Out of the strong, something sweet. [Cinder + Yang, Yang/Blake]
The mail on her scroll had said to come to the fruitless tree.
Yang had wracked her brain for about an hour before deciding to get up and go to the forest. If Blake wanted to play weird word games, she was all for it, but she didn’t remember any of the trees having fruit. Ursi and Beowolves for sure, but no one ever went apple-picking in the Emerald Forest. It didn’t even have sap like the ones in Forever Fall.
Sunlight was still straining over the edges of the horizon by the time Yang got to the forest’s edge. Ruby had asked where she was going, nose-deep in a textbook on Dust, only to yelp and turn a bright red when Weiss pinched her shoulder. Yang responded with an absent wave, saving her sister the indignity of trying to explain. What Ruby saw in the Schnee heiress, she wasn’t entirely sure, but she wasn’t going to begrudge them for enjoying some alone time.
Yang checked the mail again, wondering if there was something she missed. Blake’s picture was beside the message, amber eyes focused away from whoever had been holding the camera. It must have been one of the portraits taken at Beacon, going by the silky black ribbon guarding the other girl’s ears.
Come to the fruitless tree. Six o'clock. I miss you.
They saw each other all the time. It was one of the best benefits of being on the same team, but just like Weiss and Ruby, Yang had to scrounge up every possible minute where she could actually be alone with Blake. A few awkward sisterly agreements aside about using the room on specific nights, there usually wasn’t long enough to do more than steal a kiss between classes.
Sure, it was breaking the rules to be out this late in the forest, much less without a teacher present, but Blake playing delinquent for her sake was really sweet. Weiss would be mortified.
Yang rolled her shoulders back as Ember Celica’s barrels popped open, the cartridges loading with a sharp click. She had no intention of giving Blake a fist full of fire, but there were plenty of Grimm wandering the woods that would love a free meal.
Her first thought was the temple. The columns were thick like tree trunks and had stones on top that could be like leaves. It was kind of a broken metaphor, but if Blake was trying to be poetic, she didn’t want to poke too much fun.
Starting off at a jog, Yang quickly got up to a full on sprint, relishing the blood that easily pumped through her veins, the warmth of exertion. She was pretty sure there was a growl or two deep in the underbrush, but nothing jumped out to ambush her. The forest was a lot quieter than she expected at night, really.
It was pitch black by the time she skidded to a halt at the temple, boots scraping roughly on the stone. Yang took a second to catch her breath, raising her arms up to the sky in a long stretch. In the darkness, she had to squint, hoping the glow of the stars would be enough for her to pick out Blake’s bright eyes. Maybe a little spark would help.
The aura of fire was barely a flicker, lasting long enough to cast light all over the boundaries of the temple but hopefully not attract anyone or anything’s attention. It should have gone out the second she dropped her focus, but a dollop of flame had stuck to the cracked floor like napalm and started to spread.
Yang frowned, watching as the fire zipped in a quick line, following the groove in the stone exactly. It made a sharp and sudden turn to meet the curved pattern engraved into the temple’s foundation, surrounding her in a massive wreathe of flame. Crouching down to prepare for a jump straight into the air, she found herself paralyzed by a pair of amber eyes, somehow penetrating the fiery barrier.
No, not amber. Gold. Gold like the metal in the heat of a forge, about to be destroyed and reshaped.
It almost looks like…a glyph, Yang realized a second too late, reading the design in the fire. The air was sucked from her lungs as her limbs went rigid in the trap, a black void filling her vision.
—
Her eyes hurt. They weren’t even open, but there was a twinge every time she tried, a sharp pain exploding through her skull. She’d taken pistol-whippings that hurt less.
Yang grimaced as she tried to move her arms. They were locked at her sides, although with a bit of force, she could at least move her shoulders up and down an inch. Not that it really did much good. The weight of the Ember Celica were still on her wrists, but there was no way to use them with her palms flush against the outside of her thighs. Shooting off whatever was binding her might work, or it might send super-heated shrapnel right into her legs.
Those were bound too, her muscles stiff from the calves up. She was definitely standing, something solid preventing any movement backward or down. Whatever was holding her didn’t budge an inch, no matter how much she flexed and strained.
Yang’s lids finally opened a sliver. The room was cast in shadow, the walls made of bare concrete. Only a candelabra danging from the ceiling provided any light, twisted brass arms holding up little cups of fire. A glanced down revealed the thick bands around her body, squeezing from the shoulders down, were made of the same metal.
“I’d ask if you were comfortable, but that’s sadly irrelevant.”
Yang jumped at the voice, spitting out a curse. It had come from behind her, but she hadn’t sensed anyone at all. The speaker’s identity didn’t stay secret for long, the deliberate click of heels against the floor leading up to a full view.
The woman’s eyes were the same as the ones she’d seen outside the fire, a bright gold that singed her with their stare. Black hair, more like an spattered oil slick than the ink Yang had lovingly compared Blake’s coloring to, framed a pale face made up of harsh angles. She would have been beautiful, but that gaze put in mind a Grimm’s bloodthirsty stare, waiting for a chance to strike.
Yang swallowed roughly; her throat was dry, tongue threatening to stick to the roof of her mouth. The words that left her were practically a croak.
“You’re…not Blake.”
The laugh that followed crawled up her skin like a lick of flame. “No, sweet thing, I’m not.”
“Then who the hell are you?” Yang growled.
Nails painted the color of dried blood were the only thing she saw before a hand wrapped around her throat and squeezed. Yang tried to hold her breath, willing what oxygen was left to stay in her lungs, but the grip tightened another degree, forcing her to cough and choke. The strained sound ended on a weak rasp, drawing an angry flush to her face. When her eyes flashed red, the fingers loosed their grasp, and she did everything not to wheeze in relief.
“Manners, Yang.” When there was no response besides a ragged breath, the woman smiled. “My name is Cinder.”
“Nice to meet you.” Yang put more ice into the words than one of Weiss’ backhands, but the tight hold didn’t return. As long as she sounded nice, apparently Cinder didn’t dole out punishments for sarcasm.
“We’ll be getting to know each other very well, I think.” Cinder withdrew her hand, briefly glancing down to examine the state of her nails. “Until your sister and the rest of your team arrive.”
“What do you want with them?” Yang asked through grit teeth. She had to think. Seeing red wouldn’t help here until she found a way to crack through these restraints.
“I’ll be the one asking the questions, Yang.” Cinder’s smile reminded her of a skinning knife. “First, I have a riddle for you.”
Yang’s brow knit in disbelief. “A riddle?”
“Why, out of the four…” The older woman’s fingers cupped her chin, forcing it to tilt upward and bare her throat, those nails ready to dig in and tear it out in a second’s notice. “…did I choose you?”
“What?” Between the hold and the fact that she was in dire need of some water, Yang’s voice sounded raw. “What kind of riddle is that?”
“An easy one, compared to others.” Cinder’s head tilted slightly. “Ask another question, though, and I’ll ensure you regret it.”
Yang’s first instinct was to snap back, to spit and snarl, but a few slow breaths cleared the haze enough for a moment’s focus. She had no idea why she’d be chosen as someone’s hostage out of team RWBY. Her sister was the prodigy, wielding that scythe with a skill that made Uncle Qrow grin. Weiss was the heiress to a massive Dust fortune and had to be worth a king’s ransom at that.
And Blake - Yang’s chest ached, wondering what the other girl was thinking right now - had been in the White Fang. There were plenty of people and organizations that wanted revenge against the Faunus, or would use one as a bargaining chip. Her anger flared again at the thought, her body instinctively straining against the metal bonds.
“I don’t know.” The sentence grated in her throat.
“No?” Cinder crossed both arms. “No idea at all?”
“Pretty sure you made the wrong choice, actually.” As much as she didn’t want to imply the older woman should kidnap someone else, gaining a little verbal footing back felt good.
That laugh again, like a caress and a slap all at once. “I’m sure.”
Cinder took a step back, one finger placed against dark lips as if in contemplation. “Since this is the start of the game, I’ll give you the answer this time.”
“How…generous.” Yang muttered.
“Very.” Cinder smiled. “I chose you to make the foundations of your team crumble, Yang. Your sister Ruby is younger, immature. She has a great deal of innate talent, but not enough discipline to keep from chasing after you at the first sign of trouble.”
Yang’s jaw tightened, baring her teeth. It took biting down on her tongue hard enough to taste blood to stop herself from threatening to put fifty rounds through Cinder’s chest for daring to talk about her sister at all.
“Kidnapping Weiss was possible, but the disappearance of the Schnee family heir would attract so very much attention. She’ll come after you by herself, not with the force of the company behind her.”
Another pause followed. Cinder reached out, twisting a strand of blonde hair around one finger. Yang’s teeth ground together, but pulling away would just encourage the older woman to tear it out.
“And your lovely Blake. I’m afraid a Faunus disappearing wouldn’t raise enough of a stir at all. Your team might seek her out, but eventually the authorities would forget. Not worth the trouble it would take to steal her.”
Yang trembled with rage. There was a creak of metal around her limbs, prompting her to put all her energy into another attempt. No matter how much she struggled, though, the bonds refused to bend, and Cinder was watching her with barely veiled amusement.
“You’re the strongest among them. Raw power, the flame inside you that nothing will quench. I know it so very well. I took you, the bait just juicy enough for the hook, and your team won’t be able to count on your strength to save them.”
Cinder tugged. The sharp pain as her hair was yanked out was nothing compared to the agony of fighting the forged straps that held her, but anger fueled the struggle inside her until Yang felt like her ribs were about to crack, her shoulders threatening to pop out of their sockets if she forced them outward any harder. There was a screech, a scream of metal, but it was her boots trying to break through the plate beneath them to no avail.
The older woman’s voice was like a needle right through her brain, piercing through pain and rage alike. “Next time I have a riddle for you, Yang, I expect a proper answer. If you don’t have one, I’ll take my pound of flesh, and that would sadden everyone, wouldn’t it?”
She didn’t bother to answer. Slumping against the cage - what else was it but that - around her, Yang simply stared past Cinder’s shoulder as if the older woman wasn’t even there. Her body ached, the sort of pain that warned of bruises about to break across her skin in a riot of color.
“I’ll be back tomorrow, Yang. Think on your future, will you?”
Cinder stepped past her, the lock of her hair still in hand. From behind there was the long grind of gears and metal - a door, if she had to guess. It closed a moment later with the same drawn-out sound, followed by a dull noise of a lock sliding its pins into place.
Yang took a breath to steady herself, looking upward. Two of the arms of the candelabra had gone out. She wondered how long it would be until the light was snuffed completely.
—
tl;dr I made Yang into kind of Samson, Cinder into kind of Delilah, and I have no idea where this is going. I have a notepad of references for this silly thing.
