god, what if she has a thing for women in uniform?"

Winter felt the back of her neck flush with heat— now she certainly was visibly blushing. Oh how she missed the days when the girl was intimidated by her. "You're threading a dangerous path, Xiao Long," she cautioned.

She didn't heed the warning; "Ooh, arrest me Ma'am, I've been a very bad girl!"

Winter felt her glass bottle fissure under her grip.

That was it. Strangling it was.

She cast her bottle aside and breached the girl's space, but before she knew it her back hit the floor, the wind knocked out of her.

Yang hopped from one foot to the other, her fists loosely guarding. "Try me again," she challenged, "I said I'd win next time."

Painfully peeling her back off the ground, Winter threw her a scowl, assessing whether or not she truly wanted to strangle her enough to engage in combat again. Yang was a real handful, and how had she already recovered anyways?

"I thought you would be done by now," a voice unexpectedly interrupted Winter's calculations. Blake stood at a safe distance on the edge of the mats, arms crossed.

The vision of her felt like a godsend; a sorely needed respite from this emotional rollercoaster. "We are," Winter shot, frustrated. "Take back your insolent windbag."

Blake eyed her girlfriend with dread. "What did you do?"

"Nothing," Yang candidly contested. "Just making friends, you know?"

"Is that what you call hounding me about my personal life?"

"You mean your would-be personal life if you went out and actually did something about your crush."

Winter stood abruptly. "I will hurt you," she threatened, glyphs forming around her.

Now that the playing field wasn't level anymore, Yang retreated behind the dark haired faunus, probably banking on Winter not tearing through an innocent party. Said party looked horrified that her girlfriend dared such taunting.

"It's not her fault," Blake said, "she's an idiot."

"Hey! Wait a—"

"Yang," Blake cut in. "You went too far. She's angry for real."

This revelation finally seemed to douse her impishness, and Yang scratched the back of her head. "Sorry."

Having already been struggling to weather the whole Robyn situation, this had been the last thing she'd needed, and Winter didn't have it in her to reign in her ire and accept the apology just yet. She stormed past the two younger Huntresses and headed to the locker room, practically tearing her sweats off before making for a cold shower. The shock of it instantly did wonders for her mood; it genuinely, literally cooled her head. As her blood pressure gradually went down, she fixed the temperature to bask under a gradually warming stream, her thoughts meandering back to what had just gone down. As much as she hated to admit it… it still felt somewhat liberating for her attraction towards another woman to be acknowledged with such normalcy. Part of her was undeniably thankful that that space had been opened— even if it meant she should be exposed to mortifying ribbing from Weiss's friends. The sensation was almost physically unburdening, not unlike how she had felt when coming out to Weiss. She exhaled deeply, that conversation floating back to the surface as she started washing herself. Weiss had put into question how rigidly Winter had been living her life, making a case of why she would be attracted to a bold and extroverted personality such as Robyn's.

With how long she'd humored Yang just now, it was clear to her that Weiss had been right. Winter was starting to leave some of her rigor behind. It had been her saving grace when she'd been spiraling directionless through life; when she had yet to make herself useful, when she wasn't yet a decent warrior; or when she had still been afraid to face what was inside her. Hardening herself had gotten her through, and had earned her the honors she'd reaped. But… she was starting to realize that she'd stopped needing this level of rigor a long time ago. Her desperation was behind her; she had a purpose now, and time had lessened her turmoil such that she'd been able to embrace her truth. And now, the rigid way she led her life was starting to feel… restrictive.

Her eyes fluttered open. Why censor her inner monologue? It wasn't simply restrictive, it downright felt like a prison; a prison of her own making.

Slowly coming to terms with this realization, she donned her uniform. Drying her hair with a towel, a notification on her scroll ousted her train of thought; the General wanted to see her?

Setting her ruminations aside, she promptly made herself presentable. She tried to tell herself that it couldn't be an urgent matter — he would have called if it had been — so she didn't have to worry too much about it, but anxiety still stirred in the pit of her stomach as she hurried to his office.

"Ah, Schnee," he remained focused on his paperwork, motioning for her to approach, which she did. It took a few seconds for him to put aside what he'd been doing, and when he did look up at her, surprise crossed his features before he gestured to the corner of his mouth.

Winter brought her gloved fingers to her face; a bruise from a punch Yang had landed hadn't finished healing and it was still sensitive to the touch. "Nothing to be concerned about Sir," she said. "Sparring with Xiao Long."

A smile sketched itself through his beard. "You're getting along well with your sister's team, then."

Given how infuriated she was moments ago… "That's arguable."

His smile grew slightly toothy. "An impromptu match, then? As you've had with Qrow?"

Oh, this really was going to haunt her forever. She felt her ears burn. "...A planned match, Sir."

The General still looked quite amused. His mood had been better since RWBY, Qrow, and the rest had landed in Atlas with the Relic of Knowledge. There was a lot to be relieved about and thankful for; the reinforcements, the Relic itself not being in Salem's hands, the news of Salem's chosen maiden having been killed by Raven Branwen. Of course, they had to assume that Salem had groomed candidates to take over, and that one would still be coming for the Winter Maiden powers, but… at least Salem had lost the Fall Maiden powers; her new warrior was starting from scratch and wouldn't be as seasoned as Cinder Fall had been. It was likely that Qrow's twin had bought them some invaluable time in which they could complete their project of reestablishing communication between kingdoms. It was no wonder that the General was smiling again, and it made her all the more reluctant to destroy his mood by confessing what had been brewing with Robyn, when he'd had such a hard time since the Fall of Beacon.

…But maybe that was something that she wouldn't have to worry about, if it was why she was in his office. Might as well rip the bandaid right off. Winter cleared her throat. "Sir, what was the reason for my being summoned?"

That got him back on track. "I needed to touch base with you," he said, his professionalism returning. "As I understand it, you've spoken to Dr. Polendina about the transfer device. About how Fria's condition might interfere."

"I have, Sir."

"Are you reconsidering your position?"

"I am not, Sir."

A touch of relief surfaced. "It would be appropriate for you to do so, given the risks incurred to your personhood," he reasoned nevertheless.

"I'm not reconsidering my position," she reaffirmed, "only the means of transfer."

He leaned back in his seat. "Is that so?"

"I would abhor being wasted," she explained. "I was concerned about the possibility of Fria's illness passing on to me when our auras merged. If it were the case that the merging may not solely compromise the integrity of my personhood, but also that of my rational mind… then I would become useless, and would need to be sacrificed at another's hands in order to safeguard the powers inside a warrior of sound mind. Which is why I have considered that it may be better for me to… terminate her myself. It might be more prudent."

"Indeed. Why have you not brought this to me?"

"There would have been no need to add to the piling list of things for yourself to concern yourself with should the transfer of the powers through the device pose no risk to my rational mind. Dr. Polendina is almost certain there would be no risk."

He nodded thoughtfully. "Almost."

She knew what that meant. Almost wasn't good enough. When she'd been recruited, the transfer machine was still nothing but a prototype. Although the General had always hoped for it to become functional in time to guarantee the transfer of powers in a more humane way, he had been upfront about what may become a gruesome necessity. "I'm prepared to do what I must, should it come to this."

The General's level gaze remained on her for a thoughtful moment before he turned around in his chair, contemplating for a while the vast landscape of the kingdom they held their duty to. Finally, he stood. His steps as he walked around his desk to join her were leaden with the weight of difficult decisions. "Then… it may in fact be better for you not to use the machine," he acknowledged. "All the more so with what addition to your arsenal having the capacity to summon a maiden would be."

There was silence.

Given what may have to be done, she'd known from the start that her semblance had undeniably factored in selecting her for this destiny. He'd never said it until now, but she'd known all along. Although there was a caveat that she'd never voiced; while it was true that any being that died by her hand would come forth equipped with whatever weapons or armor they carried when they expired, it was entirely up in the air whether or not this applied to something as intangible as the Maidens' powers.

"Sir, with all due respect, I wouldn't stake anything on my capacity to summon Fria as a fully realized maiden," Winter said. "Nevermind something as misunderstood as Oz's magic, I don't even know if we can use fallen foes' semblances should they be called forth."

"Then find out."

Even having told Weiss's teammates that things got ugly in war, that they would undoubtedly be called upon to perform unsavory tasks, this demand still took her aback. Maybe it was because of the sharp edge in his gaze; something akin to the intransigence of his semblance. Winter felt something she didn't like creep into her heart.

"I know how distasteful this is, don't think that I don't know what I'm asking of you," he said, as if having sensed her emerging apprehension. "I would normally never ask you to transgress such lines, but… these are not normal times," he quietly reminded her. "We need to know what you can do."

This was true. His plea didn't make her feel any better about it, but her disquiet had never stopped her from obeying, and the knot in her throat didn't prevent her from pushing out the words; "Yes, Sir."

He gestured for her to proceed.

"... Now, Sir?"

"Now's as good a time as any."

"Very well."

The summoning circle drew itself in front of her, and her eyes fluttered closed. There was a familiar pull on her aura as it was fed to the ephemeral being she reached to pull from the unknown. This felt different than when she bound to a Grimm; she didn't know what it was, but the sensation was different. She abhorred it. She didn't know if it was because she found it horrifying to bring forth the dead, or if it was simply because it was a legitimately disgusting sensation, but it felt… slimy. It tasted rotten. She wanted to get it over with. She hoped that she'd fail. She didn't want to be able to use their semblances; she'd rather this avenue be a dead end.

The festive bustling around her did nothing to enliven Robyn's mood. The closer the election, the more febrile Mantle became to be represented at last, and this enthusiasm was palpable in the overcrowded tavern. Robyn's mind was, however, elsewhere. Citing exhaustion had proven enough to garner her some peace to nurse her drink alone, even through this impromptu celebration. Gesturing to the bartender to top her off, she couldn't help thinking that Winter would absolutely hate knowing she was drowning her misery this way. Robyn shrugged off the thought; a lot of people would, sporadically, numb bothersome feelings with altered states of mind; it didn't make it a problem, not unless it became habitual or impacted their capacity to function day to day. Making this argument to no one in her head, she sipped at her fresh drink, returning her gaze to the crowd. Her eye was immediately drawn to an element that stood out conspicuously from the jolly ambiance. The way the woman carried herself as she slithered amidst the drunken chaos of the crowded tavern told of the self-assurance of power, something atypical of the Mantle population, yet also of an affinity with the grime of the undercity that one wouldn't see in disdainful Atlesians. She didn't belong, and Robyn wondered if that was all there was to the sensation of her being so off, or if it was something else that made her so unnerving. Whatever it was, she was about to find out, as the stranger was heading her way.

The color of her one eye, a fiery gradient of golds and reds, contrasted with the uniformly dark attire in which she was clad; reminiscent of smoldering remains of ember amongst ashes and cinders. Suffocating, toxic darkness swathed her as the woman took a seat next to Robyn, it permeated the air such that being in her presence felt akin to sinking into a pit of tar. It made Robyn's skin crawl.

"The people's champion."

A subtle foreign accent. Completely unsurprising. What Winter had said about illegal ships still finding their way into Mantle, about any given traveler illegally crossing Atlas's borders possibly being the one who'd been sowing chaos and discord through the kingdoms passed through Robyn's mind. "That's what they call me," she nevertheless acquiesced, watching the stranger order herself a drink.

"Given your notoriety, you're harder to track down than I had imagined."

She'd been looking for Robyn; also unsurprising from the way she'd cut a path straight to her. What did come as a surprise was that, now that she'd spoken a little more, Robyn felt like she had heard her voice before. "My folks are protective of me," she said, mindful that the stranger had located her anyway. "Which begs the question: how did you know to find me here?"

"I'm… persuasive," the corner of her lips curled into a subdued, but decidedly sinister smile.

A chill coursed down Robyn's spine as her disquiet over this ominous character was precipitated tenfold. Never before had she felt such an urge to be rid of someone; she couldn't help the edge in her voice as she spoke; "Is there something I can help you with?"

The dark-clad woman hummed lowly. "I think we can help each other."

"I doubt it."

"You haven't even heard my proposal," she deplored in a mock-wounded tone.

"And I won't," the blonde shot back, gesturing to the room around her. "Every single person in here wants to tell me how to run my campaign, I don't know what makes you so special that you could bend my ear."

Her contrived smile stretched a little wider. "For one… I can offer you more than any single person in this kingdom," she said, inching closer in her seat. "Power. Influence. Control."

Robyn remained focused on her drink, careful not to react. Was the woman an emissary from a foreign criminal underworld? From one of the various mob bosses established in Mistral? Or maybe from one or another bandit king roaming Sanus? Did this mean that foreign powers planned on meddling with their elections? Either way, lending any of her time to such a dubious envoy didn't seem wise. "I'm not looking for shortcuts. Thanks."

"I'm sure I could change your mind if you heard me out," she slowly traced the rim of her glass with languid fingers, "privately?"

Robyn eyed the woman up again. The way the woman gazed back at her, with her smoldering eye burning with vested self-interest and a crooked smile on her lips, screamed of a personal agenda. This was that kind of proposition alright. Whatever that woman wanted, she had no qualms about resorting to any means to get it. The blonde exhaled softly. Even if the stranger's interest wouldn't have had ulterior motives, Robyn wouldn't have been tempted by this offer. Nevermind that the secrecy and danger oozing from the dark figure was the very opposite of what she was attracted to; even if she had been her type… only one person ever stirred Robyn anymore. "I'm flattered, but uninterested."

Being shot down so indifferently finally fazed her; it seemed that she wasn't used to her charms bearing no effect. "Oh? Are the rumors unfounded?"

As if the only reason Robyn wouldn't want her would've been being straight. Holding back a grimace, Robyn tugged up on her scarf, burrowing her chin in it, maybe in a desire to hide away. She had an inkling that her unwelcome company would perceive being turned down as a challenge, and the prospect of fending off duplicitous advances aggravated her leagues more than just indulging the stranger's initial reason for approaching her. "It doesn't matter," Robyn shot. "Whatever. I'll hear you out; what was that about helping each other?"

A flicker of displeasure in the woman's eye told of how she felt about the abrupt way Robyn glossed over her advances, but it seemed that winning her ear was enough to overlook that. She picked up her glass, allowing the strong scent of alcohol to fill her nostrils before she sipped from it. "You want to change the status quo; I can help with that."

"If you want to volunteer, I have a whole network dedicated to my campaign, you don't have to come to me directly," Robyn said, though she knew well enough that this was undoubtedly very far from what her present company had in mind.

Indeed, it amused her. "Oh, darling," she exhaled contemptuously. "I'm talking about real change— a short term, expedient solution."

Robyn became very still. There was no misunderstanding that the woman was proposing violence. What extent and the details of her ploy, however… Robyn wouldn't get to hear unless she signaled that she was either on board, or at least interested. With this in mind, she took a moment to make it seem like she was earnestly weighing the poorly-veiled subtext, then cautiously shifted closer despite her instinctive aversion to the unsettling individual. "I'm listening."

Said individual gauged her in return, maybe trying to determine the true level of interest Robyn held. Either Robyn had put up a better front than she had imagined, or the woman was so disinterested with the human heart that she failed to notice its subtleties; she bought that Robyn had elected to seriously hear her out; "Don't get me wrong, I applaud the intentions that drove you to campaign, and I don't doubt that you'll get the popular vote, even win that seat," she started, "but realistically… Do you really think the other council members will be amenable to the agenda you'll bring or to the projects you'll want to implement? And if you do have any luck at all with getting other council members on board, how long do you think it'd be for any change to take effect? For the population's suffering to be eased even an ounce?"

Robyn felt her features sour. She knew well enough that she had her work cut out for her. She knew well enough that every single inch she would gain would need to be fought for with blistering effort, and that it may be years for anything to get better. "And so what's the better solution?"

"Grind the entire machine to a halt, Atlas will be brought to its knees. You have the network, you could make that happen," she said. "You need to remind them that they rely on your work."

That probably was what it looked like from the outside. The truth was that the city of Atlas was extraordinarily well designed, and, should any crisis befall it, should it for any reason be entirely isolated, it could function as its own autonomous ecosystem. Sure, the population wouldn't be able to maintain its current lavish standard of living — resources and work extracted from Mantle was what enabled the opulence even while allowing reserves to be amassed for leaner times — but the fact of the matter was still that Atlas was self-sustaining. Meanwhile… Mantle could barely make end's meet, it had no stocked up provisions— and it couldn't even live off its own work! The vast majority of the workforce was mining, refining ore, or toiling in warehouses; there was virtually no food produced in Mantle. They historically had relied mostly on imports negotiated through Atlas, which were significantly constrained by Atlas' isolationist policies of the last three years. At the moment… the entire kingdom was heavily dependent on Atlas' fertile soil, artificial climate, and greenhouses.

When it came down to it, should Mantle strike, they'd start dying well before the city in the sky felt even a twinge of discomfort. Of the two, it was Mantle who couldn't afford the stalemate, and clearly, this outsider knew nothing of this or the internal workings of this kingdom's administration. Robyn put aside the idea of laying out these crucial misconceptions; the reason she was listening to her to start with wasn't to establish a workable plan together, it was to find out if the woman could be a menace or not. "You're telling me to organize and lead half the population of the kingdom into a strike, as if no one ever thought of that. Even if that was worth it, let alone possible, I'd just be doing all the work. What do I need you for? Where do you come in?"

"A strike?" She scoffed. "When does that ever work? I mean revolution— for which you'll need some muscle. And I have what it takes to disable their…" the last word she said with unbelievable disdain; "elite."

Robyn narrowed her eyes. "You think you can take on the Ace Ops?"

"Small fry."

"What about Ironwood's sword and shield?"

"His two puppets?" Her voice dripped with scorn. "Toys. So easily broken."

Penny's torn body during the last Vytal tournament floated through Robyn's mind, and she refused to let the image transform into Winter. "Let's say I believe you; that you can take any of them on. Why would an outsider like you get involved? What do you get out of it?"

She shrugged nonchalantly. "I'm sympathetic to Mantle's plight."

What utter bullshit. "Sorry, but you really don't strike me as the altruistic sort."

The dark-clad woman leaned back, taking a moment to sip her drink. She pursed her lips in displeasure. "Seeing the Atlas upper-crust sit on their gilded asses rubs me the wrong way," she said, more intently.

That sentiment Robyn could tell was true enough, but it still wasn't the actual motivator. It wasn't good enough. "You know who I am, so you must know what my semblance is," she said. Ignoring the visceral instinct screaming not to touch the almost certainly poisonous creature, she extended her hand. "Either you tell me the truth, or this conversation is over; why would you do this for us? What do you really want?"

Her one glowing ember of an eye stayed riveted at the outstretched hand in a moment of pause. To Robyn's surprise, she ultimately decided to let herself be tested. Curiously, the woman curled her right hand over Robyn's extended left instead of mirroring the handshake motion the way the average person usually would. Robyn's eyes fell on the short cape that concealed the stranger's left side, getting an inkling that it may have concealed a missing or mangled arm.

"So what do you want?" Robyn repeated.

"Something that belongs to me," she said. "Ironwood is keeping it under lock and key in his high tower."

Green. Robyn's eyes slid up from their joined hands to the stranger's features. Now the pieces were falling into place. The kind of revolution that the stranger was proposing would generate enough chaos to compromise the floating city's airtight security, allowing for a skilled enough person to slip into the military complex. That woman would help topple a government in the kind of revolution unseen since the Great War just to get that thing of hers? "What is it?"

"It doesn't matter. It should be mine."

Green again. Although… 'should be'; Robyn noted; didn't speak to the man having stolen anything from her, only to her genuinely believing that –whatever this thing was that the General had in his possession– it was meant to be hers. Robyn released her hand; she had a feeling that pressing for more details would lead nowhere, and she frankly couldn't handle the contact with this unnerving character any longer.

The woman must have read this as her being satisfied, maybe even swayed to her side by truthful answers. She smiled again; that vicious, vindictive smile, scooting a tad closer. "Don't you wish that change would sweep over this kingdom already? For those out of touch pieces of shit who're willfully blind to the poverty and misery rife in their sister city, to get a taste of the suffering that the people they depend on to live their filthily lavish lifestyle experience?" She pressed. "You could bring them down, forcefully rub their face in what they've refused to look at."

The malice with which she spoke gave Robyn another bone-chilling shiver; she reached her breaking point, unable to humor her another second. "Forget it. Even if we weren't the ones who'd pay the heaviest price if we attempt that bloody revolution, uplifting Mantle doesn't have to mean destroying Atlas. We can prosper together. We'll do this right," Robyn retorted staunchly– maybe a tad overly combative, but the woman made her feel so on edge. "You want your thing back? Get it yourself. My people won't move unless I tell them to, and we're not going to war with Atlas."

Although her features barely twitched with subdued scorn, what the woman exuded was suddenly so hostile that it felt like something downright catastrophic was about to happen. In the moment of pause that followed, Robyn steeled herself for the worst.

Fortunately, maybe for not wanting to draw attention to herself by assaulting someone as notorious as Robyn, the woman opted to desist; "your loss," she hissed quietly, taking her leave.

Robyn exhaled a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Although the woman was gone, it felt as though something thick and uncomfortable still shrouded the area she'd occupied. It was reminiscent of the black vapor residue that lingered in the air when Grimm disintegrated, and Robyn couldn't shake off her disquiet. Not least of all, she could still swear she'd heard that voice before, although she was certain she'd never met her—one wouldn't forget a woman like that. Had she been in the media? Not on screen, Robyn would have remembered. But on the radio? A broadcast, maybe? Robyn gestured to her three teammates keeping an eye out from afar.

"Who was that?" Joanna asked, leaning over. "She was hot."

"I didn't get her name." What use would it have been when the stranger would undoubtedly have fed her a fake identity? "Gave me the creeps, actually."

Her friend's eyebrows twitched up. "You think she's up to no good?"

"Definitely sounded like it." Robyn felt compelled to glance back, get a visual on her again, but the woman had vanished. Foreboding took a hold of her, but she quickly reasoned with herself; the people of Mantle wouldn't gamble their lives on a foreigner's deranged ideas. Nevertheless… Robyn had never sensed malevolence from any one person so clearly, so one couldn't be too careful. "Could you put a few tails on her? I wanna know if she stirs shit."

"On it," Fiona nodded, producing a holographic screen.

A loud crash tore through the ambiance of the pub, followed by an alarming roar and some screaming outside. Robyn and her crew didn't have to exchange a word, in the blink of an eye they were fighting the Grimm pouring into the streets. Adrenaline quickly cleared the alcohol from her blood, and it seemed it did the same for the handful of freelance Huntsmen who'd been in the tavern. As they spread out in pairs to cover as much area as possible, Robyn couldn't help reflecting that this was so many more beasts than a normal breach would allow in, it almost felt vindictive.

"Where the hell is the robot?" May seethed, her back against Robyn's.

"Probably on one of those shipping routes," Robyn grunted, more angry than ever about whatever the military was hiding in the middle of the tundra.

It was about a dozen combined kills in the one street that the two of them were covering before they seemed to be able to take a breath, although the sound of distant fighting could still be heard. Robyn felt sweat drip down her chin as she tallied what was left of her ammunition and reorganized it; they would need to move out quickly to help others.

"Watch out!" May called.

Robyn turned just in time to see a Beowolf tearing itself from the shadows of an alley. Expanding her aura and bracing herself for the impact, her eyes widened as it was mauled mid-jump by another Grimm— a translucent, white Centinel. How fast her heart soared at the thought of seeing Winter again made the disappointment more bitter than it had to be as her eyes found the glyph from which the ghostly beast had emerged. Wrong Schnee; disappointment washed over her as two tiny girls jogged their way.

"Are you okay?" The red-caped little Huntress called as they joined her.

Robyn put on her best nonchalant air. "Look it here, if it isn't Pipsqueak and Schnee 2.0."

Weiss didn't like that; despite having just come to their rescue, she pointed her sword at Robyn. It was remarkably similar to the ghostly ones that Winter had shown Robyn, evoking the girl's admiration of her older sibling.

"2.0?" Weiss repeated, "2.0 version of who? My father, or my sister?"

Robyn laughed. "Sorry, I did mean that referring to your sister. I wasn't trying to insult you."

Weiss was visibly surprised. It took her a second, but she lowered her weapon, puzzlement coloring her features. "You know Winter."

"Who doesn't." Robyn gestured to the twenty foot-high projection that was looping a pre-recorded message from the woman in question.

"... No," Weiss narrowed her eyes. "You know Winter. Personally."

"Making groundless allegations, are we?"

"They're anything but groundless. You knew that I would have felt insulted, of all things, should you have been likening me to my father. Only my team or my siblings would know that— and Whitley would never have divulged that I felt this way," Weiss outlined. "It has to be Winter."

"...Alright," the tall blonde gave in, "so I do know her."

At this, Weiss and her partner glanced at each other for a second. "Winter never mentioned that you were friends," she said with caution.

"Eeeh, friends isn't really the word," Robyn dismissed offhandedly, at which May rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.

"I see," Weiss said, although she clearly didn't. She still looked confused.

"Since you're here, is the cavalry not too far behind? I'd love to say hi."

"Say hi? To Atlesian forces?"

"If it's your sister," she grinned.

"Who you're not friends with."

"Friends would be such a misleading word, you know?"

Now Weiss looked peeved. "Do you always answer so obliquely?"

"Politicians make entire careers of it," Robyn pointed out.

The short lady pursed her lips. "How aggravating." Saying that seemed to give her pause. She shook it off. "Either way. This kind of drudgery is beneath Winter's station."

That didn't sound like the words of a woman who had assigned herself to grunt work, taking up guard duty just days ago. "Did she say that?"

Weiss cleared her throat before taking on a defiant air. "No, but my sister's an important woman, she can't be expected to patrol the streets and respond to

run-of-the-mill Grimm threats," she declared.

Robyn laughed. "Sure, that's true."

With this, almost on cue, almost as if speaking the word had summoned them, a new wave of Grimm stampeded down from the other end of the street. Weiss and her teammate whirled around and took defensive stances with Robyn and May, ready for combat. Out of the corner of her eye, the tall blonde kept watch as the red and white pair engaged the monsters, monitoring in case the two young Huntresses whose formal training was cut short got overwhelmed. Instead she found herself vaguely wondering what Winter thought of her sister's very effective but unorthodox style.

The girl somersaulted onto a white glyph and, with the help of a black glyph, flung a nearby abandoned SDC truck into a Grimm. Out of nowhere, a twister of rose petals spirited the white-haired girl away, out of the trajectory of another monster's impending attack. When they re-materialized, Weiss did the same thing; hurled another truck —again a Schnee Dust Company one— into another beast. Seeing her using the third and last such vehicle on the street as a shield solidified Robyn's suspicions that the snow princess was deliberately culling the SDC assets.

As the dust settled and the inky vapor of Grimm residue dissolved, Robyn eyed the girl amusedly. "Say, are you destroying your Dad's property on purpose?"

Weiss blushed. "They're armored trucks, they make for better protection than other vehicles," she said, puffing her cheeks lightly. "Besides, Father has the means to readily replace his property, unlike Mantle citizens."

That was thoughtful of her. "So… it has nothing to do with your personal feelings?"

Weiss pursed her lips. "And so what if it pleases me to inconvenience him?"

Robyn laughed again; she liked this other Schnee too. "Geez, you really are a little rebel, aren't you?"

At this, Weiss's gaze immediately snapped to her, and she came to a full stop. An air of unsettlement had taken over her features. "Did you just—... what did you just say?"

"That you're rebellious?"

Weiss opened her mouth but didn't find her voice. Her eyes, very much the same frosty blue as her sister's, bore into Robyn's as she seemed to try to ascertain something beyond Robyn's grasp. She looked undeniably apprehensive as she finally asked; "Have you, perhaps, said something along those lines to Winter?"

Robyn's heart jumped; a nearly uncontainable surge of joy flushed over her. If Winter had been quoting her to her family, then she was doing the very opposite of moving on, and that was great news, wasn't it? "She mentioned that?"

In response, Weiss's expression progressed further into disbelief. "Are you kidding me…?" she mouthed under her breath.

"Sorry, what?"

The tiniest Schnee took a hold of her composure. "It's nothing."

Robyn frowned unevenly. "Didn't look like nothing."

"No, it's nothing— it has to be," she dismissed, although she didn't appear to be all too convinced of her own affirmation.

Beeping on both the girl's scrolls interrupted the moment, and Ruby produced her device. "It's over," she said. "Marrow says to head back where we were dropped off to get picked-up."

Her partner nodded, although she threw Robyn another dubious look.

With a motion as implausibly fast as her semblance, the immense scythe folded itself into a compact rectangle. Ruby beamed at both Happy Huntresses. "It was nice meeting you again!" She said, although their one and only prior meeting had been when Robyn and her team had tried to get the jump on them out in the tundra. "I hope you win!"

"Thanks," Robyn grinned almost despite herself. Those kids were disarmingly lovable. "Hey, you should come celebrate with us at the electoral after-party when I win. Bring your friends."

"I will!" The red little thing excitedly waved as she started jogging away.

"Wait, Ruby," Weiss gestured to her partner as she turned towards Robyn. Again, she had that analytic glint in her eyes as she stared at Robyn, as if she could gouge the truth out of her. "Earlier. About Winter. What did you mean by 'friend isn't really the word'?"

Robyn raised her eyebrows. Creeping up on her was the impression that she had, somewhere along the way, betrayed the truth. "We're not hostile if that's what you're asking," she explained conservatively.

Weiss's tone was uncompromising; "But if friend isn't the word, then what is the word?"

There was no way around it; the girl somehow knew. "I don't have a word," she answered. "Maybe you should ask your sister."

"Oh, I will," Weiss promptly shot back. As the two short girls made to leave, Weiss glanced Robyn's way one last time, looking her up and down in an appraising fashion. Then, and only then, did she disappear.

Robyn felt her friend's presence as she joined her, standing at her side.

"She's on to you," May said.

"Clearly," Robyn answered, vaguely wondering if Weiss had meant to be so transparent about her questioning, or if the girl simply didn't have a poker face. "Although… Winter wouldn't have said anything about me specifically; she's been hellbent on trying to pretend nothing ever happened."

"True enough, not to mention that Weiss was surprised that you two knew each other," May rejoined, "but…Winter must've said something, 'cause Weiss right there? Oh, she caught on."

"Looks like." With this, it occurred to Robyn that… for Weiss to catch on at all, it meant that Winter had to have come out to her. Good on her for finally mustering up the courage. "Welp," she shrugged. "If Weiss really does bring it up to her, maybe Winter will finally talk to me."

"Dunno about talk... maybe yell."

"I'd gladly take that over silence."

"Sucker."

"Yeah," she sighed, turning her gaze to her scroll beeping with new messages. Two of her informants tailing the dark-clad woman had been killed by Grimm, and the others had lost her in the confusion.

She felt dirty.

Although it had lasted but a few minutes, although she'd had hours to shake the sensation, it wouldn't leave her. It was the same repulsive shiver that shot up one's spine when touching a dead body. Winter didn't doubt that one could grow accustomed to this, as people didwith any unnatural thing, but… for the time being, she was still overwrought. She closed the book she had been sifting through, picking up the next one off the piles she had amassed.

In the wake of what she had done, in her need to grasp some sort of understanding of the limits of her semblance, she had speculated that there could be forgotten knowledge on her lineage somewhere in the oldest tomes of their library, which was how she'd found herself there. But after hours of reading and a dozen books littering the work table, she was no closer to finding a single lick of useful information. Her attention drifted to the almost two dozen books she piled up on the table she still had to go through. For a moment overcome with frustration, Winter groaned, slumping back and letting her head dangle back off her chair. A small chuckle startled her —she hadn't realized she wasn't alone— and she promptly straightened up, recovering her usual poise as her eyes found the intruder's.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to laugh at you," Blake approached. "It's just that that was so… Weiss-like. I guess siblings really do rub off on each other."

"Hm." Her eyes drifted to the conspicuous void next to her. "You're alone?"

"Yang is sleeping already," she explained. "Training with you took more out of her than she let on; she was out like a light hours ago. And Weiss and Ruby picked up an extra patrol shift in Mantle, as you certainly know, so that leaves me…" she shifted the pile of books in her arms, "on a quest to find something to read."

"Our digital library is readily available on your scroll and vastly easier to browse."

"I like the feel of paper," the faunus answered. "It seems like you do too," she designated the books littering the desk.

"My preference is for efficiency," Winter corrected. "But my hands are tied; these tomes have yet to be digitized. I have no other option than to search for information the old fashioned way."

Blake had started to look at what books Winter had amassed, moving one just enough to read the title. Or maybe not; she seemed to be admiring the weathered leather of its cover, charmed by its texture. "What are you looking for? If you want efficiency, two pairs of eyes are better than one."

"I wouldn't want to bore you."

"I was already bored and looking for something to read," she pointed out in response. "Let me be useful."

Winter considered the offer. There was no need to be wary of disclosing sensitive information; team RWBY was in the know. Besides, Blake was a level-headed young woman —a far cry from that pest she called her girlfriend— so the prospect of her company didn't bode to be abrasive. Winter pushed a pile of books in front of an adjacent seat and gestured for the faunus to join her. "I'm looking into my family's semblance."

Blake looked delighted by the prospect of combing through volumes older than herself. Putting aside the novels she had been carrying, she took the offered seat. "What exactly about your family's semblance?"

"In truth, what I'm looking for probably doesn't exist," Winter said, almost more to herself. That wasn't helpful; she shook her head. "Anything that isn't common knowledge will do."

The dark-haired faunus opened a book. "Is your semblance evolving?"

"Not that I'm aware of."

"Is it Weiss you're researching for, then?"

That got her interested in her newfound company. "Has she mentioned changes?"

Blake waved her hands in front of her. "Oh, no, I'm just… trying to get a better sense of… why you're doing this and what we're looking for."

Winter leaned back thoughtfully. She didn't want to bring up the Maiden powers just yet, but she did need to expose her problem at least halfway if the young woman was to be of any help with this. "Are you aware of the manner in which Weiss and I obtain summons?"

"Grimm you've encountered, right?"

Cool blue orbs remained on the honey-colored ones. "Is that what Weiss told you?"

Blake's ears twitched, understanding she had gotten it wrong. "To be honest… Weiss hasn't said much about that ability at all. Back in Beacon, she wasn't able to summon yet and so she focused on teaching us about what glyphs she could use," she said. "We haven't caught up on theory since we reunited, so… that's what I gathered from the summoning I saw her do."

"I see."

"I take it it's not just Grimm you can summon, then?"

"Indeed. We can bring forth beings as insignificant as bugs we might have squashed, or ones as consequential as Grimm we've vanquished," she said. "Any living being can be within our reach, soulless or not."

Blake frowned. "Even humans and faunus?"

"If the condition is met," Winter acknowledged, wondering if said 'condition' had been obvious enough in the way she'd outlined her previous answer.

As Blake attentively gazed back at her, it seemed to Winter that her sharp mind had indeed caught on. Nevertheless, the faunus asked cautiously; "And that condition is?"

"The being must meet its demise by our hand," Winter said, at which the young woman's features sombered, although she didn't appear surprised. "We earn the capacity to call upon them only by taking their life."

"So… what, do you mean that you… literally take their lives? They become yours?"

"No, no— our semblance isn't anything as transcendental as that— we aren't stealing souls or anything of the sort," the soldier explained. "More accurately, something happens at the time of death where an imprint of that being's essence is preserved within us. That imprint is a unidimensional snapshot of them. Which means that when we call them forth, it's nothing more than a hollow image; a puppet outfitted with their likeness and capacities. It isn't really them."

"I see," she exhaled, her apparent unease abating. One of her cat ears flicked as she processed the information, her gaze searching for nothing on the table. "Still, seeing the dead reemerge like that… it's chilling to think of," her golden eyes darted back to the cool blue ones, apologetic. "Sorry."

"Don't be, you're right. It is," Winter acknowledged.

There was a short moment of silence in which the young woman gauged her, or maybe it was what had just come to light that she contemplated. "I don't understand," she said eventually. "Your semblance is famous, since it being hereditary is otherwise unheard of. You'd think that an ability as dramatic as making the dead manifest would be just as notorious."

"If it isn't, it's by design," Winter answered, to which she was met with confusion. "Think, Belladonna. Pure white, friendly Grimm; it's fantastical, almost enchanting to see the embodiment of evil become instruments of protection. While… should the whole truth be known? Is there something more unholy than raising the dead? That's not what we do, but it's how it would seem to any onlooker," the soldier shook her head. "You said it yourself; it's chilling. And it would, at best mean we might have been seen as something to fear, as outcasts, or at worst… it could have meant the extinction of our line through 'witch hunts'." One such occult book in the piles she hadn't gone through yet caught her attention briefly. It still wasn't inconceivable that her lineage may be discussed in such a fashion. She turned her attention back to the faunus. "The public doesn't know where Grimm come from, they don't know about Salem; so they imagine that we're simply calling the beasts from the unknown, from wherever they originally come from, but as allies instead. Better let them believe we're casting that manner of magic."

"Right."

Winter closed the book in front of her and traded it for the next one. "Besides, even if we hadn't made a conscious effort to be discreet, it's likely that it has been generations since the general public has seen what grotesque limits our semblance can reach," she rationalized offhandedly. "Weiss and I descend from a long line of Huntsmen and Huntresses— it's Grimm they guarded against, so most of our forebears would have only had Grimm in their arsenal; they couldn't have called on the dead all too often, as Huntsmen and Huntresses seldom have blood on their hands."

"True," Blake's voice wavered. Her hands curled loosely and she brought them in her lap, as if hiding them under the table. It spoke volumes.

Winter gazed at the young woman, considering if it would be for the best to leave it unacknowledged. Given the subdued way Blake had instinctively withdrawn, this was likely very fresh. Winter remembered all too well how harrowing dealing with the aftermath of that first experience had been, and maybe that was why she didn't want to see someone else trapped in silence and torment. "Don't be ashamed," she said quietly, drawing a surprised gaze to her. "It feels counterintuitive, but protecting life will mean making such sacrifices at times."

Blake looked like a deer in headlights; either she'd been unaware of how obvious her reaction had been, or she was shocked that this sensitive topic was being addressed outright. And fair enough, putting it out in the open was certainly overstepping, as Winter didn't know if the young woman was ready for it to be discussed with someone she didn't know all that well.

No matter; what was done was done.

Winter leaned back in her chair. Finding comforting words had never been her strong suit, but Blake had just recently commended her for being 'a judicious, no-nonsense person', and that was something she could attempt to offer her. "If it's do or die, you should never be ashamed to have chosen to live— or to have chosen to protect those dear to you," Winter reiterated. "Your assailant was the one who valued his life so little that he forced matters to come down to this."

For a fleeting moment, a twinge of pain wrinkled her features; Blake cleared her throat with difficulty. "How do you know how it went down? Did Weiss tell you?"

"She didn't mention anything," Winter established, in case it'd been something about which her sister was sworn to silence. "It's only that… self-defense is usually how it goes when someone like you commits an act such as this."

Her eyebrows twitched into a light frown. "...'Someone like me'?" she repeated.

Maybe it was for a history of having been discriminated against that the faunus tripped up on the phrase, so Winter clarified; "A good person." Hearing these words directed at her, Blake's cat ears flattened backwards and some discomfort crossed her features, at which Winter narrowed her eyes. "Belladonna, having had to do this doesn't make you any less of a good person."

The young woman seemed to shrink even further. "I… guess that I know that objectively, but I still feel…"

"I understand," Winter nodded. "But… when it comes down to it… we are warriors. Tragedy is an integral part of our trade, which means it's an everyday risk that we must accept. If we refuse to take that on, we come to a standstill; either we cannot fight anymore, or it will eventually cost our lives, our teammates', or those of the people we're meant to protect."

For a moment, the young woman let what had been said sink in. She then raised an examining gaze back to the soldier. "...It sounds like you've thought about it a lot."

The insinuation was plainly evident. "As one who has had to pose that desperate act does," she acknowledged, having never meant to conceal that she was speaking from experience. "It never truly leaves you."

"...Does it get easier?"

"The grief that comes with it? Or subsequent occurrences?"

"Th-the grief," Blake quickly said. "You've had to do it more than once?"

"A few occasions."

"Oh."

"I'm first and foremost a military officer; I respond to a vast number of threats beyond Grimm infestations," she reminded her. Although Grimm were definitely every fighter in Remnant's daily bread, so to speak, Atlas military stood as an auxiliary to police forces as well as a first responder to man-made perils beyond their own borders, between any of the other kingdoms' jurisdiction. Places where ruthless, remorseless criminals and bandits parodied law with unspeakable violence, and listened to nothing else in return. Winter sighed quietly. "... Both get easier," she said. "Time heals wounds, the horror of it abates. As for the act…" her sword hand had clenched into a fist, she made a conscious effort to relax it. "Although never painless, it did hurt a little less every time I have had to. It's grievous to say, but one can acclimate to anything."

There was that acute glimmer in those honey colored orbs. "Is that why you don't think you're a good person? Because it has gotten easier for you?" Blake ventured, and in response to Winter's obvious surprise she explained; "Earlier, you said 'someone like you', as if you were different."

Leave it up to the bookworm to pick up on such a subtlety. Although this differentiation had been subconscious on Winter's part, although she hadn't meant to put herself in a different category, the fact of the matter was still that Blake had rightly picked up on what she'd unintentionally conveyed. "I don't think that I'm a bad person," she thoughtfully answered, weighing her words. "But... I am who will do what must be done so people like Weiss and you don't have to," she said. "Whatever that makes me."

Decidedly a little troubled, Blake couldn't hold eye contact anymore. She considered this in silence for a long moment, idly thumbing the pages in front of her. Leaving her to it, Winter returned to her reading, but was soon interrupted again. "Aren't you worried that this sort of mindset could lead you down the wrong path?"

Winter raised her gaze back to her. "Not as long as I'm part of the military hierarchy," she said. "The swordsman is the one who must contend with difficult decisions. The sword is just a sword."

This didn't seem to sit all that well with her. "You're fine being just a weapon in the General's hand?"

"This is what enlisting entails," the soldier pointed out.

Blake frowned deeper. "But what if you disagree with his orders?"

"Then I must wrestle with those feelings in private; and ultimately, duty must prevail. Each chess piece can not question the mastermind, otherwise the entire military structure collapses."

Her cat ears were rigidly pointed up, making her look quite defiant; she evidently still couldn't agree. "What if that decision turns out to be the wrong one?"

Winter exhaled quietly. "What if Ruby Rose made a decision that led to an adverse outcome? Would that mistake nullify your trust in her?"

Silence.

"No one is perfect," Winter mused. "But we have made a choice to follow the leaders whom we do follow because we trust that they have the greater good in sight. And that is especially important to remember when these leaders are faced with a set of circumstances in which there is no good or right answer."

Blake hummed, apparently thinking this over. Unbeknown to Winter, she was in fact ruminating more broadly over the entire conversation. She returned an observant gaze to the icy blue ones. "So…you explained all this about summons because that's why you're looking into your semblance? You're thinking of summoning someone that you've…?"

"I have already."

Mild shock rounded her eyes. "But…why? I mean, you're the one who said it's a horrifying thing to do, so why would you do it?"

A legitimate question to ask. Winter shook her head dejectedly. "Honestly… the first time, morbid curiosity," she admitted. "I was still torn up over the first life I'd ever had to extinguish, and I imagine that… it was part of my grieving process." As the ghost had stood there, waiting on her command, her ghoulish, empty eyes had been seared into Winter forever. A repugnant chill coursed through her in an echo of what happened earlier. "It was a sobering experience, and the sensation of feeding her my aura felt abject; I never wanted to do it again— I never did… until today, that is; the General asked me to." As mild indignation was visibly overtaking Blake, Winter went ahead with explanations before this devolved into another debate on the topic of subordination. "From the moment our semblance manifests, we are warned against transgressing that line— against calling upon the dead. Doing such a thing has been a forbidden domain for generations, and it is becoming clear that critical knowledge about our capacities was lost to history," she said. "Given the times we live in… this is unacceptable. We need to know all the variables. If every single thing goes wrong, we need to know what we can throw at Salem."

As she'd listened to the explanation, Blake's manner had swayed somewhat amenably. "Aren't Grimm better weapons to rely on than…?" She nevertheless asked.

"That's what one would think," Winter acknowledged. "But… I discovered today that I'm able to use their semblances."

It didn't register right away. "You… can manifest someone else's semblance through yours?"

"Isn't it ghastly?" Winter mused wryly. "Not only do we appropriate the deceased's guise and turn them into puppets, but we can even make use of something so intimately linked to their individuality and personhood. It truly gives them something over which to turn in their graves." She shook her head; she didn't want to make it seem as though there was no cost to such a grotesque feat. "Although it's enormously taxing. It felt as though if I wasn't extremely careful, it would deplete my aura entirely."

"So, having found that out… what else are you looking for?" Blake asked. "What else could there be?"

The snow-haired soldier hummed thoughtfully. "Realistically? I'm hoping to find would-be records of my ancestors' prowesses, or better yet: fatal errors. If, for instance, any of them expired from the use of our semblance, and what exactly were they doing that led to their demise," she outlined. "Now, unrealistically, what actual answers I would like to unearth… those are probably nowhere to be found." She grabbed the first book she had gone through that evening, one that detailed some of the most powerful semblances dating as far back as the Great War. Records from before that historical landmark were too few and far between to be considered anything other than hear-say, and thus to be included. It was also why, although her semblance had been passed down for well over three hundred years, the page to which Winter opened the book held a family tree spanning but a few generations, down to the picture of her mother as a child. More of her ancestors could probably have been included, but since the names and pictures were listed along with the skills acquired by each individual, it would have been irrelevant to include what couldn't be verified beyond the Great War. "As you know, semblances often grow as a warrior matures. My family's semblance… has grown through generations, building on the acquisitions of each dedicated warrior through the years," she pointed to how, as the generations got closer to the present time, the list of skills possessed by her warrior forebears grew longer. "This means that Weiss and I could be capable of previously unimagined feats. Although it goes without saying that no book could forecast our yet undeveloped abilities, I still hoped that patterns may emerge if researched thoroughly. I also hoped that… I may find a lead resolving two pressing questions regarding our summoning ability."

"Which are?"

"For one; picture a catastrophic scenario in which I am on death's door. Logically, asking my sister to take my life, she should have access to all my capacities as a warrior," she outlined, and as understanding dawned on the faunus's features, Winter knew that she didn't have to finish her thought, but she did anyway. "Does this mean that she has access to the full array of my semblance, including the arsenal of summons that I've accumulated? And should she have access to them, then what about using their semblances?" If such a grisly situation of familicide had ever arisen, the memory of it had been lost throughout the oral account of teachings that'd been passed down to the present generations. This specifically had been the thing which she had hoped to find traces of in the books she had amassed. Because, despite the taboo, she had a hunch that at least one person in her ancient family tree may have resolved to elucidate this mystery. As for her second question, answers she had no hope of elucidating but looked for anyways; "And above all: what of Oz's magic?"

Blake brought a hand to her mouth. "Maidens…"

"Precisely."

"I can't imagine that even with the capacity to summon a maiden, you could actually have the full range of that maiden's powers like you would a semblance… could you?" She questioned, almost incredulous. "I mean, it's probably way too much… isn't it?"

"I don't know," Winter shrugged lightly. She didn't want to haphazardly believe that such an absurd feat was within her grasp, but a less grandiose idea did ring true; "It feels to me as if, should I be able to summon Qrow, for instance, he would self-evidently retain the ability to turn into a bird. This is a capacity that Oz granted him, so why would it be any different for maiden powers?" Winter sighed, putting aside the family tree she had shown Blake. "Although… if how draining it was to use another's semblance through mine is anything to go off of… if we did have the ability to summon fully realized Maidens, using that power would almost certainly deplete our aura in a matter of seconds. It would indubitably be suicidal to attempt it."

With that said, silence filled the room for almost a solid minute.

"This is… a lot," Blake said.

Winter gave a nod. "Be it as it may, it remains nothing but speculation until we find anything potentially useful," she gestured to the books laid out before them.

"Better get to work, then."

They didn't exchange another word for the next hour, combing through books diligently, taking notes and marking any page that could be remotely useful. Only when the stiffness in her shoulders and neck started to ache did Winter detach her eyes from her work. She rolled her head to stretch her sore muscles, kneading the base of her neck with one hand. She found herself gazing at the faunus. Upon their first meeting, with the young woman dressed in blacks and leathers, Weiss's description of her as a bookworm had seemed ill-fitting, but it now seemed very appropriate— truly night and day with her boisterous and troublesome partner. Vaguely, Weiss's comment of those opposites attracting came back to her.

"You're staring," Blake's voice broke her from her trance.

"So I am," Winter acknowledged. "I was contemplating the vast difference in nature between you and your partner."

"Yeah, about that… I meant to say sorry about Yang. She does mean well, even if she can be a lot sometimes," Blake said, her cat ears flattening some. "She really didn't realize that you were actually angry and not just annoyed. I think she's just so used to how easily irritated Weiss gets, she didn't think twice. She keeps lumping you together like you're just an older version of Weiss."

Winter shook her head. "However much of a pest she has been… I didn't resent the way she badgered me. After cooling my temper, I found that it was unexpectedly cathartic to be able to address this dimension of my life so candidly."

"Oh," she smiled lightly, "well that's a relief."

She cleared her throat. "I would however appreciate it if you could abstain from mentioning that to her. I still would rather she did not double her efforts."

The faunus laughed. "I'll spare you."

A vague smile briefly sketched itself on Winter's features in return.

Blake blinked, a somewhat bemused air emerging. "You don't smile very often," she said. "I don't think I'd noticed until now— I guess it makes it more obvious that you don't when you finally do."

Winter returned her attention to the book in front of her. "I suppose you may take it as an attestation of the excellent quality of your company."

That gave her pause. "That's… not sarcasm, is it? I can't tell."

Maybe her tone had been too plain, she glanced back up at the young woman. "It was not; the compliment was genuine."

"Oh," Blake mouthed, "thanks." Although subdued, flustered surprise still visibly colored her features. "Weiss will be ecstatic to hear you actually like at least one of her friends."

"Indeed," Winter acknowledged, dread starting to creep up on her. "She may very well become insufferable about it."

"Should I 'abstain from mentioning it to her', then?" She quoted, amused.

"That would be your prerogative."

"You're the one who said she'd be insufferable."

"I am not the one rooming with her."

Blake laughed again, a tad louder this time, and promptly remembered that, although it was late and they were alone, this was still a library. Her outburst had visibly taken her aback; clearly, she hadn't expected to laugh so candidly at anything Winter could say. She frowned lightly, her smile lingering. "You're full of surprises," she mused.

"It seems to be the general consensus about my person," Winter reflected, almost more to herself.

"Since we're being candid… can I ask about something?"

With a vague gesture, she signaled for the young woman to go ahead.

Fiddling with the pen she'd been taking notes with, the young woman seemed to be thinking over her words for a moment. "You said that I was a good person earlier without batting an eye," she said, but didn't actually articulate a question.

Given the segway, Winter understood that, somehow, Blake had found that surprising. "Has that been bothering you?"

"I mean, you barely know me."

"I know enough."

"Because you trust Weiss's judgment?"

"That holds some weight, but it isn't entirely why," she acknowledged. "Notwithstanding it being more than obvious in the way you spoke of your time in the White Fang, nor the compassion that your concerns about the situation in Mantle and the prospect of Robyn coming into power demonstrates… on a more personal note…" Winter took a second to formulate her thoughts, staring pensively at her present company. "As you previously outlined, when Weiss first wrote to me about being placed in a team with you, I did know who you were. I also knew that you would have been more than justified to make her life hell," she said. "But… you made nothing of history and were willing to see past our father's… wretched ways. You gave her a chance for who she is. Setting aside tribal ties to judge an individual based on their own merit; who does that these days?"

Blake hummed, and a cat ear flickered. "I wouldn't give myself so much credit," she said. "It's not like I'm this bigger person who'd decided to give her a chance regardless. If I could do it, I think it's because… well, because it's Weiss."

"Meaning?"

For a second, she hesitated. "Can I be blunt?" She asked, obtaining a gesture of Winter's hand to proceed. "If I had met you first, I don't know if I…" she trailed off. "I'm not saying I don't like you," she quickly added, "the opposite now that I know you a little, you're actually way easier to talk to than I—..." Blake shook her head. "It's that… your composure is seamless— you're like a steel wall, and when I first met you, I found you incredibly daunting. And… I think that, if I hadn't known Weiss, and that that had been my first impression of a Schnee, I might have taken that as a… confirmation of… well, faunus, just like Mantle citizens tend to think of… err… the Atlas elite is…"

"Haughty and callous," Winter outlined, making her shrink some. "No need to mince your words, I know that people think such of me," she dismissed. That blunt portrayal had ostensibly rattled the young woman's train of thought, so Winter made an attempt at getting her back to it; "And so, you feel that Weiss doesn't strike one quite as such."

"Not for lack of trying," Blake shot, her amusement surfacing again. "Back when our team was initially formed, Weiss was trying to be… well, you, I think; doing her very best to keep her head held high and put on this impeccable front." Nostalgia for those Beacon days fondly colored her features. "The thing is… she's too much of an open book, she couldn't even keep it up for day one," she shook her head, smiling. "She can be really tactless, but it also makes her easy to trust. That's a big part of what makes her so easy to get along with."

Winter's gaze drifted down to the wood of the table. Although Weiss had long attempted to don the same mask as Winter, it had always been ill-fitting and it constantly shattered. Weiss was true to her feelings, almost to a fault, and… that was something that Winter found she was starting to envy. After all, if only she'd been a little more like Weiss, if only she hadn't been so good at locking away her feelings… she would have knuckled under the weight of her needs years ago. Which meant that she wouldn't have been put on the path she was now on, and she wouldn't have to worry about all that was currently weighing on her. She'd have been living a more carefree, happier life. Something deep within her stirred; maybe… she wanted that. The thought rattled her and brought what Weiss had said not too long ago back to mind: how she couldn't keep going the way she was, living such a rigid life. Winter shook her head and stood, overcome with a need to move, trying to literally shake off the thoughts threatening to overtake her. "Do you want coffee? There is a vending machine near the entrance."

Blake nodded before standing as well. "I wouldn't mind tea."

With her impromptu helper in tow, Winter made her way to the front doors. As moving did very little to dissipate the sensation that stifled her, she made an effort to focus her attention elsewhere, to something else she had wished to convey, maybe not to Blake specifically, but to Weiss's team. "Thank you for being her friend," she said, holding her scroll to the machine to pay for their drinks. "She has always had an entourage, but sycophants are what our name brings. I don't believe she ever had real friends until you three. She was incredibly lonely before attending Beacon Academy."

"I could see that," Blake said. "Being badly surrounded is just the same as being alone."

Winter gestured to the options for her company to select one.

"Oh, thanks," she hadn't expected to get treated to her drink, but didn't try to turn down the offer. She made her selection and watched tea pour in the single use cup, considering their exchange. Taking her drink, then watching her senior make her own selection, Blake asked; "Sycophants. I guess that was also your experience?"

"I renounced my position as heir; I was not mandated to network, manage relationships, or maintain appearances— not to the level Weiss felt obligated to," Winter dismissed, making her own selection. "I did not humor these people."

She hummed, sipping her tea. "A lone wolf?"

"I wouldn't say so." Winter grabbed her own drink. "Wolves are social animals; one may manage to fend for itself for some time, but prolonged solitude is essentially a death sentence."

Golden eyes stayed on her. "...And… that's not you?"

The touch of skepticism in that question felt like slamming into a wall; it stopped her breathing for a moment. After all, making do with solitude had been nothing but a necessary skill she'd learned, and… it was one that she was just starting to come aware that, deep down, she resented. She didn't know with what kind of expression she stared back at her, but it prompted Blake to break the ensuing silence.

"Maybe I'm being presumptuous," she said although she looked very confident in what she was about to advance. "But… see, I'm getting the sense that we're a bit alike, and… well, I thought I did well alone too. I certainly told myself that I did so I could cope with it." The faunus, her eyes now cast down, her cat ears lowering in suit as memories of a darker period of her life passed through her. "The thing is, isolating myself made me lose any sense of how it is to have people I can really count on. Of how it is to… have someone I could let my guard down with and be vulnerable with," she said, raising her gaze to Winter again. "And only when I had it again did I realize that I'd forgotten how much I too really needed it and that I wasn't fine on my own."

Unbeknownst to her, the young woman had plunged a knife into a wound that had already been bleeding profusely since the day Robyn had first wrapped her arms around her. Winter felt the ache of longing radiate through her body and, whilst the conversation had been prompted by the void felt by the absence of any companionship, friendships at the forefront, she couldn't fathom that what Blake had said wasn't about romance. "Are you still speaking of nothing but friendship?"

"I guess not," she admitted. "The team, they're all there for me— have been from day one, even when I didn't think I deserved it," she added quietly. Her tilt into a blue mood gave way to a subdued, fond smile. "But… you're right, it's true that it was Yang who really was the one who… who caught me. Before we were ever a thing, even. I was spiraling, drowning in my dark thoughts, and she didn't let me go under."

Robyn hadn't caught her in that way. But… it did feel like she had reached out and woken Winter from her slumber at the bottom of a deep, dark sea. And now… keeping away from Robyn felt like refusing to come up for air. The opaqueness of the liquid in her paper cup let Winter vaguely see her reflection, and even in such an indistinct image of herself, her features appeared oh-so tired. Vaguely, she was aware that the topic drifting to matters of the heart could only put more of a strain on her; the chips in her armor fissuring into ever wider cracks the more closely she dared examine what she was feeling. Still, another question passed her lips. "Is that what endeared you to her?"

Blake scratched her cheek with her index finger. "Honestly, I… I think I had a thing for her from day one," she admitted. "But… how good she was to me is definitely part of why I fell for her so fast. I was head over heels in love with her when I wasn't even on her radar yet."

Her level gaze remained settled on her younger companion. Love. How did Blake pin down that feeling? How could one know it was love, and not a crush, infatuation, or another expression of less consequential attraction, especially when there was no romance happening yet? The question burned her tongue. Because while Winter had determined that, at least when it came to her duty of coming clean to the General, the nature of her feelings was irrelevant… the fact remained that her entire being agonized for clarity over the matter. Although she'd resolved not to explore what she felt, although she knew that door must remain closed, and although she knew— she knew that shining a light on her truth could only be her undoing, and still she asked; "...How did you know? That it wasn't simple infatuation; that you loved her."

Blake's eyebrows raised slightly; "I… " She was so taken aback by the question that it took her a second to find her voice. "Hmm. Well, it's hard to really say, because… to start with, I felt that way about her for longer than I wanted to admit it to myself," she said. "I… was in denial for some time; I tried telling myself that the love I felt for her was no different than the love I felt for Ruby and Weiss— I didn't want to feel this way about her. Because Yang had become my best friend, and if I felt that way about her, I wouldn't be able to be the same towards her. Everything would change, and it would be my fault." Idly, she rotated the cup in her hands, as if the residue of tea leaves floating in it could help divine an alternate timeline, one in which the fears she expressed had come true. "I guess I knew what my feelings were, but it felt like the moment I put them into words, even just to myself, I would lose everything," she murmured. "And maybe that's how I knew," Blake's gaze found Winter's again. "If I hadn't been in love with her, then it wouldn't have been so hard to make myself look at what I felt, and the way I felt surely wouldn't have seemed so consequential. It wouldn't have seemed like my feelings would destroy everything."

For weeks now, Winter had been haunted by the sense that if she let her guard down even for a breath, if she misstepped once, she would lose her balance and there would be no turning back. With every word uttered by her younger companion, a sinking feeling grew in the pit of her stomach; realization that this —this entire conversation— hadn't simply been a misstep, it had been a heedless leap into the abyss. And now… it was as if she was disbelievingly staring up at the precipice from which she'd willingly jumped off of as it hurtled away from her, already hopelessly out of reach.

"Sorry," Blake's voice vaguely tugged her attention, "it's a bleak answer when you probably expected a sweet story. I didn't mean to bring down the mood."

Being too taken with her sudden fall, Winter barely registered having been addressed.

Met with silence, the faunus cleared her throat awkwardly. "Did it seem to you that she and I shouldn't fit together?" She presumed, evidently trying to move the conversation along. "You said before that you were thinking about how different she and I are, and now you're asking about this."

"Oh. Somewhat, I suppose," she dismissed. Now that the truth had exploded in her face, she had no idea how she had ever been able to avoid it.

Blake watched her for another second, considering the answer she had received, and arrived at the only logical conclusion; "there was another reason you asked?"

Finally snapping out of it, Winter brought her coffee to her lips. "Nothing that I wish to share."

There was another short silence before Blake's cat ears slowly perked up, turning fully towards Winter, as if they were two antennas that could tune in on her thoughts. "You denied having any prospects when Yang pressed you about your love life," she mused. It half sounded like an accusation.

First, she'd never said such a thing; when they'd had that conversation, what Winter had denied was having any sort of established relationship, which was the truth. Clarifying this however, would mean both admitting to have lied by omission then, and that Blake had just now put her finger on the truth. Debating how to respond didn't yield an answer in a timely enough matter, and she realized that her silence had become damning.

"So there is someone."

They held eye contact for a moment, and Winter was again struck by the faunus' capacity to do so unflinchingly. The snow-haired soldier exhaled quietly, throwing away her empty coffee cup; first Yang, and now this one too? "Is every single one of you this meddlesome?"

The question seemed to amuse her. "...Yes, as a matter of fact."

Winter, for her part, was not at all amused. "Have you never heard that curiosity killed the cat?"

Blake's faunus ears twitched, and she seemed to gauge her for a second. "Is this simple cautionary advice, or…?"

"Take the hint, Belladonna," Winter advised, heading back into the library.

"Right," she mouthed under her breath, following. 

With the back of her hand, Winter pushed away white locks stuck to her face as she tore herself from her bed. Continuing her research so late into the night had been a mistake; cutting hours off of sleep that, lately, was already anything but restful had been a terrible idea, and she now had to brace herself for the event this evening. With the security concerns around the electoral debate, there was no wiggling out of her duties, yet she didn't feel remotely ready to be in Robyn's presence again— especially not after what had transpired from the more personal aspects of her exchange with the Belladonna girl.

This reminded her… uttering blatant threats to Weiss's teammates was not her idea of maturity. She made a mental note to apologize the next time she had the opportunity. After all, the girl had not only taken time out of her evening to assist with the semblance research, making combing through all those books an expedient affair, but had also been very accommodating in answering undeniably personal questions.

With this, she set up her coffee machine and picked up her scroll to read the news as the drink brewed. To her surprise, she had missed a call from Weiss, who'd then left her a text.

Weiss: I need to talk to you.

Of course, scenarios from bad to worse cascaded through her mind, and Winter instantly pressed the call button, anxiously listening to the ringing tone.

"Winte—"

"What's wrong?"

"...Pardon?" It only took a second for her to deduce the reason for this worried call. "... Sorry, I didn't mean to make you worry. Nothing's wrong. There's… there's just something I need to talk to you about."

"What is it?"

"I would rather talk to you face to face."

How unusual. Despite the last drops of her fresh coffee trickling down into the pot, Winter was too preoccupied with what her sister could possibly want to discuss to proceed with her morning routine. "Is everything alright, Weiss?"

"I'm fine, this isn't about me."

This brought her to a pause. Then, was this about herself? Did Blake tell her about the prior evening's conversation? About the semblance part? …Or about the rest? Or maybe Penny had let something slip about Fria? "Hm." Winter leaned her hip against the countertop. Whichever it was… it would have to wait. "Is it an urgent matter? I don't believe I can free myself today. There is a lot to do to prepare for the security of the electoral debate tonight."

There was a muted gasp. "That's right, you have to attend," Weiss muttered. "So you'll be seeing Hi—..."

"Seeing?"

She cleared her throat. "Seeing him. Father will be there, won't he?"

Oh no.

Winter had been so single-mindedly focused on Robyn, it'd escaped her mind that she would have to endure his foul presence. She had successfully avoided him for almost three years; her streak would be ruined. Rubbing her temple dolorously with her hand, she wrapped up her conversation with her sister. There was much to do before the evening, and indeed, the day passed in a blur. Before she knew it, Winter found herself standing at attention behind the scenes, watching the debate unfurl from the side of the stage.

Unsurprisingly, Robyn obliterated the other candidates. Having watched and rewatched every single interview Robyn had given, Winter had been under the impression that she'd mastered the woman's talking points, yet she kept being surprised at how much more Robyn had to say. It seemed her adversaries were just as caught off guard, floundering through the entire thing. However much Winter had dreaded attending this event, she had to concede that it was entertaining to see her father struggle such. Granted, what Winter had dreaded wasn't the debate itself, it was the occasion for guests and attendees to mingle before and after the function, and with good reason; despite having clearly stated that she wouldn't attend any further events in Atlas, Robyn didn't leave as soon as the debate was over.

It was a wonder why, as the woman was being remarkably charmless. Over the months of Robyn's rapid ascent to notoriety, Winter had observed countless hours of her conquering industry magnate after political big shot after prominent thought leader. What was happening right then was not that. At that moment, Robyn's performance was half-hearted— if even that. It was utterly sub-par. And maybe… that explained her company. Whilst Robyn had always been alone whenever she would attend networking opportunities in Atlas, this evening she was accompanied by one of her teammates; an extremely imposing, short-haired woman with face tattoos. Winter speculated that Robyn, aware that she wasn't in her best form, had devised this plan to discourage some of her would-be queriers from ever engaging her. Johanna Greenleaf's stature was not an obstacle to be discounted, and vastly kept the media at an arm's length; only the most motivated of them braving the bodyguard. On second thought however, maybe this gimmick wasn't all there was to Joanna's presence. Maybe it was also that, wanting to bring along some support for this most important day, Joanna was the only one that Robyn could bring. The Marigold ex-heir would avoid like the plague any occasion so rife with prominent aristocrats, while Robyn's faunus teammate's presence would almost certainly derail the general dialogue into a fight that was meant for another day. And there was no doubt in Winter's mind that those two had their work cut out for them anyways. The electoral debate would have stirred Mantle crowds, and it couldn't be more evident that the other half of Robyn's team was needed on the ground to keep the situation from getting out of hand.

All in all however, none of that changed the end outcome; Robyn was still present despite her paltry and uninterested pretense at networking. Most egregiously, she was making little effort to refrain from blatantly gawking Winter's way. It was hard not to conclude that Robyn lingered for no other reason than to see her, even if only from afar. And Winter knew how much she was staring right back, but no amount of scolding herself helped tear her eyes from the woman who haunted her every waking hour.

"If you need to leave, I can take it up from here," Clover said, having rooted himself next to her.

"Pardon?"

"No matter how important today is, you should have prioritized yourself if you're sick," he said. "You of all people need to take care of yourself. We need you ready at the drop of a hat."

Did she truly look as terrible as she felt? "I'm not sick, just tired; a lot of things on my mind," Winter dismissed. "Admittedly, I may be weighed further by the pageantry of these public functions, but that won't suffice to make me shirk from my duty of attending"

"Hm, you never did like this part of the job," he commented, surveying the crowd. "On the upside, at least you don't have to fend off Hill anymore," Clover added, somewhat encouragingly. "Although she keeps staring your way." He watched her from the corner of his eye. "Repeatedly and longingly, might I add."

Winter exhaled inaudibly. There was a question lurking under that comment, and she dreaded hearing what words he would use should he decide to voice it, so she volunteered an answer; "I've requested she keep her distance."

"And she's actually complying," he mused, impressed. "And here I thought that all rules were nothing but suggestions in her book."

"Maybe when it comes to the law, but personal boundaries are another matter."

"Personal boundaries?" He repeated, surprised. "When did you establish that?"

"When I had no choice but to."

"Huh. So… she actually made a move," he noted through a bemused half-smile. "Ballsy."

"Or foolhardy," Winter mouthed. "Either way— boundaries; case closed. Can I count on your discretion?"

"Absolutely." After a pause, he asked more quietly; "Have you told James any of this?"

"I know that I have to," she said. "I simply haven't yet found the right mome—"

Both their attention was drawn to the rapidly swelling racket around the most conspicuous candidate in attendance. A point had been reached where Robyn's intimidating teammate wasn't enough of a deterrent anymore; after all, there was only one of her against the dozens of voices vying for Robyn's attention. The notion of safety in numbers clearly emboldened them.

"They're getting rowdy," Clover noted.

"Hm."

"I'll—"

Before Clover could step forward, Winter was already on her way. And of course she knew that she should have left that up to him, of course she knew. She was the one who told Robyn to stay away, so how hypocritical was this? Not to mention, Winter's already fraying resolve could only weather so much provocation. Still, she pushed through the media crowding the Mantle politician. "Break it up," she barked as she opened herself a path through the burgeoning chaos, quickly coming face to face with the towering green-haired woman. Winter had crossed paths with her only once and very briefly; Joanna had been accompanying Robyn the day they met in that Mantle café, and she had not taken too kindly to seeing Winter. So, having fully expected her to bar her path just as she'd done with the buzzing crowd, it was a surprise that Joanna promptly allowed Winter some room at her side to help in creating space between Robyn and the pushy swarm. Either she tacitly accepted that the military personnel indeed was there to help despite their history of animosity, or… she knew that, for personal reasons, Winter could be entrusted with Robyn's safety.

Under the implicit threat of legal repercussions that Winter's presence represented, it didn't take long for the crowd to tame itself and unswell, perhaps planning on attempting to interview Robyn again once she wasn't flanked by a military officer. As the air around them cooled, as it became easier to breathe, and as the urge to come to Robyn's aid dissipated, Winter's mind cleared somewhat. Being able to reason again, she had half a mind to just flee without acknowledging either Robyn or what she'd done. What kept her rooted in place was nothing other than pride; after breaking her own rules by intervening, after that moment of weakness, Winter simply couldn't bear looking even more spineless. So, with formidable apprehension, Winter made herself turn Robyn's way.

The condemnation that Winter had expected was nowhere to be seen. However heated things had gotten during that altercation in Mantle, however aggrieved Robyn was with Winter's position, there was no resentment on her features either. What shone in her eyes was a warmheartedness reflecting that Robyn could not have been more sincere when she'd claimed that her door would always be open.

Winter had to take a hold of herself; she blinked away the moment. "Miss Hill," she politely nodded.

"Schnee," Robyn nodded in return.

"Robyn Hill!" A sharply-dressed man exclaimed, pushing past what was left of the crowd. Winter recognized him as a prominent socialite, the new money sort who vied to prove their virtue by portraying themselves as a champion of the oppressed, throwing money at any cause that looked good. It might have been because his backing was all but guaranteed already that Robyn wasn't listening to one word of the stream that was coming out of his mouth. Her gaze was on Winter, and Winter herself was too taken with those gorgeous, vibrant purple eyes to be able to follow any of the man's blathering. In that moment, it also dawned on her how transparent the way they were staring at each other had to be, but she still couldn't tear her eyes away.

"Robyn," Joanna interrupted both the man's monologue and their inconspicuous staring. "Check your scroll. We need to go."

Robyn quickly produced her device; a picture of her blue-haired teammate appeared. Whatever updates May had sent their way had become a priority; with a nod to the tall woman who accompanied her and a last glance Winter's way, Robyn excused herself.

Winter watched her leave, her gut twisting itself into an upside down mess as she resisted the urge to follow her. What a mistake she'd made. How stupid. How could she have willingly gone up to her? She'd known approaching Robyn would be utter torture! And Clover had been about to intervene, it would have been safe to let it be! There was no excuse for inflicting this upon herself; she'd known how just being near her would torture her; and still, still, she'd flocked to her at the first opportunity her traitorous heart brandished before her frazzled brain. Winter felt her clasped hands tightening on each other behind her back, cutting off the circulation, maybe even bruising themselves under her gloves.

"Hey, Ice Queen," the gruff voice shook her out of her stupor. "Jimmy wants a word."

Snapping out of her spiraling, Winter stared at the tall brooding man for a second of disjointed surprise. Was it whatever had made Robyn leave? Was something terrible happening? Or… had she too obviously slipped? Had this moment between Robyn and her been plain for the world to see? Then, she frowned; since when was the General sending emissaries instead of contacting her directly? She flicked her scroll open; her earpiece wasn't disconnected, nor had she missed any messages. She gave Qrow a critical look but opted to follow him out the event venue, down the hall towards the military complex.

As soon as they stepped foot past the first high security clearance door, she asked; "What's happening?"

Qrow glanced her way, walking on. "Nothing, I lied," he readily admitted. "You've been looking like you're gonna throw up any second. You need to go home."

The living quarters were in the same direction as they were heading in; that's where he was leading her? She felt sick to her stomach. "Who do you think you are, taking such decisions on my behalf‽"

Now he stopped, turning to look at her. "Take it up with Clover. Both of you can't leave before the thing's wrapped up, so he asked me to find an excuse and get you out."

Winter's blood pressure dropped instantly. Now that she knew that Clover was the one who'd made that call, her outrage evaporated, and it made her acutely aware of the double standard she held. Sure, she could've rationalized that Clover actually had enough standing to make such calls in the event that she was incapacitated—and one could argue that it was currently the case— or one could have also argued that Qrow had led her away on the basis of a lie, and that this was what bothered her, but she knew that none of that was true. Her anger had only been on the basis of her distaste towards this bird; if, say, it'd been Penny who Clover had sent and employed the same tactic, Winter wouldn't have felt the tiniest smidge of irritation.

Qrow had to have seen the displeasure leave her features; as he opted to try his luck; "Look…. maybe right now isn't the best time for this, you really don't look... I just want to say I'm sorry. Clover told me about…" he cleared his throat. "I must have been blackout drunk, because I don't remem— not that it's any excuse for..." he stopped himself again, set on not taking any detours. "Anyways. I know I can't take it back, but I don't believe any of what I said that day."

Winter felt her jaw unclench. As she was processing the apology, she had a growing suspicion that Clover had in fact asked Qrow to be the one to get her out of the room expressly to create this opportunity to lay an old grudge to rest. Her eyes remained riveted on this man she had ruled out as a lost cause. She wondered if this step— making amends— was something that he just told himself that he had to do, or if it was something that he wanted to do. She had no energy to spare him if he was just going through the motions, if he was just saying what he thought she needed to hear without truly meaning any of it. "What's bringing this on?"

As if he hadn't really thought it through, he frowned deeply. His eyes fell to the floor for a short moment, and, as his answer emerged in his mind, he shifted his weight like it grounded him. Qrow met her gaze again. "Hope, I guess," he said. It wasn't the kind of answer that Winter had expected, and it must have shown because he laid out his train of thought: "Watching the kids… they're inspiring; picking themselves back up after Beacon, finding their way out here. They've seen worse than any of us ever did at their age, and they haven't let it bring them down. They keep moving forward. They're how we stopped Salem's people in Haven," he explained. "For the first time in about twenty years, it feels like… maybe we're not fighting a losing battle after all. And I guess that makes me feel like… I've been a shithead. Wallowing, feeling sorry for myself, lashing out, blaming it on drinking," he exhaled a long breath. "I want to be better. And that starts with… taking accountability where I've been a shithead." He rubbed the back of his neck a little awkwardly. "So anyways, for what it's worth, I'm sorry. I know it's no excuse, but how I acted had nothing to do with you. I was in a terrible place; everything was hurting and I wanted to hurt everything back; you just happened to be in the line of fire."

Had it been anyone else, she would have simply accepted the good will and apology, but she had harbored so much disdain towards him for so long, and her patience was drained from other matters, she just couldn't find it in herself to be painlessly gracious. Besides, she found it hard to believe it had nothing to do with her when, in none of his drunken stupors had she witnessed him level personal attacks at any other of their peers. "Why was I in the line of fire, and not the General? Or others, like Goodwitch, Port, or Ooblek?"

This question too gave him pause. Qrow didn't look put off by her pushing back, but his surprise indicated that, clearly, he'd truly believed that he'd been lashing out indiscriminately until she pointed this out to him. He took the time to reassess his behavior, or maybe his spotty memory. "I guess… maybe you just rubbed me the wrong way," he eventually said. "Not because of anything you said or did, but just because of how… you had everything going for you." Hesitation marked this next pause, and it looked to Winter like he considered whether to expound on that, either because it was too personal, or because he had reservations about whether or not she cared anyways. Ultimately, he decided that there was no use holding back at this point. "See, me, I grew up in the mud with no options. The tribe of bandits that raised my sister and me only did it so they could use us; grooming us to send us to Beacon so we could give them tools to get better at killing Huntsmen. And I've always been a burden to the people around me because of my semblance. I never really thought my life was worth anything. If it wasn't for Oz, I probably would've ended up dead in a ditch, I wouldn't've had anything to live for," he said frankly. "While your life's been mapped out from the day you were born and fast-tracked to success like no one I ever met. You've had your place, everything's just naturally figured out, and you just… fit. Hell, you don't just fit— the rest of the world makes itself fit around you. I think I just couldn't stand that."

Of course she understood what he was saying, how could she not. Being a representative of both its aristocracy and the city's prevailing military culture, she'd been designated the embodiment of the city of Atlas by worldwide media, and it'd been an image around which she'd meticulously constructed her public persona. However, the fact of the matter was still that… it was just that; an image. The ease he'd described —how seamlessly assembled her life appeared— certainly hadn't been her reality. Behind closed doors, she had faced deeply personal challenges, and her place had never been obvious to her until, just like Ozpin had extended his hand to Qrow, the General had extended his hand to her. "...I don't have everything figured out, Qrow," she finally offered in return. "And although it may seem that way from the outside looking in, I never truly fit into the world that I was born a part of either."

Skepticism colored his features. "You? You don't fit?"

There was no claiming this without explaining where that claim came from. "If it looks like I do, believe me, it's only thanks to a well curated front," Winter wryly said. "In truth, I struggled to find where I belong because I… was fundamentally unfit to serve my family's heir."

He still didn't look convinced even slightly. "I mean… if you say so."

Telling herself that she didn't need Qrow, of all people, to understand her struggles did nothing to abate her annoyance at not being believed. "The SDC would have gone under should I have been its head. If not because of my shortcomings when it comes to necessary skills for business-oriented ventures such as networking, then it would have gone under simply because… who I am would have made high-society partners reluctant to work with me," she explained. His expression at that last part made it clear that he hadn't heard what was being whispered behind her back, so she clarified; "I'm gay. Do you know what that means, up here in Atlas?"

Surprise stunned him for a second. "...I always thought you had a thing for James."

"He's old enough to be my father."

"Exactly."

Her features rigidified with revulsion. "We were doing well, Qrow."

"My bad."

The following silence stretched uncomfortably. The way Qrow observed her, somewhat bemused, felt odd. It occurred to Winter that, as he worked through the new information he'd been made privy to, his perception of her was shifting. It was strange how, even when she thought that she couldn't care less what someone like him thought, this still brought some insecurities to the surface. "What does it matter?" she asked, maybe a tad defensively.

"What?"

"Learning this has just changed your image of me. Why?"

Qrow shrugged lightly. "I guess it just makes you seem less straight-laced— no pun intended. Less… stiff, y'know?"

Now it was Winter who was stumped. It'd changed his opinion of her for the better?

Having grown up in a conservative environment, she had never imagined that divulging her orientation could make her more sympathetic to anyone. Although this was Qrow, so maybe she should have expected something like this; the man had a soft spot for outcasts and a strange fondness for imperfect things. In part with the awareness of this and thanks to all that'd been said, she found herself inclined to meet him halfway. "Look, Qrow… what you initially said about me —earning my position through nepotism, or my… relationship to the General— was dead wrong. But your image of me, I'll admit, isn't… entirely wrong. I know that I'm… rigid," she acknowledged. "Structure is what helped me deal with the challenges life has thrown my way, and I… I know that, in consequence of that, my need for order does sometimes border on pathological," she sighed quietly. It wasn't painless to recognize that this draconian discipline she'd imposed on herself, which had once been her saving grace, had in fact been a coping mechanism. Sure, it may have had the benefit of being a functional one, especially compared to others' such as Qrow's and her mother's alcoholism, but it remained a coping mechanism, and it'd become maladaptive. Winter clasped her hands behind her back, suppressing a rising urge to pace. "Being set in such ways has served for a time, but if I'm being honest, I'm reaching a point in my life where it's… hindering me," that was a tame way of saying that she was suffocating herself. She took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. "I too need to change. I need to…"

"Loosen up?"

"If you may."

Qrow looked pleasantly surprised at the turn of events. The corner of his lips was upturned in a crooked half-smile, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets. "So, does that mean you could be okay with me?" He asked. "I don't expect to be all buddy-buddy, but maybe we can work together without that dark cloud hanging over everyone's head," he gestured vaguely above them. "It'd be a relief for everyone. And when the time comes to fight, we can actually have each other's back."

Winter didn't need to think it over. "You're right," she said. "I agree, let's move past all this."

"That easily?"

"You found that easy?"

"...Not especially, but I expected to have to grovel or something."

"A genuine conversation goes a long way."

Qrow looked even more bemused; he clearly hadn't expected this conversation to go as well as it had. "So, we're good?"

"I wouldn't go as far as to say good, but… clean slate." Winter pursed her lips. "I still don't like you very much, and I don't understand why Clover does."

His eyebrows twitched up. "Yeah, about that," he cleared his throat. "Is he…? Y'know. He's flirting, right? I'm not crazy?"

She eyed him curiously. Of course she'd noticed, but she would never have expected Qrow to bring any of it up, not to her anyways. "He is. You're not."

"He's serious, you think? Or is it like… he's just… flirty with everyone?"

"...I couldn't tell you what his intentions are," she said. "But he has never been this way with me, nor have I witnessed him behaving so wantonly with anyone else."

"Huh."

"Were you simply trying to decipher his behavior, or are you in fact… hoping for something?"

"I don't know."

Well, that was unexpected. "...Good luck with that."

He shook his head, taking a few steps in the direction they had come from. "You know Lady Luck's never been on my side."

How could he miss the mark so thoroughly? "For once in your life, luck is on your side, Qrow. And he's a gentleman."

He chuckled. "Isn't that right." With this, he turned heel and half-raised one arm in a vague waving gesture as he made his way back to the venue.

Winter, on her part, couldn't make herself head back, no matter how she'd protested abandoning her position. It was true that she'd been expanding draconian efforts in keeping up her public mask, and she hadn't even been doing a good job at it, what with how conspicuously she'd been ogling Robyn. Being away from having to perform her public mask wasn't an unwelcome prospect. At the same time she was still too agitated to just go sit at home, so in true workaholic fashion she made her way to headquarters, intent on overviewing the rest of the security operations of that evening —measures to manage the excitement in Mantle.

The room was buzzing with overlapping chatter, as was expected on such a night. Winter didn't have to open her mouth; as soon as she'd entered the room, the chief of operations came up to brief her on every undercity incident of the evening. "At this time we've got about two dozen in custody," he finished.

"Show me." It might have been a long shot, but it wasn't impossible that one of Salem's agents would have been going out of their way to agitate the crowds. What if they'd inadvertently put their hands on them?

The young man brought up a blue translucent window from his console with a list for her to examine. "They're the usual suspects," he commented. "Most of them have been very active militants for Hill, a handful have a good number of priors on them."

Known characters; so, not Salem's envoys. Winter sighed. Still, she brought up the roster of the files, watching the faces scroll by. Indeed, she recognized the vast majority, most of them being vocal but harmless activists. All save two were faunus; far too severe a ratio for it to be the product of unbiased policing, she noted in displeasure. She would have to review who had been on the ground and made the arrests, and take appropriate action; this sort of prejudice had no place in her ranks. As she neared the bottom of the list, one mugshot jumped out at her. "Fiona Thyme was arrested?"

This had to be why Robyn had left so abruptly.

Winter opened the file to see the list of charges. She didn't want to jump to conclusions; Fiona's arrest could have been warranted if she'd done something like, say, Robyn and May who had breached the perimeter of classified military operations and got into an altercation with her. But… the one thing listed in Fiona's file was 'incitement to riot', and the short clip of bodycam footage attached showed the short faunus on a makeshift stage, speaking into a megaphone. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary; the crowd was cheering, but it wasn't rowdy. Winter felt an oncoming headache. "She's Robyn Hill's campaign manager, it's a given that she'd be addressing the crowd," she fulminated. "What cell is she being held in?"

"Currently, she's being questioned by—"

Winter didn't hear the rest; she was out the door, storming down the command center, and letting herself into the interrogation room without warning. Both officers who'd been conducting this questionable interview snapped rigidly to attention at the sight of her. Icy blue eyes appraised the scene; there was no evidence of foul play, but the faunus looked quite shaken.

"Dismissed," Winter spat.

Both men hurried out, and the door slid shut; the snow-haired soldier marched to the captive. The look of panic in the faunus's eyes made her aware that she still radiated anger, and she made an active effort to ease the hardness from her expression as she addressed her. "I apologize for my personnel's utterly disgraceful error in judgment," she said as she uncuffed her.

Fiona remained mute; she stared up at her, eyes round, frozen in her chair.

Winter couldn't tell what that look was. Simple shock at being released? Or was it Winter's appearance that dumbstruck her? Because Winter was supposed to be at the debate, or because it was surprising that such a high-ranking officer would take charge of a detainee so personally? None of that felt quite accurate however, and, as Fiona's shock abated, it left something like… awkwardness. Winter wouldn't have known what to read into that had this not been the second time that evening that she had been perplexed by another's behavior towards her— the first instance being the implicit trust she'd sensed from Joanna just moments earlier. But both of Robyn's teammates having unexpected reactions to her could be explained away all too simply: Robyn had told her team.

With that realization dawning on her, questions instantly arose. How much had Robyn divulged? Simply that she was interested in Winter? Or that the attraction was mutual? …What about what had happened between them? The impassioned kisses? Or… how far Robyn had undressed her? Some people tended to discuss their intimate lives with their closest friends, but surely Robyn wouldn't have revealed this much… would she? Some awkwardness took over Winter too. She briefly glanced at the camera in the upper corner of the room. None of this could be broached. Wilfully pushing down her unease, she refocused her attention on the present matters. "Are you unharmed?"

"I'm fine." Fiona rubbed one wrist absentmindedly, staring up at her watchfully.

What she was on the lookout for, Winter couldn't tell. Was she even looking out for anything specific? She still appeared to be in shock. And why wouldn't she be, forget Winter's abrupt appearance, just being arrested and interrogated was amply enough to explain anyone being on high alert. Unsure of how to handle interacting with her, Winter fell back on habit; her professionalism. She clasped her hands behind her back, withdrawing a few steps to give the faunus some space. "Rest assured that every officer involved in the mishandling of security tonight will see severe consequences."

Fiona seemed to be considering her rigid stance, her own answer, or maybe something beyond Winter's grasp. She exhaled a nervous breath. "You don't have to be like that. I know you're not that."

"Pardon?"

Without looking even one ounce confident in what she was about to say, Fiona nevertheless went ahead; "I'd like to deal with a human, not an impersonation of the military institution," she said before swallowing nervously. "Robyn said that you're nothing like what people believe you are. If it's true, then don't put on your act."

It took Winter by surprise— all of it. That Robyn was being brought up despite the cameras pointed at them, that Fiona would so forthrightly ask for what lay under the public image, and maybe most of all, that Winter actually felt compelled to comply. Was it her conversion with Qrow that'd put her in this strange mood? Or had her barriers been eroded by the strain of the past weeks, fighting herself night and day? Maybe it was being called out for wearing a mask. Or that Fiona being one of Robyn's closest friends made her seem like less of a stranger. Or simply that… those green doe eyes reminded her of Penny. She didn't know exactly what caused this shift in her, but warmth seeped into Winter's demeanor without her making a conscious choice to let it. Her posture loosened somewhat, and she felt her features soften. She couldn't remember the last time that she'd dropped the ice queen mask upon her first interaction with someone; she put aside the resurfacing thought that her rigor truly was getting away from her. "I wasn't trying to be disingenuous," she heard herself say in a tone she reserved almost exclusively for Penny.

Though having been the one who had asked for this, Fiona was still completely thrown. She opened her mouth as if to answer, but couldn't seem to find a response. Her eyes remained fixedly on Winter's now thawed features, as if she couldn't comprehend what she was seeing.

Being aware that there was a major discrepancy between what she presented to the world and her true self didn't make her less self-conscious about being stared at like she'd grown a second head. Winter cleared her throat. "Should this be too off-putting, I can revert to who someone in your position would expect to be dealing with."

"No— no, it's not— …actually… yes, it's totally weird. But… I'd still rather that than your usual…" Fiona gestured towards her own face, unconvincingly hardening her features in a weak imitation of the soldier's public mask.

Winter exhaled softly. This was all too strange, and was starting to feel a little nerve-wracking. Not unlike… meeting the relatives. If that was the case, then she should be earning disapproval from Fiona so as to widen the chasm between Robyn and herself. Yet still, she couldn't find it in herself to be ruthless or cold. It made her want out more than anything. "I'll find you an escort to Mantle, you'll be home in no time," she said softly, making for the door.

"What about the others?" Fiona called, stopping her in her tracks. Winter turned to her again; Fiona had stood, having brushed off most of her awkwardness. Manifestly, it was easier for her to stand up for others than for herself. "A lot of people were arrested even though it was a peaceful rally. It's not fair that I be the only one to be released."

Winter powered her scroll, viewing again the list of newly in custody. Fiona was right, the charges were vastly petty and most didn't truly warrant arrest. Most. There were a handful of known troublemakers whose charges were legitimate, and Winter selected four names out of the list, displaying their mugshots. She turned her screen towards Robyn's second in command. "We'll be keeping these individuals overnight. The rest will be free to go, same as you."

Recognition passed through her; it seemed Fiona was aware of that lineup's affinity for mischief. "...That's fair."

Winter nodded, quickly sending the holding order and the request for transport before putting away her scroll. "My apologies again," she said, moving to excuse herself. "You will be escorted to a transport shuttle shortly."

"Wait," Fiona stopped her again. She didn't speak up right away; it almost looked like she didn't even know what she wanted to say. No, not almost— she didn't. She seemed to be looking for something to say, and it became apparent that, whereas Winter was in a hurry to put some distance between them, Fiona was keen on having her stick around. "So… the shuttle, is it civilian transport or a military ship?"

"Military. Is that not adequate?"

"I'm not exactly stoked at the idea of boarding a ship full of soldiers," she said.

"Hm." The options were limited so late into the night. Furthermore, Winter worried about the recent spree of murders; activists being eliminated, making it look as though the General was silencing dissident voices. Under such circumstances, there was no universe in which Winter would let Fiona travel back to Mantle without an escort. "I'm sorry. As you are aware, transportation between our two cities is tightly regulated at this late hour, which means there are no civilian options readily on hand. Military will have to do, should you wish for a swift return home. Alternatively, we can house you until the morning," she said, realizing as the words left her lips how this could be misconstrued for a threat to keep her in jail. "You have attended Atlas Academy, I imagine that you wouldn't object to staying in the dormitories for the night?"

Fiona nodded absentmindedly; something else was visibly occupying her mind space.

"Should I request a room be prepared for you?"

"Actually…" she trailed off, gazing back at Winter in a sort of appraising fashion. After a long pause, she found the sort of nerve that Winter would have never expected from her; "You have your own ship. So you could see me home yourself, couldn't you?"

Winter's eyebrows twitched up in surprise. "I do. I certainly could." After having expressed discomfort with the military, Fiona still requested this despite what Winter herself represented?

"So… would you? If you're not too busy, of course."

"Are you asking me to ferry everyone over to Mantle, or just yourself?"

"Just myself."

If being transported by a military ship didn't have Fiona concerned for the welfare of the rest of her fellow detainees, it meant that she didn't truly distrust its safety. It meant that she had come up with an excuse to request an alternative of her own choosing. And what she chose was… "You would be alone with me."

"I'm counting on it."

How forward. Clearly, Fiona had something to say that neither of them could allow the security cameras pointed at them to capture. "Very well. Please follow me."

As they made their way down the military complex to the docks, Fiona walked two steps behind her. It felt as though she neither felt comfortable walking by her side nor did she want to allow too much distance between them, as if not being in Winter's direct periphery would mean getting imprisoned again. Winter could feel her company's eyes on her, maybe looking for indications that this maskless version of her was a sham, maybe appraising something else; she let her be.

It came as a bit of a surprise that Fiona broke the silence as they were still walking. "...So, hum… Thanks for intervening," she awkwardly mouthed.

"Please, it's the least I could do."

"The least you could have done was do nothing."

She stopped aside her ship, using her scroll to unfurl the boarding ramp. "It wouldn't have been right."

"Legally, you still could have kept me overnight."

"But it wouldn't have been right," Winter repeated, glancing her way.

This flustered her a tad, and Fiona took interest in her boots almost instantly. She boarded after Winter and took a seat in the copilot chair, it was only minutes before they were clear to take off. Somewhere along the way, with Winter's cool eyes no longer on her, she'd resumed her staring. At this point, curiosity was starting to get the better of Winter. "May I ask what is so fascinating?"

"Sorry," Fiona sheepishly shot, turning to the starry sky outside the bay windows. "I just… I guess I wasn't actually prepared to meet you."

That was loaded. "Prepared in what capacity?"

"I— ...Well, as Robyn's campaign manager, I've expected to meet you sooner or later— all of you, the General, the Ace Ops, you. But… I guess that was work, and it still felt ways into the future," she explained. "And… I thought I knew who you were," she added more quietly before leveling a curious gaze at her again. "Now Robyn went and turned everything on its head, and I don't know what to make of you anymore."

"I've dropped the pretense. Doesn't that help?"

"It's really just unsettling," Fiona said.

Winter was a little at a loss. However less disorienting dealing with Winter's public persona might be, now that the faunus had an idea of how much of a veneer that public persona was, it felt silly to retreat back into it. Retreating wouldn't unsettle her any less anyways, it would just appear as if Winter was disengaging from this opportunity. "What would you suggest I do to make you more comfortable?"

Fiona shrugged. "I don't really know," she admitted. Her gaze remained glued to Winter's profile now that the soldier was focused on piloting the ship. "You're just so…" she shook her head in a small movement. "Seriously, how is any normal person supposed to feel comfortable next to you?" She posed with a hint of aggravation. "Look at yourself. Your uniform couldn't be any crisper, and you don't have a single hair out place, even this late into the evening. And I keep looking for an angle in which you might not be so… obscenely beautiful, but I can't find it. Even your posture is so perfect that it feels like your spine has to be a metal rod or something. It's like you're not even human."

Winter exhaled quietly. "I assure you that I am."

Fiona smiled wryly, she finally turned her gaze away. "I know," there was a tad of bitterness to her voice.

It sounded almost as if… "Is that inconvenient?"

"I guess so," the faunus frankly admitted. "It's so much easier to dismiss people when you lose sight that they're human too."

Was all of Robyn's entourage so unabashedly straightforward? However unsurprising it was that someone from Mantle would be inclined to write her off, it still wasn't something that Winter expected to hear so plainly in conversation. As the following silence stretched on, it occurred to her that –despite conceding it'd be easier to refuse to see her as human– Fiona was still the one who had insisted on creating a window to talk without the constraint of their respective roles. So she must have wanted to scratch and see what lay beneath the surface, hadn't she? So why, now that they were alone and could speak freely, did she remain unforthcoming? …Unless this wasn't her own initiative? "What is this?" Winter asked.

"What?"

"It is clear that you requested that I see you home so we could talk privately, yet you don't seem all too amenable to engaging with me," she outlined. "So; what is this? Were you asked to do this? Did Robyn task you with a message?"

She looked undeniably entertained by the idea. "You think that she would?"

"Absolutely," Winter promptly said. "I asked her to keep her distance from me, but I wouldn't put it past her to send an emissary. She's the sort to stretch loopholes wide enough for an entire circus to fit through."

A smile split her features, and just as quickly as it appeared, apparent stupefaction that it did melted it off. Clearly, she hadn't expected to be letting down her guard, and seemed somewhat disconcerted. "You've got her figured out," she noted under her breath. Her sheep ears twitched, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her green undershirt. "But you have to understand; in Mantle, if we don't learn to bend the rules to our advantage, we don't get much more than scraps."

Anyone who knew anything about Mantle would understand this, even if it wasn't their own reality. "I understand," she said. "Now; is this on her behalf?"

"Sorry to disappoint, it's all just a fluke."

"I see."

"You're right about the fact that I wanted to talk to you though."

Winter spared her a glance again. "I'm listening."

"Oh, uh… it's not like there was something specific I wanted to say, hum…" Fiona shook her head. "After everything Robyn said about you, I guess I've… wanted to see for myself."

"Despite an inclination for discounting me as not human?"

A guilty look colored her features. "I shouldn't have said any of that."

"Better it be addressed frankly than remain nebulously in the air," Winter said. "You don't like me; I don't fault you for it. In your shoes, I wouldn't like me either."

Something about this didn't seem to sit well; Fiona's brow crinkled and she straightened up in her seat. "...I don't think that's fair," she eventually contested. "I mean— you're not wrong, but I don't like her— the person we see in the media; who we expect when we hear your name."

"There is only so much I can do to distance myself from my heritage."

"I didn't just mean the Schnee name," she clarified. "Winter. It makes for a hostile impression."

Now who wasn't being fair? "This too was a name I did not choose."

"But you chose to be that publicly," Fiona instantly argued. "You chose to hide behind this… Ice Queen act." Winter could only concede this point; she acknowledged it with a faint nod. "And so… we all thought that this was really you for so many years. It's really hard to adjust, no matter what Robyn keeps saying about you— and she keeps saying it; she really can't stop talking about you."

Through this entire conversation, which had kept surprising her at every turn, this was the first time that Winter was so stunned that she simply couldn't come up with an answer.

"Surprised?"

"I am," she frowned. "Of course, I had considered the likelihood of Robyn telling her team some of what had transpired. But I can't imagine that any of you were very pleased, which is why I'm surprised: I don't know why Robyn would aggravate the discord by bringing me up constantly."

"I don't think she can help it. That's just how she's always been when she's… keen. On anything." Fiona shook her head, watching the city lights spread under them. "But you're right, it really didn't go over very well when she first came clean about you."

"You can rest easy; I won't sabotage her chances of winning."

"That's why you rejected her? For her sake?"

Winter felt her grip on the console tighten. "Does it matter what my reasons are?"

"A lot, actually."

The uncharacteristic firmness in her voice drew Winter's gaze again. Fiona stared back keenly, and it gave the soldier pause; the depth of her interest gave the sense that if she wanted to know, it was for herself and not in a bid to find out anything for Robyn. Winter had to wonder; was this the protectiveness that came with strong friendships? Would Weiss's friends challenge in this way someone who'd hurt her the way Winter had hurt Robyn? She couldn't tell, and it tired her somewhat. "How is she?" she asked gently.

"Well, you know," Fiona shrugged non-committedly. She didn't seem bothered to have had her question deflected. "She manages. Keeps busy. But she's really… smitten. And it's getting really hard on her."

"None of what happened was my intention," Winter rued. "I was initially rather hostile to her."

Fiona half-scoffed a semblance of laugh. "So I hear; she liked it."

Winter brought her hand to her temple. "She did."

"Do you even like her at all?"

Winter glanced her way. There was that firmness again. Fiona couldn't have looked more serious.

"I'm really asking."

The feeling that this was, in fact, personal was starting to emerge. "Are you under the impression that I might have led her on?"

"Could you blame me? She's out there totally set on waiting for you, while you're going about trying to pretend she doesn't exist," Fiona explained, some resentment coloring her tone. She shook her head, as if to make herself let go of her discontent. "I know you indulged her with being taken on a date, and… I guess I wondered if… maybe she riled herself up and let wishful thinking get in the way," she added. "Maybe she thought that there was more than there was when there wasn't."

This comment made it apparent that, though Robyn had told her team, she hadn't divulged much —if anything— of Winter reciprocating; Fiona certainly wouldn't have had these doubts had she known that Robyn had very nearly bedded her, would she? And although Winter thought that she would have been thankful for the privacy, she realized that… she hated that even those in the know might still misconstrue this as a passing fancy or something to be discarded as inconsequential. She'd rather it be understood it cost her some of herself too to let go of it. "She didn't. There is," Winter quietly said. "I told Robyn as much; we could have had something real."

"Oh…" The wavering in her voice solidified Winter's doubts; this was personal. Fiona had started fiddling with the hem of her shirt again. "So… why did you reject her?"

Something she kept asking herself. "For both our sakes, it was the right thing to do."

"Really?" Mossy green eyes were leveled at the soldier's profile once more, completely stupefied. "That's what you should do, so that's what you did? There's no other reason?"

"It's amply enough," Winter said, although she had a sense that this sounded preposterous to free spirits like Robyn's people.

"I couldn't see myself giving up on something that mattered to me just because it's what I should do," Fiona said, corroborating that hunch.

The unsaid accusation stung, and although Winter could not fault her for it, it still fell atop a mountain of accumulated stress that'd steadily been wearing her down. She was worn down to the bone, and so, just like with Qrow earlier that evening, knowing that she owed no justifications did nothing to muzzle her; "It's because she matters that I had to do this! How much she matters has compromised me," she protested. "It's been tearing me to pieces." The touch of despair in her voice completely took her aback, and she could feel her company's eyes on her in that moment of stillness, like Fiona was holding her breath. Winter hadn't expected to be so transparent, and the awareness of how exhausted she was washed over her. Her limbs weakened and her airways started to constrict, and it took everything she had to call herself back to order before her sorrow breached what was left of her countenance. Winter cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, chasing away the glassiness in her eyes. "Pardon me," she breathed, "that was— ...I …shouldn't have lost my composure."

Time seemed to resume its course, and Fiona shook her head. "Don't apologize. If anything… I'm sorry," she answered under her breath. "Insinuating you didn't care wasn't okay." Following that, a strangely comfortable silence took hold of the space between them. Something had shifted in the air, like the barbed wire was gone. Fiona might have been the one who had petitioned for this opportunity, but she'd done so out on a limb, based on nothing but her blind faith in Robyn; she'd still come into it with her defenses up and carrying a number of preconceptions. It was worlds away from how, in this moment, she gazed at Winter like one who had just discovered a new trail off a well known beaten path. "Why do you let people think that you're this… unfeeling, cold, almost inhuman thing?"

"It serves me well. Carrying this reputation and image discourages petty trouble. In a way, it's a preventative measure."

"I felt more combative towards you when you seemed like an emotionless robot," Fiona countered. "You shouldn't underestimate what being sympathetic can do."

"Sympathetic?" Winter repeated in surprise. An acknowledgement of budding sympathy had not been on her bingo card. "Am I hearing this right?"

"Ah—" she reddened. "...Well, I guess," Fiona puffed out, a subdued grin briefly stretching her features. Unlike at the beginning of the conversation, she didn't try to oust it; allowing it to soften into a small, lingering smile. "Who would have thought, huh?" She mused, eyeing her with amusement.

As the ship descended into Mantle, the chain of derelict buildings they flew by stood in stark contrast to the clean hues and well-lit city in the sky they had departed from. This wasn't even the most disadvantaged neighborhood; the Happy Huntresses' headquarters, where Winter was seeing her charge to, was adjacent to the liveliest area of the city, where it was easily accessible by public transport to any volunteers.

Watching the pitiful state of the landscape that was her home, it was almost unthinkingly that Fiona asked; "Any chances you might be open to a change of career? We always need more hands down here in Mantle."

"There's no chance of that."

"Thought so."

The surprise of that suggestion registered with a delay; Winter turned to her company. "... Was this a serious offer?"

Fiona smiled despondently, still watching the city fly by. "It was."

"You would welcome me as a Happy Huntress?"

"...I mean, it'd probably take some getting used to," she admitted, glancing her way. "But… Robyn would be really happy. And I'm not stupid, I know what kind of difference you could make."

Although it was being framed as pragmatism, the complete lack of reluctance or hesitancy in the way Fiona had advanced the idea gave Winter the vague sense that she might genuinely have liked to see her join their ranks. She needed a moment to swallow that. Knowing that Robyn's team —her family— would make room for her despite a lifetime of holding adversarial positions represented an enormous shift in how realistic pursuing this relationship seemed. It gave a concreteness to the prospect of such a future that would have better been left unknown to Winter because… suddenly, it didn't feel like the whole world would be against them. Suddenly, it felt like there could be a place in the world for this relationship.

"You could think about it," Fiona encouraged.

Had it not been for the Winter Maiden, she may have actually considered it. Winter shook her head faintly. "I can't, for there is something that I must do," she said. "Rather… There is something I must become," she added more quietly. Whether she became Fria's successor due to natural passing or due to circumstances forcing their hand, the timeline should coincide with either the launch of Amity or Salem's imminent attack; the hostilities between Atlas and Mantle would dwindle to dust. "Either way… once the chips have fallen, we will almost certainly find ourselves on the same side."

A few seconds of trying to connect the threads bore no results; "What does that mean? I don't understand what you're trying to say."

"In time you will," Winter affirmed, maneuvering the ship to land. "I promised Robyn that you would all know the truth soon enough."

"How soon? Before the election?"

"...No. We need more time."

Maybe it was their time together imminently coming at an end that emboldened her; "What are you doing out there in the tundra? Are you building a weapon?"

Winter turned off the engines and stood. "That's classified."

"It would be, huh," Fiona mused, unbuckling herself but remaining in her seat. "Is war at our doors?"

"Also classified."

"That's not reassuring," she muttered. "But then again… we've already gathered that someone out there is a problem. The Fall of Beacon, the attempt on Haven, the entire military fleet stationed defensively around our kingdom…" Fiona sighed. "I hope you know what you're doing."

"We'll prevail," Winter answered, moving out of the cockpit. "By any means necessary."

The faunus followed her, and they remained quiet as the hatch opened and ramp unfurled. It was strange, not quite knowing what to say as they parted. After the sincerity with which they'd spoken, they couldn't be called strangers anymore, yet acting with any level of familiarity also felt out of place.

Fiona turned to her. "Thank you. For everything; intervening, bringing me home, for your honesty."

Winter gave her a slow, acknowledging nod. "Similarly. Thank you for having an open mind about me."

The faunus extended her hand, and the soldier mirrored her movement, shaking it. "Take care, Winter."

As she flew back to Atlas, Winter found herself lost in contemplation of her many concessions within the past few hours. First, putting words to what had been shifting within herself; willingly or not, she was moving past her uncompromising rigor; she may have told Qrow that she needed to change, but… she had already changed. Second… between the coming solidarity between the two cities that certainly rode on the news of Salem's war, and the Happy Huntresses' acceptance of her… Robyn no longer felt worlds apart. Awaiting her at the end of these contemplations – certain as the approaching lights of Atlas – was, again, the sense that her battle to turn away from Robyn was a losing one.

Turning this over and over in her head as she went through her nightly routine brought her to the same conclusion again and again. So maybe it was inevitable that, as she was about to put her scroll to charge and noticed a new message, Winter made no attempt at snubbing it.

R > thank you
R > you didn't have to go out of your way to intervene or to make sure that Fi got back safe, but you did, and it means a lot to me that you did
R > thank you

As though possessed, she typed out a response, answering for the first time in weeks;
> You give me too much credit. I never intended to take charge of her safety so personally; she was the one who requested I escort her home. She wanted to speak with me.

Robyn had stayed in the chat, and didn't waste a second:
R > she did?
R > why?
R > what about?

> Curiosity, I believe, although I'm not completely convinced that she truly knew herself what she sought. When all was said and done however, she wound up offering me a job.

R > did you take it?

> You already know the answer to that.

R > a girl can hope
R > gotta say I'm a bit blindsided tho
R > ngl Fi's been the most resistant to the idea of well… you
R > I'm super surprised she asked you to join us

Reminded of how personally invested Fiona's questions had felt, Winter couldn't suppress the urge to confirm her suspicions.
> You wouldn't expect her to welcome someone she may view as competition, is that right? She has feelings for you.

R > figures you'd pick up on it

Bullseye. Pressure developed in her chest as all sorts of worries and concerns suddenly came to life. It was none of her business, but she needed to know.

Do you have history with her?

R > yes and no
R > we were never together, but lines were crossed at times

That didn't make her feel better in the slightest.
> I see.

R > jealous?

Winter stared at her screen blankly. She hadn't yet had enough time to contend with what had brewed inside her to recognize it for what it was until this word was offered to her. Nevertheless, it was right.
> It seems so.

R > it was a long time ago, and it won't happen again
R > she knows it too, so whatever she feels, I don't think she's serious about it at all
R > there's nothing for you to worry about

> Jealousy is irrational. She's at your side and I'm not, I can't help what that elicits.

R > you're the one who decided to cut me out of your life, I'll remind you

> I did what I had to, regardless of how I feel.

R > … how you feel?

Her fingers hovered over the screen, incapable of choosing how or where to begin addressing this.

Robyn either understood that it was too complex a question to answer by text, or assumed by the context of the rest of the conversation that the designation meant feelings of jealousy, and spared her the trouble of answering.
R > if you don't wanna feel like that it's pretty easy to fix
R > I'm all yours to take, you can have me

Have her. What coursed through her was visceral— savage even, and it burned through the last few threads of restraint she had been holding by.
> What if I did?

Dots appeared and disappeared twice before an answer came through.
R > don't play with me

> I'm not.

R > so what are you saying?

What was she saying?
> I'm not sure myself.

Neither seemed to know what to add for a while, though they both remained in the chat. Winter might have been spiraling had her brain not entirely fried from sheer incomprehension of what she'd done.

R > can we talk? you can't drop something like that on me by text

Her heart beating so hard that it might have bruised itself against her ribcage, she tapped the contact options and her thumb hovered over the call button. What was she doing? Was she actually considering calling her? She realized she was holding her breath. Finally, she couldn't restrain herself; she pressed it and brought her scroll to her ear.

Robyn's voice came right away. "No video chat?"

"I'm not presentable," she mumbled.

"I don't care about that— in fact, that's even better."

"Better? A worn out shirt with unkempt hair?"

"Sounds glorious."

"Don't mock me," Winter cautioned.

"I'm not. Messy hair on you is the stuff of my dreams," Robyn said, that wolfish grin of hers audible in her tone. What that implied permeated the short pause that ensued; Robyn didn't let that faze her. "So that's what you usually sleep in? Old shirt? With pajama pants? Shorts?"

"Just underwear," she didn't know why she was answering this.

"Huh…"

"What?"

"Nothing, just picturing it."

"Please don't, it's dreadful."

"You kidding? It's anything but dreadful; it's what it'd be like going to bed with you on a normal day if we were together."

Again, her heart was fighting to break out of her chest. "You think about that?"

"Don't you?" Robyn posed in return. "Or do you mostly think about spicy stuff?" She added teasingly.

Winter felt her body tense, embarrassment warming her neck and face.

This time, the lack of response may have had Robyn fear that she was being too cavalier, that taunting her so brazenly when she was finally talking to her may be reckless, and her voice came softer; "Hey, I'm not tryi—"

"No, you're right," Winter cut in. "My thoughts are anything but chaste; I can't stop thinking about that evening with you, it's haunting me."

Now it was Robyn who needed a moment, and, in the lull that followed, Winter didn't know what she regretted more: saying it, or not being on video chat so she could have a sense of what was going through the other woman's mind. "What did you mean earlier? When I said you could have me," Robyn eventually asked. "Are you serious? You're considering this?"

This? Were they talking about sex or romance?

Although it was no secret that both yearned for more than a physical connection, what brought on the question just now was the acknowledgement of desire. And why wouldn't Robyn assume that Winter still meant to resist, that anything she may acquiesce to would be a one-off attempt to get it out of her system? After all, a single night was still conceivably concealable from the scrutiny they were under as public figures, whereas a continued relationship was not. When it came down to it however, the truth of the matter was… all options were on the table. Winter could no longer endure the distance she had attempted to impose; she had no choice but to abet some form of connection. "I may have suggested what I did on impulse, but I am serious, yes," she answered quietly. "I have to, I'm at the end of my rope; I can't go on like this."

Although she could have very well teased Winter for capitulating or been vindictive for having been hurt, Robyn's voice was instead gentle; full of empathy; "it never had to hurt this bad."

"But it did," Winter shot back wryly. If it hadn't hurt this much, she would have stubbornly managed to bear it for the sake of her duty. So the fact of the matter was that it had to hurt at least this much for the connection between them to be allowed any room, and Winter didn't know what she resented more; the pain itself, the circumstances, or herself for being so willful. "It did have to be this painful, and now it is," she vented as she started pacing her room. "Nothing I do is any help in coping, I can't move on, I'm losing my mind." With each barrier that had fallen over that evening, she had been losing control faster and faster, crumbling, and now that she'd reached this point, now that she had a sliver of intimacy with the one person whom she wanted to be vulnerable with, she was powerless to stop the flood of emotion from pouring out. "I want to be in your arms," she rasped, "just as much for the comfort and care that my heart yearns for as for the passion and hunger that my body aches for— and it really does ache! I'm wired, pent up, and exhausted from the strain. And I just— I want you, and I don't know what to do with myself, because even trying to… " she gasped in disbelief at herself; at the parts she could no longer censor, "even trying to relieve this on my own does nothing to assuage this ache— it only amplifies my loneliness."

On the other end of the line, Robyn had no answer. Maybe she was speechless hearing all this, whether for having not surmised the extent to which Winter had been torturing herself, or from the surprise that Winter had confessed any of this at all.

Her pacing came to a halt; her legs suddenly weak. Winter shakily sat herself on her bed, curling over herself as she hid her face in one hand. Why had she said any of this? She'd just embarrassed herself, futilely dumping her stress on Robyn, who could only powerlessly absorb what she'd revealed. Sure, it was likely that Robyn wanted to know this, but… it still felt stupid to throw at her petty concerns that had no immediate solutions.

"You know," Robyn started after a while, "... It's not like you're not totally on your own right now. Maybe it won't feel as lonely with me on the other end of the line."

"...What?"

"Let me get comfortable." There was a change in the quality of the audio of the call as Robyn put her on speaker. "Hold on."

Having undressed Robyn hundreds of times in her mind, Winter could too easily follow along. The shuffling of clothes and the heaviness of different types of fabric, the sound of buckles, or zippers, or buttons unsnapping told her exactly at which state of undress Robyn was, and she could feel the heat pool between her legs. Finally there was the creaking of the mattress and the audio quality of the call went back to normal.

"I'm in bed now," Robyn said, "naked."

"I realized that."

"Wish you were here."

Winter breathed shakily.

"Wanna know what I'd do to you if you were here with me?" Robyn asked, her voice low and lucious. "Or… what I'd want you to do to me if you were in my bed with me right now?"

The pulse of her racing heart reverberated in her throat, in her fingertips, and still Winter's last shred of sense urged her not to let things get out of hand. "What are you doing?"

"You know what I'm doing. You want me to stop?"

Of course, Winter was so far beyond telling her to stop.

Robyn waited another moment for a command that wouldn't come. She hummed with delight. "So… do you wanna know what I like? …How you could make me feel good?" She exhaled lustfully, accompanied by the sound of shifting bedsheets. "You think about it, huh? Touching my body, going down on me, fucking me…"

As she listened, the sensation of her underwear's dampness under her fingertips revealed that her hand had made its way between her legs. Winter swiftly took it back; she couldn't, could she? Although… wasn't it exactly what was expected of her?

Robyn wasn't bothered by her silence, continuing; "Y'know… me too, when I close my eyes, what happened that day replays over and over," she said. "The way you were looking up at me when you were under me, the feel of your skin, how hungrily you kissed me. God I don't know what I'd give to have that again," she murmured, her bed creaking. "When you wrapped your legs around me, and your wet underwear rubbed against my stomach, I—... You know how much I think about that? How much I wish I could have taken care of that for you?" Her voice had gotten breathier, as it became apparent that she was working up a sweat. "I dream about what you might taste like; fuck, I wanna eat you…"

Winter pressed her hand to her mouth, realizing how labored her own breathing had grown. Her thighs squeezed tightly, creating light pressure where she had refused to touch. Eyeing her drawer, her heart hammering in her chest, it wasn't with a conscious decision that she fished out a toy from her nightstand; it was as though she was no longer controlling her own body.

"Winter…" Robyn moaned her name, sending shivers through her. "I think a lot of how it might've gone down if we'd kept going. I was too greedy, I wanted to touch you so much, I didn't leave you time to touch me back much," she lamented. "And now I keep fantasizing about what you might have done to me, how you might've touched me."

Having done away with her underwear and gotten comfortable in her bed, she slowly rubbed the length of the toy against herself, stimulating herself further, feeling it grow slick as it warmed closer to her body temperature. Her eyes fluttered shut, allowing herself to be transported by the images being described to her and from Robyn's undisguised pleasure on the other end of the line as she pushed her toy inside.

"I imagine your breath on my stomach, and your hands pulling my pants down," Robyn fantasized out loud, "I think of how you've kissed me, how intense and passionate it was, and how fucking incredible that'd feel with you going down on me," she moaned again. "I think of your mouth on me, of your tongue— fuck, thinking about it makes me so hot," she breathed. "I wish you could see for yourself how wet I am right now."

Pleasure rippled through her with every thrust, melting away the tension accumulated in her body. Robyn's voice was honey in her ear, and the sensuality filled her to the brim with what could only be molten bliss. She laid her scroll on her pillow and leaned her head to it, liberating her second hand to rub her clit as she sank further into her mattress, moaning quietly.

Silence suddenly fell over the other side of the line, and Robyn exhaled, her breath quivering. "Holy shit," she murmured in disbelief. "I wasn't sure if you would actually…"

Her face flushed. Robyn might've hoped that she was, but she still hadn't known for certain that Winter was masturbating too until now. "Don't stop," she groused embarrassedly, "you want to make me self-conscious?"

"No!" Robyn exclaimed. "No, I…" she sighed shakily. "Tell me. Give me a mental picture," she pleaded earnestly. Having carried the entire thing up until now, it shouldn't have been too much of an ask to be granted a few lines, but Winter remained tongue-tied, and Robyn quickly realized that this was probably too much to ask of someone who had so little experience with intimacy; she didn't let the moment stall or turn awkward. "Are you touching yourself through your underwear? Or not? Are your fingers inside you?"

"No, I— ...I'm… using a toy."

"You are?" She sounded thrilled. "How do you like it? Slow? … Hard?" Robyn moaned, and her breathing picked up markedly, having clearly resumed her own efforts. "Winter," she called lustfully, "I'd love to fuck you with one."

Hearing this suggestion coursed fire through Winter's skin, and she too resumed.

"Would you take it like a good girl? Bend over? Or do you want to ride me?"

The images cascading through her mind dizzied her with lust; wildly carnal desires she hadn't dared explore, of Robyn taking possession of her like that; wearing her out until she collapsed. She lost herself in them entirely, no longer mindful of the noise she was making.

"Fuck, I want to feel you squirm under me," Robyn heaved heatedly. "I want to make you scream."

Winter kept the toy pushed deep inside her as her eyes rolled back and her limbs tensed up, as release cascaded through her body in the most liberating way. As the pleasure began to abate, she exhaled lowly, her mind slowly clearing, and what she had just done slowly sinking in. She withdrew the toy, unceremoniously tossing it at the feet of her bed, and wiped the drool from her mouth, turning on her side. Robyn was panting raggedly on the other end of the line; she didn't have the clarity of mind to speak anymore. Winter picked up her scroll again and listened until she was done.

Robyn was catching her breath, her voice having lost its urgency. "Winter? You came too?"

"...Yes."

"Feeling any better?"

Was she? The immediate yearning was quelled, and unlike when she just did it on her own, sharing this moment with Robyn left a lingering sense of intimacy. Although in the afterglow of it, she wanted to nestle against her more than ever. "I'm not better per-se," she admitted. "Scratching this itch has effectively replaced one ailment with another. We may have shared something, but I still feel this immense void."

"I get that," Robyn murmured. "I can't tell you how much I'd love to be holding you right now," she sighed pitifully. "I need to kiss you so bad…"

Winter tilted her head back, covering her face with her arm. It was exactly what she wanted too, more than anything in the world, and she found that she wasn't even admonishing herself for feeling it. She wasn't rueing herself for what she had done either, nor did her resolve to keep Robyn at bay resurface. Even with her mind unclouded by desire, she wasn't scrambling back to what she knew should do. The fact of the matter was, it had become all too clear that denying herself ensured that all she ever thought about was Robyn, and she had come to accept that this wasn't going away, that trying to fight it was a waste of effort. What's more, there was no way she wouldn't slip again; slipping further and further was all that'd been happening ever since the first day Robyn had smiled at her. Thinking back on what she'd insisted moments before fleeing from Robyn's place — that what she felt wasn't so big that she couldn't ignore it — made her feel like a fool. The only thing left to do now was mitigate the consequences.

"Robyn?"

"Yeah?"

"The media circus has already made it hard for you to have any manner of privacy, and it will only get worse after you're elected. Keeping a liaison with me under wraps can't be managed very long."

"I know, but I'll take the heat, I don't care," she said without skipping a beat; clearly, she'd already thought through what her approach would be when this got out. "Once I'm elected, PR can take a back seat. People can talk all they want about what they think being with you means about my integrity. They'll get proven wrong— what I'll do for Mantle in the long run will speak for what I stand for. There won't be any denying that."

"So… You're completely certain about all this."

"I really am, I'm not kidding," Robyn answered wholeheartedly, though the question that followed was fretful; as if a knot had formed in her throat; "What? So what are you thinking?"

"Just that I need to see you," Winter murmured. "When can I see you?"

Tbc