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Snowshoe Shipping isn’t that far of a walk.
“Contact!”
It wasn’t supposed to be, anyway, from the musty old pub-turned-forward-operating-base established by the Happy Huntresses. Turns out travel time’s harder to calculate adjusted for Grimm-infested streets and routine stops to direct straggling civilians towards safe haven.
“Everyone pick a pothole — fill ‘em, then kill ‘em!” shouts May Marigold, who could certainly be having a better day.
They aren’t actually potholes, not that one could easily tell the difference with the quality of Mantle’s roadwork. Whilst the majority of the Grimm horde surging into the city are sweeping in from the sky, or flooding through the massive breaches blasted in the city walls, the myriad unsecured mineshafts and sewer lines underfoot are just as valid a vector for the beasts to pour through. Centinels, especially, with their proclivity for boring holes, right up out of the asphalt and spewing into the streets.
“Weiss! Blake! Checkmate!” Ruby Rose, flipping her switch to Leader Mode, gathers two of her team close-by to quickly coordinate what team attacks they have at their disposal without their final member, isolating a massive broodmother before it can rally any more of its spawn.
Nora Valkyrie unloads a pair of grenades from Magnhild and underhands the munitions to May, who vanishes from sight, only for a swarming tunnel surrounded by an impenetrable wall of hostiles to seemingly explode of its own volition. The Happy Huntress pops back into existence amid the smoldering forms, spearing one last straggler with her crossbow-staff.
The redhead, taking the louder and prouder approach to the same, overhead slams her warhammer onto a tangled trio of wriggling arthropods bursting from a hole like a brutal game of whack-a-mole. Carried by the momentum from the strike, she vaults skyward and transforms her weapon to unload the last loaded grenades into the tunnel. Their cheery pinkish smoke merges with the sooty residue of dissolving beasts until the cave beneath caves in hard.
Far above, Penny Polendina zips about on rocket-feet, the newly-minted Winter Maiden diving to the remainder, blasting Floating Array’s blinding beam of burning green down into the dark and paving them over with a thick sheet of magically-conjured ice.
It was supposed to be a quick walk. An hour, tops. So much for that.
Maybe a mile left to go, at most. One can practically see the massive warehouses demarking the edge of the Crater district from here. Literally see it, even, if you're a flying robot girl who can rise over the rooftops for a drone's-eye view. And yet, for all the urgency and collective drive among the group to push onward, to not brook any further delay, they find themselves puttering to a halt in front of an abandoned Feldgrau's 24/7 Huntsman Supply chain.
As their appointed Mantle tour-guide, May'd prefer to keep forging forward, and if she could hazard a guess, some of the newbies she's escorting are feeling the same. She can practically FEEL the 'suck it up, we're almost there!' coalescing in her throat, but... she's under standing orders from two of the most important people in her life not to destroy herself for the third. No matter how much they all need her back. Besides, she has to concede there's extra exhaustion involved getting from Point A to Point B when every ambient whud of dislodged snow or rattle of a crumpled can could preface a new snarling swarm of death.
The building’s facade has already been defaced with informational graffiti of varying levels of legibility. An ‘X’ for a cleared area, noted with numbers for wounded and casualties (thankfully, a mere two and zero respectively) and a struck-through Beowolf head for a lack of Grimm packs within. Then, the less useful additions, such as an admittedly relatable ‘FUCK IRONWOOD,’ and a crude facsimile of the soaring avian crest of Robyn Hill, even if it IS a little lopsided, with a wonky wing on one side. May smiles sadly.
“If it’s been tagged, it’s been tossed, but you never know what someone might leave behind.”
"Yeah! We're not stalling, just... scavenging for valuable items for the mission ahead! OSP procedure!" chimes Ruby, "Let's go, team!" No one could claim she's lacking in spirit. But at the same time... it's. It's an empty pit-stop shop. One already raided, no less. Not like they're going to find a big, shiny new gun left untouched in the back, or a trail of interesting audio diaries for environmental storytelling.
The motley gaggle of huntresses all filter into the store, some gravitating towards the ransacked racks, others simply searching for a place to put their feet up. Ruby and Penny take off towards the weapon maintenance section, Nora to the B4-U-Leave snack shelves, Weiss to the drained dust stocks. Blake Belladonna slows to linger near the entrance, still staring out into the snowy streets. As May passes, she accidentally nudges the younger huntress with her shoulder, angling to knock her out of that all-too-familiar fugue.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be in and out, and get you back to your beloved blondie in no time,” she says smarmily, Absolutely Not Projecting Her Own Worries onto this other girl. Whilst it's not like she ever saw those two straight-up sucking face before the party split, she knows there's something going on between them.
The feline faunus’ upper ears shoot for the ceiling, then splay flat as she lights up with embarrassment. "We're not--! She and I never--" Blake shoots back, quick to recover her own flat tone. "You’re one to talk. Aren't you all-in on this plan for a certain blonde, yourself?"
The Happy Huntress and the faunus swiftly devolve into a spirited silent conversation, composed of countless quirked eyebrows, suspicious looks, a flailing of hands, pointed gestures towards the neck, blatant sapphic blustering. Takes one to know one.
Eventually, their little game of mutually-accusatory charades reaches a stalemate, and the two both skulk into the store and out of the wintry wind, deflecting from their own pining by pestering the others.
"B-besides, we're not together-together, not like Nora and Ren," Blake says in passing, "Why aren't you getting on her case?"
Why nobody's getting on her case is that following the mere mention of Her Man, Nora's expression sinks, and she pretends poorly not to have heard, disappearing into an aisle of junk food much further in the back, in search of therapeutic empty calories. More trouble in paradise.
"Huh. What about you, Schnee?" May asks, indulging in further curiosity by fiddling with the cash register 'til it spits out its tray with a resounding ding. Wow. Not empty. She's actually proud of her town for that, or at least that they'd had the common sense to prioritize supplies. "Don't suppose you're raring to get back to someone special, too?
Weiss pries her eyes away from the far corner in which Ruby and Penny are once again finding an excuse to hold hands and whisper closely to one another, not that she's been counting of course, as her team leader uses some salvaged solder to patch up a nick in Penny's palm. Which is completely fine. "No! I'm... Not quite in the same situation, thank-you-very-much!"
Misinterpreting the clipped tone of her response for default grouchiness, Blake hums and shakes her head. "So much for Nice Weiss. Being back in Atlas is bringing back the Ice Princess act, full-force."
"Hmph! I was only slightly deserving of that nickname at first, and I've made great strides since then!"
May snorts. “Wow. Let me guess. ‘Princess,’ because you came from Atlas, born into money, and had some attitude?" The bluenette crosses her legs and gets comfy on the uncomfortable countertop. "Do you know how common a nickname that is here? Everyone from up top's called Princess, I get called Princess."
Blake's dry sass multiplies by untold magnitudes. "By whom, I wonder." The nerve! The audacity!
"I don't believe YOU get to act so smug," Weiss notes with a wry smile, "Or do I need to bring up what nickname Yang dubbed you the day she found out you were the daughter of a Chieftain from Sun?"
"Menagerie isn't one of the Kingdoms! We're not a monarchy; I'm-- I'm literally not a princess!" cries Blake, still the closest among them to actually being a Princess, who very intently turns back to combing the store's leftovers to soothe her fluster over the memory of her partner's teasing. Except. She doesn't get any work done. Because she's still thinking about Yang's sly grin and the glimmer in lavender eyes as that word slips from her lips, and-- Ugh!
The Happy Huntress brushes off some debris from the counter's surface and swivels, laying down flat with her arms folded to cushion her head, wrapped ponytail dangling offside like a fishing line. "Guess that makes three of us, then."
"Does it really?" Weiss asks, more than eager to drop the topic, if it means fewer reminders of her former reputation.
May shrugs, propping one of her feet up on the cash register. "Aside from the 'Princess' thing? I mean, let's get this straight. All born to wealthy or influential families..."
After a moment, Weiss begins to pick up and process the thread, now that she can see where it's going. "...Who ran away from home, for one reason or another, all because we wanted something different than we'd been dealt..."
"To become huntresses and freedom fighters... And this is where it landed us," sighs Blake, in conclusion, feline ears laying low. "At least you two had the dignity of getting kicked out, I threw away a loving home for nothing... For..." Blake starts to lag, listing off into memories of a man she regrets ever calling a mentor. Who gave her more trauma than teachings.
"Hey, to be fair, I didn't get kicked from the family 'til afterwards," May points out, before Blake starts to sink too deeply, dragging attention to her own dour past instead. "I was still in their good graces longer than I would have liked... You remember, Weiss -- I still had to show up to your big snobby Schnee parties with your sister." There's a pause, and she manifests a shit-eating grin from the ether. "Or did you forget about that again? That I was there?"
"I've already said I was sorry...!" Weiss pouts.
May, content to make her squirm, keeps rolling with the recollection from back at the pub, when the extended Beacon team and Happy Huntresses were catching each other up. Her Weiss impression is... quite a caricature. "What? Of the Atlas Marigolds? The Marigolds don't have a daughter your age--! Oh! I didn't mean--!" She snickers. "That's you. That's what you sounded like."
Folding her arms, Weiss hangs her head in somewhat-well-deserved humiliation. It wasn't exactly an inaccurate paraphrasing. At least the gods afforded her the sensibility not to blurt out the woman's deadname in surprise.
"In my very, very valid defense, you look, sound, and act quite differently; back then, you'd always seemed like just another one of those mindless socialites... So, playing the part as well as I was, I suppose. But always so clumsy! Did you really have to make such a scene?"
"A top-ranked Atlas student from the spec-ops track, clumsy? Are we talking... Ruby-in-heels clumsy? Jaune clumsy?" asks Blake, having uncovered a packet of trail mix with only one boot-print on its packaging, and started to snack on her prize while the gossip gets good.
"Jaune clumsy. This one--" Weiss flicks a finger towards May, who pats one of her own to her chest and opens her mouth in an exaggerated 'o' of shock. "Was always finding a way to spill something on her clothing, right in the middle of the banquet hall. Every. Single. Party! Champagne, shrimp cocktail, entire plates of hors d'oeuvres..."
Not insulted in the least, May hefts up where she's seated and swoons, bringing the back of a hand to her forehead. "Woe is me! I’ve stained this starchy suit I've been stuffed in, and thus now must away with haste, to leave the room for a very, very long time and take it off! Please, go on about your soulless flaunting of wealth without me!”
Weiss lets the Happy Huntress run out of steam with her dramatic reconstruction before she bothers to comment. "You know, Winter ALWAYS used to complain you were ruining her birthday galas… But I knew she liked the excuses. Not having to be the center of attention for Father. She hated it.”
“So did I, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do,” May shrugs. "But would it've killed her to have thanked me, if that's how she felt?" A pause, and a silent deliberation. "No, yeah, it probably would have."
Winter, assuredly, would have been killed in the attempt. Or at least clenched both teeth and fists the entire time, a vein popping out in her forehead. Possibly even challenged someone to a duel afterwards to defend her dignity. The military may have done wonders for schooling Winter's impulses, but Weiss had been there for those rare instances wherein her older sister lost control of those long-stifled emotions.
The musing on May's part continues, while she reaches behind and beneath herself to dig in the cupboards. "It's not like we lasted long before hating each other, back in the Specialist course, but I could always tell how pent-up she was... Sometimes, I wonder if she'd've ended down here with us instead of simping for the General, if your Dad hadn't been such a sack of shit."
"Hey," Blake cuts in, gesturing with a pretzel-stick. She lets her objection sit for a few long seconds before allowing herself a dry smile. "...You're absolutely correct, but you don't have to SAY it."
"No, no, she's well within her rights, as are you. As am I. It's taken entirely too much of my life to rationalize what my father did to my family, and its effects outside of just myself," says Weiss, moving to further sully her perceived poshness by rummaging in the same bargain bins as Blake. "He separated us, one by one, until our connections to one another were inextricably hinged on our mutual relationship with him. To think, my sister and I would have been able to support each other more directly, if he hadn't..."
The faunus hefts up from the half-shelf she's been lazing against and points out to Weiss just where she'd found her haul, crumpling up her empty bag and looking for a place to... Oh, right, apocalypse. She chucks it on the floor.
"And even after she got away from Jacques... we can't expect Ironwood didn't just exploit those same vulnerabilities." Blake grimaces. Kicks her crumpled bag further into the back. "People put up with a lot of abuse when they think someone's offering them a future, or an escape. And when they think they've already escaped, and anything wrong... is just the new normal."
"You said you were with the White Fang cell that went rogue, right?" May inquires, growing quiet, idly putzing around with a wire mesh basket of junk she's pulled from below. Old notepad, useless, mini-flashlight and metal files, less useless. "Was there nobody else you could go to about it? When you realized?"
Weiss leans over from her unsuccessful looting and nearly shuts down the topic, for her friend's sake, but Blake waves off the concern.
"No... It was. Well. It wasn't like you, or Weiss, where it was your real family hurting you, your real home you had to leave. I'd already hurt mine by going off on my own, and... all I had was him. Adam was my family, then." They've not had much time to talk, but even without the full story, the liquid pain dripping from the name alone conveys enough for May to nod in somber understanding as Blake soldiers on.
"And the Vale cell-- We should have been reporting back to High Leader Khan, until he cut us off , and... And I trusted her, respected her, she was practically my Aunt -- but... after everything Adam had begun to do while I supported him , what he wanted me to do... It kept me there, the fear of her, of my parents... Even when I started to know I wasn't where I belonged. Couldn't stay where I'd been with my parents, couldn't stay where I was with Adam... but for the longest time, I still couldn't run. Maybe that's where Winter is, right now."
Blake shuts her eyes and hauls in a deep breath, then wrinkles her nose at the sudden appearance of a sweet-spicy scent. May's uncapped a insulated, silvery-chrome fire-dust thermos, with the aroma of masala chai wafting from within, and extends it out to the younger huntresses.
"Fiona banned me from coffee today, so if you hate the brew, you know who to blame," May drawls, passing it on to Blake, who takes a few liberal sips to steady herself. "Always steeps it weaker than I'd like, too..."
Weiss gratefully accepts the thermos next, after her teammate's warmed up, taking a few moments to simply enjoy the fragrance of something other than smoke and spent dust rounds. "I suppose this just means running away to become a vigilante isn't all it's cracked up to be."
"Was for me!~" May cheers, about a decidedly less-than-cheery subject matter. "Sure, I... lost my home, the support of my family, almost all my friends, my money, my healthcare, my scroll plan, my safe and secure future as a Specialist..." she blithely checks off one by one, soon running out of fingers with which to count and abandoning the attempt. "But... no more suits." She shrugs, as if that's as conclusive as it gets. "...Oh, and, you know, innermost self-actualization and all that shit, but. Pff. That's nothing compared to never having to wear a tie again. For that, I'm with Robyn 'til the ends of Remnant."
"I'm sure Robyn will be glad to know your... deference to her is rooted entirely in the loathing of a particular item of clothing. And not... you know. Anything else," Blake jeers quietly with a crooked eyebrow, lowly enough for the subtle roasting not to be heard outside their trio.
May glares daggers Blake's way as she swipes back her thermos, maintaining eye contact and a threatening finger-point even as she takes another draught of her drink. They are NOT having this conversation now. There are CHILDREN present!
"...But I'm sure it's far easier to have faith in her plans," the faunus starts again, now that she's gotten her needling in, "considering... she can literally prove intentions with her semblance, any time, anywhere. Gods, if I'd had a semblance like that, instead of one tailor-made for running away... Maybe I'd've never gotten into that mess. Might've ended up as less of a mess myself."
Weiss touches Blakes arm sympathetically, giving it a pat. "I think we've come to the conclusion we're all... messes of some shape and size," she offers amicably, "and that we've been through enough not to judge one another in our mutual circumstances, and agree we're better off now... Right?"
"...Right."
"Riiight, great, we can start a support group," May trills, lifting her hands held together and spreading them wide like a banner. "Runaway Princess Anonymous. We'll meet on Thursdays, go to brunch, painstakingly vent our years of unshakeable trauma, do crochet..."
Further plans outlining the week-to-week activity structure and mission statement of their newfound peer-focused organization are dashed by the not-so-distant bellowing of arctic Beowolves, echoing around the knots of empty apartment blocks outside.
“I'm going to be honest. I’m starting to hate Mantle again, and NOT for the same reasons as my father always imparted…” intones Weiss, visibly deflating. Blake gives her an impassive hum while they gear-check, divying up some dust from Myrtenaster to top up Gambol Shroud.
"Shit, try living in it." May scoops up her crossbow-staff and vaults off the counter over to where the rest have already reassembled, Ruby heading the pack with Crescent Rose deployed in sniper mode. She pauses just until the first foe stops and sniffs the air, letting fly a solid .50 caliber straight into the crested bone plating of the Grimm Alpha.
"...Guess that's it for our first club meeting, girls; you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."
NEXT RPA MEETING: TOPICS OF DISCUSSION
- Semantics of 'Princesshood' vis-a-vis Menagerian recognition in interkingdom politics
- Honorary Membership Deliberation: Winter Schnee (?)
- Do You Two Think Ruby And Penny Like Each Other That Way I'm Just Asking As A Friend To Both
- Snacks