In The Blood ¼ [Blake/Weiss]

Debole: Literally “weak”. The foible, or the half of the blade closer to the sword’s point. The role of the debole is primarily offensive: apart from its obvious purpose in the thrust, the debole should be employed in its entirety when delivering cuts.

—

Through the tinted windows of the limousine, Vale was cast in grey. Washed out buildings blended into the washed out street, the shadows of passerby indistinguishable from one another. Weiss kept her eye on each passing corner, counting how many blocks they’d driven past. Father had refused to inform her where they were going, offering nothing more than a stern warning to pay attention.

She ran her thumb along the sweep of Myrtenaster’s hilt for the hundredth time. There was comfort in the steel laying heavy against her thigh, fingers daring close to the embedded barrel. In seventeen years, from the first day she thrust a dinner knife pretending it was a foil, Father had never permitted her to carry a weapon around other people, lest his daughter be mistaken for a common huntress. Their practices were always in private, grueling endeavors that lasted until her arm shook and her stance buckled. Thus Weiss had learned two important lessons; the value of endurance and that a Schnee was never supposed to lose. A double-edged sword when the competition was one’s father.

Yet he had ordered her to bring Myrtenaster tonight, out in public. You’re old enough now to understand every aspect of the business, to take responsibility as my heir. Weiss had assumed her entire life bred her to the responsibility of inheriting the company, but something about this meeting had her father bristling with both tension and pride. He had been silent the entire drive, occupied with sending messages back and forth on his scroll. In that aspect, it wasn’t different than any other night she accompanied him.

When the limousine rolled to a stop at the edge of the docks, Weiss frowned. Occasionally certain shipments came by boat, but they tended to be experimental ingredients or foreign guests. She wasn’t dressed for any sort of reception; practicality had been the order of the evening. No lace, no jewelry, no skirt; it was the first time she had ever seen her father without a tie bar and matching cufflinks. His suit was white with dull silver buttons, the platinum watch that always weighed down his wrist absent. The only sign of vanity was the Schnee family crest engraved on a single ring, set on the finger meant to signal marriage.

He turned off his scroll, waiting for it to compress into a small brick before sliding the device into a jacket pocket. Weiss stiffened instinctively when a broad palm pressed against her shoulder; contact was only used to emphasize a point, to correct. When she dared to meet his eyes, however, there was no anger in her father’s sky blue gaze.

“Do not disappoint me.”  He said firmly. “If you can’t make the beasts and rabble respect you, then no one worth speaking to will. Do you understand?”

Weiss understood enough to feign comprehension. The concept was simple, but he spoke in layers, expecting her to discern the heart of the matter in seconds. “Yes, Father.”

“Good. A Schnee adapts to every environment and then takes command of it.”

She longed to slap his hand away, to demand what sort of test this was, but his attention was already elsewhere, ordering their driver to park somewhere discreet. The locks on their doors clicked open and the touch was gone, her father exiting the car. It was then that Weiss realized her father hadn’t brought his own rapier. He possessed a hundred other blades, all forged with the power of Dust, but demanding that she come armed when he was not was nothing short of bizarre. Her fingers tensed around Myrtenaster before she slid out of the seat.

The building in front of them was non-descript in a rundown sort of way. Numerous holographic signs, some more broken than others, made for a nonsensical jumble of color in place of a name and only a single dark door allowed entry. The glass in the door had been crudely blacked out, preventing anyone from seeing more than a sliver of light from the inside. When a second car pulled up, Weiss spared it only a glance; her father’s bodyguards were little more than walking walls. She gave them as much attention as they gave her.

Four men in matching grey suits flanked them, short hair and dark glasses concealing any expression of individuality. The tallest among them spoke in low tones to her father, with all the grace of a mountain trying to be articulate.

“Sir, are you sure you don’t want to adapt the plan? The reports-”

“Either you’re competent enough to hold your post or you’re not.” Her father’s voice was like a flash freeze, the coldest edge of rage. “Which is it?”

The guard tilted his head down. “We’ll do the normal rotation, sir. My apologies.”

To think someone she had seen take a bullet for her father bowed so easily set Weiss’ teeth on edge. Strength without the will to use it was like putting a weapon in the hands of a child. The man had been a police lieutenant once, now he was a faceless toady. It disgusted her.

Two of the guards stayed outside to watch the perimeter, leaving one to lead them inside and the other to bring up the rear. Weiss matched her father’s pace up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway to a set of sliding double doors. After a second’s pause, the doors were drawn open, and Weiss heard the rasp of steel against a sheath. She couldn’t see past the width of the guard’s shoulders or her father’s height, but a glance between his polished shoes revealed two figures standing inside.

The moment they filed into the room, Weiss fought every urge to let her jaw drop. A shock of red hair initially drew her eye, but what emerged from it was another matter. Whether they were horns or a second set of ears she couldn’t discern from the odd shape, but there was no mistaking the man in front of her anything but a Faunus. A silver mask etched with crimson concealed the upper half of his face, but the mouth beneath it was set in a tense, displeased line. Being clad in black wasn’t uncommon, but the symbols decorating both coat and heavy gloves belonged to the White Fang, who would slit anyone’s throat for the crime of imitation.

His companion was Faunus too, but Weiss felt an unsettling wave of familiarity as she was pierced by amber eyes. Violet ears cut through hair the color of pitch, the latter bound back in a single heavy braid. She knew the face from a dozen wanted criminal warnings, displayed on advertising screens all over Vale. From the description, Weiss had expected a beast nothing shy of feral, not someone clad in a black suit. There was no tie, however, only the top two buttons of a crisp white dress shirt left open and revealing the dark lines of what had to be a tattoo.

When Weiss’ attention flickered back up, that bright gaze was still centered on her, unblinking.

“Mr. Schnee, I don’t recall you mentioning a guest.” It was the man who spoke, hand resting on the heavy pommel of a sword. The blade was sheathed, but that didn’t make it any less deadly if there was a barrel forged inside it.

“This is my daughter, Adam.” Her father gestured and Weiss put that much more steel in her spine. “I thought it was time she understood the full workings of the company. That includes our arrangement.”

She hadn’t struggled to hold a neutral face in years. Not since her father scarred her for threatening to run away from home and become a huntress, only to demand that she escort him at a party two nights later. Every person who asked about the injury was told it was the result of a youth’s fervor, an indiscretion. Everything was covered up, smoothed over, as if it hadn’t been his blade that sliced into her face.

Her father despised Faunus. A week didn’t go by without having to hear about how the bestial workers in the Dust mines were lazy at best and thieves at worst, useful for their ability to persist in the dark and little more. Those were high compliments compared to the venom he uttered about the White Fang, a family of psychopaths and saboteurs. Family was a loose word for the congregation of Faunus bloodlines, but they were bound by their amoral bloodthirst, the desire to see their kind raised above humanity.

Arrogance was their watchword, refusing to cover their animalistic characteristics in public while lashing out at any human who dared to mention them. High-ranking officers were said to be covered in tattoos from the neck down, inking their vicious accomplishments into the flesh for life. Time in prison was a point of pride, proof to humanity that they were implacable, no matter the severity of the punishment.

Weiss had read the news reports over and over, read the damages listed to Schnee holdings, not to mention every other fledgling company that tried to rival them in the Dust industry. Why then, was she standing in a room with her father and a pair of Faunus, one of which she was sure was a killer at large? What arrangement could possibly be made with the White Fang, renowned for their brutality and hatred?

“I admire your dedication to family, Mr. Schnee, but that doesn’t change the fact that our meetings have the strictest requirements for secrecy. Would you be smiling if I had brought six guards instead of Blake?”

Adam’s voice was unctuous, wrapping around each word like a snake, but the Faunus beside him glowered with anger. Weiss was aghast with the confirmation. Blake could only be Blake Belladonna, the shadow of the White Fang. Dozens of crimes had been connected to the name before the police had managed to obtain a single surveillance photo, much less a composite, but they hadn’t done any justice to that cutting stare. It felt like it was burrowing into her skin.

“No, but you know better, Adam.” Her father pointed to the sword the red-haired Faunus grasped. “Shall we get down to business?”

“Your guards first.” Adam countered.

Weiss watched as both men casually unbuttoned their jackets, revealing their Dust-enhanced sidearms. The weapons were taken from their holsters and deliberately set aside on the floor, just out of reach. They turned around and ran their hands down their backs and along the seams of their pants, making it clear nothing else was concealed.

“Now your daughter.” Adam said, head tilting towards Myrtenaster.

Her father had demanded she bring her sword, only to be ceremonially disarmed. Weiss bit her tongue on a retort, looking aside for confirmation. The nod she received in turn made anger boil in her gut as she bent her knees, refusing to lower her head as she put the rapier aside to her left, mindful of the color Myrtenaster was set on. White would serve its purpose in a close space, if something were to happen.

“Adam, if you would.” There was a hint of something like amusement in her father’s voice, but she couldn’t pinpoint the source.

The Faunus nodded, keeping the blade and sheath across upturned palms as he dropped to one knee, placing it in front of him. Weiss’ brow knit; it was a bold move, considering there was nothing keeping the sword from being swiped out of reach by her father’s foot.

“And now Blake.”

“Not until you see yourself disarmed, Mr. Schnee.” Adam’s smile was hollow. “I can practically smell the Dust trapped inside your coat.”

“I know your pet cat’s blade has reach far longer than this room, Adam. I have no intention of that ribbon ending up wrapped around my throat.”

There was silence, then. Despite where the discussion had turned, Blake’s eyes were still focused on her, as if there was no one else in the room. Perhaps it was meant to be a crude intimidation tactic, but Weiss couldn’t help the flare of irritation that went through her. No matter the motive, it was unbelievably rude.

This intricate dance had become nothing more than a stalemate. Her father’s arms were at his sides, giving no quarter, and Blake hadn’t even spared him a look, much less made a twitch resembling surrender. Weiss wanted to know what was going on, and she wouldn’t if someone didn’t swallow their ego.

“You could do it at the same time.” She said lightly, intoning a suggestion instead of an order.

“I like her already.” Adam chuckled. “How about it, Mr. Schnee? Surely you can come to common ground.”

“So long as you keep a tight leash.” Her father started to unbutton his jacket, and when it opened, a black harness was revealed, holding a dozen knives in place. The hilt of each was a different color, holding enough Dust inside to cause explosive amounts of damage.

They were withdrawn one by one as Blake pulled the dark blade from its sheath, setting it down with visible reluctance. The sheath itself was only put aside when her father took out the last knife, arranging it in a line on the floor with the rest. Weiss heard one of the guards let out a sigh of relief behind them. Idiot.

“Relax. You’re our guests.” Adam gestured before he sat down cross-legged, somehow making the movement graceful. Blake did the same, a fluid collapse of limbs that was mildly unsettling.

Weiss knew now why her father had insisted on a particular outfit, even if it left her looking like the poster child for a fencing tournament. Sitting as such in a skirt would be uncomfortable or awkward at best. It was an unfortunate realization as her legs crossed that she was the shortest in the room, even more of a disgrace that despite discounting the ears, Blake seemed to be the tallest by an inch.

“As I was saying,” her father began, folding his hands in his lap, “I wished Weiss to understand the importance of what we do here. I don’t want relations to sour when control of the company passes to her.”

“We could have easily arranged another meeting for that, Mr. Schnee. You can understand how the White Fang might be uncomfortable with a change in protocol. I’m sitting in a room with a girl my superiors haven’t vetted personally.” Adam said.

Weiss frowned, but her father rumbled with a laugh. “Adam, I am quite sure the White Fang has vetted my family and every person in my employ twice over. You just don’t like surprises.”

“No.” Blake’s voice was lower than Weiss had expected, clipped and tense. “We don’t.”

“Blake, please.” Adam seemed more entertained than annoyed. “The plans are the same, whether or not Ms. Schnee is present. I’d prefer to have things finalized as quickly as possible.”

“As would I.” Her father cleared his throat. “You’re going to see that the two trains going out tomorrow are derailed?”

Weiss’ eyes widened a degree when Adam nodded. “Once they’ve been stopped, we’ll recover your cargo and move it offshore. As soon as the police astound you with their incompetency and turn up nothing, it will be returned to the refinery minus our cut. Your company will be the latest victim of the White Fang menace, just like your rivals.”

“And we both benefit from a shipment of tax-free Dust.” Her father’s smile showed almost every one of his polished teeth. “Everyone who’s been robbed by you has seen their stocks tumble. They don’t have the liquidity to recover, but we do. They’ll be praying for a buyout.”

“We have two mining crews on standby ready to raise a bit of havoc if they’re not hurting enough to given in. That will cost extra, however.” Adam said.

“You’ll get your share. Just make sure they keep their mouths shut.”

Weiss swallowed past a knot in her throat. Her father had been cold, even cruel, for almost her entire life. She had seen the stress Faunus failure and sabotage had put on his shoulders, understanding when he poured an extra finger of whiskey in his glass or snapped at her to pay attention. It was stifling on most days, enraging on the worst of them, but deep down she had respect for the burden of running the most successful Dust company in Remnant, especially in her mother’s absence. If the Faunus had been on her father’s side this entire time, then what was his excuse?

“Now you understand, don’t you, Weiss?” His voice pulled her from the cold, sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s diplomacy that keeps the Schnee Dust Company together.”

She nodded stiffly, opening her mouth to offer some meaningless approval. The words caught in her throat at the sound of a heavy thud. Weiss jerked her head to the right, just in time to see blood blossoming from the center of one of the guard’s foreheads. His jaw dropped limply in shock, but it was the last movement of a dead man.

The next shot made a whisper of noise, sending her scrambling to flatten herself against the floor. It struck the second guard in the ear, bursting out the other side of his skull. Weiss stretched to reach for Myrtenaster as the room erupted into chaos, the precise aim of the sniper suddenly replaced with a hail of bullets. They were coming through the thin walls of the room, shredding through wood and drywall like paper.

Her hand found purchase around Myrtenaster’s hilt and immediately shifted the module to red, shielding her body with a crimson glyph of repulsion as her Aura flared bright. Something liquid was soaking into her shoe, and when Weiss managed to turn on her side, she saw it was her father’s blood. It flowed freely from a shot that had torn into his thigh, another ragged stain darkening the front of his pristine white suit. A knife was gripped weakly in his hand as he spat out a red froth, anger and shock battling for supremacy in his expression.

The gunfire stopped as suddenly as it began, leaving only the sound of labored breathing. Weiss scrambled onto her feet, only to see that Adam was sprawled out on his side, hissing in pain with both arms wrapped around his ribs. Blake was staggered, blood soaking the bottom of the Faunus’ shirt.

“Blake, you’ve got to get–” Adam wheezed.

“Get my daughter out of here!” Her father roared, visibly teetering on his knees. “If you half-bred mongrels are worth anything, get her…somewhere–”

“I’m fine, Father.” Weiss breathed, trying to figure out where to move, where to step. “I’m fine. We need to get you help.”

Adam kicked outward, shoe barely making contact. “Blake, get her, you fucking idiot–”

The Faunus got to both feet, ears twitching in what Weiss could only translate as an expression of pain. She was about to argue, to scream that she was fine, when all the breath went out of her body. Blake had rushed her like a Boarbatusk, nearly sending her flying over one dark shoulder. Something stopped her short, lungs burning to compensate for the impact, and it wasn’t until she saw the floor moving that she realized being carried by the Faunus like a sack of Dust. Her grip on Myrtenaster threatened to loosen, and it was all she could do to hold on.

Each jolting step made her dizzy, stealing the energy Weiss had for any protest. Her father was going to die on that floor and–another gunshot made her blood turn cold. It wasn’t from Blake’s weapon, which was strapped dangerously close to her face, but from behind them. She felt her gorge rise until Blake made it past the doorway, fresh air easing some of the immediate nausea. Concrete passed by her vision in a blur until they came to a sudden stop.

It was so much, so fast. The second Weiss was set down on unsteady feet, she bent over, bile stinging the inside of her throat. There was blood on her shoes and leggings, her palm so slick with sweat she could barely hold onto Myrtenaster.

“Get in the car.”

Weiss looked up in a daze at Blake, only to realize they had stopped near a black car. There was a chirp, high enough to hurt her ears, from the vehicle as it unlocked. The Faunus looked in as ragged shape as she was, bloodied and winded. She didn’t want to get in the car; she wanted to go back and help her father.

“I don’t-”

“I’m not asking.” Blake growled.

Fighting would only wear her out further, as much as Weiss wanted to see how the Faunus enjoyed the taste of her sword. She yanked the door open and got into the passenger’s seat, feeling her body go nearly boneless as soon as she did. Looking out the windshield into the darkness, a small laugh escaped Weiss’ lips as she saw ice start to climb up the glass, her Aura reacting out of sheer desperation.

Blake was in the driver’s side in seconds, the squeal of tires as they shot down the road making her wince. She could hear sirens in the distance, see flashing lights in the small rear-view mirror, but rather than being comforted, Weiss fought not to squirm. What good would the police be? Her father had been shot while in a meeting with the White Fang, bargaining with criminals for the benefit of the company. He would be arrested the moment they found a pulse. Everything was going to fall apart. She had to get her mind off it, focus on the here and now.

“Why did you tackle me, you brute?” Weiss glared at the Faunus. “I could have run.”

“I didn’t have time to argue with an heiress.” Blake snapped back. “You’re lucky we didn’t get shot on the way out.”

“Where are we going?” Weiss demanded.

“Somewhere safe.”

A sharp, sudden turn jostled her against the door of the car. Weiss cursed, reaching to find the seatbelt while balancing Myrtenaster between her knees. She didn’t want to let go of the rapier while she was in the car with a fugitive.

“You’re Blake Belladonna, aren’t you?” Weiss asked once the side of her head had stopped throbbing.

“Does it really matter?” The Faunus replied.

“Because that means you’re the same Blake who has kidnapped and killed members of the Schnee Dust Company for four years. The same one who has stolen weapon blueprints and enough Dust to set fire to all of Vale.”

Blake’s eyes narrowed. “Except now you know that’s not the whole story, is it?”

“Should you even be driving? You’re bleeding.”

“It clipped my side.” Blake said shortly. “And I doubt you have a license.”

More than ever, Weiss wanted to jump out of the car, but she hadn’t been paying attention to the route Blake was taking. There were no familiar landmarks, nothing she even recognized on the horizon. Her father had only let her shop in certain neighborhoods with an escort, given orders to drivers instead of allowing her to learn herself. Now he could be dead and she had absolutely no idea what to do.

“Do you think my father will…make it?” She asked softly.

Blake’s hands tightened around the wheel. “Can’t really say.”

Anger made her chest ache. “What do you know? Why did someone shoot at us?”

“Because anyone who’s ever touched a speck of Dust has had their arm twisted by your father or your grandfather, courtesy of the White Fang.”

It was strange, having the Faunus’ eyes off her, entirely focused on the road. The words were matter-of-fact, like the world knew the truth and she was just having the blinders removed.

“He told me he hated your kind.” Weiss said, half under her breath.

Blake shrugged. “I’m sure he did. It’s good politics.”

She didn’t have an answer to that. More than an hour passed before the car slowed to a stop outside an apartment building without any lights. It seemed entirely abandoned, but that didn’t keep Blake from pulling into the lot outside the complex. When the engine died, Weiss watched the Faunus let out a shaking breath. Whether it was relief or frustration, she couldn’t say.

“You’re not carrying me inside.” Weiss said.

“Then stay quiet and keep close.”

Navigating flights of stairs in the dark led to a bit more stumbling than Weiss would have liked, but Blake was nearly invisible in front of her, moving with soundless steps. When they reached the top floor, she heard the metal click of an automatic key and bumped into the the Faunus when Blake came to a sudden stop. It made her all too aware of how tall the cat was, nose sore from striking right between the bottom of both shoulder blades.

There was no scathing comment forthcoming, however, so Weiss refrained from offering one of her own as the door opened. Blake tapped a panel, flooding the room with light. Weiss squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment, willing her vision to adjust quickly. When they opened again, she found herself in a dreadfully small apartment.

A mattress without a frame took up one corner of the room, although it had sheets and mismatched pillows. The opposite corner was what had to be the kitchen, even if it was only a few scattered appliances and a counter with a sink. One sliding door appeared to be a closet, while the other door actually had a handle. Weiss prayed it was a bathroom, preferably with a shower she could stand under until all of this made sense again.

“This is somewhere safe?” She asked.

“No windows. Power is paid for off the grid. It’s technically condemned so the cops never want to poke their heads inside in case something falls on them.“

When Blake turned to lock the door, Weiss stepped out of the way, only to hear the key clatter to the floor. The Faunus was half hunched over, one arm shakily balanced against the door. Blood dripped from the end of a dark sleeve onto the carpet, slow but constant. There was a groan before Blake reached down, roughly recovering the key before shoving it in the lock and turning it.

“You said the shot clipped you.” Weiss said.

“In a few places.” Blake rasped. “Just get out of my way.”

“You’re the only one who can tell me what is going on.” Weiss took hold of the arm that wasn’t bleeding, tugging it over her shoulder. “And you’re bleeding on the carpet.”

It was an awkward shuffle to the bathroom, but once Blake was sitting on the floor, the Faunus’ injuries were obvious. Under the light, stains had spread entirely across nearly half the jacket, halting only to resume in a dark red splash across Blake’s white shirt. Weiss knew how to heal minor wounds with her Aura, but this looked far beyond her abilities.

She kneeled nonetheless, carefully propping Myrtenaster against the sink. Blake would have to sit up to draw whatever type of sword that was and the Faunus barely looked cogent enough to speak, much less fight. Stripping away the jacket was grotesque work, fresh blood covering her hands while the fabric with congealed stains stuck to itself. The shirt was nearly in pieces by the time she got to it, shredded from the bullets and her removal of the coat.

“Can I?” Weiss gestured to the buttons. Wanted criminal or not, she didn’t want to take someone down to their underclothes without permission.

“You sure seem determined to.” Blake let out a ragged breath. “Go ahead. We’ll see what the damage is.”

The buttons slipped against her blood-slick fingers until Weiss cursed, tearing the shirt all the way open. It came apart in rags, but that seemed to be for the best. Maybe she could clean up the wounds with the remnants.

Underneath, she’d expected something to make her blush, but Weiss was quietly in awe. Lines of black ink began at the hollow of Blake’s throat, beginning so many patterns it was dizzying. She could pick out various shapes - claws and crowns and flowers - but all-together it was a maze of tattoos climbing down the Faunus’ arms and torso. Dark, stiff fabric concealed Blake’s chest, but Weiss’ didn’t let her gaze linger. There wasn’t any blood there and this was already awkward enough.

The worst of it was the Faunus’ shoulder, which nearly had a chunk missing from the roundest part of the muscle. Weiss tried not to wince or feel ill as she looked; the other injury was a graze at the bottom of Blake’s ribs, bloody but minor in comparison.

“You’ve really never seen a White Fang before, have you?” Blake murmured.

“No, I haven’t. Not in person.” Weiss swallowed past another flare of nausea. “Should I just…bandage these?”

Blake nodded. “I’ll live. Just needs to be washed up. Hand me that cloth over there.”

“And you’re going to reach the sink how?” Weiss stood to grab the washcloth and turned on the faucet, soaking it entirely.

Once she’d squeezed most of the water out, she knelt back down and started to wipe the blood away that had dried across Blake’s abdomen. There was a core of rigid muscle underneath the tattoos, rising against her hand every time the Faunus took a breath. Old scars were hidden between the lines of ink too, difficult to focus on between the dark, impenetrable designs. The scraps of shirt weren’t the best sort of thing to use for bandages, but they worked well enough to wind around Blake’s ribs.

The Faunus hissed when her attention shifted to the wounded shoulder, but Weiss didn’t see a cabinet or anything else that might have a bottle of painkillers inside. Blood dripped freely as she tried to wipe away most of the mess, having to finally settle for wrapping it three times over until the stain was no longer visible.

“I think that’s all I can do.” Weiss said, wiping her hands on a piece of the shirt she hadn’t used.

Blake’s lips pursed. “Considering I was expecting you to run me through with that sword, it’s plenty.”

“In the morning, you’re going to tell me everything you’ve ever done for my father and who you think tried to kill us. Then we’re going to find out if he’s alive. Then-”

Tension tightened Weiss’ throat. Then, what? She would wish the Faunus fugitive she just patched up farewell and go visit her father in the hospital? Would she have to arrange a funeral? Would she be arrested? The trajectory of her life had been planned down almost to the day. Her dreams and desires had long since been cast aside. There wasn’t a back-up plan, much less for a conspiracy of this magnitude. Why hadn’t he told her the truth from the very beginning?

“Weiss.” Blake said. “That’s your name, right?”

“Yes.”

“Go to sleep then, Weiss. You’ll figure it out in the morning.”

She nodded before hesitating. “There’s only one bed.”

Blake leaned forward just enough to see past the doorway of the bathroom. Weiss kept perfectly still, ignoring the fact that her face was suddenly an inch from the Faunus’ throat. It really was a very small apartment.

“I’ll sleep in here.” Blake finally said. “It’ll save me the trouble of getting up.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You either won’t sleep or you’ll pass out and hit your head on the door of the shower.”

The Faunus blinked. “Your confidence is inspiring, Ms. Schnee.”

“Don’t–” Weiss felt a blush flare across her face as she stood up. “Just use my name. And take my hand before I change my mind.”

It took more stilted steps and the weight of Blake against her side to get over to the bed, but she wasn’t surprised when the Faunus simply collapsed against the mattress, head barely touching a pillow. The moment Blake passed out, exhaustion set into every inch of Weiss’ body, adrenaline finally taking its toll. She had to sit to find the right angle to take off her shoes with shaking hands, only managing to strip away her bloodstained leggings by virtue of sheer stubbornness. There was nothing to replace them, but finding the desire to care was more than she was willing to do.

When she finally climbed onto the bed, Blake was stone still. Weiss was about to reach out and feel the rise of the Faunus’ chest, only to hear a low rumbling sound. It was closer to a purr than a snore, thankfully, and proof that her makeshift first aid hadn't been too late.

Grabbing the folded blanket from the edge of the mattress, Weiss unfolded it and covered herself, although she wasn’t particularly cold. She had never fallen asleep next to anyone before, the tilt of the bed from Blake’s body weight on one side just as strange as the heat seeming to emanate from the Faunus.

It was just a temporary inconvenience. Everything would be overcome if she took the time to plan. If she had survived this, if Blake had survived, then surely her father would too. Weiss would have the truth from him, from everyone. Then her life would be on its path again.

The world would right itself, or she could make it.

—

Next Chapter: Forte

Author’s Note: AU where the White Fang is a Faunus organized crime syndicate that has been allied for generations to keep the Schnee family in control of the Dust monopoly. Didn’t want to spoil it immediately for the first chapter.

Inspired some by the Big Bad Cat AU, since a Blake still in the White Fang seemed fantastic, and then I wanted Blake with tattoos. Then it got complicated.