Chapter XXI - Fire Tries Gold
“Remember that we’re keeping our eyes peeled for weird behavior and trying to keep an ear open for any last information.”
“Yes, we know. It’s not like we’re all perfectly aware you’ve said it five times.”
“Sheesh, Weiss. Someone’s grumpy…”
“Just tired. Come on, then, let’s go get breakfast. It’s not like there’s anything better to do…”
Yang watched sleepily as Weiss and Ruby left, and she roused herself, withdrawing her hand from where it was wrapped around the curve of Blake’s hipbone. “Blake,” she whispered into the shell of her girlfriend’s ear. “Blake, wake up.”
She stirred. “Mm, your timing is unfortunate,” she yawned as she pressed herself closer to Yang, her voice still thick with sleep. “I was having a nice dream, for once.”
“Yeah? What about?”
Blake turned over, regarding her with ever-enthralling amber eyes, clouded with recall, as if weighing her words and their measure. “You,” she said finally. “You and me.”
Yang leaned down and pressed her lips to the curve of her jaw where it slanted away to meet her ear, and Blake made a noise low in her throat, eyes half closing. “I’m happy to hear that,” she whispered, breath fluttering against her cheek.
Blake pulled her down against her, hands knotting in the thin material of her tank. Yang froze before allowing herself to get lost in the feeling of Blake’s lips against her, of her hands cupping her face.
She lost track of the time, of how long they lay there, simply enjoying the last moments of peace they would have for a while, as the sun slanted further into the room, lighting Blake’s face to soft and light and gold. She traced the outline of Blake’s mouth, almost wonderingly, and her partner ducked her head, hair falling in lustrous tumbles of darkness over her skin, all pallor and shadow. But then Blake looked at her, looked at her the way she might have looked at the stars on a particularly clear summer’s night, as if she were the only light in the sky.
“You are beautiful,” Blake whispered.
A bubble of happiness swelled to the top of Yang’s chest, buoyant and light. She leaned in to kiss Blake; her hands traveled up along the hard, flat ridges of Blake’s muscles along her stomach, the scars that marked the life of a Huntress. Perhaps others would regard them as flaws, imperfections, but Yang saw them as a story, a map telling of Blake’s character, and they were as much a part of her as her heart and soul.
Blake pulled away, her eyes more shadowed than amber, a deep, rich gold darkened with desire, before she leaned back again, mouth slanting over Yang’s. The kiss changed, then, turning from something soft and chaste to a wilder and fiercer union, and Yang’s hands found Blake’s jaw, thumbs resting against the slant where it curved away to her ear. Blake pulled away for a moment, breathless, before she kissed her again, fiercer this time, her hands knotting in Yang’s hair—
They broke apart as a startled yelp broke the silence. “WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?” There was the din of clattering metal, and they both sat up to see Weiss glaring at them. She had dropped her rapier, and it rolled away under the bed. “WHY CAN’T YOU GO ELSEWHERE TO DO THESE HORRIBLE THINGS? MY EYES.”
“There’s nowhere to go,” Blake pointed out, fixing her bow from where Yang had knocked it astray. She was seemingly completely unruffled, which was nothing short of annoying.
“And you said I should keep the door shut, which it was—” Yang began, before she realized this was not a productive line of conversation, and shut up.
Weiss glared at them like they had punched her grandmother in the face before Ruby came in after her. She was snickering quietly to herself at the look of abject horror on Weiss’s face.
“I am SCARRED for LIFE,” Weiss declared, before swinging her rapier up from the floor and exiting with a flourishing slam of the door.
“Oh no,” Yang said. “Blake? I think we’ve really upset the ice-queen. Should I send her a basket of apologies that say, like, ‘I’m sorry, except not really’, and rainbows, to, you know—”
“Yes, do,” Blake said. “I’m sure she would appreciate that. About as much as one would appreciate being dropkicked in the face.”
“Well,” Ruby said apologetically, cutting short Yang’s retort, “she was raised in a really PDA-no-no life, you know, so if you could cut down on the, er, handsy—feely stuff—”
“Is that what you call it? Handsy—feely stuff?” Yang demanded indignantly, but she crawled off of Blake, who gave a theatrical sigh and picked up her book with a practiced ease.
Ruby shrugged. “Yeah. I mean, you’re worse than Mom and Dad were, and that’s hard to top.”
Yang threw a pillow at her sister, grinning, and Ruby swiftly dodged it as it smacked the wall behind her. “Get out, you.”
Ruby stuck her tongue out at Yang, before she departed with a call of, “We’ll be back in an hour, so keep an eye on the clock unless you want a repeat of ‘ice-queen central’!”
Blake stretched out on the bed with a yawn. “Who would have thought that they once couldn’t stand being within ten feet of each other?”
“You could say the same for us,” Yang said, curling up closer to her, “though ten feet is a bit of a stretch. I’m glad things turned out this way.”
Blake kissed the top of her head, eyes softening. “Me, too.”
“Ninety-nine Ursai in the forest of Emerald, ninety-nine Ursai in the forest of Emerald; take one down and chop off its head, ninety-eight Ursai in the forest of Emerald—”
“Nora, for the love of God,” Yang said, “shut up, will you? Look, I mean, Jaune is starting to go all funny and green from your inventive lyrics of ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall, and a Nora with alcohol in her system is a terrifying prospect—”
Blake laughed as Jaune shook his head mutely, waving a hand at Nora. “I’m fine, really. Please, do continue with whatever fascinating thing you were singing.”
Nora grinned innocently, but stopped warbling as Ren touched her arm lightly.
“Any ideas of where you four are going?” Pyrrha asked as the airship hummed loudly, rising into the air, the school falling away to a patchwork of gray and rich blues beneath them. “Missions. I can scarcely believe it. Goodness, how the year has flown.”
Yang took Blake’s hand with a slight smile. “Well, that’s one way to put it.” She drew herself closer to Blake as she felt a pang of warm affection sweep through the Bond, wondering if Blake could feel her own love, too.
“We were thinking of applying to go on a mission outside the kingdoms, so we could get some hands-on experience of the ‘big bad world’,” Ruby said earnestly, completely concealing the darker double of their plans. “It’s a great chance to learn more! And it’s more fun, too.”
Pyrrha’s eyebrows arched at that. “Interesting. And unexpected, as well. I would have thought you might have wanted to work inside the kingdom, truthfully.”
“Why is that?” Weiss had been looking out the window in boredom, but she looked over at Pyrrha in surprise.
“Why, because of the events that have transpired recently,” Pyrrha said, clearly confused. The four of them all exchanged glances in worry, before she elaborated. “Pardon, you four. I only mean that Grimm activity is higher than it has ever been, and it was only recently that you were injured, Blake, fighting a criminal himself. Peace, for you, might seem like a welcome change of pace, as well as familiarity. ”
Blake gave an elegant shrug. “Safety isn’t a part of this kind of life, now or ever. We all know that. Plus, I— we— trust Ozpin and the Council to handle the lawbreakers and malcontent,” she said, lying between her teeth. Only the tightening of her hand on Yang’s hinted that she didn’t believe it at all. “Besides. Ruby is right. It is wise to go out of the kingdom and get firsthand experience. There is no progress remaining under the same roof day after day.”
Such a convincing liar, Yang thought with a frown. If I didn’t know better, I’d believe her, that we have completely transparent intentions…
“We’re patrolling the borders of Vale,” Nora chirped, evidently oblivious to the tension, thin as a thread, tautening between the other team. “It’s no trip to a pancake house, but it’s gonna be pretty cool all the same, don’t you think?”
“Are we really doing the right thing, to chase after danger this way?” Blake whispered as the others devolved into idle conversation. The warmth from Blake’s end of Bond had been replaced by a cold, weighing dread— and fear. “I mean— I don’t know, Yang. Perhaps…”
“We are, Blake,” she said, trying to maintain her own surety. “We’ve got to believe that.”
“But it feels so… so paradoxical. I’ve spent so much time attempting to disassociate myself with the White Fang, to forget, but my past is like my shadow, always following me, coloring everything I do. Here we are, drawn back into their schemes, willingly pursuing them. It’s like we’re just chess pieces, all being pulled to the same pitiful end. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever really be able to let that kind of conditioning go. They say you never forget your roots.” Her face was drawn with desperation, blue shadows under her eyes. “So… maybe I’m bound forever.”
Blake detached her hand, looking out the frosted window; her blurred, faint reflection stared back at her, overlapped with the real world outside the safe walls. Yang could see the tiredness in her eyes, the drained look of someone once defeated, now unsure of whether they could weather another challenge. “I have told you before,” she said quietly, so quietly it was difficult to hear her over the loud chatter, “that I once did not know who I was. I always know who I am, where I belong, when I am with you. But some days, it seems like even that bit of clarity is fading.”
“You’re better than that,” Yang insisted. “It’s not just me having this— I don’t know, Blake. I’m not just grabbing at straws and holding blindly onto a stupid belief in you being unfailingly good. I know that no one is totally pure. People change and morals change, too, but it’s different with you; I know who you are. And that’s who I love. You aren’t the monster Adam or Ayran tried to turn you into, Blake. I’m sure of that, at least.”
Blake looked a little more relieved, her eyelids closing slightly, her long eyelashes casting spidery shadows down on her cheeks. She looked back out the window, both of them little more than smudges of color of the opposite spectrums: shadow and spark. “Then,” she said softly, “Perhaps, I suppose I must try to have faith in you.”
They landed at the spherical landing pad in the very outskirts of downtown Vale, near the wild forests of Forever Fall and onward, both them and team JNPR pouring out. This was only a practice run, a precursor to their real mission, but it had an air of solemnity and a suppressed, high thrill, all the same. It was a passage from in-training to seeing the real thing.
They departed from the ship, clustering together at the corner of a Dust store and a restaurant. No sooner had they paused in their steps then when a little girl, no older than seven, ran up to them, panting slightly.
“You’re all Huntresses, right?” Her eyes were huge with wonder and adoration, but she stood firmly as they all towered over her.
“Huntresses-to-be,” Blake corrected her, looking at the little girl with curiosity. “We’re still in training at Beacon Academy.”
“That’s so cool!” She raised her chin defiantly, her hair coming loose from its tousled pigtails. “My papa says that being a Huntress is dangerous. But I told him that I don’t care. Huntresses are the best! I want to be just like you guys when I grow up, protecting the world from big bad monsters.”
“Maybe you will. You should probably get back to your family, though, kiddo. Maybe we’ll see you around someday at Beacon.” Yang smiled at her, and she grinned, showing a gap-tooth smile before she turned and ran off, back to a man who must have been her father. Reminds me of Tai, Ruby, and me when we were younger, Yang thought with a faintly wistful smile, before turning back to her team and stretching her arms out in a ‘what-can-you-do?’ gesture. “Well, gang, looks like we’ve already got admirers.”
“So it would seem,” Blake said, scuffing the ground with her boot.
“She seemed familiar,” Yang said. “Really familiar.”
“Now that you mention it,” Blake said thoughtfully, “She did seem a bit like you, Yang. With the obstinacy and relentless pursuance, she might as well have been your doppelgänger.”
“I don’t think so,” Yang said. “I think she reminded me of you.”
“Because I’m tiny, brunette, and look good in pigtails?”
Yang laughed, nudging Blake’s shoulder with her own. “Haha, very funny, kitten. No, she was determined. Stubborn, little, and wanted to get into more things than she could handle.”
“Three of those things still apply,” Ruby chirped, and Blake rolled her eyes.
“Dunno, Rubes. It technically is four applicable things. Blake’s still kinda little.”
“I,” Blake said furiously, “am the same height as you, Yang.”
“Only with the ears. Without them, I’ve got about two inches on you.” She winked at Blake, who looked exasperated, pressing her hand to her face as if she had suddenly, inexplicably, developed a painful headache.
“Why this?” she muttered in sepulchral tones. Ruby made a gagging noise.
“Stop flirting like middle-schoolers and hurry up, you guys— we still have to get to our points of meet-up—”
“But,” Yang said, drawing away and following her sister, “she makes it so easy to do.”
“YANG.”
“All right, all right,” Yang said, hurrying to catch up with them as they entered the great shadowy stripes of the trees. “Great Nevermore, you’re hard to tease, Rubes. I think Weiss is rubbing off on you.”
Weiss drew her rapier and Yang’s eyes widened in mock-alarm. “Woah there, Weiss, don't run me through with that. I didn’t think what I said was that offensive, but…”
“No, you idiot. We need to be in top form. There’s Grimm around,” she said, and as if hearing her, a long, mournful howl echoed from the trees.
“I’m thinking that’s a Beowolf,” Yang said. “Easy.”
“At least it’s not a Goliath. Or a Griffon. Those fall under the category of ‘annoyingly difficult’.”
“They also,” Yang said, “fall under the category of ‘disgustingly ugly’ — almost as ugly as the state of Ruby’s bedroom back at Patch.”
“Hey!”
Blake
After four hours of trekking through forest, killing Grimm, stopping for rests, formulating plans, and discussing who— or what— they might find in Mountain Glenn, Blake was thoroughly exhausted.
Yang had been right, probably. Her abandonment of the White Fang spoke more good about her than it did weakness. But it didn’t change the fact that fear lived inside of her, as alive and cold as winter; perhaps, in all senses of the word, it was the right thing to do. A Huntress would stop at nothing to crush the plans of evildoers. A Huntress would not shy away from the prospect of facing a past danger. But Blake knew she wasn’t brave, and she could not stop seeing scarred eyes and his dark smile, because if she saw Adam again, she knew she would be too weak to do what needed to be done.
Khione’s cold voice rang in her mind. Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied; a vice sometime by action dignified.
Twelve years ago, Julian had ceded the leadership to Ayran - or so they said-; twelve years ago, she’d been plunged into darkness; twelve years ago, she might have thought it all would turn out all right, in the end. But that wasn’t true. She had been duped; it felt like the punchline to some cruel cosmic joke.
He had used her and discarded her like a chess piece— used her, and Adam. Perhaps Ayran had been moral once, but it had been burnt out of him. She knew he had never regarded either of them as people, with their own souls. Adam he had used to keep the Faunus in line. Herself, she had been used as his own personal amusement, the daughter of his victims, blind in all ways but sight.
She sank her blade viciously into the spine of a Beowolf, hearing its dying gurgle, black blood fountaining up from the sword. It folded in on itself, shimmering and vanishing into dust, until that, too, vanished.
“Blake?” Yang asked worriedly, and Blake cursed as she remembered that whatever she felt, Yang felt too, through the Bond; her anger and bitterness and hatred.
She wiped her blade and heaved a deep breath. “I’m alright,” she said softly, afraid that, if she ceased to say it for even a moment, she would drown in all the reasons that she was not.