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Chapter Text

“—and then you have your trap cards, which you play whenever another player does something. You react—like a trap—but only if the condition is met. And there are actually two types of trap cards. See, this one you can play on anyone’s turn, even an opponent. But cards with this symbol can only be played on your turn. Oh! And then, there are the modifier cards—”

Weiss stared at her partner diligently, back straight and hands folded in her lap like a lady of proper breeding. She valiantly, magnanimously, ignored the spray of crumbs that came precariously close to her face when Ruby interrupted herself to talk about another type of card.

Yang, who Weiss blamed entirely for this—although she hadn’t yet figured out why—sat next to her sister, slouching in her seat and grinning wildly in Weiss’ direction. It had started as a small smile, but as Ruby’s explanation had gone on, and on, and on, it had grown as Yang apparently sensed Weiss’ discomfort like some kind of demented empath.

She should not have been able to. Weiss’ poise was flawless. And she’d endured longer, more grating lectures from both her father and the retinue of tutors he had hired for her. Of course, none had been quite so… indecorous.

“Do you get it?” Ruby asked.

“Of course,” Weiss replied, giving her partner a small nod. 

It was a lie. Weiss did not “get” anything about this horrifyingly complicated game she had been forced to participate in. The rules seemed interminable and even Weiss—who prided herself on her studious nature and her rigorous discipline—had been unable to give her full attention to the explanation. 

Weiss felt sure that she would be able to fill in any gaps on her own. She was a skilled and trained strategist, after all, and this… Remnant: The Game was marketed as “the original strategy game.” Weiss scoffed at that. Surely chess had a better claim to that title?

She had made the mistake of suggesting their team play that instead. Ruby, Weiss’ partner—her leader!—had asked if that was like checkers, but harder.

Yang had then made some reference to their childhood, bringing up an event in which Ruby had apparently ingested a checker. 

“Obviously I was going to eat it!” Ruby had said, instead of denying it like any reasonable person. “You were babysitting me, so it was your job to stop me!”

Weiss empathized with Yang. Just over two months of living with Ruby had taught Weiss that it was nearly impossible to stop the girl from doing anything once she set her mind to it. Weiss couldn’t imagine the stress involved in preventing her from self-destructing for an entire lifetime.

But, the object in question was also a plastic disk. Surely a child of any age wouldn’t need to be told not to eat it. Weiss herself had never had such trouble—if she had been allowed trivial things such as plastic toys as a child, she was sure she would not have eaten them.

The sisters had looked at Weiss strangely when she had declared that.

“What about you, Blake?” Ruby asked, looking expectantly to Weiss’ right. Their fourth teammate was slumped forward in her chair, her head buried in a book.

“What? Yeah, sure.”

“Great!”

Weiss shot Blake a withering glare—one that sadly went unnoticed. They were supposed to be suffering through this together, at the very least!

“What’cha reading there, Blake?” Yang asked, leaning forward and trying to hook a finger around the book. Blake pulled it back defensively, holding it against her chest.

“A book,” she said.

“A book, she says,” Yang announced to no one. “Is it something risque?”

“No!”

“It must be, if you won’t let your dear partner see it. Weiss, what do you think?”

“I think you should leave Blake alone and respect your teammates’ privacy,” Weiss said, less to defend Blake in the moment and out of a feeling of solidarity. Weiss, too, had been the victim of Yang’s endless curiosity and complete ignorance towards normal human boundaries.

“Thank you—”

“Boring!” Yang interrupted. “What about you, Ruby? This is a team meeting, right? Tell Blake to show us her smut.”

“Wha—? Ha! Smut? Order? I wouldn’t, no,” Ruby sputtered, looking around wildly as if they might be overheard and judged. 

Actually, Weiss realized, it was a valid concern. For reasons unknown to her, they were in the Beacon library. Surely this game could have been played in their dormitory. Privately. Where no one could see Weiss Schnee playing a board game.

“The Howl,”  Yang read, squinting at the cover. “Sounds spicy to me.”

“It’s not—”

“And that’s not really much of a book, come to think of it. More of a magazine, if anything.”

Humiliatingly, disturbingly—Yang was right. It clearly wasn’t a book. It was somewhere in between a pamphlet and a magazine, bound cheaply and inelegantly. Against her will, Weiss felt her face heat up. Was Blake reading something… like that, at their table together?

“Blake!” Yang fake gasped. “Have you put down the smut and gone straight to—?”

“There is nothing illicit at all on these pages,” Blake said, her tone making it clear that the conversation was over. She did not take into account the fact that her partner was tone-deaf.

“I guess that depends on—”

“Alright!” Ruby cut in. She looked as mortified as Weiss felt. “Back to the game!”

Weiss didn’t want to play the game, but she wanted to hear about Yang’s theories and Blake’s activities even less. She quickly threw her support behind her leader.

“Yes, I agree. Let’s begin.”

“Ruby’s only trying to shut us down because she doesn’t know what smut is,” Yang said conversationally to Blake, as if her partner cared at all.

“I do so!” Ruby protested.

“My baby sister? Absolutely not—where would you learn something like that?”

“It’s sex!” Ruby announced, far too loudly. Her words seemed to echo in the silent, cavernous library.

The smut in question slipped out of Blake’s hands and landed on the floor. Ruby’s eyes widened and she shrunk into her chair, turning as red as her cape. Even Yang looked reluctantly impressed at her sister’s audacity.

“Ruby!” Weiss hissed. “Control yourself! I’m here for your team bonding exercise, not to be humiliated by my teammates!”

Ruby whined, bringing her head forward to thunk onto the table. Yang laughed at her distress, and Weiss thought she even heard Blake exhale in amusement as she leaned over to pick up her dropped book.

“Honestly,” Weiss said, “if I’d known this was your plan, I would never have agreed to this!”

“Agreed?” Yang said. “You lost that bet fair and square!”

“Schnees do not ‘bet,’” Weiss sniffed. “It was a business arrangement, and Ruby followed through on her end of the bargain.”

An arrangement that Weiss did regret making, in hindsight. Not that she would admit it. And she was, begrudgingly, rather proud of Ruby for approaching her with the initiative. 

An acceptable grade in their biweekly examination in Doctor Oobleck’s Modern History class; a course that Ruby struggled in. If Ruby achieved that, Weiss would concede to a “team bonding exercise” chosen by Ruby herself. Weiss had been impressed with Ruby’s acumen, and she had agreed immediately. It was a win-win, she had thought. Either Ruby brought her grades up and thus brought their team’s collective score up, or she did not and Weiss had an excuse to not participate in any inane exercises.

Ruby had now claimed victory for three examinations in a row. She was becoming a rather shrewd businesswoman, Weiss determined. Obviously she was taking after her partner in that regard.

And until now, the “bonding” had not been too painful. There had been a team lunch in Vale, which was pleasant. And they had viewed a movie that Weiss did not enjoy overmuch, but that she did not find overly disagreeable either.

“The game!” Ruby said, shooting upright—apparently recovered from her humiliation.

“We haven’t even started,” Blake said, looking at the large board and the considerable amount of game pieces with something like fear in her eyes. Weiss recognized the look, certain that it was mirrored on her own face.

“We’d better get to it,” Yang said. “We might have to break for dinner and then come back to finish up.”

“Dinner?” Blake asked. “That’s three hours away.”

Weiss felt a headache coming on. If she was lucky it would render her completely unconscious. 

“Alright!” Ruby announced. “First order of business—we have to choose our kingdoms!”

“How do we choose?”

“I’m Vale!” Yang said, slamming her fist down onto the table and rattling the dice and game pieces.

“What?” Ruby near-shrieked, and Weiss hurriedly shushed her before she could violate the sanctity of the library again. “I’m Vale!”

“No way,” Yang said. “I called it. Right Blake?”

Blake didn’t respond, instead choosing to just stare blankly at her partner until Yang gave up and turned to Weiss instead. It was a highly effective tactic that Blake had started using recently, and it worked nearly every time. Weiss would have her revenge, eventually—the two forever locked in conflict, each trying to pawn their overbearing partner off onto the other. 

Blake typically found more success.

“Surely there’s a selection process of some kind,” Weiss said. “What do the rules say?”

“There is, but it’s boring,” Yang said. “Shotgun Vale!”

“No fair! You had Vale last time!”

“So?”

“There are rules, Yang!”

“What are they? Where are they?” Weiss asked. She reached for the thick rule booklet that Ruby had carelessly tossed aside, but her partner’s arm slammed down on it before she could retrieve it.

“They’re our rules! Yang and I always alternate Vale, and we take turns playing the other lame kingdoms.”

“Like Atlas?” Blake asked.

“Hey!”

“Exactly! Who would want to be Atlas?”

“I will be Atlas,” Weiss declared. “We’re a great nation—we are powerful and wealthy, and we carry a heavy burden. But I am prepared to shoulder it.”

“That’s great, Weiss,” Yang said. “Gotta represent the motherland. That’s why I’ll be Vale!”

“I vote that we call a vote,” Ruby said.

“You can’t vote for a vote!”

“Then I declare a vote! Who should be Vale? I vote for Ruby Rose.”

The argument was beginning to grate on Weiss, especially when she knew that she had hours more of this game to look forward to. Surely it didn’t matter who played what kingdom.

Not that Weiss would let Atlas be taken from her, of course. What, would she play a kingdom like Vacuo? She shuddered at the thought.

“This is ridiculous—” Weiss tried to interrupt. 

“I vote for Yang Xiao-Long!” Yang shouted, throwing her hand up as if she were in a classroom.

“A tie, then,” Ruby said. The sisters both shifted to stare across the table at their own partners. Blake sighed.

“Blake!” Yang crowed. “You don’t want to be Vale, do you? No, but you want your kingdom to be taken care of! And your dear partner, you trust her—she should be Vale, right?”

Blake had picked up a game piece and was tapping it absentmindedly against the table as she stared at the game board—a large, stylized map of Remnant.

“Vale’s not my kingdom,” she said.

“What?” Yang said, jerking forward so quickly that she nearly fell out of her chair. “Why didn’t I know that? Where are you from?”

Weiss didn’t react so basely, but she felt just as surprised. Blake was their teammate! And Weiss had vowed to herself to be a better teammate—shouldn’t she know where Blake was from?

Ruby and Yang were from Patch, she knew. They talked about it enough, telling stories about their father, and their uncle, and someone named Zwei. A younger brother, Weiss assumed, but one that the sisters seemed to love dearly. Weiss had no such warm feelings towards Whitley.

“I abstain,” Blake said. “It’s better that way. We don’t want to risk a tie.”

Why—that was devious! I’ll get you back for this, Belladonna, Weiss swore as the sisters both turned their attention to her.

“Weiss…” Ruby pleaded.

“Oh, Weiss-cream,” Yang intoned, clasping her hands together and blinking her eyes.

Weiss narrowed her eyes at Blake, letting her know that she would not forget what she had done. Blake simply smiled minutely.

But—Weiss had power now. Ruby and Yang had foolishly handed it to her. And her father had ensured that Weiss knew how to handle power and influence.

“So the decision is mine, then,” Weiss said aloud, humming thoughtfully.

“Obviously she’s going to pick her partner!”

“Never! Weiss and I have an understanding. We’re cool. Ha, get it? Because Weiss likes ice.”

Ruby groaned, and Weiss almost gave in and chose her immediately in retaliation for Yang’s pun. But Weiss was nothing if not disciplined.

"I don't know," Weiss said. "Ruby, hypothetically—if you play Vale and succeed on Doctor Oobleck's next exam…"

Ruby perked up immediately, recognizing Weiss’ offer for what it was. Yang groaned in defeat, hanging her head backwards off of her chair.

"I definitely wouldn't want to play Remnant again for that team bonding session!” Ruby said. “Hmm, I'd probably just choose lunch in Vale again. It was quick and easy. But! I don't know that many restaurants… Maybe I'd let you choose?"

A shrewd businesswoman indeed.

"Ruby will play Vale," Weiss decided.

“Yay!”

“Just for that, I’m going to conquer you, Ice Queen.”

“Bring it on!” Ruby said. “That’s my partner you’re threatening—the Vale/Atlas alliance will not fall!”

Ruby held her hand up and Weiss, reluctantly, tapped their palms together.

“Good enough!” Ruby said. “But, um, I think we’re going to have to practice that later.”

That was not going to happen. Not if Weiss had anything to say about it.

“Ugh, fine. Alright, you can have Vale, Ruby. This time. Blake, what kingdom do you want?”

Blake looked back at the board.

“What are my options?” she asked, revealing that she’d been paying about as much attention during Ruby’s explanation as she’d appeared to be.

“Well, there’s the other two kingdoms. Mistral and Vacuo.”

“But,” Blake hesitated, looking at Yang, and then—for some reason—Weiss. “What if you had more than four players? Are there other options? Like Menagerie, for example?”

Blake tapped the smallest continent that sat squished in the bottom left of the board.

“Oh, no,” Ruby explained. “There’s an expansion pack where you can play as the Grimmlands, which is cool! But there are a couple locations that don’t start under anyone’s control like Menagerie, or the Dead Desert. You can occupy them to get stuff—like, you get a movement bonus if you have troops on Argus!”

Blake tapped Menagerie again with her game piece, harder this time. If Weiss cared at all about the game, she’d worry that Blake was damaging the plastic.

“Besides,” Weiss offered, “Ruby said every kingdom has its own strengths in the game. Menagerie isn’t a kingdom and even if they were, what could Menagerie do better than the other four options?”

“But—” Blake started, and then cut herself off from whatever she was going to say. She made brief eye contact with Weiss and then looked away. “I’ll play Mistral.”

“Are you from Mistral?” Yang asked. “You said you’re not from Vale, so…”

“We moved around a lot. But I spent a lot of time in Mistral.”

It was a non-answer, and Yang didn’t seem any more satisfied with it than Weiss was. They’d have to do something to make their recalcitrant teammate open up more. After a single second of deliberation, Weiss decided she could just set Ruby on her later.

It was no less than what Blake deserved.

“Alright then, Yang is Vacuo. Let’s get started!”

“Same first letter, same continent,” Yang said. “It’s just like home!”

“What?” Weiss asked. “They are nothing alike! The temperature alone—”

“Would melt you, Ice Queen, I know.” 

“Time for troop placement,” Ruby interrupted. “Yang, you pick first.”

Weiss tried to listen as Ruby explained the process, but the rules were as inane as ever. She would figure it out as the game began, Weiss decided. Weiss Schnee wouldn’t be defeated by something as simple as a board game.

“Not a kingdom,” Blake muttered from beside her, and Weiss refrained from rolling her eyes.

Was she still on that? Menagerie, a kingdom—honestly! Blake fixated on the strangest things, sometimes. She’d pulled this same stunt just the week before, when they’d sat down to watch a movie under Ruby’s instruction.

It had been some generic action film with too many explosions and too little plot, and one of the characters had a tail. A fake tail, as Blake had pointed out—repeatedly, and despite the groans from Ruby and Yang to just watch the movie.

Weiss hadn’t enjoyed the film either—because it was bland and tasteless, not because she was upset that an actor was acting—but she hadn’t complained the entire time. Well, maybe she had once or twice, but her complaints were valid because she’d critiqued the film’s artistic value. Of which there was none.

She shook her head and put Blake’s silliness out of her mind; Weiss had learned already that there was no point arguing with her. And besides, she had a game to win. Weiss had pledged to Ruby that she would become a better teammate, and so she would do it. Even if it came at a high cost, like having to learn a needlessly complicated strategy game.

“Right,” she said, looking at the admittedly daunting board. “What do I do?”

Expand your Kingdom! Occupy Menagerie to colonize the island and reap its luxury goods to lower your negativity. But beware: with these rewards comes great risk—other players may decide they want the continent for themselves. And the denizens of Menagerie may not give up their treasure without a fight; at the beginning phase of the occupying kingdom’s turn, that player must perform a loyalty check. If failed, you may lose units to a savage uprising!

- Remnant: The Game, Official Players Manual. Page 5.

Chapter Text

Team RWBY trudged into their dorm hungry, freshly-showered, and pleasantly sore. It would probably surprise Weiss’ teammates to learn that combat training with Professor Goodwitch was her favorite class, but she had become a huntress for a reason and it wasn’t solely because of Schnee family tradition. Weiss liked the hard work and—and she recognized that this might actually kill Ruby Rose if she admitted it—she appreciated the chance to stand up and move after their morning lectures.

That wasn’t to say that she didn’t enjoy the more traditional academic courses. A Schnee was always well-rounded.

“Alright, Team RWBY!” Ruby said. “We have two hours until our next class. I officially declare it lunch time!”

Yang, predictably, pumped a fist into the air and gave a cheer that Weiss was sure Team JNPR could hear from their room. She’d given up on trying to silence the blonde and was instead waiting for the rest of their hall to file noise complaints. Weiss would not hesitate to point fingers at the culprit when Professor Goodwitch came knocking, and she suspected that Blake wouldn’t either.

“Now—” Ruby started. She was interrupted by the abrupt onslaught of what could generously be called music; Weiss had been informed against her will that it was the “Achieve Men,” and perhaps the only true regret she had about her relocation to Vale was her newfound ability to recognize their songs. Yang had many of them set as ringtones.

“It’s Uncle Qrow!” Yang said. Ruby shrieked, and when Weiss’ eyes uncrossed she reflexively checked their window to make sure it hadn’t cracked. Blake seemed to have been knocked straight off her feet by the volume and was lying face-down in her bed.

“We have to take this!” Ruby said. “We’ll be right back!” 

She disappeared in a flurry of rose petals, and Yang followed right after her. The door slammed shut with such force that several books toppled off of a nearby desk and landed on the floor. Weiss sighed and knelt down to retrieve them.

Something pulled in her side and she let out a quiet hiss. A shifting sound came from Blake’s bed and then:

“You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Weiss said. She prodded her side gingerly. “If every idiot in the world hit as hard as Cardin Winchester, humanity would be doomed.”

Blake didn’t reward her with enthusiastic laughter or a boisterous guffaw, but then she wasn’t Ruby or Yang. Weiss felt she knew her dark-haired teammate enough to know she was wearing one of her small, quiet smiles. They were harder to earn, but Weiss liked to think she and Blake had a kind of understanding between them. They each endured every day as one of the sisters’ partners, after all.

“I would have thought you and Cardin would get along.”

And then she would say something like that, and Weiss would have to admit that the girl was still a mystery and that maybe Blake didn’t like her at all. Honestly, her and Cardin? 

“What? We have nothing in common—”

“You’re both rich.”

“There are different kinds of rich.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me, Belladonna. You compared me to the cretin.”

“I just assumed your values would align.”

And what was a comment like that even supposed to mean? Sometimes Weiss thought Blake was enigmatic on purpose. Why, Weiss couldn’t possibly say. Maybe she delighted in confusing people the way that Xiao-Long did in inflicting her puns upon the unsuspecting population.

“I don’t know what values you’re referring to,” Weiss said. “But there’s nothing classy about being loud.”

“You would know best.”

Weiss scooped up the books and stood. She assumed they were Blake’s—they’d fallen off the desk that she and Yang “shared,” but that was a generous designation and Weiss didn’t think she’d seen the blonde use it even once.

First was their Modern History textbook. The cover was different from Weiss’ own, and she realized it was an older edition. The corners were weathered, the spine was cracked, and Weiss could see discoloration on some of the pages. Blake must have bought it used—honestly, what was she thinking? Weiss shook her head but stayed silent. Sometimes it seemed like she was the only member of Team RWBY who took her education seriously.

Next was a copy of Dust Basics. It was in better condition, but a glance at the spine revealed it had been checked out from the Beacon Library. Did Blake not even own her own textbook?

Finally was the poorly-bound magazine that Blake had been reading at their last Team Bonding Session. The Howl. Weiss remembered too well what Yang had to say about it, and she hesitated to stack it back on Blake’s desk. Should she—?

Weiss glanced at Blake’s bed and saw that she was still burying her head in her pillow. Well, there was no harm in taking a small look. Purely for academic reasons. She was just curious about what her teammate was reading.

Welcome, Faunus and Faunus-Friends. A hearty greeting from the staff of The Howl ! We have an exciting issue for you this month, with contributors from all over Remnant gracing our pages. This editor is particularly excited about our very first featured poem—it’s from none other than Menagerie’s current poet laureate, Gila Garnet. Turn to Page 3 to see the very first printing of “Fight, Fight, on this Winter Night.” And don’t miss our editorial on Page 31; The Howl’s very own Reggie Meadow was in Mantle during Councilman Sleet’s latest national address, and he has some strong words to share about it…

Well, it wasn’t smut—Weiss could say that for sure. But what was it? Poetry? Everyone knew that Blake always had a book in her hand, but to be honest Weiss had always been under the impression that her tastes were rather lowbrow.

“What is this?” Weiss asked.

“What is what?”

Blake rolled over in her bed and sat up, and Weiss could see her eyes widen the moment she saw the magazine in Weiss’ hand. 

“That’s nothing,” Blake said, leaping out of bed. She stalked over and made to snatch the magazine away, but Weiss had huntress reflexes as well and she moved it behind her back.

“It’s not nothing, clearly,” Weiss scoffed. “This is, what, a book of Faunus poetry? Where would you even get such a thing? Why would you even have such a thing?”

Blake narrowed her eyes, and Weiss thought she was going to lunge for the book again, but instead she just huffed and backed away. 

“I don’t see how it’s any of your business.”

“I like to know what my teammates are getting up to,” Weiss said pointedly. She lifted her chin.

Blake scowled and sent Weiss what she probably considered a devastating glare. Weiss matched her evenly and sent one of her own right back. Finally, Blake looked away. She seemed upset, and for a moment Weiss nearly felt bad. Even the girl’s bow seemed to droop on her head.

“It’s a newsletter,” Blake said. “ The Howl is a Faunus rights publication. They collect art, updates, and editorials from Faunus writers, thinkers, and activists.”

“Like the White Fang?” Weiss blanched. What was Blake doing with some of their filthy propaganda? Her hand suddenly itched where she held on to the book, and Weiss couldn’t put it down fast enough. She rubbed her palm as if it were burned.

“No!” Blake said. “No. Not every Faunus is a member of the White Fang, you know—”

“I know that!”

“Well, there’s plenty of activists who aren’t violent. And The Howl is a way for them to share news and ideas with each other.”

Weiss looked at the magazine suspiciously.

“And why is it in our room?”

“Because I like to read it,” Blake said stubbornly.

“But why? ”

Blake stalked around Weiss and snatched her magazine off of the desk. She ran a gentle hand over it, and Weiss rolled her eyes at the ugly cover art. It was all blocky lines and garish colors—exactly the kind of unsophisticated “art” she imagined that tribe on Menagerie must cobble together.

“Because I believe that all beings should be treated equally,” Blake said. If Weiss hadn’t scoffed so much already, she would have done so at her teammate’s self-righteous tone.

“Oh, we all believe that, Belladonna. You’re not a saint. But really—if you have an interest in poetry, I have some volumes I can recommend.”

And Weiss did, too. She was an accomplished singer, after all, and Weiss had written more than one of her own songs. She was no expert, but she did appreciate meter and her tutors had ensured she was well-educated in the classics.

“I’m sure you do,” Blake said dryly. “But I doubt there are too many Faunus poems in your ‘volumes.’”

“Well, no. I can’t say that I’ve read any Faunus poetry, actually. They don’t make it into the anthologies. Perhaps the Faunus aren’t very good poets.”

“Perhaps the Atlesian publishers have incentive to silence Faunus voices.”

“Don’t make this about Atlas!” Weiss said. “Not everything is our fault, you know. Maybe if you read some real poetry you wouldn’t be so quick to defend that amateurish slop!”

“Slop? You haven’t even read any of it. How do you know what it’s like?”

“Because if your faunus ‘poetry,’” Weiss made air quotes here, “had any merit at all, I’d have read it. I would know those names instead of ‘Flame and Frost’ or ‘The Crow’ or any of Rattlesword’s sonnets.”

“And you think I don’t know both? Are you, Weiss Schnee, the most educated woman in the world?”

“Not in the world. But I have been educated, Blake, and my tutors were always impressed by my reading level. I’ve read many great works. There’s no shame in needing to play catch-up.”

Weiss crossed her arms smugly. She could see that Blake was fuming, and she wondered what pitiful rebuttal she might offer next. Blake was a talented debater, and she bested Weiss more than she would care to admit, but poetry was another matter altogether and Weiss was certain—

“Take up our Atlas burden / Send forth the best we breed / Go, bind our sons to exile / To serve our captives’ need.”

Weiss felt her jaw drop. 

“Buh,” she said elegantly. 

“Do you recognize that, Schnee?” 

“That’s—! You—how? You just quoted—”

“Barnabas Flake. Your national poet. How’s that for real poetry? He’s kind of full of himself, though. Do you think he ever stopped to think that those ‘half-feral children’ didn’t ask for Atlas’ definition of civilization?”

Blake was smug now, and later—when Weiss was less livid and not half as embarrassed—she’d admit that her teammate had a right to be. For the time being, however, Weiss felt stung and humiliated, and she fought valiantly to keep her temper in check. Being partnered with Ruby had taught her the value of being a gracious loser.

It was hard, though. Weiss felt her whole body vibrate with anger, and a half-dozen viscous insults lay chambered on the tip of her tongue. She wanted nothing more than to really let Blake have it. How dare she insult both Weiss and Atlas? What did she know about Barnabas Flake? Nothing compared to Weiss Schnee, who’d been taught by the best tutors money could buy. 

Who’d been force-fed information by those tutors. Who’d suffered long nights banging her head against thick tomes of poetry that she barely understood. Who, when she really searched herself, realized she had never really had an opinion on the poem Blake was quoting until her dark-haired teammate had referenced it outloud.

Weiss breathed in and out to center herself. She ignored Blake’s raised eyebrow and took a seat on her own bed. Ruby and Yang should be back soon, and their team could all go to lunch together. She would feel better after a warm meal.

If Blake was surprised by Weiss’ refusal to fire back, she didn’t show it. She simply hugged her copy of The Howl to her chest—and what a stupid name that was anyway!—and lay back on her own bed.

They sat in silence. Weiss listened to the hum of the air conditioner while her frustration faded into discomfort.

“I don’t know what Flake thought,” Weiss admitted out loud. “I don’t like his poetry, but I’ve been made to read a lot of it.”

Weiss realized that was true as she said it out loud. She’d never thought of it before, but she didn’t like Flake. What use did she have for him? He wrote about marching armies and sprawling empires and raised banners and the rising sun of Atlas colonialism. Why would Weiss care about any of that?

“He’s a very good poet,” Blake said neutrally.

“I don’t care for him. I love Atlas and I won’t apologize for that, Belladonna. But there’s no joy in anything Flake writes. He has eyes for only snow and robots.”

“It’s jingoism.”

“What is?” Weiss asked, and shockingly she didn’t feel even a moment of shame for admitting her ignorance.

“Aggressive, extreme patriotism. ‘Not only are we better than everyone, but we can prove it with force.’”

“Exactly that. Flake’s a jingoist. And I’m not. Maybe all I want is to read a story about a girl in a castle.”

Maybe Weiss wanted that girl to leave her castle and make friends. She just didn’t know how the girl was supposed to do that. It seemed so much harder and scarier than facing down evil Grimm or cold fathers.

Blake turned on her side, and Weiss felt pierced through by her amber eyes. They shared another moment of silence.

“I’m reading Regulate and Penalize right now,” Blake offered. “It’s a book by a philosopher named Majorelle—”

“I’ve heard of her,” Weiss managed to say. Who was this girl? Blake was reading philosophy, of all things? 

“It’s about prisons and systems of control. I thought I could—well, that doesn’t matter. And I really want to read philosophy and to understand it—I want to be that kind of woman, you know—but it’s dense. And half the time I’m not thinking about what’s on the page, but about how it could be possible that anyone could come away having learned anything. It makes me feel…”

“Like you’re faking it,” Weiss finished.

“Yeah.”

“I understand that.”

Blake sighed.

“So what kind of poetry do you like, Weiss Schnee?”

Weiss had her answer almost immediately. It was a fond, earnest memory—one that she held close and treasured deeply. Like Blake’s own admission, it was dangerously close to outright stating that she wished she was a different person. A better person, with talents and knowledge that Real Weiss didn’t have.

“I do like some classics. But the truth is rather boorish.”

“I won’t judge you for that.”

“No, I guess you wouldn’t…”

“Ha ha.”

“I mean that genuinely,” Weiss said. She gathered her thoughts.

“Winter took me out of the manor one day. This was a couple years ago, before she stopped visiting home. We spent the entire day in the city, pretending to be tourists. Well, I like to think we did. Winter and I are… sometimes less than transparent with our feelings. At the end of the day we passed a bistro with a large crowd inside and these dazzling hanging lights, and I begged Winter to let me go inside and see what all the fuss was about. And in the front of a room was a man reading something that wasn’t really a poem, but it wasn’t really anything else. And it was beautiful. And then he sat down, and someone else stood up and read their poem. And it went on like that.”

Blake chuckled—an actual chuckle, from the girl who never laughed!—and Weiss felt her cheeks heat with embarrassment. She looked down at her feet.

“I’m sorry!” Blake said quickly. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just—the thought of Weiss Schnee stumbling into a poetry slam and actually liking it. I would have thought you’d be scared off by anything without an even meter.”

Weiss sniffed haughtily.

“Perhaps,” she said, “you don’t know everything there is to know about me.”

“Huh,” Blake said thoughtfully. “I guess not.”

Weiss couldn’t bear to sit stationary any longer. She stood up and moved to her desk, making a show of tidying some discarded notes. Of course they were already perfectly organized, but there was no reason for Blake to know that.

“For what it’s worth, I like spoken word too,” Blake said. “I’m sure they have open mic nights somewhere in Vale. Maybe you and I could check one out some time?”

A thrill of unexpected eagerness rushed through Weiss, and she struggled to maintain her poise. That did sound fun. Weiss felt hungry twice over, but not for lunch. Weiss realized she wanted to know her teammate more—and more than that, she wanted to know the things that Blake knew. She wanted to quote poetry and to read philosophy and to understand the far corners of Remnant. She wanted to be more than a heiress and a good vocalist who sang decent songs. She wanted to be a student of more than just combat.

Weiss had left her castle. She wanted to learn as much as she could before she returned to it.

“We probably couldn’t take Ruby or Yang with us,” Weiss said carefully.

“Probably not,” Blake huffed. “I don’t get the impression that they would appreciate it.”

“Well, I look forward to our excursion,” Weiss said.

“And if you ever want to borrow any of my books, I don’t just read philosophy. I like fantasy as much as anybody, and I have more than one novel about a girl who runs away from home.”

That night, Weiss left dinner early. She cited a need to study for an upcoming exam. With her teammates still in the cafeteria, she took Blake up on her offer. Weiss didn’t choose any of Blake’s novels; instead, she sat cautiously on her bed with The Howl in nervous, unsure hands.

Weiss read her first Faunus poem. It was very good.

Founded shortly after the first Faunus Revolution, The Howl has since been faunuskind’s favorite way to disseminate news, art, and ideas. Leaders such as Yogi Taupe and Kali Belladonna have served as editors of the publication, and High Leader Sienne Khan herself maintained a quarterly column for over a decade. 

Originally published underground and distributed only in print format due to Atlas’ strict CCT censorship, it was not until generations after the second Great War that The Howl was able to move online. Before that, it maintained discreet offices and a headquarters in Kuo Kuana. It is the oldest publication from Menagerie, having been in print continuously since the kingdom’s founding. Only one issue was ever delayed, The Howl ’s central office infamously being burned to the ground during the Fang Schism in retaliation for a scathing editorial on the actions of…

- Sandy Heather, Tooth and Claw: Faunus Revolutionaries and their Methodologies. Page 33. Kuo Kuana University Press, —98.

Chapter Text

Carefully, indiscreetly—as subtly as she could, which, Weiss would admit, was not very—Weiss nudged Ruby. There was no response. Weiss nudged her again.

Still, Ruby did not respond. She kept her head down and continued doodling in her notebook.

“Ruby!” Weiss hissed. “Pay attention!”

“I am!” Ruby whispered back.

She was not, clearly. Weiss could see her notebook! Those were not notes, those were drawings. Weapons, again, based on what little she could gather. Weiss couldn’t tell if they were schematics or simply drawings—Ruby was just as likely to doodle gun blueprints as she was to scribble out a quick picture of “an awesome spear/blunderbuss/sickle combo weapon!”

“I can see you drawing weapons,” Weiss said.

“I can do both!”

Weiss hummed skeptically, but she relented. Any more arguing and they risked drawing Doctor Oobleck’s attention—or, more likely, they already had. Their teacher had mercifully just declined to reprimand them. He seemed to be busy snapping at Arc for something foolish the boy had done.

If nothing else, Jaune Arc could be relied upon to humiliate himself and generally create a disturbance. Weiss knew that more than one pair of students used his stupidity as a smokescreen to talk or pass notes in class.

Weiss would just have to quiz Ruby after class to ensure that she had been paying proper attention. They were currently in the second week of their unit on the Faunus Rebellion—a topic Weiss felt she was capable of tutoring Ruby in if necessary. Her own education hadn’t neglected it, of course, as the aftershocks of the rebellion had led to the formation of the White Fang. Her family’s enemy.

Ruby would have an easier time in class after the semester was over, Weiss knew. Having skipped two years, she was a bit behind—but their abbreviated Modern History course was the last class that would rely on their prior education. From their second semester onwards, they’d be taking primarily Huntress-relevant courses. There was a Dust Theory class that Weiss was interested in, but that was an elective—and it wasn’t offered to first years.

Still, Weiss was determined to help Ruby succeed. And she would do so at any cost—despite the girl’s insistence that a “C” was a passing grade. 

As if the partner of Weiss Schnee could simply pass!

Caught up in her own ruminations, Weiss didn’t notice that Ruby had raised her hand until it was too late.

“What are you doing?” Weiss whispered. “Do you even know what the lesson is about?”

“Miss Rose!” Doctor Oobleck called, stepping up to their seats with his customary vigor. Weiss covered her face, hoping dearly that she wasn’t about to be humiliated.

“Professor Oobleck, I have a—”

“That’s Doctor Oobleck, Miss Rose.”

“Yes sir, sorry! Doctor Oobleck, I have a question about the Faunus—you said they defeated General Lagune at Fort Castle because he didn’t know about their night vision.”

Maybe, Weiss acknowledged, she had not given Ruby enough credit. She’d clearly been listening enough to catch the name of the battle they were discussing, the general who had fought in it, and the outcome along with the reason for Lagune’s defeat. Weiss mentally groaned—it seemed that Ruby’s methodology, or lack thereof, worked for her. 

She was going to hear about this later, she knew. Ruby wouldn’t let her forget it next time Weiss tried to convince her to study harder.

“Did not know about it, did not account for it, or possibly underestimated it—it is unknown what particular brand of foolish General Lagune was, as he famously retreated into self-exile after his humiliation. Yes, your question?”

“Well, I thought all Faunus only had one animal trait?”

“That’s correct, Miss Rose, yes. Biologically, Faunus are just like you and I—except, of course for their single trait. A pair of ears, a tail, why I myself once fought the creatures of Grimm alongside a Faunus who had the wings of what I believe were a waterfowl—and yes, he was capable of flight!”

“Well, wouldn’t night vision be a trait all on its own?”

“Hmm, very astute Miss Rose! Yes, that is in fact true. A failure of our own classification system: what is a trait? Many Faunus do, in fact, have ancillary characteristics relating to the animal from which they derive their Faunus traits. Many animals have superior night vision, which the Faunus share. Those whose trait animals have superior olfactory senses often report an enhanced sense of smell. Miss Scarlatina, are you opposed to being used as an example?”

Velvet Scarlatina, a rabbit Faunus who Weiss had observed usually sat alone in the front of their classroom, jumped up as Doctor Oobleck called her name.

“Um, I guess not, sir.”

“Excellent, excellent, thank you! Yes, as we can all observe—Miss Scarlatina’s Faunus trait is her rabbit ears—or are they hare?”

“They’re um, rabbit, sir.”

“Yes, very good—and would you say your hearing is more acute than my own?”

“Much more. I mean, I’ve never had just human hearing—but I notice that compared to my human teammates, I hear much further. And I can, um, pick out different sounds more easily. I see in the dark better and have a better sense of smell, too,” Velvet offered. 

Weiss found herself leaning forward in her seat, interested in what Velvet had to say. Intellectually she knew that some Faunus had superior senses, but to hear one speak about it—well, it was interesting.

“Thank you for sharing your experiences, Miss Scarlatina! It is important to note that a rabbit Faunus who has a different trait—say, for example, a tail—would not share Miss Scarlatina’s impressive hearing, but they would likely also have her other additional senses. And senses are not the extent of these ancillary characteristics; my friend who I mentioned earlier had hollow bones, as most avians do, and likely a far different circulatory system which allowed him to use his wings for flight. He supplemented this fragility with his Aura. 

“We have a fourth year student here—a Mr. Quint Grey—who is a shark faunus. He has gills as his Faunus trait, but his physiology is also different so as to allow him to use those gills to breathe underwater. So as you can see, yes—Faunus do have additional characteristics beyond the ‘one trait’ rule. Tragically, we simply do not know enough about Faunus biology—and the differences between Humans and Faunus—to understand why and how these characteristics come to be.”

“That seems short-sighted,” Weiss found herself saying. “We don’t live in the dark ages anymore—we have doctors and scientists. Have no studies been done?”

“Miss Schnee! Thank you for your contribution, but please raise your hand next time.”

“Sorry, Doctor Oobleck,” Weiss said, feeling her face heat with embarrassment. Stupid, Weiss—that was foolish. She knew better, and now she’d been chastised by their professor.

“But yes, as you say Miss Schnee—there are physicians who are interested in these differences. Medicine is a science, after all, and a better understanding of the Human or Faunus body can allow for more efficient treatment.”

Weiss nodded, unwilling to speak again. She’d already made a spectacle of herself once.

“Unfortunately,” Doctor Oobleck continued, “many of the studies performed by human doctors are, well, unreliable.”

“Why’s that?” Ruby asked.

On Ruby’s other side, separated only by the likely comatose form of Yang, Blake raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss Belladonna?”

"To answer Ruby's question—unreliable is just a polite way of saying their 'science' is backed by an agenda."

What was she doing? Was Blake trying to start a fight—and with a professor, no less? Especially one as particular as Doctor Oobleck, who prized order in his classroom.

To Weiss' shock, however, Blake was not reprimanded. Instead:

"Oh? Elaborate please, Miss Belladonna."

"The doctors and scientists you're referring to—they were less interested in understanding the Faunus body and more interested in proving that Faunus are more animal than human. They focused a lot on Faunus senses, but some also dissected Faunus traits—like Joseph Mangle, for his 'anatomy' textbooks "

If Weiss were to try to define the look on Doctor Oobleck’s face, she might say he actually looked impressed. Weiss found that she was too. Where did Blake hear about this kind of stuff? She must have been studying ahead, without telling the rest of the team. It was understandable that Blake hadn’t bothered to tell Ruby or Yang, but Weiss felt that she could have been extended an invitation to study together. She would have words with Blake about this.

“You’re familiar with Mangle, Miss Belladonna? You’re quite right, unfortunately. He, and others like him, perverted science to meet their own ends. There was a wave of false physicians—primarily Atlesian and Mistralian, although we here in Vale are not innocent either—who performed their experiments shortly after the Faunus Rights Revolution. Their goal was to use science to justify their prejudices. They claimed that the Faunus’ enhanced senses made them more animalistic, more prone to their, shall we say, baser urges.”

“To eat, sleep, and have sex,” Blake said candidly, and Weiss fought back a blush. Next to her, Ruby fidgeted in her seat.

Even Doctor Oobleck looked taken aback by Blake’s candor, but he recovered immediately and nodded his head, motioning to Blake with his thermos.

“Yes, reproduction—quite right. As if humans aren’t ruled by that as well, ha! But their science was poor, and we know now that Mangle’s theories are worth less than the paper they’re printed on.”

“We may know,” Blake said, “but there are medical schools in Atlas that still use textbooks that reference his work.”

Doctor Oobleck sighed and turned to look at his chalkboard, but he didn’t refute Blake’s claim. There was a moment of silence as the class waited for the professor to say something.

“Well, what about the Faunus doctors?” Ruby asked, breaking through the quiet.

This was a question that Weiss had an answer to. She’d heard enough complaints from her father and sister to be able to offer a rebuttal here, and it was one that she might have made earlier had she not hesitated to get between Blake and Doctor Oobleck.

“You’ll be hard pressed to find any,” Weiss said. “For all the complaints about human scientists, at least we have those.”

“Miss Schnee!” Doctor Oobleck said, “I’ll thank you not to speak like that in my classroom.”

“What?” Weiss was only speaking the truth, after all—objective fact. To her knowledge, there were no Faunus scientists or prominent physicians. Perhaps if they wanted research done on their physiology, they should perform it themselves.

“There probably aren’t any Faunus scientists because until 15 years ago Faunus weren’t allowed to be educated alongside humans in the kingdom of Vale. And Atlas—”

“Miss Belladonna,” Doctor Oobleck snapped, and finally somebody besides Weiss seemed to be getting disciplined. “Thank you for your contribution, but I think we’ve ventured off topic for long enough. This is not a debate class, after all, and we have much more to cover. I encourage you to explore this information on your own time, however, because it is valuable and understanding the world we live in is key to excelling as huntsmen and huntresses.”

Weiss did not look in Blake’s direction. Settle this later, on their own time—ha! No, if Blake wanted to disparage Weiss’ home kingdom, she could do it where Weiss couldn’t hear her.

“Now—” Doctor Oobleck said, only to be interrupted by his scroll’s alarm going off. “Nevermind. That’s all we have for today. Please remember, review chapters—”

Weiss packed her notes away as Doctor Oobleck assigned them their homework, taking one last second to scribble down the assignment. Next to her, Ruby bounced up and down—no doubt eager to be gone. They had time free for lunch next, after all.

“Weiss!” Ruby said, “come on, let’s go! I have something amazing to show you at lunch!”

“Is it whatever you’ve been drawing instead of taking notes?” Weiss asked, trying her best withering tone. Unfortunately, as always, Ruby was unaffected. 

“That’s right!”

They walked out of the classroom, Blake and a finally-awake Yang behind them.

Subject Felix is a particularly bright specimen. He scores highly on spatial reasoning and critical thinking exams, and his speech is less stunted with the dialectical impediments that many of his kin from the Mantle Crater seem to favor. Faunus, of course, can be taught (to some extent), so it stands to reason that someone has educated Felix. He has even proven capable of reading, albeit much less quickly than myself. He uses his hands to perform basic arithmetic, counting on his fingers as a child might. 

Still, like my other subjects, Felix is prone to inattention and agitation when presented with outside stimuli. Loud sounds and unpleasant odors render him uneasy and turn an otherwise pleasant young patient into a frustrated and disagreeable Faunus—no different from any other.

Notably, Felix has an unlocked Aura. It is weaker than a human’s might be, of course—no doubt a reflection of a transient, less-willful soul—but it is present. Pain threshold tests performed on the subject’s Faunus trait (a pair of feline ears) reveal that they are still sensitive despite the Aura, and he is resistant to having them examined. I have heard anecdotally that Faunus with Aura  are capable of regenerating their traits after suffering traumatic injuries, even up to amputation. I propose further tests to confirm the veracity of such claims.

- The Collected Journals of Joseph Mangle , Volume 1, Page 112.

*****

“No,” Weiss said as she sat down next to her partner.

She placed her tray in front of her, delicately unfolding her napkin before setting it onto her lap. She arranged her utensils properly, as well—two months of mockery from Yang had not been enough to make Weiss forsake the manners she was raised with. She could be a huntress-in-training and a proper young lady, thank you very much.

Ruby, meanwhile, had torn into her meal with gusto—neither napkins nor utensils in sight. It was only slightly less horrifying than it had been the first time Weiss witnessed it.

She also had several sheets of paper waiting nearby, partly crumpled and stained with what Weiss suspected was chicken grease. There lay the object of Weiss’ refusal.

“But Weiss!” Ruby protested. “You haven’t even looked at my designs.”

“The designs are irrelevant. Myrtenaster is a rapier—it does not need a rifle stuck onto it, like your gardening tool.”

Predictably, Ruby gasped. Also predictably, she took the opportunity to unfold her scythe—as she did whenever relevant, and often when it was not.

“You take that back!”

“I will not.”

“Crescent Rose is perfect!”

“ Myrtenaster is perfect—that’s why it needs no improvements.”

“What if you need to kill a Nevermore from 100 meters away? You have a range deficiency, Weiss—”

“I have no deficiencies of any kind.”

“Ha! You—deficientless?” Yang interrupted, slamming her tray down on the table and nearly causing Weiss’ drink to spill. She grabbed it with both hands, steadying it and sending a glare at the offending blonde.

“I’m sure that’s not a word.”

“Weiss, I promise—it will be like you don’t even know it’s there. Until you need it, of course. And then—kaboom! Blam!” Ruby chopped the air as she made her sound effects, as if firing a large caliber dust rifle involved martial arts.

“Hmm,” Weiss said, as if pretending to consider it; and then, “No.”

“Aww…”

Truly, Weiss did not believe Ruby’s “upgrades” would do anything to harm her weapon. Her partner was a talented engineer and Crescent Rose, despite being several degrees of overkill, was an impressive piece of work. It was far beyond anything Weiss would be capable of maintaining, much less creating.

But Weiss was happy with her rapier as it was, and she felt no need to add a firearm to her fighting style.

“Besides,” Weiss said, offering an olive branch that she knew Ruby would grasp eagerly, “If I needed to kill a Nevermore from 100 meters away, I’d just have you do it. It’s not as if I’d be fighting Grimm without my partner.”

Ruby gasped, her eyes sparkling.

“Weiss! I knew you cared!”

“Get off me!” Weiss protested as Ruby latched onto her side, pulling her into an aggressive one-armed hug.

“Never!”

“Release me!”

Weiss shoved Ruby halfheartedly, trying to smother the smile that crept up onto her face. She couldn’t have Xiao-Long thinking she was getting too friendly, after all. Weiss had a reputation to maintain.

“Never! We’re partners, Weiss—you can’t expect me to forsake our bond!”

“Partners,” Yang said wistfully, “what a wonderful thing. And here I am, all alone. Neglected. Abandoned, really, and without even my sister to comfort me—”

“Where is Blake?” Ruby interrupted, clearly unwilling to even pretend to entertain Yang’s dramatics. Weiss approved.

“We just came from Doctor Oobleck’s class together,” Weiss said. “How could she be gone? Yang, wasn’t she with you?”

“I told you, she left us. Abandoned me. She moved on, Weiss-cream.”

“Moved on to what?”

“Bigger and better things.”

“She’s right there,” Ruby said, pointing to the cafeteria’s entrance.

“Without me,” Yang mourned.

“She’s just talking to… Velvet?” Ruby said. “What’s she doing with Velvet?”

What indeed? To Weiss’ knowledge, Velvet was a member of Team CFVY—a second year team. What reason did Blake have to speak to her?

“Perhaps a question about Doctor Oobleck’s class,” Weiss theorized. “She does share it with us, after all.”

“And not the rest of her team,” Ruby agreed. “Why’s that?”

“Ooh! Maybe she flunked out of it!”

Yang, apparently, had been spurred back to life by the opportunity for gossip.

“No way!” Ruby said. “CFVY’s the highest ranked team in their year! They’re awesome. Have you seen Coco’s weapon?”

“I have.”

It was… unique. And wildly impractical, Weiss thought. Honestly, she could see the appeal of a minigun in the event that she ever needed to cut down a large group of Grimm—but in literally any other situation, wouldn’t a simpler weapon be more efficient?

Weiss couldn’t imagine deploying such a weapon against a single beowolf, but she wouldn’t want to try to beat it to death with a handbag either.

“It’s awesome!”

“I don’t know. It seems a little one dimensional,” Yang said, and Weiss felt a chill run through her body when she realized that the blonde and her agreed on something. She touched her head to check that she wasn’t actually concussed and lying on the floor of Professor Goodwitch’s classroom after a spar gone wrong. 

“It is not!”

“It so is! What if you just need to kill, like, one deathstalker?”

“Um, duh,” Ruby said. “You minigun it.”

“And what if you don’t want to buy 300 new dust rounds afterwards? We can’t all be as rich as Weiss.”

Weiss chose discretion and did not respond. Were 300 dust rounds expensive? Surely not prohibitively so, or how would anyone fire their weapon? Weiss considered her teammates—she knew that Yang used dust rounds to amplify the force of her punches and for mobility in combat, but come to think of it Yang did seem to favor a simpler style during classroom spars. Ruby was the same, although to be fair Professor Goodwitch’s arena didn’t leave a lot of opportunity for long-range, high caliber sniping. 

Blake had a pistol in Gambol Shroud, but she didn’t fire it all that often either.

It was interesting, Weiss realized, thinking of Myrtenaster sitting in her locker, filled with expensive, finely-grained dust. It was something to consider. Yang and, on occasion, Blake, mocked her for being a sheltered princess, but Weiss prided herself on her adaptability—among other things—and if there was something to learn, or a new angle to consider, Weiss would not ignore it.

“Blake!” Yang called, raising her voice and completely ignoring the presence of a cafeteria full of other students. 

“Don’t yell!” Weiss hissed, but her words naturally went unheeded.

“Blake!” Ruby shouted, her volume somehow exceeding even her sister’s.

Blake whipped around, and Weiss could see the moment that she cringed as she realized that her two teammates were yelling like a pair of cretins.

“Blake, we’re over here!”

“She knows where we are!”

“How do you know?”

“She’s looking right at us!”

“She’s—oh, you’re right.”

Blake, seemingly desperate to get to them—likely so Yang wouldn’t yell anything potentially embarrassing—scrambled away from Velvet, parting with one last word and handing her a sheet of paper. She wove her way through the cafeteria and sat next to her partner.

“Hey Blake!” Ruby greeted. “We weren’t sure if you saw us.”

Blake sighed morosely.

“Partner,” Yang said. “You abandoned me. There one second, gone the next. What happened to our partners’ vow?”

“There was no vow.”

“There definitely was,” Ruby said. “Me and Weiss made one.”

“Weiss and I. And I only agreed to it so that you would stop jumping on my bed.”

“Still a vow!”

Weiss looked to Blake, searching for an island of sanity in the ocean of madness that she found herself in.

“Do you see what I have to put up with when you’re late to lunch?”

Blake smiled in the subtle way that she always did, inclining her head in a not-quite apology.

“Sorry Weiss. But I wasn’t late.”

“Later than me,” Yang said. “What’s up with that, anyway? You and Velvet?”

“Nothing is up. She had a question about something.”

“Ooh, was it about Oobleck’s class?” Ruby asked.

“Yeah.”

“What is a second year student doing in Modern History anyway?” Weiss asked. “That’s a first year course, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Blake agreed. “But Velvet had a scheduling conflict her first year—she had to take Goodwitch’s advanced seminar on Semblances. And Modern History is only offered in the spring semester, and every student needs it to graduate, so…”

“So she had to take it this year,” Weiss said, nodding. “I see.”

“I don’t! There’s an advanced Semblance class that we can take?” 

Ruby sounded interested in the idea, likely wishing for the first time in her Beacon career that she could spend more time with Professor Goodwitch. Weiss hated to dissuade her, but it wasn’t quite that exciting.

“It’s not really an advanced Semblance course,” Weiss offered. “It’s more of a class for students with unique Semblances—maybe ones that haven’t developed fully, or are expected to be very multifaceted. I was offered a place due to Glyphs’ versatility, but I turned it down.”

“Weiss-cream, turning down a chance to take a class?” Yang asked, contorting her face into something that Weiss assumed was supposed to indicate shock. “Are the skies red? Is the world ending? Blake, hold on to me! I think the ground’s cracking open!”

Blake rolled her eyes but allowed Yang to shake her dramatically. Ruby, of course, laughed at her sister’s theatrics.

Weiss sniffed.

“Don’t be absurd. And I rejected the offer because my Semblance is well-documented. I have journals from my ancestors who recorded how they utilized their Semblance, and my sister is available to answer any questions I might have.”

“She couldn’t just inherit an enormous amount of wealth,” Blake said to Yang. “She had to get an overpowered Semblance that’s already been troubleshot as well.”

The two idiots high-fived.

“Mock me all you’d like,” Weiss said. “I’m sure my partner, at least, is happy to have me with her in Modern History.”

“Definitely!” Ruby said. “Most of the time. Well, sometimes.”

“Ouch,” Blake said. Yang was too incapacitated by her laughter to respond.

“How do you know so much about Velvet anyway?” Ruby asked, once she had stopped hiding from Weiss’ scowl and when Yang had finally stopped falling into Blake while laughing at Weiss.

“We talk sometimes,” Blake said. 

Weiss stared at Blake, an expression she knew was mirrored by her other teammates.

“What?” Blake asked defensively.

“You talk?” Yang asked.

“Yeah? We’re friends.”

Weiss, if anything, found herself staring harder.

“You—Blake Belladonna—made a friend?” Yang spoke slowly, voice layered with the disbelief that Weiss was sure they all felt.

“Yes—what? I make friends!”

“Since when?”

“We’re friends, aren’t we?” Blake gestured between the two of them, and then waved her arm as if to encompass Ruby and maybe Weiss.

“I dragged you kicking and screaming into friendship.”

“I had to win a bet with Weiss and order you to spend time with us.”

“I’m still not certain that you and I aren’t just two strangers who live together,” Weiss admitted.

Blake scowled.

“Well, Velvet and I are friends,” she said. 

“If you say so,” Yang muttered.

Ruby, on the other hand, was much more enthusiastic.

“That is so cool! You’re friends with a second year. Have you met her team? Have you touched Coco’s weapon?”

“Have I touched—?”

“Do you spar with them?”

Blake waited, probably to see if Ruby would interrupt her again with another question. When there was no indication that she’d do so, Blake answered.

“I’ve met Coco once or twice. No, I don’t spar with them. Velvet and I just talk occasionally.”

“What about?” Yang asked, presumably hoping for something salacious or gossip-worthy. Blake did not respond.

“Her team is considered to be very strong, even for their year,” Weiss noted. She’d heard Ruby prattle on about them, of course, but she had also overheard rumors from other students. Not that Weiss sought out those things, of course.

She’d even heard someone who she thought was a third-year saying that CFVY was a team to look out for in the Vytal Tournament.

“Do you think they’ll be competing in the tournament?” Ruby asked, echoing Weiss’ own thoughts.

“They’ve gotta be, if they’re that strong,” Yang said, and Weiss once again found herself agreeing with the blonde. Twice in one sitting—maybe Yang was right and the world was ending.

Weiss smiled inwardly. Ha—that was clever of her!

Blake hummed thoughtfully. A hum that Weiss had become familiar with—it meant that she disagreed, but she wasn’t sure if she wanted to say so out loud.

Weiss waited. In the time she had known her, Blake had not yet found an opportunity to voice her opinion and then chosen not to.

“I don’t know,” Blake said. “I’ve heard the same things about them, so I’m sure they could qualify. But they might not want to.”

“Why not?” Ruby asked.

“It’s in Atlas this year,” Blake said slowly.

Atlas. Weiss was looking forward to it, herself, although she would never admit so. They were first years, so it was a stretch, but Weiss had found herself hoping that team RWBY would qualify. Atlas was stifling, and it was where her father was, but it was also home—and Weiss, confusingly, liked the idea of showing off her home to her team.

“Right, right,” Ruby said, nodding. “I get it.”

It was abundantly clear that she did not. Weiss didn’t know what Blake was going on about either, but she wasn’t going to be so blatant as her partner.

Luckily, the two of them had Yang. She had never heard of the word subtlety, and she never hesitated to fall on the sword that was ignorance.

“Well, I don’t!” Yang announced proudly. “What, CFVY doesn’t like Atlas?”

Blake looked uncomfortable now, like she hadn’t expected to be asked to elaborate.

“Look at Velvet. Can you see why she might not want to go to Atlas?”

Ruby stared directly at the girl with no regard for propriety. Weiss hissed at her to not be so rude, but Ruby simply squinted and stared harder.

“Hmmmm. She’s… wearing brown?”

Blake sighed.

“Velvet’s a Faunus,” she explained.

“Right…”

Blake hung her head, defeated by Ruby’s guileless naivety. Yang had the most obnoxious grin on her face, and she didn’t look inclined to offer her partner any help. So Weiss realized it was once again up to her to educate her team leader.

“Ruby,” Weiss said carefully, “Faunus tend to perceive Atlas as being… less than friendly towards them.”

Across from her, Blake choked on air.

“P-perceive?” she said, clearing her throat. Yang thumped her on the back, which looked less than helpful.

“Oh, what now?” Weiss griped.

“Perceive? Faunus ‘perceive’ Atlas as being less than friendly? How about the laws that enforce that ‘unfriendliness’?”

“There are no laws—”

“Laws that oppress the Faunus! Different hospitals, worse public transportation—there’s probably not a restaurant in Atlas City that will serve a Faunus, even one even managed to make it up there from Mantle.”

“Different,” Weiss conceded, “but come on, worse? How can one shuttle be any different from another?”

Blake scowled.

“You don’t even know what you don’t know, Weiss.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means—”

“Is that what you were talking about in Oobleck’s class, with the colleges?” Ruby asked.

It was a blatant attempt to diffuse their argument, but one that Weiss was grateful for. She didn’t really want to get in a yelling match with Blake at lunch. Blake struggled for a bit, but Weiss could see her choose to let it go as well. Their eyes met, and they momentarily called a truce.

“That’s right,” Blake said. “Just, for an example: If I—if Velvet wanted to attend college in Atlas to, I don’t know, get a degree in engineering. Say she has really good grades—where would she go?”

“Engineering?” Weiss considered. “Well, I’ve heard that Atlas City Science University has an excellent program—their graduates go on to work for the city’s Corps of Engineers. They make sure the city stays afloat, and they work on our hard light barriers.”

It wasn’t something Weiss had considered for herself—she’d known that she wanted to be a huntress for a long time. But her tutors had made sure that Weiss knew anything of relevance about the city and how it was run. She was to take over the SDC one day, and it was an important role. Her father might as well have been in politics, considering how much influence he had in Atlas.

“Wrong,” Blake said. “Atlas Sci wouldn’t take her—no matter how good her grades were, or who she got to write a letter for her. Because of her ears, the only school Velvet could attend in Atlas would be Dasher Faunus Technical College.”

Weiss didn’t respond immediately—she couldn't. To her relief, she could see that Ruby and Yang appeared just as uncomfortable as she felt. At least she wasn't alone in her uncertainty.

And she was uncertain, because she didn’t know any of that. And there was no telling if it was the truth anyway, was there? Blake had said it confidently, as if it were fact—but how did she know? Blake wasn’t Atlesian—she’d made that very clear, along with her general distaste for the entire kingdom. 

“Well,” Ruby asked, sounding tentative, “Is Dasher Faunus Technical College a good school?”

“No,” Blake said, and then she sighed. “Well, not no—that’s unfair. I’m sure the professors try their best, and I’m sure the students there want to learn. But it just doesn’t have the resources that Atlas Sci does.”

“Why not?” Yang asked. “And how do you know all this?”

“I listen,” Blake said curtly, but not harshly. “I… have Faunus friends. And I don’t like injustice. That’s why I’m becoming a Huntress—not to fight Grimm, although I’ll do that too.”

“I think that’s a good reason,” Ruby said. Weiss found herself still unable to reply.

“As for ‘why not,’ it’s just a matter of money. Think about Beacon. Who do you think pays for all this?”

Blake gestured to the food in front of them and the room around them.

“Our tuition. And Vale’s government, I guess,” Yang answered.

“And alumni,” Weiss offered. Her mother had been a Huntress, once—a long time ago. Weiss didn’t even know if Willow Schnee still knew where her weapon was, although she could certainly navigate herself to a bottle of wine without any trouble.

But they donated a not insubstantial amount to Atlas Academy—both as the Schnee Dust Company, and to the Alumni Association under Willow and Winter Schnee.

“Right,” Blake said. “And Faunus colleges don’t make as much money from alumni because their alumni don’t make a lot of money.”

“Perhaps they should make wiser choices in their careers,” Weiss said.

“Perhaps one of the largest employers on Remnant should pay their workers a living wage,” Blake shot back, and despite herself Weiss flinched. Yang’s snap and her hissed “oooh” didn’t help matters.

“Is it the same here in Vale?” Ruby asked. “Do we have… Faunus colleges?”

She lowered her voice as if she were saying a bad word.

“Yes,” Blake answered, and Ruby looked down guiltily. “But they’re just a choice that a lot of Faunus make, now. Vale’s school systems are integrated.”

“That’s good,” Ruby said, sounding slightly cheered. “I guess that’s why Velvet can come here and learn to be a Huntress?”

“That’s right.”

“Actually,” Weiss cut in, “Huntsman Academies are different. Although I notice Blake isn’t mentioning that. Atlas graduated its first Faunus huntsman last year—and my sister told me he’s already been recruited for General Ironwood’s handpicked specialist team.”

Blake inclined her head.

“That’s true. I’ve heard that Ironwood is progressive for an Atlesian—of course, that’s like saying Weiss is taller than Ruby.”

Apparently Blake couldn’t let Weiss have the last word, even when she’d made a valid point.

“He’s not?” Ruby asked.

“Only while wearing heels?” And there was Yang, coming to Weiss’ rescue. 

“Hey!”

All three of her teammates laughed, the traitors.

“I was going to say barely, but…”

“Thank you, Blake,” Weiss said pointedly. “Our disagreements aside, it’s clear you’re the only member of Team RWBY I can trust.”

Blake seemed oddly shocked by the sentiment, and she tugged on her bow and looked away. Weiss frowned but chose to let the behavior slide—Blake was a strange one. Weiss found herself appreciating her, though. 

She didn’t like losing arguments, but that was a poor reason not to have them. Blake seemed unusually educated on these topics, and Weiss often felt that she’d learned something after their debates. 

Weiss wanted to change her family’s company, but she was starting to wonder what exactly that meant. Blake was a resource in that regard—her bleeding heart for Faunus rights made her prone to dramatics and hyperbole, but there was a useful, outside perspective hidden underneath it all.

“Well,” Ruby said. “If Atlas is full of racists that will make Velvet uncomfortable, maybe CFVY should go over there and win the tournament!”

“Yeah! And then they can go to Weiss’ house and punch her dad in the throat!” Yang said, sounding far too enthusiastic about getting violent with Weiss’ family.

“Excuse me!” Weiss hissed, and then—deliberately drawing herself up to her most pompous and carefully controlling her expression so Xiao-Long would never, ever find out that Weiss was in on the joke, she said: “House? We live in a manor. And CFVY would never even make it onto the grounds.”

“Oh, I’m sorry—Weiss’ Manor.”

Weiss did not smile as Ruby and Blake laughed at Yang’s snobbish tone, but inwardly she felt pleased. Let it not be said that Weiss Schnee could not offer a joke at her own expense. Not that her team could know that—she needed to keep them on their toes, after all.

While Yang and Ruby competed to make the most fun of Weiss’ manor and her various butlers, Weiss found her gaze drifting back to Velvet. To her ears. She imagined Velvet as an eager engineering student—someone smart, talented, and hardworking. Maybe like Ruby, only without a desire to go out and fight Grimm.

Ears seemed like a silly reason to deny her the education that she deserved.

Weiss swallowed uncomfortably. 

In an Atlas rife with racism and bigotry, General James Ironwood is generally credited with standing apart. A landmark headmaster for Atlas Huntsman Academy, Ironwood used his influence in the military and his titanic personality to push through legislation designed to desegregate the school. While sources on the general’s personal life are conflicting, no other Atlas politician of the time fought as long or hard for Faunus Rights as James Ironwood. 

Many detractors argue that General Ironwood was simply a practical man, and that more faunus in the military meant more bodies on the front lines. To an extent that is true. But Ironwood was also a more shrewd politician than many credit him for, and…

- Wickham Banks, Test My Mettle: The Life of James Ironwood . Page 96. City Hill Publishing Company, —17.

Chapter Text

HUNTSMEN AND HUNTRESSES: DEFENDERS OF HUMANITY OR UPPER-CLASS ENFORCERS? 

Public opinion of Huntsmen has been falling for a long time. We know that. Everybody knows that. It’s hard not to think less of our glorious defenders when we live safely within the walls of our cities, separated from the Grimm not by the bodies of warriors wielding swords and shields but by concrete, steel, and automated defenses. Every year, fewer and fewer humans die from Grimm attacks. Every year, it gets harder and harder to justify the existence of Huntsmen.

The cost is high, after all. Huntsmen and Huntresses are—when doing away with all polite language and heroic traditions—highly-specialized killing machines. And they’re trained to be that way from birth, unlocking their Aura as young as eight years old and spending the next ten years attending specialized schools which train them for only one thing: to fight and to die. There are stories—anecdotal, to be fair—of Huntsmen wiping out hordes of Grimm but being unable to perform more than the basic arithmetic necessary to count the number of creatures they killed.

We’re grateful for their sacrifice, of course. That’s not in question. But is the sacrifice necessary? And—and this is my concern—is it sustainable?

Nothing in Vale made Weiss quite so homesick as the heat. Weiss was comfortable in the cold. She wrapped it around herself like a cloak and owned it; it was a part of her identity, down to even the famous snowflake that was her family’s sigil. Atlas was frozen six months out of the year, and only their stubborn nature and their state-of-the-art climate control kept it habitable at all.

But Vale was hot. Spring was heating up, slowly crawling towards summer, and Ruby must have chosen the hottest weekend so far for their excursion into the city. Weiss would have her revenge for this, she swore, as she trudged after the indefatigable Rose-Xiao-Long sisters. Neither of them seemed affected by the heat at all. Yang, of course, practically thrived in it.

Weiss hadn’t thought Yang was capable of showing off more skin than she did in her combat outfit, but, as always, the blonde had made it her life’s mission to prove her wrong.

Blake, too, looked mostly unbothered. Maybe. It was hard to tell for sure because of her customary stoic nature, but Weiss took solace in the fact that she had seen Blake gaze longingly at an airconditioned store that they’d passed.

“Why couldn’t we take a taxi?” Weiss asked again.

“Because then it wouldn’t be an adventure!” Ruby answered, as she had last time and the time before that. Weiss was no closer to understanding her logic.

“We’re almost there,” Blake said, checking something on her scroll. She’d become their navigator by default, as Weiss was busy suffering heatstroke and the sisters were both unreliable—Ruby was liable to get distracted by something and run off, and Yang could not be trusted to contain her.

“Good thing. I think our Weiss-cream is just about melted.”

“I’ll kill you, Xiao-Long.”

“Left up here,” Blake said, and they followed her directions to turn a corner.

They arrived at their destination. A respectable lunch restaurant—no diner or counter service here, and with a menu that Weiss had reviewed and approved. Ruby had promised her that she could pick lunch, and Weiss had not let the opportunity go to waste.

“Looks fancy,” Yang commented.

“Don’t worry,” Weiss said. “I called ahead to ask about their atmosphere.”

It was just a lunch, after all, and Weiss knew she’d never be able to convince her team to dress appropriately anyway.

The restaurant was modest, but not small, and it sat crammed against the buildings on either side of it. A dust shop, and what looked to be a haberdashery based on the pun in the store’s name. Yang repeated it appreciatively, nudging Weiss with her elbow. Weiss sighed and prayed that the restaurant would be sufficiently air-conditioned.

Maybe they could ask for a table in their walk-in freezer.

“Looks good!” Ruby said, dashing forward eagerly and placing her face against a window as if she could peer inside and get her food more quickly.

“I’d hope so,” Weiss said. “The reviews were above average, and it is Mistralian food—and none of that fake stuff you might have delivered.”

“Aw, I like take-out,” Ruby said. Weiss shuddered—even the words ‘take-out’ left a strange taste in her mouth.

“Let’s enter. I made a reservation.”

“Is this even that kind of place?” Yang asked. “It’s like half empty.”

“I made a reservation,” Weiss said again, refusing to answer such a ridiculous question. As if Weiss Schnee would just arrive and eat somewhere.

Weiss led the way into the restaurant, opening the door for herself—unfortunately she couldn’t take her team out to a place where she could expect that kind of service. She shuddered at the thought of the kind of mayhem Ruby might get into at one of the city’s truly fine restaurants.

Blake hesitated oddly at the threshold before stepping inside. Weiss chose to ignore her and whatever new and exciting problem was bothering her now—it seemed like the girl had a fresh complaint every day, at this point.

The interior was acceptable, Weiss deemed, and she gave their name to the hostess. 

“The Rose party,” Yang echoed snottily as they were led to their table. Obviously Weiss wasn’t going to use her own name—that was just asking for trouble.

“Hush,” Weiss said. “Is it so bad that I want to enjoy an afternoon of culture with my team?”

“Oooh, yes, we are four sophisticated ladies out for an elegant supper,” Ruby said, bursting into giggles halfway through. Weiss rolled her eyes, and Yang of course began making what were likely supposed to be “fancy noises” as well.

“Honestly,” Weiss huffed, “I can’t bring the two of you anywhere. Blake, once again—thank you for being the most bearable member of this group of… of… stooges!”

“You’re welcome,” Blake said drily as Yang doffed an invisible hat towards their waiter. This was too much for Ruby, of course, who turned red and shut down at the barest hint of socialization with someone outside of their team. Their fearless leader shrunk fearfully into her seat, only coming to life again when a menu was placed in front of her.

Weiss had no need for it, naturally—she’d selected her course while researching their venue.

“So,” Yang said, “Weiss-cream, you check out the course listings for next semester yet? Anything strike your fancy? Ha—fancy!”

Blake groaned and Ruby booed.

“I’ve reviewed it,” Weiss admitted. “Why me, specifically?”

“You’re the only overachiever at the table,” Yang said.

“It’s true / That’s fair,” Ruby and Blake chimed in immediately.

“Well, I will take it as the compliment that it is—” Yang let out a deliberately sarcastic Ha! which Weiss ignored, “—and yes, there are some courses from which I think I could benefit. Unfortunately, upper years get first pick of the electives, and we as first years have our schedule mostly decided for us already.”

It was true, to Weiss’ regret. It wasn’t until their second year that they could start diversifying their schedules, as they had to complete their prerequisite courses first. 

“You know, there’s a demolitions seminar that Professor Greene offers,” Weiss mentioned, primarily to Ruby—she knew it was just the sort of thing her partner would be interested in. “I heard there’s a whole unit on improvised explosives, the sort of device you might need to make in the field.”

Ruby, predictably, had stars in her eyes.

“Really? Really, really? Weiss, we have to take it! It will be so much fun! I guess they’re all dust-based, but think of the variance in fuses and materials. Like, say, if you wanted to build a bomb just with stuff found in this restaurant—”

“Woah, let’s back up there, Ruby,” Yang said. “If anyone’s overhearing us, we don’t need to give them any ideas.”

“Yes, I’d rather not be mistaken for a terrorist,” Weiss said. “We have enough of that nonsense going around with the White Fang.”

There was a thump as Blake set her glass of water down too roughly on the table. Weiss eyed her, but it seemed like it may have just been an accident—clearly Belladonna wasn’t going to defend those degenerates, which Weiss privately found satisfying.

If even a bleeding-heart Faunus sympathizer like Blake wouldn’t argue for the White Fang, well, that said a lot about it.

“It might not be available,” Yang said, to Ruby’s clear displeasure. “The upperclassmen’ll probably snatch up spots first.”

“Aww…”

“The courses that typically have openings for our year are Introduction to Toxicology with Professor Peach—I think she covers mainly venoms in her introduction class, but her more advanced course actually teaches poisons as well.”

“Boring!” Yang decided. Honestly, Weiss agreed.

“There’s also Beginner Infiltration and Espionage, but, well…” Weiss trailed off, even her many years of etiquette training faltering while trying to phrase her thoughts politely.

“I don’t think RWBY is really a subtle team,” Ruby said, displaying a shocking degree of introspection. 

“Yes, that,” Weiss said.

“What do we need espionage for, anyway?” Ruby said. “Spies are cool and all, but we’re Huntresses! We can’t exactly sneak past the Grimm.”

“Huntresses don’t just fight Grimm,” Blake cut in. “We might have to fight humans as well—rogue huntsmen, murderers, bandits. A single serial killer might be easier to fight than an Ursa, but they have an advantage the Grimm don’t. They think. Being able to remain undetected while gathering intelligence could save lives.”

“Right,” Weiss agreed, grateful that Blake had fielded that question. She hadn’t really wanted to shatter Ruby’s illusion of being a noble hero, and judging by Yang’s expression she hadn’t been looking forward to it either. Blake had handled it well.

“Besides, there’s probably some counter-espionage thrown in as well,” Blake offered.

“Ooh!” Ruby perked up. “Like if we were defending a VIP, and someone tried to assassinate him!”

“Precisely,” Weiss said.

“You seem pretty interested in all this, Blake,” Yang said. “And compared to the rest of us, you can be pretty sneaky—”

“Compared to you, specifically,” Blake teased.

“I can’t help it if people are naturally drawn to me. I’m magnetic like that.”

“It helps that she sets herself on fire,” Ruby stage-whispered, and Weiss covered her smile with her hand.

“Betrayed by my partner and my sister! I see how it is—and don’t think I won’t get my revenge, you two. But seriously, Blake, are you thinking about taking that espionage class?”

“Maybe,” Blake shrugged.

“It could be useful,” Ruby considered. “We could diversify Team RWBY a little bit. Ooh, we could all have specialties!”

“Dibs on getaway driver!”

“We’re not a heist crew, Yang!”

“Does it matter?”

The two continued their inane conversation despite Weiss’ pleas for them to look at the menu and pick something so they could order, but in time their waiter came around and they were finally ready—or Weiss had thought they were, anyway.

“Just the water for me,” Blake said.

“What?” Ruby cried. “Blake, this is team lunch! You’ve got to eat!”

“Sorry, Ruby—I’m just not hungry today.”

Ruby grumbled a bit, but it seemed that she wasn’t willing to press the matter too much. Yang frowned slightly and exchanged a glance with her sister—Weiss barely caught it, and she wouldn’t have if she hadn’t been trying to get Ruby to quiet down in front of the staff.

Yang, of course, had to further humiliate Weiss by ordering the largest noodle dish in the restaurant—something specifically intended for a romantic rendezvous, according to the menu. 

“Ma’am, just so you’re aware—” their waiter started.

“I know, I know. But my sister and I are just going to share.”

“Ew. I’ll have the hamburger,” Ruby said immediately.

“What? What happened to sharing?”

“It’s date night noodles!”

“They can be platonic noodles,” Yang protested, turning to their waiter. “These noodles can be eaten by family, right?”

“Um, of course, ma’am. It’s just marketing—”

“Excellent. See, Ruby?”

“No, now I want the hamburger.”

“Ugh, fine. Whatever, keep my order the same. I’ll have leftovers tonight while you all endure Beacon’s Friday night cafeteria.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, but she could see Yang’s point of view—perhaps assuming that most teams would dine off-campus on Friday nights, Beacon’s cafeteria was famously at its worst. Weiss wasn’t looking forward to that meal at all.

“You know,” Weiss said, once their waiter had left, “even if you’re not hungry, you need your calories. A healthy diet is imperative to keep our bodies in fighting shape. A Huntress—”

“Boo!” Yang said. “You’re like a public service announcement.”

“Excuse me? I’m simply looking out for the wellbeing of a teammate.”

“It’s fine,” Blake said. “I’m just not hungry.”

“Are you feeling alright? If you’re ill—”

Blake’s scroll buzzed. It wasn’t loud, but sheer surprise silenced Weiss.

Yang and Ruby received messages constantly, either from their father, their uncle, or their many other friends—Weiss knew that Ruby and Jaune texted often, and Nora frequently sent Yang something called “a meme.”

Weiss herself used her scroll for communication only occasionally. Ruby messaged her more often than necessary, but she also fielded the infrequent call from her father and Winter.

Blake—Weiss didn’t think she’d ever seen Blake receive a message when Yang was already sitting next to her.

Yang, of course, picked up on this immediately.

“Someone’s popular,” she said, smirking. “You’ve got a hot date?”

Blake frowned and checked her phone.

“No, but I do have to make a call. I’m sorry—I’ll be right back.”

“Oooh,” Ruby and Yang said together, laughing as Blake waved them off. She exited the restaurant, once again demonstrating superior manners. Ruby might well have taken a call right at their table.

“She’s acting strangely, today,” Weiss said, only to be met with matching glares from Ruby and Yang. “What?”

“Weiss!” Ruby griped. “I can’t believe you pushed her about not ordering!”

“What?” Weiss said again. “I was right—she shouldn’t be skipping meals, it could impact her training. I simply acted as a concerned teammate should.”

The sisters looked at each other, a nonverbal “Do you want to take this?” that even Weiss recognized. She was starting to get frustrated—they were acting like she was being silly and ignorant.

“What is it?” she demanded.

“Um, Weiss,” Ruby said slowly, “it’s possible that Blake didn’t order anything because she can’t afford to.”

“Can’t afford to?” Weiss parroted reflexively. 

Couldn’t afford to? It was lunch. Weiss searched for her menu, but their waiter had taken it. How much had her meal cost? She hadn’t even bothered to check the price—she never did, because what did it matter? Weiss had more than enough in her account to eat without concern.

“How much was your meal?” Weiss asked Ruby, trying—probably in vain—to cover her own ignorance.

“Mine? About Ⱡ18.”

“That’s…” Weiss didn’t know what that was. Was it a high price? Low? She felt her face heat with embarrassment as she realized that she didn’t know what an average meal should cost.

“Is that average?” Weiss asked, deliberately avoiding the look that she knew Yang was giving her. Ruby, at least, seemed to take pity on her.

“It’s kind of high for a hamburger, but that’s what you expect at a place like this. It’s not a super expensive price for lunch.” Ruby said, her tone judgment-free. Weiss appreciated this immensely.

Ⱡ18 was above average, Weiss recorded. For lunch—surely a dinner would cost more, right? Weiss would ask Ruby later when they were alone. Or maybe she would do the research herself, and check the price listing at restaurants throughout the city.

“I didn’t realize you were this out of touch, Ice Queen,” Yang said, not unharshly. She must have still been upset at what she perceived as Weiss picking on Blake—but she hadn’t meant to!

“I’m not—” Weiss cut off, realizing she had no defense. “I just, I never thought about it. Money…”

“It doesn’t mean anything to you.”

It didn’t, and Weiss felt foolish for it. How pathetic was she, that she hadn’t even considered her team’s finances? 

“You two can afford to eat here?” Weiss asked. “This isn’t… straining you?”

“No,” Ruby said, laughing a little, “we’re not, well, you—but we can afford to eat out once or twice a week as long as we don’t go crazy.”

“Our dad works two jobs,” Yang added, “a huntsman and a professor, so he gets paid well. And our Uncle Qrow does too, and he gives us an allowance. Plus, for our tuition—well, Mom had a… policy.”

Yang trailed off there, looking towards her sister. Ruby looked unbothered, but Weiss could tell that it was at least partially a mask. A life insurance policy of some kind, Weiss assumed, but she didn’t press any further. There was no reason to bring up bad memories.

But, Weiss found herself thinking highly of Summer Rose—a woman who, if she couldn’t be here, had at least ensured that Weiss was able to meet her partner at Beacon Academy. And Xiao-Long too.

“Tuition,” Weiss said. “I hadn’t even considered that expense. And Blake—she’s clearly paying to attend Beacon somehow. You really think she couldn’t afford to eat lunch with us?”

Yang shifted in her seat. 

“Look, I don’t want to talk about her behind her back—”

“No!” Weiss interrupted. “No, nothing like that. Really, I’m just trying to learn here.”

Weiss wanted to understand. Every day at Beacon seemed to bring some new and exciting confusion, and yet Weiss still felt guilty every time she realized just how much she had taken for granted.

Ruby beamed with approval at her, and Yang nodded reluctantly.

“Alright. Well, there is student aid. You know, scholarships and stuff. I don’t know much about it because we didn’t have to worry about it, and we’re legacy students so our application process was a little different.”

“Hmm. I suppose Blake’s parents might not be huntsmen—I hadn’t even considered that.”

Ruby and Yang exchanged another look.

“Oh, what is it now?”

“Well,” Ruby said, “Weiss, have you ever heard Blake mention her parents?”

Weiss had not, she realized. Not once. She knew all about the sisters’ father (who sounded too much like his eldest daughter for Weiss’ liking), and about Summer Rose, of course. She even knew about their stumbling Drunkle, as Ruby affectionately called the man. She acted like he might just appear on campus one day, as if he were some kind of roaming vagrant.

And everyone on Remnant knew Weiss’ parents, she thought with pride. The Schnee name was well recognized, after all—Jacques more so than Willow, especially as her mother had become more reclusive in recent years. A polite way of saying she preferred the company of wine over her own children. At least this Qrow character was both drunk and present for Ruby and Yang.

But Blake—no, Weiss could not recall ever hearing Blake mention a mother or father. She was a private person, Weiss told herself. She’d never mentioned any siblings, either, or really spoken about a home life at all. Frowning, Weiss realized that she knew almost nothing about Blake’s life before Beacon.

“Is she an orphan?” Weiss asked, aghast; Ruby and Yang, of course, laughed at her. “What?”

“No, no,” Yang said, still smiling. “It’s just—the way you said that. I don’t know, maybe. I’ve never asked.”

“Obviously not! We shouldn’t. We shouldn’t, right?”

Of Team RWBY, Weiss knew that she had the least experience with dead parents. She would gratefully defer to Ruby or Yang on the subject.

“We shouldn’t,” Ruby confirmed. “But it’s something to keep in mind.”

“Of course. I don’t want to offend her. And, if you really think Blake can’t afford to eat out with us—”

“It’s only a theory,” Yang interrupted. “I haven’t asked her about her dead parents or her finances.”

“Of course. But, I could have paid for her! You know that I have, well, excess money.”

“You mean more than enough to buy our house a hundred times over and then bulldoze it just for fun,” Yang said.

“Well, I wouldn’t put it like that.”

“And she wouldn’t do that!” Ruby said loyally.

“Thank you, Ruby. But yes. And if,” Weiss hesitated, unsure how to navigate her sentiment. “And if either of you, you know, ever needed anything—”

“We’re fine, Weiss-cream,” Yang laughed, interrupting her again and mercifully putting Weiss out of her misery. “And we appreciate it, but I’m pretty sure Blake would rather skip a single lunch than have you pay for her. She does have her pride, you know?”

Yes, Weiss had noticed that. 

“But, you could offer. And I have her covered today—I ordered the double noodles so I can share.”

Weiss frowned, thinking back to when they had placed their orders.

“But, you ordered that for you and Ruby?”

“Ha! Yeah, no—Ruby and I don’t need to split our meals, and I knew Ruby was going to get a sandwich. She likes bread too much.”

“I do,” Ruby admitted shamefully.

Weiss gaped.

“What? But—you said so! And you acted so surprised! And you—” Weiss turned to Ruby. “You said ‘ew,’ and, and…”

“Maybe I’m just more sneaky than you give me credit for,” Ruby said smugly, lifting her glass immediately ruining the effect by missing her mouth with the straw and spilling soda into her lap. “Aw…”

“You and Ruby may be partners now,” Yang said, “but we’ve spent 15 years with each other, training and lying to our dad together.”

“Yeah!” Ruby said, meeting Yang for a high five.

“Ugh, Ruby, your hand is wet!” 

“It is not!”

“It definitely is! Weiss, give me your napkin.”

“Excuse me?” Weiss' napkin was her own, and she didn’t want Ruby’s hand soda on it.

Yang lunged across the table anyway, and Weiss recoiled, bringing her napkin with her.

“Stay back!”

“Get her Yang!”

“Show some decorum! We’re in public!”

When Blake returned, Weiss was stewing silently in her seat. Yang, of course, had been triumphant—and Weiss’ poor napkin had been stolen, assaulted, crumpled, and then displaced onto the floor.

“Hello, favorite teammate,” Weiss said.

“Hey,” Blake said, looking confused. Weiss didn’t blame her—the Rose-Xiao-Long sisters inspired confusion in everyone, as far as Weiss could tell.

“How’d the call go?” Yang asked.

“I have to go.”

“What?” Ruby cried. “But it’s team day! Blake, you can’t leave us!”

“Sorry, Ruby—”

“Is everything alright?” Weiss cut in. The talk about parents and orphans had put Weiss on edge, and now all she could think about were worst-case scenarios. Blake was private, but she was usually reliable—for her to leave in the middle of a meal, something had to be wrong.

“No one’s hurt, if that’s what you’re asking. No—I, um. I have to go help out Velvet with something. Something came up, and she needs me there. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Yang said. “If it’s an emergency, it’s an emergency. Don’t worry about it.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Ruby said. 

“It’s not that kind of emergency—really, it’s not a big deal.”

“And it’s nothing her team can help her with?” Weiss asked, because Velvet was a second-year with a whole team behind her. Surely she’d turn to CFVY before asking Blake for help?

“Coco’s nearby,” Blake admitted. “But this is something she can’t do. I’m sorry for running out on you—enjoy your lunch.”

Weiss nodded—not necessarily in understanding, but she accepted the explanation.

“Oh well,” Ruby said. “We’ll meet you at the Bullhead docks, afterwards?”

Blake hesitated, and Weiss caught it. Apparently Ruby did too.

“Or not?” she asked.

“It’s going to take a while. And—I was going to mention this over lunch, before I got the call—I have something to do in Vale this evening. I won’t be back until this evening.”

“Staying out late,” Yang whistled. “Painting the town. Are you partying without your partner, partner?”

Blake smiled and rolled her eyes at the idiot. Honestly, Weiss didn’t know how Blake endured her.

“Nothing like that. Just—don’t wait up for me. I’ll see you all later.”

“Okay,” Ruby said. “Good luck!”

“Thanks, Ruby.”

“Bye!” Yang called.

Weiss gave her a nod, and Blake left with a small wave.

“That was unusual,” Weiss said. “What do you think Velvet could need?”

“I dunno. There’s only one way to find out.”

“What—hey!” 

Yang stood up, craning her neck to look for their waiter.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m getting our food in boxes! Break out that credit card, Ice Queen—we need to get out of here fast if we’re going to track Blake down.”

“Yeah!” Ruby said. “Super secret Team RWBY mission! Leave no Huntress behind!”

On one hand, Weiss was appalled. Surely they should respect their teammate’s privacy and let Blake go without interfering? If their roles were reversed, Weiss wouldn’t appreciate her team following after her.

On the other hand—Weiss was very curious. And what if the emergency was a bigger emergency than Blake had expected? What if Velvet needed more help than she could give? It was only right that they stay vigilant and assist their teammate however they could. They were backup, really. Reinforcements.

Weiss sighed and got out her card.

“Alright,” she said. “But if Blake gets mad, this is your fault, Xiao-Long.”

Creating a Huntsman is an enormously expensive endeavor. The training that goes into turning a child into a super soldier is no small thing, as the trainees require instructors, facilities, an enormous amount of calories, a sturdy wardrobe, Dust, all the gear they could ever need, and—not to be forgotten—their mechashift weapon. In a very real way, the symbol of a Huntsman. Their calling card. Their life. 

Mechashift weapons are prohibitively expensive, and even after their creation they require a significant amount of upkeep. For someone like you and I, it might be easier to purchase a luxury car than to commission and maintain such a weapon. Not that I’d ever need one; what use do I have for a sword that turns into a gatling gun?

And so the class divide between Huntsmen and civilians is growing. Only the children of the extremely wealthy—or “legacy Huntsmen,” those born to a Huntsman or Huntress—are capable of affording the proper training and equipment. And due to sinking demand and rising costs, the job market for Huntsmen has been impacted as well; moreso now than ever, Huntsmen and Huntresses find themselves joining “corporate teams,” where they are specifically employed to protect shipments, mining sites, and even luxury retreats.

The common person can no longer afford to be protected by a Huntsman, and they certainly don’t have the resources to become one. 

Maybe I’m paranoid. Maybe I’m fear mongering. Maybe I should shut up and be grateful I haven’t been carried off by a Nevermore. But I can’t help but wonder if we’re nearing a future where the extremely wealthy realize that they have access to an army of highly-trained, over-equipped, unstoppable killing machines, and that maybe they can circumvent the law and just take whatever they want by force.

Who would stop them? The Huntsmen and Huntresses that they own?

Submitted to The Daily Vale by Bernard Periwinkle. Bernard is a poet, writer, and thinker, and an advocate for anyone who doesn’t have one. When he isn’t tearing down the system, he enjoys trying new restaurants and long walks in the shadow of our city’s wall. 

Chapter Text

They managed to leave the restaurant somewhat quickly. Ruby, heedless as always of any social conventions that might dictate otherwise, immediately ran to the door while Weiss paid and requested that their food—just delivered to the table—be boxed so they could take it to go. She left a large tip for the inconvenience, although she probably would have done so anyway. The sisters were an occupational hazard that no waiter had ever signed up for.

Ruby dashed down the block and was back in time to meet Weiss and Yang as they emerged onto Vale’s streets.

“Okay,” she said. “I followed her to the corner, and then watched where she went.”

“She’s walking?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah, so wherever she’s going must be close,” Yang said. “Let’s find out what my partner’s hiding from us!”

“We’re offering backup in case of trouble,” Weiss corrected.

“That too.”

They hurried to follow Ruby’s directions, but before long the trail ran cold. They were left with a decision—right or left.

"Right," Yang said immediately,disregarding all logic or any potential clues.

"Why? What, are you choosing a direction on pure instinct?"

"It's better than not choosing at all. Might as well pick one and stick with it."

It was an inane response. Absurd beyond anything Weiss would have given even Yang credit for.

"I think it's left," Weiss decided.

"Oh, and I guess you have a good reason for that?"

"I do, in fact," Weiss sniffed. She did not elaborate.

She liked the way the street looked on the left. It seemed cleaner.

"Care to share, Ice Queen?"

"I don't think I will. Maybe you should just trust in my superior observational skills."

"Observational skills?" Yang growled. "I'll give you something to observe."

"You can try, brute! Shall we go back to Beacon and settle this right now, and leave this whole farce about spying on Blake behind?"

Oh, Yang had been getting on her nerves all day. Her stupid puns, her ridiculous nicknames—her immunity to the heat that seemed to be draining Weiss' aura just from her standing in the sun. A spar sounded appealing to Weiss; the chance to put Myrtenaster through Yang's eye, even moreso.

"Maybe so," Yang said. "I'm not so curious anymore."

"I find that I'm not either. Ruby! We're leaving."

"Um, okay," Ruby said, looking confused. "But maybe we could ask Coco?"

“What?” Weiss asked, and she heard Yang echo her surprise.

Ruby pointed, and sure enough—there was Coco Adel, sitting at a patio table a mere two storefronts away. Looking in their direction, even, with an eyebrow raised.

“Does she see us?” Yang asked.

Coco sent them a small wave.

“That could just be a coincidence.”

“Hey RWBY,” Coco called, barely having to raise her voice to be heard because the distance between them was so negligible. Weiss sighed.

Ruby carelessly approached Coco’s table, and Weiss and Yang somewhat reluctantly followed her.

“Psst, Weiss,” Yang ‘whispered’ at full volume. “She was to our right.”

Weiss punched the blonde in her arm. Yang, curse her sturdiness, seemed to not even feel it.

“So,” Coco said, “what brings Team RWY to this little corner of Vale?” 

She pronounced RWBY without the B. Coming out of the mouth of someone like Yang, it might have been a particularly pitiful attempt at humor. From Coco—well, Weiss could admit that it was perhaps a bit ‘cool.’

Weiss did not use that word lightly, but there was really no other way to describe Coco Adel. If pressed, Weiss would concede that she was impressed by Coco. She was a cool, confident second-year with a strong team and a good head on her shoulders. She also dressed very well, which Weiss respected.

To be seen squabbling with Xiao-Long in front of her… well, it was embarrassing. Luckily, it appeared Weiss would have a chance to repair things. Surely just moments spent in Yang’s presence would be enough to convince Coco that the entire situation was the blonde’s fault. Anyone with eyes could see it, and Coco’s eyes were sharper than most.

“We’re, uh…” Ruby started, and then trailed off. She tried again: “We’re taking a walk?”

“You’re stalking your teammate,” Coco said.

“Yeah,” Ruby admitted, slumping her shoulders.

“I wouldn’t call it stalking ,” Yang prevaricated.

“I would. But hey—that’s totally cool.”

Ruby straightened back up, and Yang beamed. Weiss would never admit it, but even she felt invigorated by Coco Adel calling something of theirs “cool.”

Even if the something in question was their disrespect of a teammate’s privacy.

“I’m kind of stalking my teammate too, even if Velvet knows I’m here. I guess you’re all here for Blake?”

They were here for Blake, although it seemed like they had a different reason than whatever Coco believed their motive to be. Still, there was no reason to tell her that—and it seemed like for once, all three present members of Team RWBY were in agreement.

“That’s us,” Yang said. “Here for Blake, all the time, every day.”

“Then pull up a seat,” Coco invited, waving her arm in front of her. “I’ve got room, and nothing but time.”

Hesitantly, Weiss and her teammates glanced at each other and then sat down. There was a moment of awkward silence where the three of them waged a silent war to determine who would try to get Coco talking first, and finally Weiss acquiesced.

Honestly, they were like children! Did Weiss have to do everything herself?

“So,” Weiss said, “you’re here for Velvet?”

“That’s right,” Coco nodded. “We can’t be there for them, which sucks, you know? Velvet and I are partners, and she's my best friend. I’ve got her back, and I know she’s got mine. But this isn’t the kind of thing I can help with—I won’t do any good in there. But I want to support her however I can, so I’m here, waiting. It makes me less anxious, too—being nearby.”

Coco really was cool, Weiss thought. Not everyone could be as fearlessly honest as her. Ruby practically had stars in her eyes, and Yang had her arms crossed in a way that Weiss knew meant she was impressed.

But—what was she talking about? Coco clearly assumed that they were here for the same reason that she was, which meant that she thought they knew what Velvet and Blake were getting up to…

“You know what Blake’s doing?” Yang asked a moment before Weiss could. Fortunately, her blunt nature made it seem less like a probing question and more like a curious remark.

“I know, but I don’t know, know, you know?”

They stared at her for a second.

“I don’t know,” Ruby admitted.

“Ha! My bad, huh? Yeah—I know. But Velvet didn’t tell me; she wouldn’t do that, I swear. I guessed, and she confirmed it. To be honest, I didn’t realize that all of you knew.”

Coco looked directly at Weiss when she said that, and Weiss felt a bit affronted. Before she could respond, and perhaps reveal that they didn’t know, Ruby stepped in.

“We are her team.”

“Huh, I guess you are. Well, I won’t go around spreading anything—I promise. And I’m grateful for Blake, honestly. Velvet was really worried about this. She hasn’t done anything like it before, but Blake convinced her to give it a try—and she did, but she might have chickened out today if Blake didn’t show up to help. She’s not supposed to be there for another two hours, you know, so she’s technically covering Velvet’s shift and her own.”

Shifts? Velvet nervous? Coco seemed to be getting more and more vague by the sentence, and Weiss couldn’t even begin to draw a conclusion about what exactly was going on.

“Well, you know Blake,” Yang said, as if she fully understood the situation. “She’s…”

And then she trailed off, because of course she didn’t actually understand anything.

“She’s pretty experienced, based on what Velvet told me,” Coco agreed.

Well, that put an end to that avenue of exploration—unless they wanted to ask what exactly Blake was experienced in, which they couldn’t. Considering they knew essentially nothing about the conversation they were having.

“Is that Gambol Shroud?” Ruby asked suddenly.

What? Weiss shot a glance towards Coco’s side, and sure enough—there rested Gambol Shroud, next to Coco’s handbag and what Weiss was nearly sure was Velvet’s weapon. For the first time, Weiss found herself feeling slightly grateful for her partner’s single-minded obsession with mechashift weaponry.

“Huh? Oh, yeah—good eye,” Coco said, not knowing that she was speaking to someone who occasionally recognized classmates by their weapons instead of their faces. “Blake asked me to look after it—said she’d meant to leave it with you, but she forgot. She said she’s safer without it, you know?”

“Safer?” Yang asked. “Is she in danger?”

“No, no! Or at least, Blake says they shouldn’t be. And she knows more about this type of thing than I do. Here, you can hold onto it.”

Coco passed Gambol Shroud over to Yang, who took it and kept it in her hands instead of leaning it against the table next to her. 

“Speaking of weapons,” Yang said, her leg starting to bounce up and down either from energy or from nerves—maybe both. “Ruby’s pretty interested in yours.”

“Oh yeah? Here she is,” Coco said, lifting her handbag and setting it down on the table. Even the gentle motion was more of a slam than a set, the loud noise betraying the sheer weight of the thing—the minigun might compress itself, but all that metal and ammunition would still weigh the same. Weiss couldn’t imagine carrying it around as a purse all day.

Coco must be much stronger than she looked.

“Ooh,” Ruby said, leaning forward with interest. “I did have a question about the barrels…”

“Ask away. I’m here until Velvet gets out.”

And with that, Coco had doomed herself. Ruby immediately launched into a complex question about the weapon’s barrel telescoping, something that Weiss understood essentially none of. Judging by Coco’s face, she was similarly unprepared. Just as Weiss was about to suggest that Ruby give the poor woman a break, Yang stepped on her foot.

“Ow! Hey—”

“Shh! Hey, Weiss-cream, want to go pick up a coffee with me? Gives us something to do while we wait.”

“We’re seated at a cafe, Yang. There’s coffee here.”

“I don’t like this place,” Yang said, emphasizing her words oddly. “Let’s go somewhere else. Down the street, maybe.”

What? Oh! Very clever, Xiao-Long, Weiss thought. With Coco distracted, they could sneak away and try to find Blake. It was almost diabolical in its simplicity. Weiss wondered if this was another one of Yang and Ruby’s sister schemes, or if Yang had simply launched Ruby in a direction that would turn her into an effective distraction.

Either way, it presented them with an opportunity.

“Yes,” Weiss said. “Let’s go get coffee.”

They stood up together, saying a quick goodbye that Ruby barely acknowledged. Reluctantly, Weiss admitted that she would have to congratulate Yang for her ruse.

They’d only taken a few steps when Coco called after them:

“If you’re looking for your partner, she’s about a block that way—some greasy spoon diner called Reggie’s. Just don’t go in, you got it?”

Weiss flushed, mortified. She couldn’t believe they’d been so transparent. Yang—shameless as always—just snapped her hand into a finger gun and pointed at Coco.

“Reggie’s, got it. Thanks!”

“No problem,” Coco said, finger-gunning right back. It looked much cooler when she did it. Ruby even said so out loud.

“Come on then,” Weiss hissed when Yang seemed about to pout. “Let’s go.”

Yang allowed Weiss to drag her for about twenty steps before she shook her off—and Weiss could admit that it was “allowed,” because she had yet to be able to force Xiao-Long to do anything she didn’t want to.

“Alright, alright, hold your carriage princess. I know where Reggie’s is, just follow me.”

“You know this place?”

“Sure do,” Yang said. “It’s kind of a local establishment, famous in the neighborhoods around here. Dad’s taken us a few times when we’ve been in the city.”

“And it’s a normal restaurant?”

“Well, probably not by your standards. Coco wasn’t joking when she called it a greasy spoon. But yeah, it’s average.”

Weiss didn’t know what a greasy spoon was in the context of their conversation, and frankly she found herself happier for it. She didn’t want to know what kind of diner prided itself on that kind of description—did they not polish their utensils properly? The more time she spent in Vale, the more she found herself shocked by the entire kingdom’s complete lack of decorum. And they prided themselves in it!

And what could Blake be doing so covertly in a regular restaurant anyway? Honestly, if she’d snuck away for something mundane, Weiss was going to have a talk with her. Their team dealt with enough from Xiao-Long alone, they didn’t need Blake to add her own dramatics.

“Maybe they’re on a date,” Yang speculated, and Weiss sputtered.

“A date? Don’t be ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous. They do talk, apparently—and you know that Blake isn’t exactly a social butterfly.”

Well, that was true—Blake’s protests aside, she was quite introverted. But— 

“What do they even have in common?”

“Well, they’re both quiet. They’re both huntresses-in-training. I don’t know much else about Velvet, so I couldn’t really say. Blake likes to read, maybe they met in the library?”

It was ridiculous. Utterly foolish—Blake and Velvet? The thought was laughable. But, maybe not. Weiss could see it. Possibly. If she squinted and tilted her head.

“Is this it, up ahead?” Weiss asked instead of responding.

“Yep, that’s Reggie’s.”

Like nearly every building in Vale, it was attached to the buildings on either side of it, and had a second story that probably held an apartment. Space was at a premium inside the walled city, and only the most extravagantly wealthy would be able to afford a significant amount of property. Weiss guessed that they were in an older part of Vale, based on the smaller buildings that only went up to two or three stories—like in Atlas, more recent construction prized verticality in order to make more efficient use of space.

Still, the sidewalk seemed clean enough, and the front of the building was washed and practically sparkling, with clear, unsmudged windows allowing an easy view into the restaurant. It was clearly an established and well-loved diner, as Yang had suggested.

“Coco said not to go in,” Yang said as they approached the building.

“Coco said a lot of things, and none of them made sense. Why would we stay out? We can just—”

Weiss forgot what she was going to say. It wasn’t important, in hindsight. Any concerns she may have had about Coco’s vagueness, or a teammate in potential danger, or Blake’s romantic life—it was all washed away by shock and horror.

Forgoing all propriety, Yang had her face practically pressed against the window as she peered through. Any other time, Weiss would have mocked her for behaving like her sister—in this instance, however, Weiss was right beside her, acting the same way.

“What…?” she said, feeling a strange mixture of emotions that she didn’t even know how to begin to describe.

“Well,” Yang laughed—a hollow, unfunny sound. “It’s not a date.”

Inside, the diner was packed full of people—Faunus, specifically. Antlers, tails, ears, even a pair of wings; they were crowded into the space, seated at tables, booths, and the counter. It was more Faunus in one place than Weiss had ever seen before.

They sat there silently, shoulders rigid, hands clenched on the tables in front of them. Other people, perhaps either staff or simply other diners, stood and shouted. They waved their arms, stomped, and hurled abuse—Weiss could hear the volume from out on the street, even if she couldn’t make out the words. They could only be humans, based on their lack of animal traits.

Front and center, seated at the counter next to Velvet, was Blake Belladonna—with a stoic expression and a clenched jaw.

And a pair of cat ears on her head.

“Thank you all for coming out today. We have a big day planned. A historical day, maybe—hopefully for the right reasons. And it won’t be easy. Actually, it will be really, really hard. But you’re all here because you believe that things can change. That things can change peacefully, without bloodshed, and that one day our sons and daughters can stand where we’re standing and not worry about something silly like where they’re allowed to eat lunch.

I’m proud of you all, and I’m honored to be here with you. You all have your groups, and your student leaders. You know where you’re supposed to go and when you’re supposed to be there. And I know we all know our rules, but let’s run through them one more time. Look, see, Briar’s gone and written them down for us.

[Some laughter]

Yes, yes, but we are thankful. Someone’s got to keep us organized! So, remember:

‘Do not strike back or curse if abused. Do not laugh out. Do not block entrances to restaurants outside or to the aisles inside. Do show yourself courteous and friendly at all times. Do sit straight, poised, and respectfully. Do report all serious incidents to your student leader. Do refer information seekers to your student leader in a polite manner. Remember the teachings of Ghira Belladonna and Yogi Taupe. Love and nonviolence is the way.’”

Speech delivered by Marti White, President of the Vale Agricultural College chapter of Students Advocating Faunus Equality (SAFE) and prolific organizer of sit-in demonstrations.

Chapter Text

ENROLLMENT INTERVIEW BELLADONNA 6/11/—55

Interviewer: Headmaster Ozpin

Assessee: Blake Belladonna

Beacon Academy

[Begin Transcript 00:28:16]

OZPIN: Any other year, Miss Belladonna, and you’d be our most interesting first-year student. It just so happens that we have a surplus of extraordinary applicants.

BELLADONNA: I’m not looking to be extraordinary. I’m just looking to be better than I was. 

OZPIN: That’s all any of us can do.

BELLADONNA: I’ve been fighting my whole life and I never learned how to stop. I want to learn how to direct that. How to make sure I’m fighting the right people—how to protect the people who need my help.

OZPIN: You’re referring to your past again?

BELLADONNA: It wasn’t very long ago.

OZPIN: Our mistakes are strange like that. They have a habit of not letting us outrun them.

[Interviewer’s Note: While Miss Belladonna did not respond verbally here, she appeared agitated and uneasy.]

OZPIN: I look forward to having you in my academy, Blake. But there is the legal matter…

BELLADONNA: I know there’s a warrant out for me in Atlas. But Vale—

OZPIN: It is a much smaller concern here, yes. But I can see that you are genuinely remorseful, Miss Belladonna. I believe you want to change, and I want to give you the tools to do that. I will speak with some associates of mine, and in several months nobody will be searching for you.

BELLADONNA: The semester starts next week.

OZPIN: So it does. It would be inadvisable for a cat faunus with your name to be found anywhere in Vale, even in Beacon.

BELLADONNA: I think I get it.

OZPIN: I thought you would. You’re a very bright girl, and I understand that you have some experience with dissembling.

BELLADONNA: More than I would like.

OZPIN: Every tool is just a tool, Miss Belladonna.

Weiss Schnee was not well-acquainted with surprise. She had little experience with it. Weiss lived an orderly, peaceful life—fights to the death against Grimm notwithstanding—and she typically woke up every morning with a good understanding of what she could expect that day. Even her parents, while famously temperamental, were mostly predictable in their triggers—and the Schnee children had learned how to read them early.

Weiss liked her life that way—free of surprise, with no time for spontaneity, because everything was rigidly scheduled and organized.

So when she looked through a diner window and saw her teammate inside, apparently a faunus and apparently sitting in a restaurant full of other faunus, it took her a moment to realize what exactly she was feeling underneath the surprise. It was confusion, and stress, and anger, and… hurt?

“What…?” Weiss asked, the rest of her question disappearing before it even left her mouth. She didn’t know what she wanted to ask.

Yang probably wouldn’t have answered anyway. Weiss spared a glance for her, and saw that her normally unflappable teammate looked just as shocked as Weiss felt.

“Did you know?” Weiss asked anyway, even though she could see the answer plain on Yang’s face.

“No,” she said, sounding for once in her life subdued. “No, I… I had no idea. What’s going on, Weiss?”

“I don’t know.”

She went back to looking through the window. That was her teammate in there, Blake Belladonna. They argued, often, but not like the squabbles she had with Yang. Weiss and Blake’s disagreements were more intellectual and Weiss respected her for it. They drank coffee together in the mornings while Ruby slept in and Yang stole the bathroom for her hair routine. Blake, who could quote poetry that Weiss recognized and who had an opinion on the Atlesian Rigidism art movement and who had just the other day handed Weiss a flier for a spoken word night at a nearby cafe.

That was Blake. But, who was she really? What was she doing here, and what was she doing with those ears on her head? 

And why hadn’t she told Weiss that she was a Faunus? That was where the hurt came from. 

“What do we do?” Yang asked.

“I don’t know.”

Did they go inside and confront Blake? Weiss wanted to. She wanted to grab her, shake her, and ask what she was thinking, hiding her ears under a bow and lying to Weiss and then sneaking out to attend… whatever this was. She’d skipped team lunch for this! Not that Weiss had advocated for a team lunch, herself, but that wasn’t relevant.

But Weiss’ feet felt glued to the ground, and she couldn’t tear her eyes away from the window. The thought of going into the restaurant right now, with the crowd of faunus and the angry, yelling humans—it made her nervous. Uneasy.

“Should we go talk to her?” Yang asked.

“I don’t know!” Weiss said, for the third time. She snapped it this time, her voice harsh, and she recoiled from her own anger. She hadn’t meant that.

Inside, the man behind the counter yelled in Blake’s face. He pointed angrily at the door, but she simply stared ahead with a blank look on her face. He picked up a mug, steam wafting from it, and splashed the contents in Blake’s face. Weiss gasped, but Blake must have had her aura up because she didn’t recoil from what was surely scalding heat.

Weiss could practically hear Yang’s fists clench beside her. Then she realized that she did hear it—Yang had deployed Ember Celica instinctively. 

“That’s it,” she grit out. “I’m going in.”

“Please don’t,” a voice said, and the two huntresses-in-training leapt in surprise. Weiss did not shriek, and her father’s lawyers would hear about it if anyone said otherwise.

The speaker was a young woman, maybe a few years older than them. She wore tidy, business-casual clothing and appeared calm and respectable. She also had a tail, black and white striped and with a tuft at the end.

She had taken an involuntary step back when they had startled, but she quickly recomposed herself. Yang lowered her arms sheepishly, flicking her wrists to deactivate her gauntlets and shift them back into bracelets.

“Uh, sorry about that,” Yang said. “Just caught me off guard, there.”

“It’s not a problem,” the woman said. “I apologize for the scare. I saw you two looking in, and I thought I would come out and greet you.” 

She spoke deliberately, as if choosing each word carefully. She also carried a certain wariness, and Weiss noted that her gaze flicked to Yang’s wrists and to Weiss’ side, where she carried Myrtenaster. Weiss released her rapier’s handle and folded her hands in front of her.

“You two have been standing out here for a while,” she said. “Long enough for me to notice you, anyway.”

Weiss noticed that she didn’t ask a question, perhaps because she didn’t know how to phrase “why are you two staring through a window with dumb looks on your faces” in a way that didn’t sound rude. Weiss decided to answer her anyway.

“We’re huntresses-in-training,” Weiss said. “Our teammate is in there. We—well, we didn’t know what she was doing, and we followed her.”

The woman glanced between Weiss and Yang for a moment, but her gaze ultimately landed on Weiss. 

“You’re Weiss Schnee,” she said, with a tone in her voice that Weiss couldn’t place. It wasn’t the disdain that she might have expected from a faunus who recognized her on the street, but it wasn’t necessarily friendly either.

“I am,” Weiss confirmed, raising her chin because she didn't know what to expect from this woman but Weiss Schnee liked who she was and wouldn't be intimidated into feeling otherwise.

The woman stared back, and Weiss could see wariness and interest in her gaze. And maybe something else—maybe a little fear, too, but Weiss chose not to dwell on that because she hadn't done anything to this woman.

Not yet, anyway.

“What do you know about Blake?” Weiss asked.

“You're Blake Belladonna's teammate at Beacon?” the woman asked, and now the wariness was replaced with something else. Incredulity, maybe. She certainly looked surprised.

“She is,” Yang said, stepping forward in what Weiss recognized was a defensive move rather than an aggressive one. “And I am too—I’m Blake's partner, Yang. What's going on here?”

“I apologize,” the woman said. “I was simply… caught off guard. I don't know Blake very well, in fact I’ve only spoken to her briefly. But I wasn’t aware that Weiss Schnee was her teammate.”

Weiss exchanged a glance with Yang.

“Well, I am,” she said, feeling slightly hysterical and hopefully not sounding too much like it. “And I want to know what she’s doing in there with ears on her head!”

“You didn't know Blake Belladonna was a faunus?” Marti asked.

There was something suspicious about the way Marti had phrased that question, and Weiss filed it away for later.

“No,” Weiss said flatly.

“Nope,” Yang agreed.

“Oh,” the woman said, eyes widening. And then: “Oh! Oh dear. Please, um—let’s step away from the window. Let's not have Blake see you now. It would upset her.”

“Upset her?” Weiss asked. “Upset her? I'm feeling upset myself right now. What is going on here?”

“Please, may we step away from the window?”

Yang moved immediately, and Weiss begrudgingly allowed the two of them to usher her away from the window. She couldn't see Blake anymore—couldn’t look inside and see her teammate’s stoic face and her coffee-soaked shirt and her black cat ears.

“Thank you,” the woman said. “I'm Marti White, by the way; I never introduced myself—”

“I don't care,” Weiss interrupted.

Marti's lips thinned into a line, and Yang nudged Weiss in the side and started talking.

“Ha! Uh, sorry about my friend here—Weiss is just a bit hangry right now, I think—”

“I am not hangry !”

“Our lunch was interrupted. It's nice to meet you, Marti.”

“Thank you. You as well, Yang. As I was saying, and this is relevant to your question, Miss Schnee, my name is Marti White. I'm the President of SAFE—that is Students Advocating Faunus Equality. We're an organization at Vale Agricultural College.”

“You're a student!” Yang said.

“That's right.”

“And that's all very well,” Weiss said, feeling impatient and knowing that she was being a bit unfair, but unable to contain herself all the same. “But I still don't see how that has anything to do with explaining why our apparently-faunus teammate is in there with that, that rabble!”

Martin's eyes flashed with something that might have been rage, but the emotion vanished as quickly as it appeared. She took a long, deep breath and then exhaled audibly.

“That rabble,” she said, “is my organization. Other students from VAC. And we are here for nothing except to ask to be served a meal.”

Weiss fought back a wince, and she felt her face heat, but she persisted.

“Oh? It certainly doesn't look like that, with every seat filled by your ‘organization.’ Perhaps you should leave some room for paying customers.”

Even Yang recoiled at that, and Weiss shot her a look of betrayal.

“Weiss…” she started.

“Every faunus in there is more than willing and able to pay, Miss Schnee. Reggie's diner doesn't serve faunus. We’re protesting their discrimination.”

“But—”

“Weiss,” Yang said. “Please shut up for a minute.”

“Excuse me?!” 

Yang grimaced but persevered. Much like her sister, she was too stubborn to ever give ground in any situation. Weiss hated that about her.

“You're not helping right now. You're being rude, actually.”

Rude? Rude—as if! Weiss Schnee was not rude. Weiss Schnee was highly trained in proper etiquette and ladylike conduct. She was easily the most respectable member of her team.

But, perhaps only in this one instance, Weiss could admit that she’d allowed her emotions to overcome her.

“Fine,” Weiss sniffed, turning her head away. She would let Yang have the floor for the moment.

“Right, um, I’m sorry about that, Marti—”

“Don’t apologize for somebody else's actions.”

Weiss valiantly remained silent.

“Right, right. Anyway, um—I’m sorry, I’m just trying to wrap my head around things. This is all a little unexpected. I feel like I'm seeing a side of Blake that I didn't know existed, and I thought I knew her pretty well!”

Yang laughed awkwardly.

“And I, uh, didn't realize that Reggie's didn't serve faunus. I didn't know that was legal…”

“It's a bit of a legal gray area, actually,” Marti said, and she continued before Weiss could interrupt. “The courts have ruled to desegregate public transportation and educational institutions, although there are still loopholes available to bad actors. But Oak vs. Foxtrot has not been officially overturned. Reggie's, and many other restaurants like it, are free to refuse service to faunus customers.”

Weiss didn't recognize the name, but that must have been a Valean court case of some kind. She resolved to look it up later.

“So just go eat lunch at a restaurant that will serve you,” Weiss said, and Marti turned towards her with fire in her eyes.

“We don't want to beg for scraps in the corners of the world that we live in. This is our home too, Miss Schnee, and all we want is a place at the table next to our human brothers and sisters.”

Weiss tried to glare back, but she found that she couldn't bring herself to mean it. She settled for silence and a frown instead.

Yang shot her another look, and Weiss waved her off with a ‘go-ahead’ gesture.

“I’ll be honest, Marti—I’m feeling a little out of my element here. I’m from Patch and we don’t…” Yang trailed off.

“You don’t have many faunus there,” Marti finished.

Yang bobbed her head uncomfortably.

“Yeah. But, uh, I totally think you should be able to eat at Reggie's, and I respect the work you're doing. I think you're really brave! That's not offensive, right?”

“Thank you,” Marti said, and Weiss might have seen an infinitesimally small smile appear on her face. “And no, that's not offensive. Our fight for equality isn't an ‘us vs. them’ scenario. We have many, many human allies, and we rely on and appreciate them. We all share Remnant together.”

“I don’t want to be condescending—”

“Not at all. And really, you should talk to Blake about this. It's… unfortunate, that you were blindsided here, but please don't hold anything against her. Blake, like many faunus who attempt to hide their traits, is motivated by fear—not malice.”

“She doesn't seem scared,” Weiss said, looking meaningfully at the restaurant Blake was sat in.

“It can be easier to be brave in front of strangers than it is to bare yourself to people you care for. Friends, teammates—they can hurt you more than an unfamiliar waiter ever could.”

Those words touched something inside Weiss, and she suddenly felt cold and uncomfortable despite the heat. Weiss wrapped her arms around herself and tried to disguise the action as her simply crossing them.

“Is Blake a member of SAFE?” Yang asked.

“Not the VAC chapter. We have a history of partnering with Huntsman Academies for our demonstrations. Their faunus population is lower, so we give them an opportunity to organize with us. And they offer us a certain measure of protection.”

“Protection?” Yang asked. “You're not fighting anybody, are you?”

“Never. SAFE is a peaceful organization; nonviolence is one of our core values. Unfortunately, just because we won't resort to violence doesn't mean that others will respect that.”

“The coffee,” Weiss said, thinking out loud. “The man at the counter poured hot coffee on Blake.”

“He did what ?” Marti asked, appalled, and Weiss realized that she must have missed that when she came out to speak to them. She looked scared and angry, and Weiss immediately knew why.

“It’s not a cause for concern,” Weiss said. “Blake has aura—she would hardly have felt it.”

Marti looked troubled, but she took a breath and nodded.

“That is… well, not good. But that is a relief. I’m glad to hear that she’s not hurt.”

“Is that what you mean by protection?” Yang asked.

“Somewhat,” Marti nodded. “Although I don’t like the idea of any of the faunus in there being harmed. Sometimes humans get violent in other ways, and they’ll try to hurt us. Huntsmen-in-training can deescalate the situation. And if the police are called—”

“The police?” 

“Yes, that’s not uncommon. If the police are called, and if one of them sees a room full of tense faunus and decides that we’re a threat—well, Blake is best suited to surviving the aftermath.”

Weiss scoffed at the idea of a police officer haphazardly opening fire on a group of students, but Yang looked horrified.

“That could happen?” she asked.

“It has,” Marti said, shoulders straightening. “And while I would proudly die for my people, that doesn’t mean I would welcome it.”

Weiss and Yang shifted in uneasy silence. Weiss opened her mouth but found that she had nothing to say. Her lungs seemed too small, and there was an uncomfortable, squeezing pressure in her chest. She didn’t like it.

“Yes. Well, I have to return to my duties inside. Thank you for speaking with me, and if you take anything away from our conversation let it be this—please be patient with Blake, and when you confront her about her secrecy please do so with questions and not accusations.”

“Of course,” Yang said. “And thank you for coming out here and—and explaining things to us.”

“Particularly before you got it into your head to storm the restaurant and demand answers,” Weiss said.

“I was going to demand my fist through that jackass’s head,” Yang said. Weiss rolled her eyes.

“It’s no problem,” Marti said. “Goodbye Yang, Miss Schnee.”

Marti left, vanishing back into Reggie’s. It wasn’t actually anything so stealthy, but to Weiss and Yang—who stood there staring after her like a pair of idiots—her disappearance seemed impossibly fast.

It could have taken hours, for how frozen Weiss felt. If someone had told her that she’d stepped directly into drying concrete, she may have believed them.

Yang spoke first, breaking their silence.

“I’m a little stumped here. That take you by surprise, Weiss-cream?”

“What, that you have nothing witty to say? Of course not—it’s par for the course.”

“Ouch,” Yang said, laughing a little, and Weiss could admit to feeling more secure now that they were on familiar ground. Her blonde teammate probably did too.

“I find myself feeling unbalanced as well,” Weiss offered, a deliberate gesture of gratitude to Yang for admitting her weakness first. 

She didn't know if Yang would recognize it, but the blonde had a frustrating habit of being more perceptive than she appeared.

“Yeah,” Yang said. “It’s—well, I’m trying to wrap my head around the whole thing. Trying not to get offended that she doesn’t trust me.”

“Doesn’t trust us ,” Weiss corrected. “She apparently felt she couldn’t be honest with me either.”

“True. Well…” Yang trailed off, giving Weiss a look that she recognized.

“What? Spit it out, Xiao-Long—if you’re going to insult me, or call me a princess, then just get it over with.”

“I was just thinking that, well, maybe she didn’t tell you because of…” Yang hesitated again, and Weiss was about to snap at her when she continued, “Well, you are Weiss Schnee.”

Yang emphasized Weiss’ last name in a way that was frustrating, infuriatingly familiar. A way that never failed to make Weiss angry—it was hushed and accusatory all at once, somewhere between a slur and a boogeyman. 

Weiss glared at her.

“I may be Weiss Schnee,” she said, “but that doesn’t mean I’m some human-supremacist maniac! I don’t like the violent and criminal faunus but Blake is my teammate, and she’s studying to become a Huntress and to defend humanity. If anything, she’s a credit to her race!”

It was true. Weiss hadn’t considered those words before she spoke them, but now that she’d said them aloud it felt right. Blake was her teammate, and nothing she’d done so far had led Weiss to believe she was anything like those White Fang degenerates.

This one episode in Reggie’s notwithstanding. Weiss had questions about it, and she would be clarifying them with Blake when they next spoke.

“Alright,” Yang said, and she didn’t sound half as convinced as Weiss would have liked. That hurt, surprisingly. Weiss sniffed and lifted her chin.

“Alright,” Weiss echoed, the word ugly on her tongue. Yang winced minutely but otherwise didn't respond.

“What are we going to do?” Yang asked instead. “Are we going to tell Blake that we’ve seen her?”

Weiss didn't know. She had no idea what etiquette dictated in a situation like the one she found herself in, and she couldn't say  that she was uncompromised enough to determine the best path for herself. But—

“Marti didn't suggest that we keep quiet,” she noted.

That was true. And, it was true that the faunus woman seemed to be respectable and educated. She was a leader of some sort. 

Marti surely knew what the correct choice was, and she had assumed that Weiss and Yang were going to confront Blake. If anything, that should be taken as tacit permission.