Things You Wrote On the Walls

Blake 

“I never thought I would say it,” Yang said after their fifth failed scouring of the area for signs of irregular activity, “but I really miss the days of accidentally stumbling upon chaos.”

“Seconded,” Ruby muttered glumly. “There’s been no sign of the White Fang or Torchwick. I was so sure…” She trailed off, but what she had been about to say echoed silently among the four of them. I was so sure we would be able to stop them once and for all.

They both winced as Oobleck’s call echoed loudly in the labyrinth of desecrated buildings. “Moving along, students!”

Yang glanced over at Blake. “You doing alright?”

“I’m fine,” Blake said evenly, trying to mask the throbbing pain in her shoulder. The talons of the Grimm had not broken her skin, but she was sure she was going to have three parallel lines of bruises when she woke tomorrow; the sensation of being torn from the ground had been nauseating and she had thought she was going to die. It had been a reminder that none of them were safe out here, and she felt chilled.

She could also see the hint of anger in her partner’s eyes as they took down another pack of Beowolves, struggling by themselves as the professor stood to the side, watching emotionlessly and not lending a single hand to help them. Hours before, she would have told Yang to keep a lid on her anger, but now— in her exhaustion, sorrow, and bitterness that the Grimm ignited in her— she couldn’t quite find the will to do so.

“You know, doctor,” Yang said as they sheathed their weapons, her voice dry with contempt, “I was looking forward to seeing a pro-Huntsman in action. Like, fighting, or at least helping us fight?”

Blake looked around. None of them argued with her, though Ruby cast an anxious backward glance at her sister.

“I am helping,” he said evenly, either not noticing her tone of voice, or choosing to disregard it. “Scouring the ruins of this once-great city for any signs of irregular activity.” Then his glasses slid down; narrowed, sharp eyes rested on Yang. “Not every mission is filled with terror and heroism, girls. Remember that this is a job, and you all signed up for it.”

Yang visibly struggled for an argument before falling silent, her eyes dark with anger. She roughly shook away Blake’s worried questions as they proceeded on, and finally the Faunus gave up, letting Yang fall behind to the back of the group so she could think in silence. I’m worried about her, Blake thought. This can’t be easy and I know she struggles with her foster-mother’s death, and how it happened, and being here, in the presence of so many Grimm…

As the sun was beginning to set in the sky, the stars dawning cold and clear, the pace of the five of them began to slow. They were deep within the heart of the city now, and the Grimm were more numerous.

“Tell me, Yang,” the professor said as they took down a group of Ursai sheltering in a desecrated tenancy, “Why did you choose to become a Huntress?”

Blake deliberately spun around, knowing the answer was a private thing, half-wanting to hear it, anyways. She felt a spike of uncertainty hum through their Bond— a doubting, waiting feeling from Yang that was so strong, Blake nearly staggered, stunned. She’s so strong. How has she not told me about how doubtful she feels about the life she’s chosen?

“Well, I…” she faltered. “To fight monsters, and save the—”

“No. That is what you do. I want to know why you do it.”

“The honest reason?” There was a raw ache of pain in her voice. “I’m a thrill-seeker, I guess. I want to go around the world and get wrapped up in as many crazy adventures as I can. And if I can help people along the way, then that’s even better. It’s a win-win, you know?”

Blake’s heart went out to her. You want that because you want to run from the pain of your past, Yang, she thought, heart nearly breaking for her. You’re just like I am. Why are you hiding it from yourself—and from me?

Yang wouldn’t meet her eyes as she stumbled back to the group. She looked up only once more the whole day, when Oobleck questioned Weiss. And as they heard her answer—  a cool reply about ‘honoring her family’s name and legacy’— Blake knew it wasn’t only Yang who had been untruthful about her motives.

We’re all hiding from what we don’t want to face.

She was ready when he came up to her with the same question on his lips. Or so she thought.

“Tell me, Blake,” he said as she tried to catch her breath, heart loud in her chest, “why did you choose this line of work? You seem to carry yourself with a sense of purpose.”

She glanced sidelong at him, trying to gauge his intent. “There’s too much wrong in this world to stand by idly and do nothing,” she said at last, staring down at her feet and trying not to think of Adam. “Inequality and corruption… someone’s got to do something about it.”

His eyes flashed. “Very well. How?”

She blinked at him, startled. “I… I…”

Before she could summon an answer, he had gone, and she stared into the darkness of the building, depthless and menacing. He’s right, she thought, a wave of panic threatening to wash over her. I really have no idea how I’m going to do anything. I didn’t leave Adam because I had some noble goal all well-thought out in my head… I left because I was a coward.

Am I still?

She knew the answer, deep down inside of her. Tasting a bitterness in her mouth that was not from the adrenaline, she turned and began to trudge back to the others.

“You alright?” Yang whispered to her as she rejoined the group, pushing her hair from her eyes. “I felt…” She trailed away with a worried look, but Blake knew what she had been going to say. I felt your pain through our Bond.

“I just…” She shook her head and hunched her shoulders, very much aware of the fact that they weren’t alone. “He made me think of some things I would have— rather not thought of.”

Yang didn’t inquire further, for which she was grateful for. But she could feel her partner’s eyes boring into her back as they proceeded further into the labyrinth of ruin, asking questions she couldn’t, and didn’t, answer.

Yang

Gradually, they slowed their pace as the sun began to fall, and pink clouds shot through with gray stretched across the horizon. “It’s going to be dark soon,” Oobleck announced as they stopped outside a huge, broken-down skyscraper, tossing the bags at Yang. She barely reacted in time to catch them, and when she righted herself, she shot an indignant glare at him.

“You three,” he said, sweeping a wide finger at her, Blake, and Weiss. The failing light lit his  glasses to two rims of fire. “Set up camp in that building. And please do make sure there are no more of those creatures. Your leader and I are going to secure the perimeter— come, Ruby.”

I wonder if he’ll ask her about her motivations, Yang thought glumly, looking back as Ruby folded up her scythe, tucked it into its holder, and obediently trotted after the professor. And what she’ll say if he does. I know she originally wanted to become a Huntress because of Mom, but after she died, I thought she might reconsider it— but no…

“Yang?” A voice said, breaking her from her thoughts. A hand— cool, slender, and scarred—  slipped into hers; she knew it was Blake’s, and she could feel her partner looking at her, eyes concerned. “Come on— let’s get into shelter before nighttime, okay?”

“Yes,” Yang said, perhaps a bit bitterly, “because the scary things, they come out in the dark.”

Blake’s hand tightened in hers, but she made no comment, and the two of them walked into the ruins and the shadows. Inside the building, shattered glass glinted on the floor, and graffiti scarred the walls— crude drawings of Grimm, or ominous messages proclaiming approaching doom, and even messages cursing the Councils of the kingdoms for allowing this to happen.

Yang started the fire while Blake and Weiss went to smoke out any remaining Grimm in the building. She built a nest of dry wood and twigs, stuffed it with dead leaves, and struck a match from Oobleck’s bag. Fire curled along one twig, flaring red inside, before licking along the rest of it and hungrily devouring the leaves. It blazed up with a roar, instantly sending light filling the desecrated room, and warming her stiff hands.

You are fire, Yang, her father’s words echoed in her head. You burn bright, but all fires can be extinguished.

She shook the thought away angrily. Now I’m hearing things. Way to go, me. No sooner had the fire begun flaming full-force then Blake and Weiss came back, panting and bedraggled.

“It’s all clear,” Blake told her, crossing over the glass with crunch-crunch sounds. “There was a nest of Beowolves on the third floor, but we took care of them.”

Yang stared into the heart of the fire, the ever-shifting dance of embers and flickering flames. Sparks floated gently upward, popping and fading into the darkness. “Well, that’s good.”

Blake came and crouched next to her, but her eyes fixed themselves on her face instead of the fire. “I know being here is hard for you,” she said softly, too softly for Weiss to hear. “The Grimm tend to bring all your doubt and sorrow and anger to the surface, and feed off of them.” Her voice dwindled and she looked away. “I feel it, too.”

Yang looked up in surprise and whisked through the Bond. Blake’s own uncertainty and sadness, mixed with a bitter despair, echoed back to her, parallel to her own.

“So do I,” Weiss said, overhearing her as she came back and sat next to the fire on her sleeping roll. “This place is horrid. But not all of us were nearly killed today.” She looked pointedly at Blake, who rolled her eyes.

“I told you, Weiss, I’m fine.”

Weiss turned her head away and stared dully into the darkness. The pretense of light conversation fell away, a stark sadness threading through the growing night.

“I hate that he asked us that,” she burst out suddenly, her blue eyes flashing. “And I hate… I hate that I lied to him. It’s not as though I hid the truth. I just— that’s not the only reason I’m a Huntress. There’s so much more to it than that— than upholding some stupid legacy for my father. Because my life and choices— they’re not for him.”

“Yeah, no,” Yang said, nudging a stray coal back into the fire and sighing wearily. “ Me too. I guess… I don’t know.”

“I don’t know either,” Blake said, raw pain in her voice. “I know what I want to achieve, but as for how to do it… I’m lost. I’ve never been so lost.”

“It doesn’t matter,” she said bravely, looking at her team, her family’s, faces— Weiss, her eyes more unguarded and pained then Yang had ever seen, and Blake, her face turned away, but her fear and sorrow running through the Bond in a torrent. “We know why we’re here.” She shrank back as they didn’t answer. “Right?”

Under Mountain Glenn…

“The preparations are all going according to plan, sir. The train should be ready in a fortnight’s time.”

“Excellent.” Adam ran a careful, considering finger along the razor-edge of his crimson sword. Blood welled, dark and richly red, from the incision, and he wiped it on the material of his gear. “Tell me, Perry, have you seen any— unrest in your faction? Any discord?”

“The Faunus believe in this cause wholeheartedly, sire,” he said carefully, as if trying to gauge what the White Fang secondary was implying. “As do I.”

“Of course they do, you idiot,” Adam snapped at the recruit. “No fool would be opposed to bettering his life. I’m asking you this: do you believe in the means in which we are achieving it? Be honest. I will not fault you.”

“Perhaps not, I’ll grant you,” he said reluctantly. “Though, sir, I have only been in the White Fang for a few month’s time. Not long. Not long at all. Certainly not enough to, as you know, draw a conclusion to any scruples I might have about the matter.” 

“It is Ayran you owe loyalty to, and then to me, should he cease to breathe,” Adam said, sheathing his sword with a click. “But not the human Roman, nor his allegiances. You will never bow to a human.”

“I understand, sir, but why—?”

“Am I telling you this?” Adam guessed as the recruit looked pensive, shuffling on his feet. “Because, Perry, it is so common, indeed, that we have Faunus defectors who feel that to live a meaningless, inconspicuous life among humans is better than fighting for their people. But I know that you will make sure that no one will… stray, as it were, from their positions. Won’t you?” His tone held a hidden threat, and the lackey looked suddenly apprehensive, as if realizing how explosive a nature lay underneath Adam’s deceptive calm.

“N— no. I mean, y-yes, sir, of course, s-sir.”

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Adam turned away with a rough shake of his head as Perry scurried away into the darkness of the tunnels. Perhaps this was the right way to achieve triumph— perhaps not— but either way, he could not shake the grim certainty that something would go awry, because humans always, always ruined everything.

He slashed out with his blade furiously, roaring, striking a red flash through the darkness. A strangled squeak, followed by silence, met his ears. He narrowed his eyes, seeing the small body of some cave-dwelling Grimm flop to the floor and fade away.

“Cool it, kiddo. We need all the Grimm we can muster without you venting a little temper tantrum on them.”

“What are you doing here?” Adam snarled, recognizing the coolly amused voice of Torchwick as it echoed through the cave. He stepped out from the shadows moments later, his bottle-green eyes glittering with dark humor.

“Monitoring. Lurking, you could say. Watching those Faunus you say are ‘loyal’. And sometimes,” he smiled, swinging his cane with a lazy laugh, “Wreaking a little havoc.”

“I didn’t agree to this mission,” Adam snapped coldly, baring his teeth in fury at Roman’s display of laid-back amusement. “You are a lucky human, Torchwick, that Ayran and I took pity on your master’s pathetic whining and decided to ally ourselves with you and Cinder to make the White Fang stronger. Otherwise…” He let the sentence trail away, his voice lowering to a menacing growl.

But Torchwick didn’t look fazed. The humor fled from his eyes, and quick as a bolt of lightning, he snapped the hook of his cane around Adam’s neck, forcing him to meet his eyes. Scarred gray met dark green.

“You didn’t take pity on anything. The decision of allying was forced upon you by Cinder. You had no choice but to accept it. You are only another tragically misunderstood animal, Taurus, however megalomaniacal you may be inside. You would do well to forget you are not in charge here. And as for your little rise to power…  It can wait. I will take care of it. And you will not tell me how to run this project again. Am I understood?”

Adam stared Torchwick right back down, not intimidated. It took all of his willpower to nod his head, and not snap the thief’s neck like a twig.

“There’s a good boy.” The grin returned, and he patted Adam roughly on the head like a dog, quickly moving the offending hand away before Adam could slice it off with Wilt’s blade. “Now come along. You can help the other mongrels load up cargo. Maybe it will humble you. Though I doubt it.”

Oh, it’ll humble me, all right, he thought darkly, stalking after him into the shadows. Right along with choking the life out of your pathetic body. Right along with every other human as arrogant and self-indulged as you.

And right after I find that pathetic traitor, Blake, and cause her a hundred times as much pain as she left behind.