AceReaper
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G.N. Chapter 37
🕑 Added 2023-12-04 16:47:07 +0000 UTCI do not own Bloodborne or RWBY.
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Chapter 37 A Lovely Day…
To call these doors heavy would be an understatement bordering on the imbecilic. Jaune could feel the blood rushing to his face; his teeth grit painfully as he pushed against them with all his might. Their décor was forgotten as Jaune began to grunt from exertion, his feet sliding until he managed to find some purchase, and the doors finally budged.
The groaning of the heavy-set doors made Jaune worry for a moment that he was trying to push over a wall rather than an entrance, but the massive stone halves split bit by bit. Only now, with his face flushed red in exertion, did Jaune realise that such doors were likely meant to be manned by the giants.
Or he was severely underestimating how strong the average Yharnamite was.
Finally, there was a proper crack between the doors, and the wind began to rush through the breach, an impressive feat of engineering, to be sure, for them to have crafted the room to be airtight.
When, at last, there was a gap broad enough for him to pass, he ceased his efforts. Taking a step back while catching his breath, Jaune looked at the massive doors, each nearly thick enough to have room for a grown man to be stuffed within. And they were, in fact, entirely made up of stone.
“Bloody-… this seems… cautious,” Jaune observed quietly, dragging his hand down the thick stone doors, his mind wondering a single question.
When were they built?
Doors this thick… you built them to keep something out.
Turning away from the door, a nagging feeling still gnawing at the back of his mind, Jaune turned and got his first glimpse at the interior of the Grand Cathedral.
“Oh… so I guess they weren’t just grotesque…” Jaune muttered, looking at the rather imposing architecture before him.
Mainly the eight giant stone sculptures that guarded the way up the staircase that likely led to the main chamber. Their heads were strange… vascular-looking oblong shapes that resembled deformed nuts of all things. Grasped in their thin, wiry arms were long, harpoon-looking spears that crossed at the tips, forming a dangerous-looking arch.
Jaune had seen such figures as well as others all over Yharnam. The city had an evident fondness for sculptures, and their grotesques stood out as a mark above being present on walls and lamp stands. He had seen them depicted on walls and in graveyards along bridges… but now, with the benefit of hindsight… perhaps that was a bit too frequently.
“… So… what are these supposed to be?” Jaune wondered, looking at the somewhat alien appearance of the statues. The statues were just stone … but they unnerved him all the same, or perhaps their location was unnerving him.
After all… this was the Grand Cathedral, the literal heart of the entire ward and the Church itself.
Jaune let his hand rest on his pistol and marched forward. This was it, the source of Blood Ministration; finally, he would get to learn about his reason for being in Yharnam.
He would finally learn about Paleblood.
“Owaaghh!”
Jaune had his pistol drawn and pointed before the noise even fully registered.
Only to find it pointed at one of the Messengers.
“Son of a- What were you thinking? Spooking me like that. Dammit, Hugo,” Jaune scolded, marching over to the Messenger he had drawn his weapon on.
“Whooyo?”
“No, no… I don’t know it’s this place; it’s just nerves; I have never gotten this far.”
“Garugh!”
“Right, so what do you need?”
Though his eyes were concealed, Hugo looked down, the small Messenger having appeared on the long stone benches situated towards the side of the rooms. Jaune approached, having grown used to Hugo’s unique traits.
Mainly the Messenger’s fascination with anything written.
It was odd, but ever since he had come across them in the library beneath Oedon Chapel, Hugo, as he had chosen to name them, seemed fascinated by literature. Jaune found the little one often sat near him while he was in the Workshop, often aiding him in his studies or keeping him company.
True to form, Hugo was this time drawing his attention to a scroll of sorts, the old, well-cared-for parchment open and encircled by flickering candles.
Jaune reholstered his pistol and examined the likely religious text.
“Instructions? …Heir to the ritual of blood, purveyor of ministration. Place your hand on the altar’s sacred covering, and inscribe Master Laurence’s adage upon your flesh… what that’s it? Doesn’t even tell me what I am supposed to say,” Jaune huffed, looking at Hugo.
The messenger unclasped its hands and shrugged.
“… Right, well, guess this Laurance person is a big deal… I will keep an eye out for more stuff about them… now,” Jaune stepped back from the stone bench. “Where is that altar?”
“Huwagh.”
“Yes, see you later, Hugo,” Jaune waved, making his way up the stairs.
It was quiet as he walked up the steps, and Jaune was cautious, ready for the other shoe to drop. The statues watched his assent silently. Jaune tried not to pay them any heed, but he could not escape a concern that continued to pester him.
Something wasn’t right.
But to be fair… things hadn’t felt right since Gascoigne.
Then he heard it.
A voice, chanting… no praying.
“Our thirst for Blood satiates us, soothes our fears. Seek the Old Blood, but beware the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young.”
Jaune moved his hand away from his pistol, instead drawing his Saw Cleaver, his eyes hardening as he prepared himself. Old Blood… he had not heard the Blood called such before.
He approached silently, hoping he might yet learn more.
“The foul Beasts will dangle nectar and lure the meek into the depths. Remain wary of the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. Were it not for fear, death would go unlamented.”
“Nectar…” Jaune hissed under his breath; there was no lure out there, just madness.
His bad feelings about the Church began to swell and swarm in his mind as he recalled what he had witnessed. The pogroms chanting for the death of the foreign, the minister, the Beast all together hollering for death, death, death…
Wild and savage, mad and sickly half Beast themselves and afflicted by the Scourge.
Then he recalled the Great Bridge being closed… only for there to be monsters aplenty on the other side as well. The only difference is they were monsters belonging to the Church, the Guardians and the Giants… but they weren’t the only monsters of the Church, were they?
‘Gascoigne…’ Jaune thought of the Hunter, the man who should have been his compatriot, a fellow Hunter in the midst of all that was happening. The man had been garbed in the wear of the Church and fought beneath one of their Chapels in a graveyard… yet even still, he had succumbed to the madness.
Then there was the abomination he had fought on the Bridge.
The Cleric Beast, antlered and malformed, it's lopsided body and emaciated frame screaming and rampaging as it slaughtered him over and over…
But Jaune knew, just as he had witnessed with Gascoigne.
It had been human.
He knew by some unknown Insight that the monster had been of the Church, a cleric, a member of their ranks just as Gascoigne had been.
He could still recall the nails driven into its legs…
At first, he had not understood…, but now he did; after all, it was an action that was almost second nature to him now.
It was how he injected Blood Vials.
A Cleric afflicted with madness, losing their very self to the Scourge… it was not hard to see how such an individual, fuelled by desperation, might begin to act with obscene desperation, in their fervour driving anything that even resembled a syringe into the meat of their thigh.
Jaune was at the top of the stairs now, the grand hall of the Cathedral before him in all its splendour. Even in the dark of the evening, the length of the chamber, bordered with stone pillars and mounted candelabras, helped present an overbearing feel. The motifs on the aged cracked floor were widespread and, in their heyday, would have likely added to the visual, but now…
The disrepair of the room was damming; even in the heart of Cathedral Ward, within the Grand Cathedral itself, there were cracks and shattered tiles, ruined art and signs of entropy.
Jaune cast his gaze to the far side of the room, where, illuminated by warm light, there was a large altar that could only be the one mentioned at the entrance to the building. It was sculpted and massive, easily a match for the statues that bordered the stairs and from the back of the room, Jaune could see hints of gilding and wealth. Something was on the altar, but he was too far back to see it clearly.
And before it cloaked, a kneeling figure uttering their prayer.
“Seek the Old Blood. Let us pray; let us wish to partake in communion. Let us partake in communion and feast upon the Old Blood.”
It was a woman, Jaune realised as he closed in, his grip on his weapon not loosening for even a moment. Nerves racked his body as he approached the words of the woman’s prayer echoing in his ears.
The Blood, the Old Blood, the Churches Holy Blood.
What was he missing? Why did her prayer stir a deep sense of unease? Why did thinking of the Blood, the Old Blood, the Holy Blood now make his guts churn?
The Blood… The woman’s prayer was about the blood… but why did it warn of the Beasts? Why did it warn of the ‘frailty of men’ and the ‘luring of the meek’? What did those have to do with the miracle tonic?
The woman was already repeating her prayer.
“… Beware the frailty of men. Their wills are weak, minds young. Were it not for death…”
Jaune paused in his approach as the woman stalled in her chant.
The feeling in his gut worsened.
“… Death…”
Jaune quickly filled his other hand with his pistol, his eyes pinning the kneeling woman with a cold glance.
Her breathing began to louden, a wheezing quality ringing with each gasp.
Her back arched back, her hands pressed to her chest.
Jaune’s foot slid back as pressure built behind his eye.
Then the woman in question threw back her head and screamed; she screamed as the hall was filled with the sound of breaking, splitting… Tearing.
Then, the woman was gone.
Blood exploded outward as the altar became defaced, coated in a fresh, hot layer of crimson that splattered over its extremely detailed workings. Blood rained down for a few moments, splashing on the floor all around a large looming figure.
The woman had become a beast.
Jaune’s blood froze in his veins as he knew.
He knew why the prayer unsettled him.
It was the Blood.
The Blood, the Old Blood, the Holy Blood.
The Churches Blood.
The beast's screams tapered off, the pained, almost human noises turning into a gasp as it slowly turned, a ragged, gasping growl in its throat.
Its body was long, its limbs longer still, though they were stretched wide and bent as it remained crouched on the floor. Jaune had little doubt that should this woman-turned-Beast choose to stand; he would find it taller than even the Cleric Beast.
Its body was mostly concealed by a wild mane draped over it, uninhibited; the once ashen blonde hair of the woman transformed into something Beastly. The destroyed rags of what were likely once churchly robes now draped from her monstrous form, her veil being the most intact piece of her apparel.
Only it was now stretched across a lupine face, concealing eyes that Jaune had no desire to witness.
The long snout of the Beastly head was above a savage wolfish grin, her teeth bared and threatening. Her skull was now adorned with antlers just as the last Cleric Beast had possessed; only hers were more diminutive.
Her limbs were adorned with chimeric appendages, hands that could be human but blatantly weren’t, as the fingers boasted claws that were as long as swords. Her feet were worse arched heels and three claw-tipped toes that didn’t even resemble anything human.
And this monstrous sight, this terrifying new threat before him that was aware of his presence and baring its sheer fangs at him… was not nearly as horrific as the realisation he had just come to.
It was the Blood, the same Blood that the church flooded Yharnam with, the Blood that every man, woman and likely even child had imbibed. It was the real source of the Beasts. It was why people turned into monsters and why Yharnam was wracked with this madness.
It was the Blood.
The same Blood that had made the abominable Cleric Beast on the bridge.
The same Blood that had made the new Cleric Beast before him now.
The same Blood… that had transformed Gascoigne.
There was no scourge of Beasts; it was the Blood, the Churches' Blood.
And it was in his veins.
Ignoring the freshly transformed Cleric Beast, Jaune looked to his hip where his Blood Vials dangled, now feeling much heavier on his side.
The sound of stone scraping as the Beast began to stalk forward, saliva pooling between its fangs, dragged him out of his introspection.
Jaune instead drew up his pistol and lined up his shot.
The Grand Cathedral was soon filled with the sounds of the Hunt as fresh Blood spilled anew in the halls of its corrupted majesty.
It would not be the last time such was so.
YVYVYVYVY
Ayame hurriedly scampered through the lobby, quickly returning the cart to the kitchen, her face just a touch flushed as she bit down on her anger. Her morning had been awful. For some reason, a bunch of customers were up super early, and all of them were asses. Screaming children, trashed rooms, unreasonable requests and not a single fucking set of manners between the lot of them.
Ayame sometimes really hated her job.
“Hey, you!” A voice hollered behind her.
Ayame turned around, more by reflex than anything else, as a female manager approached her. “Are you doing anything right now?”
“Oh, um, I was just-“
“No, good!” The manager cut her off, shoving a pile of towels into her arms with such force that it nearly knocked her over.
“Oof!”
“The pool needs towels put out; people have already been making use of it, so I want you to go make sure the area is presentable; hop to it!” the manager Ayame had never seen didn’t even pause and just walked off with her orders given.
Ayame watched her go with a not-inconsiderate degree of fury in her eyes.
“Oi Ayame, it ain’t worth it, lass,” Egg, one of the cooks, mumbled next to her, stepping in between her and the manager.
“… Fucking human,” Ayame muttered.
“Come on now, you don’t mean that,” Egg reprimanded her, his whiskers twitching. “You don’t need to be a human to be an utter bitch,” Egg reminded her.
“… Yeah, talk later, Egg,” Ayame huffed, turning and departing.
“Remember to drop by and say high to your mum if things get too tough, lass!” Egg called after her.
Ayame waved over her shoulder but began going out to the pool. She had only managed to get a couple of hours of sleep, but the extra shift would really help her out. The downside was she was tired, and the attitude of all the guests wasn’t helping.
The fact that most of them were rude fucking humans only made it worse.
She was lucky; her trait wasn’t noticeable, so she was spared a lot of crap, but seeing how some of the guests treated the other Faunus… It made her blood boil. It seemed that humans would take any opportunity to walk all over someone.
‘If I have to hear someone call mum an animal one more fucking time…’ Ayame thought angrily as she fisted the towels in her grasp.
“- and did you see his tattoos? Holy shit, he is covered,” a middle-aged woman twittered, walking back from the pool area holding a fruity drink.
“I was caught up with how tall he is, good lord!” Another middle-aged woman twittered. “Where do they make them like that?”
Both women twittered, Ayame having to quickly step around them as they did their best to take up the whole walkway. She made her way out to the pool area, noting that it was a lovely day outside. The sky was blue, and the sun was warm, but a pleasant cool breeze kept the temperature bearable.
Ayame didn’t have time to enjoy any of this, though instead hurriedly getting to her task, laying out fresh towels on the poolside chairs. A bunch were already crumpled up and tossed aside because heaven forbid people throw them in the labelled bins.
She was about halfway done when someone ran into her; this by itself was annoying, but what made it worse was that it sent her spinning.
Right towards the pool.
“Fuck!” Ayame squealed as she wheeled her arms, the pool getting closer as she teetered on the edge.
Then she wasn’t anymore.
There was a large hand placed over her stomach that had hauled her back from the edge of the pool. It was wet, which wasn’t great, but better, a damp patch than her whole body being drenched. Ayame turned to thank whoever had saved her when her tongue froze, and instead, all that came out was a long squeak.
‘Blue eyes.’
It was the guy! The same guy from last night who had ordered a ton of food with the sisters! And he had saved her. He also had really, really blue eyes.
And he was nearly naked again!
“Oh, it's you,” the tall guy acknowledged, clearly remembering her from the previous night.
“Thanks!” Ayame managed to squeak out.
He just nodded, taking his hand off her as he brushed his hair back out of his face again, water dripping off him.
Right, the pool, they were at the pool. He's not naked, just wearing swim shorts, right… he was just enormous.
Ayame couldn’t stop her eyes from quickly taking in the guy's figure; this time, she was not looking at him side-on but could see the full scope of his tattoos.
There were a lot of them.
Taking a half step back, she felt a sudden wave of nerves as goosebumps shot up around her body, and a chill slithered down her spine. That same feeling she had in his room was back, only this time, there wasn’t anything else to think about.
So she starred, taking in the tapestry of his flesh.
She started at his chest, mainly because it was at eye level with her.
Right over the top of his heart was a pair of strange arched dashes, bordered by a set of vicious branches belonging to a seemingly dead tree; around it were weird symbols reminiscent of letters but not of a language she recognised. Next to the dead tree, a large black bird was captured mid-flight, its wings spread as it soared up his chest, inky feathers dancing in an unseen breeze.
Below the beautiful black bird was a strange symbol, leaving Ayame with the oddest sense of claustrophobia, as if she were in a large crowd. It was like a primitive depiction of a person with their arms raised, but its lower half tapered into a swirl-like tail instead of legs.
Her eyes raked down from his chest over the lithe form of his abdomen, where she saw numerous candles painted over his abbs and a strange, spiral symbol decorating his hip. Her eyes stopped going lower when they reached the hem of his shorts, launching up, desperate to avoid seeing… something.
With her eyes level with his chest again, she saw his opposite pectoral was decorated with yet another symbol, a strange straight line with two limbs jutting out and downwards with a dot beneath. Ayame didn’t know why, but her hands started to shake as she continued to stare, forcing her to look lower, following the strange foreign letters to another design.
This time, it was almost mundane but extremely different from everything else. It was a profile of a beautiful woman; her features were pristine and nearly doll-like. She was adorned in a bonnet with a floral accessory on the side and a halo above her head. Behind her was a bed of large blooming flowers and their leaves. Then she saw the hand next to the woman, the segmented fingers capturing her attention specifically.
It was a doll… but the tattoo was done in such a way as to look like a… memorial.
“Excuse me!”
A voice violently yanked Ayame out of the absurd trance she had been in; turning around, she found a woman with short orange hair glaring at her and two children behind her.
The children were smirking.
“How dare you curse in front of my children!” The woman barked, marching up to Ayame and staring her down like she was something filthy.
Ayame paled; she had cursed when she had nearly fallen into the pool; she had been so startled by the impact and… the kids! That was what must have hit her; they looked about the right size, at least.
Ayame looked back to the two children, who were still grinning behind the woman.
“Is this how this establishment allows its workers to behave? Do you really think cursing in front of children is acceptable?” The woman continued to bark and perform, doing her best to make a scene.
Ayame looked about and realised it was working. ‘Oh… no, no, no,’ Ayame began to panic, realising just how much trouble she was in. All it would take was a complaint, and she would lose her job. It wasn’t like the managers would hear her out.
She was just another Faunus.
“Ma’am, I am so sorry; I was just startled by your children bumping into-“
The woman puffed up, looking like a bloated balloon, her face flushing as she drew herself up taller, “My children! How dare-“
“Excuse me.”
The male voice cut off the woman like the falling blade of a guillotine. Ayame looked over her shoulder and realised that the woman had all but pushed her up against the guy, his dripping bare flesh practically touching her.
She looked up and saw his face, and the chills returned.
He looked angry.
“Your children are at fault here, your mannerisms are poor, and this young lady was in the middle of assisting me. Go away.”
Ayame wished she could remember this guy's name right now, but even though she couldn’t, she figured referring to him as ‘sir’ would suffice. He did not raise his voice; he didn’t even adjust his volume. He only spoke, and Ayame had never been more glad not to be the one being addressed.
The other woman was not so lucky.
She stepped back, her eyes widening as she was pinned with a scowl from the tall guy whom Ayame was very nearly leaning against.
“W-who do you think you are?” The woman blustered, her voice gaining some edge as she worked up her own momentum.
“You don’t deserve my name; go away,” He reiterated, going so far as to guide Ayame to his side and take a step forward.
The woman scrambled, and her children certainly weren’t smirking anymore.
Ayame was trying to calm her heart as she processed that the very tall, very intimidating young man was touching her.
‘His hand covers my entire shoulder!’ Ayame thought, looking to the left, her eyes observing his right side. He had more tattoos on his back.
A lot more…
Her eyes locked on the ones that darted over his hips; they looked like tiny bursts or maybe craters. She tried to puzzle them out but couldn’t piece together what they were supposed to be. But they were sprinkled over the side of his hip, even darting beneath the hem of his swim shorts.
“I will have you know-“
“Excuse me; you are bothering the other guests; what is going on here,” an older voice called, a man with salt and pepper hair demanded, striding over in a fine-pressed company suit.
It was Mr Keppel.
‘I am so fucked!’ Ayame cringed, seeing the head manager of the hotel marching over.
“Excuse me-“
The tall man strode right up to the man, giving Ayame a clear shot of his back and cutting off the orange-haired woman who scrambled out of his way.
“Mr Keppel.”
“Mr Arc.”
‘Arc! Jaune Arc, that’s it,’ Ayame thought triumphantly in her head, happy to have a name to put to the imposing man.
“This woman is bothering me and her… children… nearly shoved one of your staff into the pool, forcing me to intercede,” Jaune reported, glaring at the woman and her kids like something he had stepped in.
Ayame had never wanted to cheer someone on so badly.
“I see…” Mr Keppel nodded, turning to the woman who looked infuriated with being ignored.
“Who the hell do you think you are-“
“Madam, you will lower your voice, or I will have security escort you off the premises and the authorities contacted post haste!” Mr Keppel shouted over her, showing more emotion than Ayame had ever seen the usually stern individual display.
“You can’t-“
“You get security,” Mr Keppel ordered another staff member, ignoring the woman’s newest attempt to work herself up.
Ayame was shocked; she had seen the worst of the worst in this particular line of business; being one of the major hotels in Bastion made them always bus. Travellers from Vacuo and all over Vale frequented the city, and its airport and seaport never really stopped.
Hence, the hotel was no stranger to less-than-pleasant guests who were likely more trouble than they were worth. It was annoying, but Faunus often caught the brunt of such guests' attitudes and sometimes their cruelty.
However, the Gilded Hotel was considered by many to be the best and attracted some of the most premier clientele.
Now Ayame was wondering just who the hell Jaune Arc was as the woman and her children were escorted back to the lobby with the security threatening to contact the police.
Ayame looked back to Jaune, and her eyes settled on his heavily inked back.
Rather than an assortment of images interlocked with flowing text, his back held only a singular prominent symbol that followed the line of his spine and was surrounded by a curtain of small, unreadable text that flowed down his back in streams.
She traced upwards from the very base of his spine, where it began as a cris crossing structure that crept up his spine surrounded by spots designated over the apex of the cross points. The crisscrossing pattern traced up a line inked over his spine until it reached a massive circular structure that didn’t meet at the sides. Instead, it looked like two sets of curved arcs encircling a symbol that looked remarkably like the one on his chest.
She was a few feet back from Jaune, but despite this, she knew she wouldn’t be able to make out the curtain of text around his back; the letters weren’t Common or Eastern Mistrali.
Above the massive symbol on his back was yet another tattoo inked over the nape of his neck. It was a symbol that unnerved her as it took the appearance of a trio of eyes and some sort of… creature, perhaps with antenna. She wasn’t sure…
The guy literally had eyes on the back of his… well, not head, but close enough.
She was stopped from examining him further as Jaune finished his talk with Mr Keppel, and now both were approaching her. Ayame steadied herself as the two drew close, already thinking of the best way to apologise for her hand in the disturbance.
“This is her; she was in the middle of helping me when that terribly rude woman barged over, no doubt trying to cover her embarrassment for her… children,” Jaune explained.
“I see, Miss?”
“Ayame Cheeks, sir,” Ayame quickly bowed, falling back on her old habits.
Mr Keppel looked her over, “Hmm, Mistrali… Faunus correct, related to the Mrs Cheeks who serves in the laundry room?”
“Yes sir,” Ayame nodded, a little surprised that the head manager of the hotel knew of her mother.
“Mm, I was the one who did your mother’s employment interview; it speaks well that you, her daughter, earned the compliments of someone like Mr Arc,” Mr Keppel praised.
“R-really sir, thank you,” Ayame stuttered, not knowing that little factoid.
“Think nothing of it; keep up the good work, Miss Cheeks,” Mr Keppel ordered with a relaxed manner to his instruction. “As for you, Mr Arc, I hope that you will not hold the attitude of a guest against our establishment.”
“No, your quick response speaks well of you; I will be sure to give my sister and Mr Brown both an accurate review of your establishment,” Jaune acknowledged.
“That means a great deal; we appreciate Ray Shipping's continued patronage of our establishment here in Bastion,” Mr Keppel smiled.
Ayame was again shocked; she did not think the big boss even had it in him to smile.
Mr Keppel then bid a polite goodbye, proclaiming there were matters he had to see to leaving Ayame alone with her saviour.
She turned to Jaune and had eyes only for his face, ignoring the tattoos that painted his body to pay him her heartfelt thanks.
“Thank you so, so much… that… that could have been really bad,” Ayame explained, her breath coming out a little shaky.
“… My sister worked a customer service job once… she explained to me the stresses of the job; I do not envy you your position… I would likely snap and murder someone in your place,” Jaune explained, his tone bare of inflection.
“Heh, the thought comes to mind once or twice,” Ayame joked.
“Mm… Your restraint is clearly superior to mine,” Jaune admitted, again, completely serious.
Like that, the goosebumps were back.
“Well… thanks, I know I already said it, but I kind of need this job, so you really saved me there,” Ayame thanked Jaune again.
“Mm, would you mind terribly if I asked for one of your towels?” Jaune spoke up, pointing to the pile she had utterly forgotten about.
“Oh yeah, of course,” Ayame blurted, darting over to retrieve one.
“Much obliged,” Jaune nodded, immediately drying off, “I hoped to indulge in the hotel’s pool before the other guest began to awaken… It sadly did not open early enough to spare me their company…” Jaune explained with a grimace.
“Not a fan of people?” Ayame asked, her eyes tracing the many designs imprinted on Jaune’s body again. This time, her eyes locked onto his left arm.
“I do not enjoy social niceties, no… and I dislike crowds even at the best of times,” Jaune shrugged, rolling his shoulders.
Ayame followed the motion of his left arm. It was peculiar that the tattoos had a completely different feel than those on his chest and back. It started with a strange design embossed on his upper arm, a leaf-like thing with an eye-like depiction in the middle and three dots about it.
Around this symbol, like the others on his arm, was a quick border of letters or runes… perhaps hieroglyphs… maybe she should ask him. But that was just the first symbol, and all around, separated by the border of peculiar, smaller symbols, was a sea of ink that seemed designed to appear as if it was a mass of writhing shadow, a sea of churning ink.
She followed the flow to another symbol that curled about his forearm; this one, almost indecipherable to her, looked like a bunch of wiggly lines interlaid peculiarly. She knew it was likely important in some manner due to the border of smaller different symbols and the writhing sea of ink parting around it.
His body was like an art piece designed to confuse any onlookers.
Just as she reached his wrist, she found his left arm outstretched, her eyes quickly taking note of yet another tattoo on his palm.
“We met last night, but I am Jaune, Jaune Arc,” He started, holding out a hand, “it feels only appropriate to give you a proper introduction, given the less-than-appropriate showing the night before.”
Ayame stared at the eye situated in a star on his palm for only a second longer before she took his hand. “Ayame Cheeks, hotel staff… and don’t worry about last night; I am told siblings can be rambunctious.”
“Only child?” Jaune conversed, taking his arm back.
“Yeah, how about you? Are there any other siblings besides the two I met last night?”
“All together, I have seven sisters,” Jaune replied, his face lightening.
Ayame spluttered, “Seven!”
“Yes, some older, some younger,” Jaune informed.
“… That must be… something…”
“It is quite pleasant; I very much enjoy spending time with all of them,” Jaune regaled, smiling.
‘He has a nice smile,’ Ayame observed.
Jaune turned his eyes, peering about the pool yard with the towel held in his hands; Ayame quickly realised he was looking for a towel bin.
“Oh! I’ll take that; it’s the least I can do,” Ayame hurried to offer.
“Thank you,” Jaune replied, handing her the still-damp towel with his other arm.
This was the exact moment she saw the design on his right arm up close and found a new chill racing down her spine. Unlike his right arm, which was flowing and creeping in its design, his left was… savage. Sharp, slashing ink that crossed and weaved up his arm, only breaking around prominent odd symbols that looked… violent.
The ones that she caught a glimpse of looked like… claws.
“I am afraid I must depart. My sister has an important audition later today, and I need to shower,” Jaune declared.
“Oh… Oh! Is she trying out for ‘Remnant’s Real Talent’? I love that show,” Ayame gushed.
Jaune’s smile became even wider, “Indeed she is.”
“Oh, wish her my best then,” Ayame instructed.
“I will do just that. Have a pleasant day, Miss Cheeks,” Jaune said as he began to depart.
“Just Ayame is fine,” Ayame giggled nervously as she waved at Jaune’s retreating back.
“… He even has them on his legs… shit, I got to get back to work,” Ayame breathed quickly, getting back to her duty with the towels.
As she worked, she couldn’t help but think about Jaune and the odd spiral tattoos on his legs.
She also felt the oddest urge to look at them again; they were breathtaking and obscenely complex, with layers of detail that seemed absurd for mere tattoos.
Whoever did them was either inspired… or perhaps a little mad.
YVYVYVYVY
“Adam, our preparations are just about complete,” Gekko announced, striding into the command room.
“Good, have the men on standby, I am just waiting for a final counting, then we can begin preliminary operations,” Adam quickly replied, files spread out in front of him as well as two separate Scrolls.
A large screen above his head displayed a local news station, a trick he had learned from Ghira.
‘Remember, Adam, the media is a tool that cannot be underestimated; you would be shocked at just how informative it can be if you know what to look for.’
Ghira had been right, as he usually was; the local news was helping him stay on top of the situation up above; they had agents on the move, and another line of intel was always welcome. It also helped to tell him about the overall state of the city, if only vaguely, but considering what they had planned, all of it was useful.
They could not afford mistakes.
“I must admit… I am a little anxious,” Rajah spoke up, the shorter man’s admittance drawing Adam’s attention.
“… How so?” Adam was quick to enquire.
Nerves were dangerous.
“I have never been a part of an operation this large before; most of our efforts have been about protecting our own and striking back against some of the more aggressive anti-Faunus groups.”
“This is, in truth, no different,” Gekko spoke up, “The scale might be grander than what you are used to, but at its core, this operation is much the same as previous missions you have run.”
Adam nodded, “My lieutenant is correct; this is a strike, nothing more, nothing less. Only this time, our target is all but adjacent to the largest enemy of Faunus across Remnant.”
Gekko growled, “After tonight, there will be one less Schnee ruining the fucking world; you can bet on it.”
Thudding footsteps had Adam tense as before their owner arrived, the sound of the door crashing open had his hand on his weapon and his posture ready.
“Sir, all teams are reporting in; the final call is done. Almost everybody is here; there is about a 95% turnout, sir,” a young male Faunus informed Rajah.
“Good, go gear up,” Rajah ordered the boy.
“95?” Adam asked, turning to Rajah.
“… Is that insufficient?” Rajah asked hesitantly.
“Hardly… It is honestly more than I was expecting,” Adam admitted, looking at his lieutenant.
“I told you, sir,” Gekko boasted proudly, paying Adam an encouraging nod.
“I can’t speak for your previous dealings, sir, but the White Fang serves a purpose here. Thanks to its massive shipping ability, there are a lot of… labour camps nearby. I am sure you know the story…” Rajah trailed off.
Adam nodded… he could never forget it.
“After tonight, we will see if we can't take the first step to make those stories end… forever,” Adam proclaimed, earning a couple of agreeing exclamations.
“Hey, hey, so what’s the story then, since everyone who’s coming is here and stuff,” A voice chirped up.
“Simon, show respect when you address Vale’s Leader,” Rajah quickly admonished the voice.
“Sorry, sorry,” the voice pattered on; Adam noted he had not changed his tone. “I just wanted to know about the mission; everyone is all hyped up because of all the Schnee talk… so is it true?”
“Simon-“
“Is what true?” Adam asked, placing his sword back on the command room table. It was better to resist his temptations.
“That we are going Schnee hunting!” Simon crowed.
There were murmurs and slips of excitement all around as well as whispers… Adam had to remind himself that these weren’t his men.
It seemed there was work to be done yet.
“… Yes, it's true,” Adam replied succinctly, paying attention to how his words resonated with everyone present.
The response was illuminating.
The Cell here was united in a sense. Rajah was likely quite the diplomat, but there were apparent schisms within the group that were highlighted with little effort.
This was dangerous.
Adam came to a decision quickly, his mind identifying what needed to be done swiftly as he looked for the quickest route to his goal. He required those coming with him to be ready to do what was needed… furthermore, he needed them to obey his orders.
“Oh fuck yeah! Please tell me it's one of those Schnee bitches. I would love to get my hands on one of them oh-so-nobel whores,” Simon laughed derisively.
Adam was glad he didn’t have his sword in hand.
‘This… this is why Blake left, Faunus like him, filth that give the rest of us a bad name, we are not animals!’ Adam thought furiously.
“Enough, the hell do you think this is a bandit group!” Gekkor roared, slamming a fist down on the table, the thunderous noise echoing in the room, bringing silence in its wake.
“Pfft, like you are any better, you’re plotting how to kill them bitches. What difference does it make how they die?” Simon sneered, baring large, prominent fangs.
“… What’s your name?” Adam asked.
“Simon Yeast, squad leader,” Simon boasted.
“Do you have your Aura?”
“Of course, the fuck kind of squad leader would I be without it,” Simon snorted.
‘Likely a less difficult one,’ Adam thought furiously.
“Rajah, you have a pit?” Adam turned to the Bastion Cell leader.
“… Yeah,” Raja answered after a moment, clearly realising Adam’s intentions.
“Good, you, Simon, in the pit,” Adam ordered.
“Huh? What the fuck, why?” Simon complained.
“That was an order; now move,” Adam reiterated, his hands clenching into fists, his stance being the only thing stopping Gekko from moving.
Simon didn’t even hop off his seat, only shaking his head, his arms crossed as he spoke, “This is fucking st-“
Adam launched across the room, clearing its length in a bound, driving his fist into Simon’s nose, the man's light brown Aura flaring in response as Adam drove his skull back into the cement wall. People quickly scattered out of the way, desperate to get clear of the two.
Adam pulled his fist back and grasped Simon's greasy hair. He was much shorter than him, and his light body was easily manoeuvrable. He was still dazed. Clearly, he lacked training. Adam would do him the courtesy of catching him up.
He hurled the shorter man out of the Command Room and into the hall.
“You call yourself White Fang,” Adam spoke as he walked over to the primate Faunus, who was scrambling to get back up.
“Fuck yo-“
Adam lashed out with a kick, and light brown Aura flared anew as Simon’s head whipped back, his words silenced.
“But I don’t think you even understand what that means, do you?”
Adam lashed out with two crosses, rocking Simon, who didn’t even try to raise his arms.
‘This is a squad leader… concerning,’ Adam thought.
“You speak like the lowest of scum, act like a disorderly mutt and fail even to pretend as if you are a member of this brotherhood,” Adam admonished. He grasped Simon’s shoulders and drove his knee into his diaphragm, lifting the shorter Faunus.
“Ahck!”
Adam pivoted and hurled the Faunus further down the hall, other White Fang members jumping out of the way as Simon flew past. They had an audience now.
‘Perfect.’
“We are not bandits, we are not criminals and no matter what the humans say, we are not terrorists!” Adam bellowed as he marched towards Simon, who managed to get back up quicker this time.
He let out a pathetic yell as he charged forward, lashing out with his fists.
Adam batted the pathetic swings aside, driving his elbow down onto Simon’s clavicle. The shorter man dropped to his knees, a pained gasp slipping past his teeth as he kneeled.
Adam silenced it with another kick, sending Simon rolling across the hard floor, his Aura flickering.
It was time for Adam to wrap up this presentation.
“We are the White Fang! We are the pride of the Faunus people and the last line of defence against the tyranny of the humans! We exist to remind them who it was that won the Revolution!” Adam shouted, making sure everybody present could hear him.
Simon was crawling.
Adam hauled him up and pulled back his fist.
“We will show them the price of a second war; we will show them the only way they seem to understand!” Adam roared as he drove his fist into Simon’s face, listening carefully as the man’s Aura shattered beneath his fury and the man's nose and likely a few teeth broke.
Simon went limp in his grip, and Adam dropped him carelessly.
Instead, he turned to his audience; they were captivated, fearful, interested, curious… just as he had planned.
“Tonight we will show the Humans the price of oppression, tonight we show the world the righteous fury of the Faunus… if you are sick of the hate, the disgust, the discrimination… if you want to strike back, to finally score a blow against the injustice of it all than join me.” Adam impeached all the members of the Bastion Cell present.
“In the past, we preached peace and understanding, hoping for the humans to learn from their mistakes and understand the error of their ways… our mistake was believing humans could ever change on their own. You have to make them!” Adam exploded, slamming his Aura-infused foot down, the crash causing more than a few to flinch.
“Humans only respect that which they fear; fine then, we will make them fear us; we will show them the ‘beasts’ that they proclaim us to be!”
Adam saw it, the fire, the understanding; it wasn’t in all of them, but it was in enough.
“If you too want to see a world where Faunus don’t have to live beholden to the whims of the humans, then I welcome you… but only if you are truly ready to be a member of the White Fang,” Adam warned, noticing how a few looked around searchingly.
“We are the White Fang, we are the pride of the Faunus… and this,” Adam pointed to the unconscious bloodied form of Simon, “dishonours us all.”
“… If you want to make your mark in history this night, hurry to your stations and report to your squad leaders; tonight, the White Fang claims a victory like never before!”
Adam watched them go, some slower than others, some scrambling, but a few, a good few, moved with a purpose he had long learned to look for.
“… You speak well,” Rajah complimented him. The older Faunus stood beside Gekko, surrounded by the other higher-ups of the Bastion Cell.
“… I speak only what I believe… I want him positioned as far away from our operations… out of the city if at all possible,” Adam ordered, jutting a damning finger at the limp form of Simon.
Rajah nodded, “there are others like him.”
“There always are,” Gekko spat,
“I don’t have time to see to all of them, and it is not my place to do so… you have the respect of your people, I have seen it, but they lack discipline,” Adam criticised.
“Not all our members are geared towards violence; it is a boon to have those that can aid our cause in other ways,” Rajah explained with a shake of his head.
Adam wants to scold and remind the man that the White Fang existed to bring humanity’s wickedness to heel.
‘Blake would have approved of him… Ghira too.’
Adam swallowed his admonishment.
He would try a different approach.
“Are you saying the likes of Simon are a boon to this cell?”
“… He had drive; when he joined, I noticed it and hoped that I could direct it to good use… but-“
“But instead, he has decided to behave like the very humans we fight,” Adam cut Rajah off, “It's reprehensible, and I will not tolerate it. See my orders followed. I want him as far away from the Schnee and our operations as possible, and any like him can receive a similar treatment.”
Rajah didn’t even try to argue, instead just nodding. Orders were issued, and a few of the upper ranks dragged Simon off to somewhere else, possibly a medical wing, but Adam could care less. Those like him made their fight so much more complicated than it needed to be.
He still recalled Blake’s reaction when she had come across a report of actions taken by some less disciplined Faunus in Mistral.
Ghira’s wrath was the only thing that had eclipsed his own. Ghira had disavowed the group, altogether cutting them off from the White Fang. Adam and Sienna had made sure their evil would never taint the White Fang again.
“I can see why Khan put you in charge of the Vale branch,” Rajah admired.
A silence lingered in the wake of his words as Adam did his best not to let his thoughts overwhelm him. It all came rushing back to him in that instant, the plan and the full scope of what he needed to pull off.
‘Would Blake be on board?’
“… After tonight, there is likely to be a rather… severe reprisal from the humans. Is your cell prepared for that degree of scrutiny?” Adam enquired, using the now emptier hall to ask the uncomfortable question.
Rajah’s swift nod was relieving.
“Those who can afford to will resume their day-to-day as they can, but we have also taken steps for evacuation if such is needed,” Rajah affirmed.
“Good, though I hope such won't be necessary; Schnee are not simple prey. They tend to travel with more security than sense… it is annoyingly effective,” Adam admitted.
“We have the advantage, sir; security is not nearly as tight as we are used to with Schnee, and the benefits of such are already proving fruitful,” Gekko informed.
“Right… right, we must seize the initiative; let us return to the Command Room. Rajah, gather your command structure; we have much to do before nightfall,” Adam ordered the older Faunus.
“I will see it done.”
When Adam returned to the Command Room, it was to more than one type of stare, but he ignored them all.
He had eyes only for the news.
It was looking to be a lovely day in Bastion.
And if luck was on their side…
It would be a very eventful night.
Omake: The Dress Incident. (Inspired by the ever-talented Yuki Setsura… PRAISE BE)
The News that the Arcs were to be going on a family vacation was well received by all of the Arc children, and the chaos that followed was turbulent, to say the least. Clothes needed to be gathered and luggage packed as everyone made preparations.
Jaune found such packing relatively straightforward; in truth, he merely opened his suitcase and placed a selection of everything in it.
When he brought his suitcase downstairs to place in the loading area, he was joined by his father, who clasped his shoulder and gave him a proud smile.
Unfortunately, the girls did not find the task nearly as straightforward, and thus, the house went through a rather tumultuous upheaval as they packed. Clothes were thrown about decisions were made, questioned, remade, forgotten, aborted and then made again. Jaune and Cloud spent most of this time doing other things like preparing snacks and sitting in the lounge room watching the History Channel together.
Of course, this only made them targets.
This was how Jaune found himself being put to work by Sky as she went through a box of Scarlett’s clothes looking for something that might fit her and was ‘vacationy’.
Jaune, ever ready to help, didn’t mind; he wanted the girls to enjoy their vacation, and folding clothes was hardly the most tedious task he had ever had to endure.
‘Damn Chalice Dungeons…’ Jaune shuddered at the thought.
Unknown to Jaune, while he was distracted doing the job he had requested, his younger sister… was plotting.
Like her other sisters, Sky had noticed that her brother was startlingly tall at thirteen. In fact, he was closing in on Scarlett as if it was an actual race. What made this more amusing was that with the awkwardness of growth spurts, Jaune was proportionally close to a younger Scarlett.
This was never more apparent to a young Sky Ark than when she held up one of her sister's old dresses.
Her eyes danced between the off-the-shoulder make and her brother dutifully folding laundry with his back to her.
“… Well, at this point, it would be wrong not to try,” Sky declared, earning a curious look from her older brother.
YVYVYVYVY
Sky was overjoyed.
It fit.
Jaune was standing in a dress, looking at the piece of apparel curiously, the dress hanging off one of his shoulders as he tried to work out why Sky was so elated.
“Hey Sky, have you seen-“
Sky turned to Saphron, her face beaming.
“…”
“Hello, sister,” Jaune waved.
Saphron raised her phone and began to mash the camera button with all the speed she could muster.
Sky’s beaming smile turned into delighted laughter.
“Hey, what’s with all the-“
Scarlett paused in the doorway, witnessing Sky happily dancing and laughing on the spot, Saphron mashing her camera button with a degree of intensity that was genuinely concerning and Jaune… standing in the middle of the room wearing one of her old dresses.
“…”
“Hello,” Jaune waved.
“…”
“… I’ll be right back. Do. Not. Move.”
“Ok.”
Scarlett took off in a sprint, dashing to her room.
The sound of her returning sprint caused her sisters to look away from their brother to the door.
Scarlett held up her makeup case.
YVYVYVYVY
Of the many opponents Orr was forced to fight over her career, few were as persistent as boredom.
Luckily with the acquisition of her Sprout, boredom could get fucked because she had a superpowered, adorable Grimm killing machine to play with instead. What made it even better was that he was cute, and his sisters were an absolute riot to stir up.
Not to mention, Hella was there to keep things interesting.
Tag just wasn’t as interesting as tag with a shotgun, after all.
Orr was sure it was mostly for show, but it kept things fresh.
It was probably telling that, at this point, her appearance at the Arc household was so typical that not even their carnivorous pet deer seemed concerned by her arrival anymore. Which was fine, truthfully…
There were other ways to make an entrance, after all.
Orr entered the house only to be greeted by the sounds of plotting, laughter, whispers and, dare she say it… mischief.
Mischief was her jam!
She hurried to the source of this evident tom foolery and burst into the room, ready to wash her boredom away as she crowed, “Jaune and Girls! I Came to pla-“
Orr had no words for the sight she beheld. She was well aware that her Sprout was an absolute cutie. She was unaware that he was also gorgeous, dressed in piece that showed off his slender shoulders and with his ‘long’ hair pushed back by a headband, he looked stunning.
“Ah, welcome, Orr, I am jus-“
“Marry me.”
…
Jaune blinked.
“Orr, I’m thirteen…”
“Oh, right.”
YVYVYVYVY
“Honey, she is your son’s only friend,” Cloud tried to reason with Hella as she continued to load her gun.
“He can make more.”
“I have thirteen years of proof that says otherwise.”
“How important are friends anyway.”
“How important is our son’s mental wellbeing?” Cloud countered.
“She’s trying to steal my Sunshine Cloud!”
“I think you are severely overreacting to this.”
At this exact moment, Sky entered the office, her face a mask of pure excitement. “Mum, Mum! Where is your wedding dress?”
The sound of a shotgun racking had never been so thunderous.
Comments
TheNamelessOne
Lmfao, that omake XD
