Hi there, everyone! I'm back, I hope you enjoyed last chapter. Now, I've heard the power scaling in this story is whack and the plot is subpar by some people, I apologize I couldn't satisfy you if you're one of those people. There are many more writers that are more talented than myself. I have a certain writing style that... may not be for everybody. But ... going into this story the power scaling was going to be non existent and whack as some of you put it, I apologize if I didn't make that clear sooner.
For those who take the time to read and enjoy my stories anyways, despite their flaws, I deeply appreciate it. It's mainly you guys who i write these stories for anyways.
Onto other things though... Here is a list of the pairings I could do. The only ones I cannot change are the main cast's pairings such as Odyn x Ruby, Roy x Yang, Khanna x Mercury, Baron x Flare, Daikon x Weiss, and Sybrh x Tarro. The following list are very possible pairings i could do:
Zero x Scarlett
Valvahdern x Jinjer
Or
Zero x Emerald
Valvahdern x Jinjer
Hailfire x Giblet
Shallot x Blake
Here's some options of pairings for Hailfire: (you can tell me whuch one works the best.. or i guess I'll decide if no one votes..)
Hailfire x Sun W.
Hailfire x Neptune V.
Hailfire x Giblet
Hailfire x Oscar P.
Hailfire x Zero A.
Hailfire x Valvahdern A.
Hailfire x Yatsu hashi D.
Best option for Blake:
A. Sun Wukong
B. Shallot Zenkai
C. Giblet Zenkai
Well that's enough of the character polls for now, let me know which option for each Character works best and if you want feel free to pm me or leave a review detailing why the option you are voting works for the particular character. Keep in mind I don't write female x female pairings or male x male character pairings either, no offense to those who do. That's just not my preference. I like traditional Male x Female pairings, but that's just me.
Anywho, onto the story!
P.S.: I don't own Rwby, Dragon ball super/Xenoverse, or Black Clover and their characters. Those characters belong to Akira Toriyama/Toei Animation, Rooster Teeth/Monty Oum, and Yuki Tabata/ Studio Pierot respectively. I only own the oc's that appear in this story.
Chapter Nineteen: Special Visitors — Cinder's Trap
Winter Schnee had a quality that Weiss did not yet have but was in the process of developing: the quality of someone who has decided exactly how much of herself to show in any given room and shows precisely that amount, no more, no less.
She exited her aircraft with the composed efficiency of a lieutenant who has spent her career learning how to enter spaces on her own terms. The crimson-uniformed Atlas soldiers fell in behind her. The Atlesian Knight-200s held their positions.
She looked at Beacon Academy.
"The air here feels different," she said.
Ruby, standing slightly behind Weiss, said: "It is fall. That would make it colder."
Weiss prepared to intervene. Odyn, reading the situation approximately one second faster, said: "Forgive her. That's simply one of the things that make her charming." And then, with the specific tone of someone introducing himself to someone important, who would know who he was before he finished: "Odyn Albanar, leader of Team OHRF."
Winter looked at him.
She looked at his eyes.
"You're—"
"Dark Elven, yes," he said. "I assumed that would be evident."
Something in Winter's expression made a small revision. This was, Odyn would note later, the specific revision that competent people make when they have encountered something and added it to their existing understanding rather than rejecting it.
"Greetings, Odyn Albanar," she said. "And to you, Ruby Rose. I find myself grateful that my sister has found people who take such an interest in her well-being."
Ruby attempted a salute. The salute did not go well. She overcorrected and nearly went sideways.
"The honor is absolutely in my court," Ruby said, and then appeared to process what she had said and added: "Heh."
"Why don't you come see our quarters?" Weiss said. "There's quite a lot that's different from Atlas, and the school and the government are entirely sep—"
"I'm familiar with how Vale handles its administration," Winter said. "That is not why I came."
"Right. Of course." Weiss gathered herself with the speed of someone who has been doing this for years. "Then follow me."
The courtyard — approximately eight minutes later
The sound that preceded Qrow Branwen was the sound of something metal being handled with a specific kind of casual contempt.
Winter heard it before she saw him.
The head of an Atlesian Knight-200 rolled across the pavement and came to rest at the feet of her security detail with the particular finality of a statement that does not require elaboration. She turned.
He was leaning against the archway with the specific energy of someone who has been performing nonchalance for so long that it has become genuine.
"Gaudy ship," he said. "Figured it was you."
"I am standing directly in front of you," Winter said.
"So you are."
A raven circled above the courtyard once and veered away over the rooftops, as if it had completed a reconnaissance and was satisfied with the results.
"You've just destroyed Atlas military property," Winter said.
"Oh, sorry about that. I mistook it for garbage."
Weiss, from slightly behind her sister, said: "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"
He put his hand on her face and redirected her to the side.
"Ssh. Not you."
"Hey."
Ruby, who had been watching this with the expression she had when she was putting things together, went very still. Then went very not still.
"That's my uncle," she said to Odyn, with approximately the same volume she used when she was announcing something she was pleased about.
Odyn put his hand over his eyes.
The fight that followed did what it needed to do: it established, clearly, that both combatants were extremely good and that neither had any interest in making this easy for the other. Winter's form was Atlas training at its precise best — economical, textbook, every movement with a specific purpose. Qrow's style had the quality of something that had survived enough genuine combat that the textbook had become optional.
When Sybyrh's blade arrived between them, it arrived the way Sybyrh arrived at most things — with the specific quality of someone for whom this was not a choice but a calculation, and the calculation had already been completed.
"Enough," she said. The word had the register she used when she was not interested in discussing alternatives.
She looked at Winter.
She looked at Qrow.
She looked back at Winter.
"You are a lieutenant," she said. "You know better than to let him pull you into it."
She looked at Qrow.
"And you," she said, with the specific look that she kept for people who had done something she found deeply irritating, "are equally at fault for this. Act your age."
Qrow appeared to consider saying something. He appeared to decide against it.
Hyatan and Berethon arrived from the northern approach with the unhurried ease of people who have never needed to hurry because their presence is sufficient. Valvedern and Zero flanked them at the appropriate distance.
The specific quality of the courtyard changed when they entered it — not because anything visible changed, but because the space organized itself differently when people with that particular kind of authority entered it. Everyone who was paying attention felt this before they registered what they were feeling.
Ironwood, arriving from the other direction, stopped.
He straightened.
"Your Majesties," he said, and there was something in his voice that was not quite formality and not quite surprise but contained elements of both. "It's been some time."
"James," Berethon said, and came forward with the warmth of someone who has not seen an old friend in a while and is glad to have found them looking well. "Indeed it has."
Hyatan looked at the courtyard. She looked at the slight disarray. She looked at Qrow, briefly, in the specific way she looked at things she had formed an opinion about and was choosing not to express.
"Winter Schnee," she said.
Winter turned. Registered who was speaking. Knelt.
"Your Grace," she said, with the particular clarity of someone who has understood something and is responding correctly to it.
"I would very much like to speak with you later," Hyatan said. "Tea, perhaps."
"It would be an honor," Winter said.
Ozpin materialized from somewhere, as he did.
"There is," he said, "a tournament happening at the Colosseum that I'm told has excellent seating and popcorn." He held his mug. "I would suggest we take advantage of both." He looked at the courtyard. "I'll have this seen to. Zero — if the repair costs could be sent to my office."
"Of course, Headmaster," Zero said.
The courtyard cleared. Glynda dealt with the damage with the expression she wore when she was not going to comment on the situation because commenting on the situation would require acknowledging how frequently the situation occurred.
Winter caught Qrow's expression as she turned to leave.
She gave him the look she intended to give him and walked out with the composure of someone who is saving the rest of it for later.
Ozpin's office — that evening
The room had the quality it had when several people who have complicated relationships with each other and with a shared situation are in the same space trying to figure out how to address it.
Qrow was leaning against something. Ironwood was standing with his arms crossed. Glynda had her scroll. Sybyrh had the expression of someone who has filed several irritations and has decided not to open the file right now. Zero and Valvedern were present at the room's edges in the way of people who are supposed to be present but are not supposed to draw attention.
Tarro was standing close enough to Sybyrh that there was an implication in the geometry, whether or not anyone was acknowledging it.
Winter remained at precise attention.
"She should not be here," Qrow said, which was directed at Winter.
"I take full responsibility for the incident—" Winter began.
"Schnee," Ironwood said. He did not look at her. "My ship. Tomorrow." A pause. "We'll discuss it then."
"Yes, sir."
She did not move.
Qrow looked at her.
"I said listen to your big sister," he said.
"Sir Branwen," Sybyrh said, with the specific quality of someone drawing a line that she is prepared to enforce. "You are in the presence of guests of the High Crown. I would suggest you choose your next words carefully."
Qrow assessed the room. He was drunk but not stupid, and the distinction between the two was doing useful work here.
"Right," he said. "Point taken."
He cleared his throat.
"I'm here because you asked me to gather intelligence on our enemy," he said. "Our enemy is here. In this building, or close to it."
"We know," Ozpin said.
"Fantastic. You know. Well, that's great. I'm so glad I risked my life to—"
"Qrow," Ozpin said, with the patience of a man who has had this conversation before and has learned that the fastest route through it is to let it exhaust itself.
Qrow exhaled.
"The person you're looking for isn't just another piece," he said. "They're the one responsible for the Fall Maiden's condition. The woman with the amber eyes."
"We have been building a case," Sybyrh said. "We cannot move openly without evidence. But we are close."
"How close?" Ironwood asked.
"Close enough that patience is appropriate. Patience and discretion. Which is why," she said, with a glance toward the door that Winter had already exited through, "I would ask that the general's response to this situation be proportional. Atlas's military presence in Vale is already significant. Too significant."
"She's right," Ozpin said. "An army signals a threat. A guardian signals safety. The crowd knows which one this is." He set down his mug. "What the people feel affects what the Grimm are drawn toward. We cannot afford the chaos that visible fear creates."
Ironwood looked at the scroll in his hand. The display showed a black queen chess piece.
"Find us a guardian," he said.
"We intend to," Ozpin said.
Cinder's dorm — later that night
"You're certain?" Cinder asked.
Mercury had given his report with the efficiency of someone who has been giving reports for long enough that the format is habitual. He did not add editorial or emphasis. He stated what he had observed.
"The King and Queen are both in Vale," he said. "So is the Vanguard. The royal escort."
"How strong?"
"The King—" Mercury paused briefly, in the pause of someone selecting their words carefully. "Not someone you engage directly. The Queen is..." He considered it. "She doesn't need to be physically strong to be formidable."
"In other words, be careful," Emerald said.
"In other words," Mercury said, "be very careful."
Cinder moved through the room with the measured quality she brought to spaces when she was thinking.
"The Dark Elves have been investigating us," she said. "This is confirmed?"
"The way they look at us is the confirmation," Emerald said. "They know we're not who we present ourselves as. They're just waiting for evidence."
"Then we ensure they don't find any," Cinder said. "Not before we're ready." She pulled out her scroll. The tournament bracket displayed cleanly on the screen. Her eyes moved through it with the focused attention of someone reading a battle map. "The plan proceeds. Emerald, you and Mercury will face Coco Adel and Yatsuhashi Daichi in the doubles round."
Mercury looked at the bracket.
He looked at the matchup.
He thought about what he was about to participate in. Coco and Yatsuhashi were not enemies. They were people he was going to deceive in front of a crowd, which was a different category of thing than fighting someone you were actually opposed to.
He filed this alongside everything else he was filing.
It'll be worth it, he told himself. When the plan falls apart and the look on her face—
"Mercury," Cinder said.
"Ready," he said.
She looked at him for a moment with the specific attention of someone checking the temperature of something.
"Good," she said.
She scrolled further down the bracket until she reached the name that made her stop.
Odyn Albanar.
She knew that name. She had known it for years — had known it the specific way you know the names of things you were supposed to have eliminated and did not, because someone who should have been present at the site had not been, or because she had been given inaccurate information about survivors.
She had been waiting to encounter it again.
The boy had been a child then. He was not a child now.
She had watched him fight in the arena. She had recalibrated, immediately and completely, every assumption she had brought into the tournament about the Elven students at Beacon.
Outrageously strong, she had thought. And still holding back.
She looked at his face in the bracket's profile image.
She thought about the girl beside him in the stands. The girl with silver eyes who had looked at him with the unguarded warmth of someone who has no protective instincts operating because she is completely certain she is safe.
Cinder understood leverage.
She filed this.
She did not act on it yet. Not yet. She needed to understand it better before she used it.
When the time comes, she thought, I'll know exactly what to take from him.
She closed the scroll.
The Amity Colosseum — doubles round, morning
The match between Team CFVY and the pairing of Emerald Sustrai and Mercury Black began with the specific quality of a match that the crowd expected to go one way.
Odyn watched from the stands.
He watched Emerald specifically.
Her semblance was something he had been piecing together from observation — the way opponents reacted, the delays between their perception and their response, the specific quality of Coco Adel's confusion when her partner appeared somewhere he was not. He did not have it fully understood yet. But the outline was becoming clear: she creates false perceptions. What you see is not what is there.
He filed this.
Mercury fought well. He fought with the specific quality of someone who is doing something they don't entirely want to do but has committed to doing it properly — the efficiency was there, the technique was there, but there was a layer beneath it that was not present when Odyn had watched him in other contexts. A form of controlled suppression.
He's doing exactly what he needs to do, Odyn thought. And he hates it.
He did not say this. He watched.
When Coco fell to the illusion — when she reached for her partner and found empty space where he was not — the crowd's sound was the specific sound of an audience that has watched something they didn't expect and is processing it.
Velvet, two rows down, went still.
Fox's hand came to her shoulder without comment.
The buzzer.
Port announced the result.
Cinder, three rows behind the main group, clapped with the measured enthusiasm of someone who is performing an appropriate response.
Ruby turned and saw her clapping and waved. Cinder returned the wave with the precise warmth of someone who knows exactly what warmth looks like from the outside.
Odyn did not wave.
He watched Cinder's eyes.
She felt this. He saw the moment she registered it — a very brief recalibration, the specific adjustment of someone who has been observed and is deciding what to do about it.
She decided to look away.
He kept watching.
The pavilion — that afternoon
Weiss had always been better at receiving instruction than at asking for it. This was partly the training she had grown up with — the Schnee household had very specific ideas about what requesting help communicated about a person — and partly her own particular pride, which was not vanity but the specific quality of someone who holds herself to a high standard and finds the gap between where she is and where she wants to be personally offensive.
The summoning glyph appeared and flickered and died.
She had done this forty-three times.
She stamped her foot.
"I cannot do it," she said.
Winter's hand descended briefly on the top of her head. It was not hard, but it was deliberate.
"Stop doubting yourself," Winter said.
"I'm trying."
"Then try differently." Winter circled her slowly, with the assessing quality she brought to anything she was evaluating. "You are Weiss Schnee. You know who came before you and what they built. The Semblance is in the bloodline, but it doesn't come for free. It comes from what you've been through. The opponents that pushed you past where you thought you could go. Think of them."
Weiss thought of them.
There were more than she had expected when she first arrived at Beacon. The Nevermore in the forest. The White Fang in Mountain Glenn. The Atlesian Paladin with its guns turning toward her. Every moment when she had not been enough and had become enough anyway.
The glyph flickered.
Held for a moment.
Died.
She exhaled through her teeth.
"Father would give you a nice position as a receptionist," Winter said.
Weiss turned. The anger that moved through her was the clean kind — not the muddled anger of someone who is upset about the wrong thing, but the specific, clarifying anger of someone who has been reminded of exactly what they are working against.
"I don't want that man's charity," she said.
"No," Winter agreed. "But you do still have his credit line, don't you."
Weiss stared at her sister.
"Lucky guess," Winter said. "I was in a similar situation when I joined the military." She came to stand beside her. "What happened this time?"
Weiss explained about the lunch, the declined card, the specific small humiliation of it. Winter listened with the focused attention of someone filing information.
"He wants you to call," Winter said, when she was done. "It's childish of him — it was childish when he did the same thing to me — but it's what it is. He wants you to explain yourself."
"I shouldn't have to explain myself to him," Weiss said.
"No," Winter said. "You shouldn't. That's the situation regardless." She looked at her sister. "You have two choices. You call him, and you get your allowance back, and you have that conversation. Or you continue without it, and you decide for yourself what you want and who you're going to become."
The glyph flickered again.
Neither of them looked at it.
"You have more in front of you here than you know," Winter said. "More than you would have had in Atlas, working in Father's company, being what he wanted you to be." She paused. "I think you know that. I think that's why you're here."
Weiss was quiet.
She tried the glyph again.
It held for three full seconds this time — the blade-symbols spinning in their orbit, the specific quality of power being focused rather than scattered — before it dissolved.
It was the longest it had held.
"Again," Winter said.
A separate corner of the pavilion — simultaneously
Hyatan had the specific gift of appearing in places without having announced that she intended to arrive, which was partly her foresight and partly the specific quality of someone who has been the most important person in any room she enters for long enough that the rooms organize themselves around her presence rather than the other way around.
Winter saw her coming and straightened.
"I hope I'm not interrupting," Hyatan said.
"Not at all," Weiss said. She appeared to understand that something was happening that had a register different from an ordinary interruption, and she retreated with the grace of someone who has decided that the correct action is to remove herself and has done so. "I have something to attend to. Take all the time you need, your Majesty."
She walked away.
Hyatan and Winter were alone in the pavilion with the particular quality of a space that has decided to be private.
She began with Cinder.
She did not belabor it — she had never been the kind of person who made points through accumulation rather than precision. She explained what she had observed, what her foresight had shown her, and what she believed was coming.
Winter listened with the focused, still attention of a military officer receiving a briefing from someone whose intelligence she has no reason to doubt and several reasons to trust.
"And the boy," Winter said. "Mercury Black."
"He is with us," Hyatan said. "He has been, since Khanna reached him. Whatever Cinder believes she holds over him, she is mistaken." She paused. "His memories have returned. He knows who he is and where he stands."
"He could be turned," Winter said.
"He could have been," Hyatan said. "He wasn't. The choice he made is the kind that holds." She looked at Winter with the specific steadiness of someone who has seen what is coming and has decided to trust the people who are in the path of it. "I'm telling you this because you will be in a position to assist from the Atlas side of things. Not now, perhaps. But soon."
"And the other target," Winter said. "Ruby Rose."
Hyatan's expression did something that was not quite worry and not quite grief but was in the territory of both. The expression of a woman who knows what is coming and has decided to trust the people she loves to handle it.
"Ruby is not without protection," she said. "My son is with her. He has been from the beginning, and he will not step back from that. I trust him." A pause. "But the threat is real. The Devils who serve Mordred are looking for two people: the silver-eyed maiden and—"
"Your son," Winter said.
"Yes."
Winter was quiet for a moment.
"Is he aware?"
"He has seen it," Hyatan said. "In a premonition. He knows what is coming. He is already preparing." She looked at Winter with the particular expression she reserved for things that were important to say clearly: "He will not let them take her. You can count on that."
"And if he needs help?"
"He will ask. When he does—" She stopped. "If Atlas can be part of the answer rather than part of the problem, that will matter. A great deal."
Winter straightened.
"I will do what I can," she said.
"I know," Hyatan said. "That is why I told you."
She bid Winter farewell with the warmth she extended to people she had decided to trust, which was not a large category and was not entered easily.
Winter watched her leave and stood in the pavilion with the specific quality of someone who has received a great deal of information and is working out what it means for every decision she will make going forward.
She had come to Vale on a classified transport mission.
She was leaving with something considerably larger.
Team RWBY's dormitory — late afternoon
The knock at the door had a quality that Yang apparently recognized, because she went to it with the expression of someone who has already identified the person on the other side and has opinions about it.
She opened the door.
"Hey, kid," Qrow said.
She let him in.
Ruby's response to her uncle was the response it always was — complete, enthusiastic, conducted at a velocity that was only possible because of her semblance.
He caught her out of habit, spun once, set her down.
"Easy," he said, and ruffled her hair. "I've had a long day."
He looked at Odyn and Roy, who had been sitting with the girls when he arrived.
Ruby cleared her throat.
"This is Roy," she said. "He's been a really good friend to us since the beginning of school."
Roy inclined his head. "Sir. Your nieces are genuinely remarkable people. We consider ourselves fortunate to know them."
Qrow assessed this for a moment.
"And you," he said, looking at Odyn.
Ruby went slightly pink.
"This is—" she started.
"Odyn Albanar," Odyn said. "Roy's older brother."
A beat.
"And Ruby's boyfriend," Yang supplied, helpfully, with the specific helpfulness of someone who has been waiting to do this.
Odyn drew Ruby in beside him with the quiet ease of someone who is comfortable with the gesture. Ruby's face achieved a remarkable color.
Qrow looked at this for a moment.
He looked at Odyn's eyes. He looked at the way Odyn stood relative to Ruby — not possessive, not performing protection, just present in the specific way of someone who has decided this is where they are supposed to be.
"You'll keep her happy," Qrow said. Not a question.
"That's the intention," Odyn said.
Qrow looked at him for a moment longer, then extended his hand. Odyn took it.
"Good enough for me," Qrow said.
The game came out afterward — the video game with the pixelated ninjas and the announcer who said things with too many capital letters — and the energy in the room shifted into the comfortable territory of family with its guard somewhat down.
Ruby taunted. Qrow countered. Yang got involved. The announcer's voice reached a crescendo that the animation team clearly found satisfying.
Odyn watched all of this with the mild, warm expression of someone who is genuinely glad to be here and is not going to say so because saying so would interrupt the thing he is glad to be here for.
Roy caught his expression.
Roy said nothing.
Good, Odyn thought, because some things are better understood than named.
"Seriously though," Yang said, after the game had exhausted itself, "what are you actually doing here, Uncle Qrow? Dad said you'd be gone forever."
"I am a man who gets results," Qrow said. He leaned back. "Efficiently."
"He means quickly," Ruby said.
"I know what I mean."
"You do, but—"
"Kid."
"—you usually take longer on missions than—"
"Ruby."
She subsided, smiling.
He was quiet for a moment.
"Violence has dropped to zero since the breach," he said. "No White Fang activity anywhere in the city. Torchwick's in custody. On the surface, it looks like you solved it." He turned the flask in his hands. "You didn't solve it. You cut off one head. The other one is running the show now, and that one's smarter."
Ruby and Yang exchanged a look.
"You know Ironwood," Yang said. "Personally."
"I know everybody to some extent." He reached into his coat and produced a photograph. Age had softened its edges and something liquid had stained the corner, but the four figures in it were clear enough. "Team STRQ. Beacon, maybe a year before you were born."
Ruby leaned in.
She saw her mother's face — younger, unlined, the same expression she had seen on the gravestone translated into something alive.
She felt Odyn's hand find hers under the table.
She didn't look at him. She squeezed his hand.
"She looked happy," Ruby said.
"She was," Qrow said simply. He put the photograph away. He looked at the two brothers. "You two have been in real fights. Not training fights."
"Yes," Roy said.
"More than one."
"Yes."
Qrow was quiet for a moment. He was not, Odyn thought, the kind of man who was surprised by this exactly — he was the kind of man who was reassessing in real time, adding new information to an existing picture and arriving at a revised understanding.
"Listen," Qrow said, to all four of them, and his voice had dropped the register it used for everything else and had become the voice he used when he was saying something he meant completely. "Graduating doesn't end it. Every day out there is worth a week in here. You will keep learning or you will stop being useful, and you cannot afford to stop being useful." He looked at Ruby. "Especially not you."
"Me specifically?" she asked.
"You specifically," he said.
He stood up. He was going. He was always going — there was something in Qrow Branwen that was perpetually in transit, perpetually between one thing and the next.
"Later," he said, and was out the door.
The room held the quality of a space that has been occupied by something significant and is still containing it.
"He knows something," Odyn said.
"He knows a lot of things," Yang said.
"About Ruby specifically."
Ruby looked at him.
He looked at her.
"What did he mean?" she asked.
"I don't know yet," he said. "But I intend to find out."
The pavilion — that evening
Weiss sat at the fountain's edge and watched her sister's aircraft move away across the darkling sky until the running lights were indistinguishable from stars.
She had the scroll in her hand.
She had been holding it for several minutes.
The incoming call notification sat on the screen — FATHER — and she had been performing the specific internal negotiation of someone who knows what they are going to do and is finding, nonetheless, that doing it requires something additional.
She thought about what Winter had said: two choices.
She thought about Beacon — about the team she was part of, about the things she had been through and was going to go through. About the specific quality of knowing that her father's money and her father's approval were, here, genuinely irrelevant to what mattered. They had never before been irrelevant. It was a new feeling.
She thought about the summoning glyph that had held for three full seconds today and had been, unmistakably, on its way to something.
She pressed the call button.
The screen lit.
She was not going to ask for anything back.
She was going to tell him, in the specific clear Schnee tone that she had inherited from both him and herself, that she was making her own decisions now. That the money was convenient but not necessary. That she was not coming back to Atlas to be a receptionist or a company asset or a Schnee daughter in the way he had always understood that phrase.
She was going to say this clearly, once, and then listen to what he said and respond to it from the position of someone who has decided who they are and is no longer negotiating about it.
The screen connected.
The courtyard was quiet.
The scroll's light reflected in the fountain's surface, small and precise and enough.
Weiss Schnee, heiress to a complicated name, student of Beacon Academy, member of Team RWBY, smiled.
She was ready.
End of Chapter Nineteen
To be continued in Chapter Twenty: Cinder's Trap — Part Two; Never Miss a Beat
Hyatan Albanar had seen what was coming. This was the specific burden and gift of the Arkynorean foresight — not certainty, but shape. The approximate outline of things that had not yet happened but were on their way.
She had seen Beacon burning.
She had seen her son in the center of it.
She had also seen him choose, in the moment that mattered, to be exactly who she had raised him to be. This was not certain either — the future is always the sum of decisions not yet made — but she knew her son, and she trusted the decisions he had already made, and she believed that the pattern of who he was would hold under pressure the way things that are genuinely themselves always hold.
She had told Winter Schnee as much.
She had not told Odyn.
Some things a mother keeps until the moment has passed and the son comes home, and then she says: I always knew you would. And the son who is no longer afraid of the thing that has already happened understands what she means, and they sit together in the warm room with the fire going, and outside the world is whatever it is, and inside it is enough.
Ending theme:
Kokai no Uta (my hero academia ending 6)
Visuals: Ranges from the characters introduced so far before turning to a dark screen split between the heroes and villains. Mercury struggles to choose a side until hands from the lighter image reach out to him and shatter his dark background. It then shows stills of each character in range of importance in the story before ending with the forces of light behind Team Rwby and Odyn looking up to Cinder and the forces of darkness.
And... done! Whew! That was long! Sorry for the long wait guys this chapter took awhile to write... the better part of 2 months and it covered a whopping 2 to 3 episodes of cannon story! Anyways the devils will be making their debut in the story here shortly, they've been foreshadowed so far but trust me, they're coming. I figured Qrow would be on board with Ruby and Odyn's Romantic relationship as long as Odyn keeps Ruby happy and safe. I've teased Roy and Yang's relationship but i want that one to develop a tad bit more before they officially become a couple.
There are still some loose ends to tie up before volume 3 reaches its climax. Among them being: the connection between Pyrrha and the elven soul inside of her, Baron and Flare's romance, the emotional reunion between Khanna and Mercury, Blake's pairing, what will become of the new saiyan characters in this story, and... the tension between Elves and Humans. All of thise loose ends will be addressed... in time, I ask for your continued patience. I appreciate the positive feedback so far so.. thanks guys!
Now, before we go some polls concerning our newer Saiyan characrers:
Who should Jinjer end up with?
1. Sun W.
2. Zero
3. Valvahdern
4. Yatsuhashi
5. Oscar (volume 5)
Who should Scarlett end up with?
1. Valvahdern
2. Zero
3. Sun W.
4. Neptune V.
5. Oscar (volume 5)
6. Yatsuhashi
Who should Giblet end up with?
1. Velvet Scarletina
2. Coco Adell
3. Hailfire
4. Note
5. Jinjer
That's all for now guys! I'll see you in the next chapter!