Chapter Text
Beacon was supposed to be something new.
That's the first thought that Weiss Schnee had when leaving the airship, when escaping her family in Atlas.
Beacon was supposed to be something new. Something wonderful and curious, a place she could learn to be her own person—no longer under the thumb of her father and away from the untold amount of Atlesian political consequences. She didn’t have to fear for her siblings at Beacon, didn’t have to fear for those whose strings sought her out in a frenzy—didn’t have to fear for potential bonded entwining their souls with hers.
Here, she could be herself, here, she didn't have to worry about her father obsessively asking her what she saw when she glanced at someone a little too long. She didn't have to worry about Whitley's pale face, his washed out knuckles, his tears as his soulmates were dragged away. She didn't have to worry about Winter, eyes hard and a little desperate as their father asked Weiss who her sister's soulmates were.
Weiss Schnee didn't have to worry, not here. She could become a huntress, she could earn all the honors and achievements rather than just receiving them from Ironwood the second she walked onto Atlas' campus. Here, she would earn everything that was given to her, she would be perfect, would be the best that anyone had ever seen. She was going to do this, she had broken free of her golden swirled silver cage, had extended her wings and already was in the middle of glorious flight—
But then she saw them.
It was as though Icarus himself lived through her, wax wings burning into his back as he fell from the sun into the ocean.
Two girls, grinning at each other. One with a ridiculously tacky red cape, the other with wild golden hair.
The smaller one had a head of pure darkness, red accents peeking out of the tufts when hit by the sunlight. Weiss wondered if it was because of residue aura. She was wearing dark clothing, lined with crimson much like her hair, and sturdy looking combat boots. The heiress' gaze lingered a little longer than appropriate, she saw this younger looking girl and felt a sense of familiarity she couldn't quite place, when the threads began to reveal themselves.
Nothing was out of the ordinary, the shorter one was complaining rather loudly about something or another, while her bonded watched with an indulgent smile. Near their hands were yellow and red threads, wrapping their way around their forearms. They were tinged with a silver glow.
Silver was important, Weiss knew, silver bonded Whitley and Winter. Silver bonded family, bonded love. Her father had no threads this color.
But that wasn't what caught her eye.
No.
Two of their strings had drifted out and wrapped around her. The blonde one's was a pale blue, the color of Weiss' aura, and moved to connect to her own thread that had begin to turn yellow in the face of the other, wrapped around one of her thin wrists.
She knew what that meant, and reached out to snip the thread before it wound its way into her veins, becoming a part of her body and before it merged with her soul. It hadn't been the first time she had cut the string of a potential soulmate, after all—when she caught sight of the other one.
A string was moving towards her, that strange girl with the strange hood. It was a pale petal red—slithering forward hastily, not seeming to mind that it was forced to intermingle with the grass and dirt and stone. It was a bit strange, in that way—most strings that Weiss had seen tended to take to the sky, floating with a lethargic sort of ease, comfortable with whoever it was attracted to. The snaked its way up the girl's cloak, wrapping it's way around her neck.
Weiss froze in her tracks, stopped with her fingers around the yellow blue thread in absolute fear. She recognized that string, it was the one she looked at in the morning and wished gone.
(The one that wrapped around her neck.)
Pain, unfiltered an unflinching, wrapped it's thin pale fingers around her throat and began to squeeze .
Weiss had stopped moving, and had stared and stared and stared—
She needed to leave.
Moving forward, she gave the two girls a wide berth, knowing better than to try and approach them. Somehow, Weiss couldn't quite help glancing at the girl with the red cape. Silver eyes met her own, and the fierce burning in her throat returned.
Her father would be furious.
(It was entirely coincidence that she forgot to cut the yellow string from her body, and in the morning it had begun to change color, a swirl of auras, meeting for the first time.)
Weiss Schnee met Blake Belladonna shortly before they were launched off a cliff.
Their threads connected while Blake was sneering at her.
She was saying something about the SDC's terrible treatment of faunus, their 'shady' business deals. Briefly, she wondered what exactly this girl had to gain from needlessly ripping Weiss' family to shreds with her words, what did she expect to happen after this? Was she hoping that the heiress would just go, 'oh my word I've never thought of it like that before!' and use her power to change everything? The thought was laughable, even if she wanted to any power she had in Atlas was brittle and faux, easily cut through with a single word from someone like her father.
Still, she listened, idly wondering if the other girl would make a point—when she realized what Blake had wanted.
To take her down a peg.
Anger swirled in her chest, an icy cold glare beginning to bleed through her mask of chilly indifference.
(And it is that at that moment, that second where Weiss cannot control her temper—when the rage and hurt and disgust seep out of her body, that her life is once again changed forever.)
"What do you gain from this?" Weiss spat. The air chilled, and then it happened.
The blue slices of aura wrapped around Blake’s right bicep connected to the purples that had wrapped their way around Weiss' pinky finger.
The first thing that filled her was pain, a quiet desperate aching. Why? Thought Weiss. Why did I have to find another one?
It was silent suddenly, quiet all except for the rambling of the teenagers around them. Amber eyes were wide with shock and loathing, gaze fixed on the point where their strings met. They were strung tight, the air seemed to turn to static around them—the way it was wrapped, not loose like the others—made Weiss wonder if it could snap on its own.
"You can see them." Blake said. It wasn't a question. She watched Weiss with something that looked a little like annoyance, her eyes glittering with an emotion that she couldn’t identify.
"Would you like me to cut it?" Was her response. She couldn’t help but begin rubbing at the bridge of her nose—averting her gaze. Normally she would have just snipped it right away, but if Blake could see them too, it felt rude to do it without asking. Then again, a part of her mused, Blake had been a downright heathen to her the entire time Weiss had known her, so perhaps a little rudeness would go a long way in her quest for ultimate isolation.
Blake cleared her throat, eyes wide and fluttering, shock coloring every noticeable feature. Her voice was shaky when she finally spoke. "You can cut them?" It sounded like she was accusing Weiss of something.
"It's part of my family magic." She crossed her arms, looking up sharply to meet her eyes. "Not that someone would believe you if you told them." Weiss fiddled with the end of her ponytail, tone bored, the warning in her words not at all that subtle.
(She normally could be a bit more sneak than that, but she was tired—Beacon was shaping up to be somewhere more dangerous than she had previously thought it would be.)
"Mine can make more, tie them together." Blake responded, words escaping her mouth as though she had not meant them to.
Weiss raised an eyebrow, her eyes flickering to the string tied around her arm. It looked like it was constricting, almost, and her hand went to her neck in reflex. She wondered if the string was hurting Blake, tightening and tightening like a ruthless little snake—wondered if the civil words had not come so freely as Weiss had previously thought. They stared at each other, neither making a move. Both girls looked down at the point where their threads had connected, the sight making Weiss begin to frown.
"I suppose I'll have to actually listen to you now." The heiress said sighing through her nose, watching as the strands swirled together faster than usual. "Our souls seem to be adamant on us at least being acquaintances."
Blake snorted a little, rolling her eyes. "They do that when both thread-bearers are bonded." She said as a matter of fact, then she tilted her head, as if meaning to ask Weiss a silent question—but Weiss didn’t know her well enough to be able to identify what she was trying to ask her.
"How do you know that?" She shifted uncomfortably, crossing her arms in front of her chest and doing her best to stare Blake down.
Blake didn't answer, only watching with slowly blinking golden eyes. There was a small brush of astonishment on the girl's face, an expression that made Weiss go cold with silent despair.
Jealousy pierced her by the stomach, taking hold of her stomach and binding her wrists to the side of her waist. She couldn’t move in the face of this girl’s astonishment, couldn’t even squirm. Weiss felt the first flames of useless anger begin to lick it's way up her collar bones and the back of her neck, a rosy flush making it's home in her checks.
She wondered what it would have been like, to have someone teach her the lore that accompanied the bonds that tie people together.
When it was clear she wouldn't answer the question, Weiss made to move out of the way. Pausing momentarily. "Be careful." She said softly. "If you claim to know the supposed crimes of the SDC, you should be aware of the... rumor of what my father has done to my brother's bonded."
Blake spun toward her—mouth open and eyes wide, something like horror and sympathy on her face—but Weiss had already moved away, slipping into a comfortable conversation with Pyrrha Nikos.
Weiss saw a white string wrapped around her neck, one that led to a weedy blonde boy not far from them. He had no strings despite Pyrrha's leading towards him. The blonde, John or Joan or something, had talked to Pyrrha earlier, and for some reason the redhead had been genuinely happy to receive the attention.
Something in her chest constricted, and she felt words begin to tumble out of her mouth on accident.
"You should talk to him later." Weiss said suddenly, pointing the boy out. (He was talking to the girl with the red cape from the courtyard.) "He looks like he might need help later." Something stuttered inside of her at the rare kindness in her tone. "I don't believe his aura is activated."
Pyrrha watched her, nothing giving her away except the small surprise burrowed deep in her eyes. It was clear she hadn’t expected Weiss to be too kind to strangers either.
Weiss tried not to feel offended.
(She failed.)
“It was just an observation.” She grumbled, turning a way and crossing her arms. “I thought you’d like to know, seeing as you seemed rather enamoured with that halfwit—”
"Thank you." And then Pyrrha was smiling, soft and sweet—her voice surprisingly earnest. There was something about the way she said it that made color begin to surface in Weiss' cheeks. Her eyes twinkled, green and fiery—and for a dreadful moment Weiss felt a heavy weight begin to press down upon her in the face of Pyrrha’s supposed thankfulness.
When the famous fighter finally turned away, preparing herself as Ozpin spoke, she noticed a string unwrap it's way around the inside of Pyrrha's right knee, and connect the one around Weiss' left. Weiss felt her face pale, and steadily turned herself away.
Another soul shard, in another girl.
Her father was going to murder her.
(Disregard the fact that Weiss decided to keep this one on purpose.)
"Um... hi?" The girl said, voice slightly high pitched and childish. She had silver eyes.
There was a second of stillness, a second of anticipation and fear and the hopeless hope for adoration—and then it passed, Weiss’ gaze lingering as it settled on the stranger’s neck. Weiss could see her thread as clear as day, could see the pale petal red that followed the girl around loosely—never actually touching the girl’s neck.
Her string had not moved to tie itself with hers.
She had seen something like this only once before, and she had hoped to whatever trace of divinity existed, prayed and sobbed and wished that she may never come across one so similar again.
Weiss said nothing, instead deciding that turning and leaving her standing there was the best course of action.
She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t damn herself like that, couldn’t allow the two of them to grow close.
Weiss heard the girl call out to her, but it was clear that she knew better than to follow. A small bubble of hope warmed her chest, and she found herself pleading with the universe that the next person that she made eye-contact with had absolutely no threads. In a way, she actually got her wish granted.
Looking up, she saw a blonde boy in white armor and faded blue jeans, struggling with what looked like Pyrrha's weapon. It had impaled his hoodie into a tree, making him hang from an uncomfortable looking position. "Um." His face was flushed. "A little help?"
She turned around immediately.
In the face of choosing between inevitable heartbreak and an incompetent partner, let it be known that a Schnee is never not stubborn, but will always walk down the path that would be of more use to them. She’d take the strange girl in the strange hood over some useless dimwit anyday.
"By no means does this make us friends." Weiss grumbled, grabbing the girl by the back of the hood and dragging her deeper into the forest. She could do this, she had to do it now, had to face her emotional issues.
(Weiss had never had to do that before, face the emotions that ran so rampant in her soul—it was far easier to ignore the little voices in the back of her mind, far easier to lock away the honeyed whispers that begged to brush against her heart.)
"You came back!" She cheered happily, stumbling as she was dragged backward.
She escaped from Weiss' grip with a small sound of effort, hurrying to keep in step with her. "My name is Ruby, Ruby Rose!" She chattered off absentmindedly. "You're Weiss, right?"
"Yes." She said shortly, looking around them, trying to make a sense of where they were going.
"Oh cool! I heard you're like, a princess or something." She said excitedly, following Weiss without much thought. "Which totally makes sense, because, you've got like—" Ruby gestured to her, "—all that going for you, like the whole, super beautiful thing."
"Are you being sarcastic?" Weiss asked flatly, not bothering to look Ruby in the eye. It wouldn't surprise her if that were the case, she hardly ever received genuine compliments so easily, often having to rip them from the mouths of spoiled teenagers and greedy board members.
(It of course did not help that the last couple she had seen with strings that resembled hers and Ruby's absolutely loathe one another, that they had become rotten people.)
"What? No!" The other teenager protested adamantly, as though the very idea was deplorable.
"Right." Weiss rolled her eyes. "Look, we are not friends, alright? So stop being a bother, and just help me figure out where this imbecilic relic is." She didn't want this, didn't want another set of responsibilities on top of the ones she already had.
"Oh... um, sorry." Ruby replied, rubbing the back of her neck.
Weiss stayed silent for a moment. "Heiress."
"What?" Ruby asked.
"Heiress, not... not princess." She couldn't figure out why the word bothered her so much, all she knew was that she didn't like the way it sounded, and that was enough for her. "Princess sounds wrong."
"Um. Right." Ruby trailed off for a moment. "Sorry."
"I need a favor." Blake said, cornering Weiss after the ceremony.
"Already?" Weiss snorted. "What is it?"
Her father had always warned his children of some of the people who might have their threads tied to their own, he claimed that they would want things that they had, that the Schnee family could give, and that they were to be very careful with their ability. Winter had always told Weiss and Whitley that the things their father said were not to be taken seriously, and they had all agreed to never take what he said at face value.
Until Winter left, that is, and the Whitley began to fawn over the man they’d agreed to obey without strictly obeying, and Weiss had decided that her claim to rebellion was far too much of a temptation to ignore.
"I need you to cut off some of my strings."
Weiss blinked for a moment, she had admittedly not been expecting Blake to ask her that. "How long have you had them?" She asked finally.
"One of them for years, the other I got in the forest a couple of hours ago." The huntress-in-training said softly, looking uncomfortable.
The heiress considered her words for a moment. "Xiao Long?" A snort. Yang Xiao Long didn’t seem to like her very much, and Weiss was perfectly content with keeping it that way—even if their strings were so adamant on them becoming close to one another.
Blake hissed, baring her teeth slightly.
"Right." Weiss rolled her eyes, scoffing a little. "The one you've had the longest will hurt the most—" She said, glancing at Blake again, "—so you might want to do that one first."
Blake watched her for a moment, before thrusting her wrist toward her, turning her head away so she wouldn't have to look Weiss in the eyes.
A subtle throb began to pulse in her pinky, and a degree of curiosity and sympathy began to bubble up in her chest. Why was she so adamant on losing these? She didn’t understand, but was quick to stamp down on any emotion that bordered on compassion. Weiss couldn’t allow herself to care, to consider that she may become important to her, so she took Blake’s fragile wrist in her more than capable hands, and examined the thread.
It was the color of rust, frayed at the ends and fading in and out of existence, like it couldn't decide whether or not to live or not. Just looking at it made something churn uncomfortably in her stomach. For a moment she wondered just exactly what it was, what exactly had made the string of Blake's soul act this way.
The look on her face must have not been hidden well enough, because Blake began to jerk her arm away. “Nevermind, don’t bother—”
“I’ll get rid of it.” Her voice was soft. “I’ll get rid of it if you let me.”
Blake went still. “I can’t have it with me anymore, do you understand? It hurts so much and I can’t—” She hissed, gritting her teeth, it was as though she was not comfortably discussing this so openly.
“Let me see.” Her voice was still gentle, but there was a way that she spoke—her voice lined with disgust and anger—that made Blake flinch away.
But that didn’t stop her from extending her wrist once more.
Weiss carefully ran her fingers up and down the string, noting how it reached up through the roof of the student hall. It was… horrible, the feeling that swallowed her hole as her fingers made contact with it. Getting rid of it would be difficult and painful, not only for Blake, but for the both of them.
"Blake..." She said, any and all anger she had bleeding out of her. "You may want to cover your mouth for this one… It’s not going to be very pretty."
It was not a quick process, the string was like nothing she had ever seen before, and instead of being snipped neatly like every other she had encountered previously, it fell apart in soiled clumps at their feet. A loud noise of anguish escaped Blake’s mouth, the sound reverberated in the hall—made Weiss’ teeth begin to ache and her ears ring.
Tears sprung in amber eyes, and Weiss did her best to keep at it without stopping, covering Blake's mouth with the palm of her hand. She grit her teeth, murmuring soothing words as her teammate shook on unsteady legs.
She hoped she never met who the string had been bound to.
When it was over, Blake sobbed openly, gripping at Weiss' shoulders, her cries muffling as she borrowed her face into the wall. There was a desperation in her actions, despite the conflicting way she went about it—her grip on Weiss was almost possessive, trusting despite the surge of negativity that came with the sharp nails digging into her skin—but the way she cried into the wall, as though she couldn’t bear the thought of allowing Weiss to see her tears.
Weiss felt something begin to leak from her nose, and pressed her sleeve to it hurriedly.
It had been a long time since she’d gotten a bloody nose for using her ability.
"The next one." She mumbled through her tears, "Do the next one." Blake pulled away, gripping at the thread that surrounded her neck, glowing golden.
"No." Weiss said. "Not... not that one." She shook a little, taking a step back—retreating a tad to hastily. The blood that seeped down her nose made a degree of panic begin to overwhelm her. She pressed her sleeve a little harder down, closing her mouth when a bit of blood began to slip inside.
The coppery taste grounded her, despite her disgust. And she began to think of a way to get Blake to see reason—
But then she thought of the pain that had come with getting rid of that string, the ache that was throbbing uncomfortably in Weiss’ head. It must be far worse for her, she thought tiredly, it must be some of the worst pain she could have possibly ever felt—souls don’t always mend so easily when perverted.
"At least... at least not today." Weiss coughed into her hand, feeling a little awkward at the accusation that lay behind her new teammate's eyes. "I don't think that after that one, you have it in you to do the other one comfortably."
Blake hissed again, biting into her palm. "Can't you cut the string?"
"I can!" Weiss huffed indignantly, sniffing. The blood had seemingly stopped for the moment, so she was free to remove her sleeve "But that one, the one around your neck; you do realize which one it is, don't you?"
Blake was silent, her eyes flickering to the red stains smeared on Weiss’ nostrils and upper lip.
"It's not any normal bond," She continued slowly, trying to rub away the blood. (It didn’t help much, only smearing her cheeks a little more.) "There's no telling how it would affect you, or Xiao Long."
"I know that." Blake hissed angrily.
"Clearly you don't, or you wouldn't be asking me to cut it—"
"Don't talk to me like that, I know what I'm doing; it's my choice, isn't it?"
"You are so insufferable—!"
"Oh please. I know who your string is tied to, don't you dare lecture me about my choices when you've been nothing but intolerable to her—"
"Mine is one-sided! So please, tell me what I should do about that."
Blake stopped moving. "Oh."
It was silent, both teenagers nose to nose, chests heaving in anger. Blake had begun to calm down, opening and closing her mouth in an attempt to figure out what to say, but Weiss' cold blue eyes struck a chord in her—making her absolute anger and despair, emotions that were no doubt coming from the girl in front of her.
"Um... are we interrupting something?" An unfamiliar voice asked.
Weiss went still, taking a couple steps away from her. She looked away from them, hiding her face. It was Pyrrha and another girl, her teammate, Nora or something else.
“Weiss?” Pyrrha asked. “Are you—”
“I’m fine.” She bit out shortly, hesitantly looking at her from the corner of her eye.
“Is there a problem here?” Pyrrha’s voice was serious, suddenly—her face contorted into something that looked almost protective.
"No." Blake said stiffly, "It's nothing important."
"Right." Nora nodded, disbelief clear as day on her face. "I'm sure that's true." Her eyes went back and forth from the two of them, her expression a mix between impish and curious.
"Mhmm." Blake said, gently prodding Weiss toward the direction of their shared dorm. She went willingly, shooting Pyrrha what she hoped was a reassuring smile, but probably looked like a bloody grimace. "Nice hammer by the way."
"Why thank you." Nora said, happiness distracting her from her previous suspicion. "I happen to think it's the best weapon in the whole entire universe, but Pyrrha won't agree with me she thinks it's one of the worst."
The redheaded girl sputtered. "What! No, I did not say that—" The two moved forward, walking past Blake and Weiss. "—I just said I prefer my own weapon—"
The teammates continued down the hall, the previous encounter forgotten.
"Give it two weeks." Weiss said when they were gone. "If you still want it gone... still want all of them gone, I'll do it for you."
Blake said nothing as Weiss retreated into the dorm room.
(She rushed into the bathroom to clean off her face, and failed to notice the alarmed looks that Ruby and Yang had shot her.)
The days that followed were spent avoiding everyone (except Pyrrha, who had taken to making sure that Weiss was eating properly) living in the library reading and researching everything and anything that had to do with grimm and aura. She had already learned many things and theories about how the strings were tied to them, but knew that there would never be enough information she could memorize that would make her feel better.
She didn't like where this thought process was taking her.
Weiss groaned into one of the dusty books she had been reading. She couldn’t find anything that indicated Blake would be alright after the thread around her neck was snipped. It made her feel helpless, like a bystander to a great natural disaster—only she would soon become one of the victims, swallowed up by the earth and burned alive by deep crevices full of the body melting vats of magma.
She didn't like feeling like she couldn't do anything.
"The red string of fate...?" A slightly childish voice questioned. "I didn't know you liked fairy tales, Weiss."
She looked up, and met the curious silver eyes that belonged to her team leader. "I was feeling nostalgic." She stated flatly, returning to the book in her hands, flipping to the next page irritably.
“I like fairytales too, you know.” Ruby started conversationally, “Yang used to read them to me all the time, though she wasn’t much of a fan of that one—” She gestured to the book in her hands, “—she said that it didn’t make sense… not that I could really blame her.”
Some people believed in the strings, some didn't, it appeared that Ruby fell in the latter category.
Weiss scowled into the story, her shoulders stiffening. It was kind of like a spit in the face, almost.
"What's wrong?" Ruby asked. At Weiss' cold glare, she laughed a little. "I mean other than me ruining your day, you were like this before you noticed I was here."
"Was I?" The words were biting, chilly.
"Hey now." Ruby said, her tone surprisingly serious. "I get that maybe you don't like anybody here except probably Pyrrha, but I'm genuinely worried about you, okay?" She frowned, crossing her arms over her uniform. "And if you don't like that, think about it this way—if we don't get along our scores on the team exams will be low."
She hated the fact that the younger girl had a point.
"Look." Weiss spat, anger seeping out of her bones as her shoulders slumped. "I get that you have a point—" She wrinkled her nose, "—but right now I'd rather just be reading this book than doing any 'team building' exercises; you could bother me with all that rot, later."
"Alrighty." Ruby said, cheerful expression never faltering. "You don't mind if I sit here and study, do you?"
She opened her mouth to tell the younger girl that, yes she did mind—when something pulled at her neck. The pale headed teen looked down for a moment, watching in silent terror as the threads wrapped around her neck began to tighten and suffocate her. She was getting choked.
(And the fear that filled her body was a horrible thing, overwhelming and terrible. It drowned her, heat scorching the inside of her throat and leaving brands of hatred and terror and disappointment—her lungs constricting as air failed to enter her body.)
"Feel free." Weiss choked out, her voice not quite her own. The words seemingly came from somewhere deep in her mind, as she had not been intending to say them. "As a matter of fact," She continued, "If there's something you don't quite understand, feel free to ask for help."
Ruby blinked, silver eyes widening a fraction. It was clear that whatever response the girl had been expecting, it had not been the one she had received. "Thank you." She said softly, watching her with no small amount of hesitation.
"Don't thank me for doing the bare minimum." Weiss mumbled, remembering her parents suddenly. Ruby's head snapped up, more surprise coloring her youthful features. Weiss flushed when she realized exactly what words had escaped her mouth, straightening her spine and averting her cold blue gaze. "I mean—"
Ruby laughed a little. "Still... thank you."
Weiss didn't quite have it in her to say 'you're welcome.'
(She didn’t have it in her to accept the fact that Ruby was still determined on being kind to her, despite Weiss’ frankly atrocious behavior.)
"Are you being nice to me on purpose?" Yang asked her, eyes narrowed. She looked at Weiss like she expected to be hit over the head, or smothered in her sleep. The two girls sit in the courtyard, waiting for the rest of their team to meet them there. Ruby and Blake had a different class at this time, something that Weiss hadn't realized would be bad until she was stuck alone with Yang Xiao Long, the very girl who may be out of a soulmate in a week.
She had been trying to be civil, as she didn't want to cause the girl any untoward emotions just in case Blake decided to go through with her decision. Weiss may be cold, but her heart isn't made of stone, and the part of her that ached for happiness felt nothing but sympathy for the unlikely pair—and hoped dearly that Blake made a different choice than before.
"Yes...?" She mumbled, confused. "Was I doing it incorrectly?"
Yang bursts into loud bouts of laughter. "Only you Ice Queen, only you." Her shoulders shake as she fights her giggles.
"Don't call me that." Weiss stated flatly, wincing a little inside. It was hard being quote on quote, 'nice .'
"Now that's more like it." The blonde girl winked playfully, and for a moment the heiress' eyes are drawn to the place where their strings connect with each other. "What are you lookin' at?" Yang interrupts her thought process, tilting her head and watching her with curious violet eyes.
She wonders if she knows that Blake's aura is the same color as her eyes. Weiss considers her for a moment, and wonders what might be gained by telling Yang this information. (And then she despised herself a little more than before, deciding that she didn’t care what she got out of this, didn’t care what repercussions might come, and opened her mouth to tell her.)
“It was just… I was wondering if you noticed that Blake’s aura is the same color of your eyes, and vice versa.” Weiss managed to make her voice sound nonchalant, an accomplishment that makes her inwardly cheer.
"Oh um." Her face goes a little pink, and she finds that Yang is looking uncharacteristically flustered. "No... I didn't know that." She ruffled her hair a little. "How did you know that?"
"Magic." Weiss stated dryly, turning away from her. She wonders if her ‘nice-ness’ quota was filled for the day. Maybe she should start making a chart, it would certainly improve her overall behaviour—perhaps it would come in handy.
"Weiss!" Yang whined a little. "How come you know more about my partner than I do?" She's pouting a little, and a flicker of genuine sorrow makes a home in her usually jubilant features.
"We got into a fight, our aura's were less than pleased." Weiss says, not necessarily lying. "She detests my father and made the mistake of comparing me to him, I got rightfully offended."
"That doesn't help me at all though." The blonde girl says, sighing. She leaned back into the bench laying her head on the stone surface away from her teammate. "I know I have to be patient, and wait for her to open up, but it's so hard sometimes, you know?"
Weiss said nothing, flexing her thin washed out fingers. "No. I'm afraid I don't."
Yang snorted. "Right. I forgot who I was talking to for a moment."
"I somehow doubt that." The heiress responded, tone softer than before. She looked at Yang from her position above her, "What do you gain by asking me this? Blake gets along better with you than anyone else..." She tilted her head, frowning. “Trust me.”
"But you two talk a lot, don't you?" Yang asked, "Nora told me that she thought you two were close, or something."
Weiss considered throttling the other girl when she next saw her. "We aren't that close, Yang. Not to mention she pretty much despises me, I sincerely doubt that she could ever—"
"She doesn't hate you." Yang interrupted, sitting up and looking surprised. "She could never."
Weiss laughed at that. "You don't have to try and spare feelings where there are none, and if you believe she does not hate me as a person that’s fine—but it is no secret she loathes everything I ever stood for." She flicked some pale hair out of her cold eyes. "She talks to me out of necessity more than anything else, I don't know if you noticed, but she's more willing to encourage you and your sisters antics than spend any real time with someone like me."
“What?” Yang looked dreadfully confused. “That doesn’t…” She frowned, an odd expression on her face, and a look of understanding passed on her face. “Do you even have any real friends?”
“It’s quite frankly none of your business.” Weiss tilted her head. “Why do you care, exactly?”
“You’re my teammate.” Yang explained easily, shrugging her shoulders. “Not to mention my little sisters partner, if I’m going to have to tolerate you throughout the next four years may as well make sure you have people to bother that aren’t me.”
“How kind of you.” Weiss turned away. “Either way, you shouldn’t worry about it, any sort of friendship I make here is temporary.”
“Is it because you hate everyone?”
“I don’t hate—”
"Now that I think about it, it seems like you hate a lot of people." Yang said, brows furrowing, her eyes seem to catch fire for a moment. “Weiss, can I ask you something?”
“I have a feeling you’re going to ask no matter my response.”
“Why do you hate my sister?”
She blinked, watching her teammate with confused and suspicious eyes. "I don't." Weiss stated, a frown beginning to make its way onto her face. "Does it seem like I do?"
Oops.
"Uh, yeah!" Yang says, frustration making her eyes shine red. "You're always making her doubt herself, and you always seem to be playing hot and cold—she can't make any sense of you!"
"Apologies." She stated coolly, looking away from her. Weiss really was going to have to get better at the whole, 'sensitivity' thing.
"I'm not the one you should be saying sorry to." Yang huffed a little, eyes turning back to their normal color. "Now, are you going to tell me why exactly you treat my baby sister like crap or am I going to have to punch you in the face?"
"How about neither?" Weiss crossed her arms.
"How about both?" Yang retorted snidely. "Just spit it out, Ice Queen."
"Don't call me that."
"You're funny, making demands from no position of real authority." Yang snorted, rolling her eyes. "Bet that kills you—my baby sister beat you out for team leader because Ozpin saw that you're nothing but a selfish, egotistical—" Yang ranted, her anger making the air around her scorching.
Weiss watched with tired eyes, and began to rub at her wrist—the spot where Yang’s string had seen fit to tie itself. "Are you done?" She sighed, crossing her legs out in front of her.
"Not even close."
"Look, do you want to know or not?" She groaned into the palm of her hand.
"Well yeah! I'm going to punch you in the face eventually, I just need to make sure it's for a good reason!"
Weiss wanted to dig a hole and hide in it for eternity.
"Look I'm... difficult." She started. "Or, I was difficult to Ruby for no real reason you'd believe—which isn't the point anyway, the only thing you need to know was that it is so stupid I will always look back and wonder how much of dunce I had to be to succumb to something I promised myself never to succumb to." She gripped at her skirt, the material bunching between her thin fingers. "Now that I've realized how terrible I was being I'm trying to be... nicer, but it is clear that if you believe I actually hate her, I have not been succeeding."
"You really haven't." Blake quipped from behind her.
Yang jumped while Weiss shrieked.
Ruby, blushing a little, waved at them sheepishly. "Hey, Weiss..."
She pinched the bridge of her nose, before glaring at Blake.
The teenager shrugged. "Take it as a lesson never to confide in anyone ever again."
"Blake, no—" Yang started.
Weiss surprised them all by laughing. Her eyes shone a little, and she pretended she didn't feel the strings wrap tighter around her. "I'll keep that in mind, Belladonna."
“Weiss.” Blake started softly, after a moment. The air was charged suddenly, and Weiss felt her stomach begin to churn in anxiety. “I have an answer for you.”
She went still. “You said you’d give it more time—”
“I don’t want you to do it anymore.” Blake said simply, before pausing, as if realizing that Ruby and Yang were still there. “Ah, should we speak in private?”
Yang’s eyes narrow slightly, flickering from Weiss to Blake.
“If you think we need to.” Weiss fidgeted. “But if I don’t need to do it anymore I don’t need your reasoning, I’m just…” She paused, gritting her teeth, she could be nice—she could. “I’m happy that you’ve decided to pursue a… kinder path.”
Blake furrowed her eyebrows, smiling a little disbelievingly. “So you have been practicing being nice.”
“Yes! Is it working?” Weiss asked hopefully, not quite able to make her voice sound unaffected.
“Not at all.” Blake grinned. “Maybe you should join a sensitivity class.”
Weiss sighed, burrowing her head into her hands. “But I’ve been trying so hard.”
Ruby’s laughter interrupted the two of them. It was a soft sound, much more genuine than Weiss had heard previously.
“It’s okay, Weiss!” Ruby said with a grin as Weiss peeked out through her fingers. “If you have to take the class then so do we!”
“Yeah, no thanks.” Yang interjected
“That’s not happening.” Blake added.
“You guys!” She spun on them, placing her hands on her hips and pouting. “We’re supposed to be a team!”
Weiss was once again caught off guard by Ruby’s earnestness. Was… was this an act? Could it be possible that her partner simply was the type of person to show kindness without desiring something untoward in return?
She could never be sure, not when their strings refused to tie together.
But she could at least show that kindness in return.
“Thank you, Ruby.” She smiled, and it was one of the first real smiles she’d worn in months. “I appreciate it.”
Ruby’s beam was brighter than all the stars combined. “No problem, partner!”