Weiss Schnee
-----
'Focus, Weiss,' Weiss thought and wielded her rapier, Myrtenaster. 'Ignore all worldly distractions. Discard any lingering thoughts. Imagine what I want and call it to my side.'
Divine white manifested in the grass for the hundredth time this week, expanding forth her family's crest encircled by four revolving swords, arrows, and snowflakes that rotated faster and shimmered brighter in conjunction to her Aura output.
The glyph flickered.
Teeth clenched, Weiss battled the imbalance, but the glyph continued fluttering in and out of sight until diminishing completely from existence.
Every spare bit of energy left was burnt to refrain herself from setting the entire training field up in flames. Endlessly summoning nothing knew how to strike where it hurts. How come it was so easy for Winter while Weiss struggled to keep the glyph alive?
Failure was not an option.
"It appears you are angry," said a voice she could recognize from anywhere. "Perhaps, I should return another day."
"And where do you think you're going?" Weiss side eyed the First Guard. "I called you here for a reason, didn't I?"
"You did mention my assistance was required." He surrendered as if she held him at gunpoint. "Other than informing me to bring my weapons, the specifics were quite vague, might I add."
"My summoning."
"Apologies," Stiofan frowned, "I haven't the slightest clue of how I may assist."
She jabbed his combat vest. "Don't play coy with me, Stiofan. You helped Winter with her summoning, so why not me?"
"It so happened to be a coincidence Winter improved her ability during our sparring sessions." He hummed. "Nonetheless, I suppose I can be of service."
"Good." Weiss mused several possible ways they could train. "Do you remember any key things my sister did or said?"
"Although she was quite a stubborn opponent, who occasionally lost her temper," he closed his eyes in thought, "Winter strived for the most. Our sessions were certainly fruitful, considering she learned to channel those emotions in combat."
Weiss nodded, mentally scolding herself for losing composure earlier.
"Her Semblance was second nature." His expression took a reminiscent trip to the past. "Thoughtless yet elegant."
The admiration parting along those words left a bad taste in Weiss' mouth. So what if Winter was a prodigy student at Atlas Academy or an even better Specialist for the Atlesian military? Either way, it didn't change the fact it felt like Stiofan pegged Weiss a tier lower than her own sister to a certain degree.
Weiss brandished her rapier. "Show me."
"Pardon me?"
"Teach me how Winter did it."
"I see. If that is what you wish. . ." The First Guard exhaled. "Relax and straighten your spine. Posture is very important."
"Of course." She did as he said. "Everyone knows how basic—"
Electricity zapped where his hand overlapped her own, and the way his body molded against her seized her lungs.
Weiss reclined to find those gorgeous teals and hastily snapped forward, cursing at how palpable the growing heat would appear on her pale cheeks.
"You're rather tense," he said.
"I'm f-fine." She fought the urge to melt in his embrace. "Let's hurry and p-proceed with training."
"Very well." He pointed in front of them. "Cast your Semblance. I will do my best to aid you throughout. I cannot promise anything more than that."
"That's more than enough." Weiss activated another summoning glyph. 'Because you're one of the few people I believe in most, Stiofan.'
The summoning glyph glowed and spiraled to Weiss' will. She jutted her rapier and imagined The Armoured Knight she defeated not long before gaining entry into Beacon.
'Please work,' Weiss thought. 'This can't be all I can do.'
"Remain calm and focus on the task at hand," Stiofan said.
The glyph flickered once again, disappearing and appearing in rapid succession.
Weiss snarled at the inevitable outcome that enjoyed seeing her fail.
Stiofan tightened his grip. "I suggest you steady yourself."
"Can't you see that's not going to work?" She jammed the rapier in the ground and released her reserves. "It needs more Aura!"
"Using more will take you to nowhere other than a bed." Stiofan grasped her shoulder. "Why not indulge in a momentary respite? We may return when the fog clouding this session has been lifted, yes?"
The concern in his gaze was a strange sight.
Being a Schnee and future heiress of the SDC has brought many people to her doorstep, usually leeches claiming to be friends or rivals trying to crush her name below their boot.
Nobody ever looked at her with genuine affection free from deceit and manipulation.
Father's a lost cause. Her little brother, Whitley? Definitely not. Mother hasn't been seen without a bottle in years, and although Winter's cares, she's too stiff to show it.
Klein, the greatest butler on Remnant, always supported Weiss in every possible way since she was a child, but his duties prevented them from spending more time together than she hoped.
As of now, Ruby, Blake, and Yang are so far the closest to Weiss' heart. However, only Stiofan could make it race.
Weiss dismissed the glyph and plucked Myrtenaster from the grass.
"Come, now." Stiofan escorted her to the nearest bench. "Let us rest there."
They surveyed the exchange students sharing the training field underneath the bright lights.
Weiss singled out a woman in a grey turtleneck and lavender coat and the way she nailed several bullseyes in a row with her crossbow, a potential candidate worth scouting for the Vytal Festival Tournament.
"Tonight will certainly be an eventful evening," Stiofan said. "Yang's idea of sleepovers delivers an excellent ambience for the festivities tomorrow."
Who could forget?
While Jaune and Ren stayed the night in Team RTLS's room, Pyrrha and Nora were coming over to her room, and jubilation caressed Weiss like a fresh breath of Atlesian wind.
Because of her rather difficult childhood, it was near impossible for Weiss to make friends let alone have fun with others, so this sleepover was a welcomed change she actually looked forward to for once.
"And the dance is all well, I presume?" Stiofan said.
Weiss stiffened and mustered the greatest poker face ever. "It's perfect. Everything is going as exactly as Yang and I planned."
Truth be told, working with the blonde was a nightmare.
It was a miracle they got anything done. For one, deciding on a piece of decor or making arrangements without arguing and settling on a compromise was a fool's errand, but that was the least of her worries at this point.
Weiss didn't have a date to the dance!
All those precious hours making a party just to admire it in a corner while everyone else benefited from the fruits of her labour? Nuh-uh. She'd rather keel over and die than let that happen.
However, luckily for her, the solution to that problem currently sat right beside her.
"A-about tomorrow," she said and fiddled with the hem of her combat skirt, "is there anyone in particular you have in mind for the dance?"
"As a matter of fact," he cleared his throat, "I have not."
Rising hope slid her closer to him. "Is that true?"
A nod conjured butterflies inside her stomach.
"In that case, Stiofan," she said, "t-there's a matter requiring your utmost honesty."
"Very well." He lent an ear. "Whatever it may be, I will be truthful as I can be."
"Will you accompany me to the dance?"
Weiss clapped her mouth shut and averted her eyes, bending herself backwards to process the fact she actually blurted it out.
'Oh, my goodness!' She scrambled to salvage any chunks of dignity sinking to the bottom of the sea. 'What in the world am I doing asking him to the dance?! He's a bodyguard for my family's company. I'm the heiress. Of course this wouldn't work well in the first place!'
"How nostalgic it would be, Weiss," Stiofan said with a sliver of a smile.
She perked. "Excuse me?"
"Remember when my father was the Captain of the SDC First Guard?" He chuckled and watched the darkening sky. "Whenever possible, I always accompanied my father to the Schnee Manor as he performed his duties, and we often enjoyed ourselves together."
"Of course." Her head tilted. "How could I ever forget?"
Stiofan sighed. "It also reminds me of both your and Winter's elation whenever I arrived. How lonesome must you two have been?"
"I wasn't lonely," Weiss said too quickly. "There just weren't many people around, okay."
He stifled his mirth. "I was your first friend, no?"
"Hush you."
"How about when you asked the headbutler, Klein, to tend to the piano as we shared our first dance together?"
Weiss gave him a suspicious look and played along.
"We'd spent hours stepping on each other's toes," she said, "while Klein taught us proper technique and form."
"Ah, yes." Stiofan snapped his fingers. "Can you recall what I said the evening we finally learned how not to step on our own toes?"
Weiss pictured the days they spent dancing like it was all they knew how to do, and the voice of Stiofan's younger self whispered into her ear.
" 'If you ever want to dance,' " she said from memory, " 'and no else will take your hand, I will always be there, ready and willing.' "
An air of certainties quelled her worries. How could she have ever doubted him? They may be bodyguard and heiress, but what came first above all else was the bond they shared, no matter their titles.
"You dolt." Weiss smacked his arm. "A simple yes would have sufficed. Do you have any idea how foolish I felt?"
"Apologies. The pink of your cheeks was mesmerizing."
She jumped to her feet. "Stiofan, how rude!"
He concealed his amusement by placing a knuckle over his lips. "I believe we've rested enough. How about we train another aspect of your Semblance and return to summoning another day?"
"Distracting me with training won't work. I'm holding you to that by the way." She examined Myrtenaster. "I've recently begun effectively applying lightning Dust to my glyphs, and once I master time dilation, you won't stand a chance."
"Is that true?" He unsheathed Red Fury and Yellow Fury and extended them to spear length. "I would like to see for myself."
Weiss manifested a yellow clockwork glyph beneath her feet, and she was gone in a blur, indulging in what may have been the most enjoyable spar of her life.
-----
Yang Xiao Long
-----
After a hard fought battle, Yang strolled into the dormitory, wanting nothing more than to flop into bed thanks to that stubborn partner of hers.
Punching her in the face wouldn't exactly be the best way to go about things, even if it was the easiest and fastest way to sleepy town, and since that was out of the picture, Yang was forced to use her last resort.
From experience, Yang understood history would repeat itself if Blake continued this path of obsession. So, despite it being tough to lay it out in the open, she let her heart speak and left no stone unturned, sharing enough bittersweet memories with her partner to carve into the walls of the lecture hall.
Yang spoke fondly of her surrogate mother, Summer Rose, the baker of cookies and slayer of monsters.
Then one day, after leaving for a mission, she never came back, presumably dying as a Huntress doing her duty. That's when Yang learned that her uncle's sister, Raven Branwen, was her biological mother who abandoned her as soon as she was born.
The obsession caused Yang to scour for any traces or hints involving Raven, and the only things she found were devastating repercussions and a bad dose of self-discovery and guilt.
All that was left to do was wait and see if Blake makes the right choice when the time comes, but while that's happening, the glaring issue of how Yang was supposed to convince Roderick to go with her to the dance was the next thing to check off the list.
When she reached her floor, Yang skipped on over to the room next door to hers and chewed on her lip, taking a handful of seconds to imagine how this would go down.
Screw it.
Yang knocked, and the person she wanted appeared.
"Hello!" Yang said in a sing-song voice. "You busy?"
"Uh, no," Roderick said and stuck his head through the crack. "Why? Is there some—"
"Quick," she hauled him outside, "come with me!"
He stumbled over the threshold. "Hold on a sec. I gotta close the door!"
Yang stormed past a perplexed, pink pajama clad Nora in the hallway, and dragged Roderick all the way to the rooftop.
"Okay, good." She shut the door. "Nobody's gonna interrupt us here."
"And why's that?" he said.
"Can't a girl hang out with a friend?" She sat at the edge of the roof and checked the rows of closed windows below her boots. "We haven't talked much since the semester started."
With so many things happening lately, it was impossible to find the time to kick back and have fun with people outside of her own team.
"Besides," she added honey to her words, "if you would so care to join me, you'd be in for a treat."
He groaned and laid beside her, hands tucked behind his head. "And what would that be?"
"Oh, nothing. I just. . . I just. . ."
Yang sighed and leaned back on her hands, memories sifting through the starry sky.
"Do you ever wonder what it'd be like if you never went to Argus?"
There was a pause, his eyes boring a hole into her side.
"I'd still be living with you and Ruby, probably." Roderick laughed a little. "Instead of attending Sanctum, I'm sure it'd be Signal, and I probably never would've met Pyrrha."
The way he said her name was so gentle and sweet it actually hurt.
"How did you become friends?" Yang said.
"What?"
"You and Pyrrha." She leaned an elbow over his stomach. "It's been bugging me for a while. I want to know."
He cocked an eyebrow. "My honest answer?"
"I'll break your face if it isn't."
Roderick took a moment before continuing.
"We met four years ago in the finals of our first Mistral Regional Tournament," he said. "Of course, she won, but we didn't actually become friends until we ran into each other again at Sanctum Academy."
"Were you in the same class together?" Yang said.
"Yup—even sat beside her, too. We talked a lot about our match, and then after that, we ended up training together." His face lit up. "And because I'm really good at keeping up with her, I made for the best sparring partner, apparently."
"Wow." She snorted and traced the golden patterns of his jacket. "No wonder you two were so good the other day in Goodwitch's class."
"Fighting with and against the same person for that long does that." A tender undertone flowed alongside his voice. "We pretty much know all there is to know about each other."
The amount of affection oozing out of him sparked envy in her.
"Is that all?" said Yang. She searched every crevice of his face for any other clue. "Just what exactly does she mean to you?"
"She's a person who I respect and truly admire. My best friend, my greatest rival, and the ultimate goal I've never been able to reach." Roderick touched his necklace. "Long story short, Yang. If it wasn't for Pyrrha, I wouldn't be who I am today."
Yang's heart grew heavy, and the fire inside her grew hotter.
What did she expect? Of course Roderick would meet new people and change during all those years he's been away. She should've known that, yet a part of her hoped he'd still be the same old boy who clung to her, depended on her, and was always there for her no matter what happened.
If anything, she should be proud to see who he's become.
However, she couldn't help but wonder: what if instead of Pyrrha, it was Yang?
Would she have the same relationship those two have, or would she have something more?
"But you know," Roderick said and grasped her hand, "there's this other girl I know."
The rising heat from within extinguished, and Yang's breath hitched.
"Hot headed and rash, she'd kick my butt whenever I made her mad." He sat up and flipped her into his lap. "She let a stray like me into her home, we'd play until the both of us were too tired to stay awake, and when I got hurt, she'd stay by me. . . Usually after picking a fight just to show me how to throw a punch."
The blood rushing through her veins was deafening.
"What I'm trying to say is that I could never imagine my childhood without someone who burns brighter than the sun." He swept aside a few strands of her hair. "You have a good idea who it is since you Xiao know not Long from now, Yang."
Yang stared.
Roderick scratched his cheek. "I know you like puns, but was it that bad?"
A fountain of laughter burst out of her, and once she settled down and caught her breath, she went straight for it.
"Roddy," Yang cupped his cheek, "come with me to the dance."
His nose wrinkled. "You know I can't dance."
"It's fine." She twiddled the cute grey ends of his black hair. "I'll show you."
He wrapped his prosthetic around her fingers and drew them away. "I-I don't know. . ."
She pouted. "Do it for me, pretty please?"
Roderick turned away, cheeks stained pink.
"If you do it," Yang puckered her lips, "I'll even give you that treat."
"Y-you don't have to go that far." He tried to get up, but she held him in place. "Mind getting off me?"
"Sure." She pulled him up. "Oh, and by the way."
Yang twisted, dropping Roderick but catching him right above the floor. The warmth of his minty breath caressed her cheeks, melding with her own, and the tips of their noses brushed, sending tingles down her spine.
The gold in his eyes glinted like jewels in the night.
"Tell me," she said barely over a whisper, "do you still not want to learn?"
Roderick glanced at her lips, and a shockwave punched Yang in the chest.
"I. . . " He took a deep breath and held her tighter. "I can try."
If it were possible, the amount of joy combusting in her belly would've been enough fuel to launch her straight to the moon.
"That's what I like to hear." She settled him on his feet. "Now, let's get moving!"
For as long as possible, they danced the night away, and Yang made sure to soak up every single second of it.