Chapter Text
Yang Xiao Long was one of the best guitarists in the modern music scene, a feat all the more impressive for having only one hand. She and her sister Ruby were rising stars in rock, having released four successful singles, and an album that nearly topped the charts within three years of their debut. Now, according to Blake's agent Ilia, they were looking to collaborate with other small artists.
And Blake was certainly a small artist. With only one EP and a handful of singles to her name, barely anyone outside of Menagerie knew she existed. Hell, people inside of Menagerie barely knew she existed. Only the folk who kept an eye out for indie rock artists could count themselves as fans, and even among that crowd she was still an up and comer. Regardless, she was popular enough to warrant a tour the past year, even if the venues were small and her time there short and to the point. Blake was a musician, that was for sure, but she hadn’t quite gotten the hang of being an entertainer just yet. There was an easy manner, a simple grace that most artists had even at her level, a grace and manner that the Xiao Long-Rose sisters had in spades. It was enough to make Blake jealous sometimes after she had too little sleep and too much to drink.
Yet they had sought her out, her specifically, for their collaboration. Blake wasn't exactly a household name, and so the sister's interest in her was surprising to say the least, though everyone said their musical styles would compliment one another. It was more of what Blake considered to be a personal conflict. She wasn't quite sure how a quiet bookworm from the big city was supposed to get along with a country bumpkin who had a prosthetic arm engraved with 'This machine kills fascists'.
Still, at least Blake knew the other person they were considering for the collaboration.
“I don’t know, Weiss. It seems like a bad idea,” Blake grumbled, only half paying attention to the video call on her scroll, most of her focus on her computer as she fielded emails.
“Blake, it won’t be that bad. They’ll just send you their thoughts on the song, we’ll all record our parts individually, and someone in Vale will put it all together. There’s nothing to worry about, you won’t even have to leave Kuo Kuana,” Weiss said matter of factly. She was currently in a dressing room before a performance, applying the last of her makeup while a hair stylist wrangled her long white locks. As Blake understood it Weiss was performing for the upper crust of Atlas tonight, which meant a lot of piano and arias rather than the rock and power vocals that Weiss had recently grown fond of.
“But I don’t sing their kind of music!” Blake groaned as she threw another handful of emails into the spam folder. “They’re all happy and upbeat, my songs are always depressing.”
“So you’ve been listening to them? Thanks, Ciel,” Weiss said as her hair stylist stepped away with a curt bow.
“Of course, what else am I going to do to prepare? They haven’t even sent me a title yet.”
Weiss shrugged as best she was able while applying eyeliner. “Just because they're famous doesn’t mean they’re professional. You remember when I tried to collaborate with Sun Wukong.”
“I remember the horror stories,” Blake said dryly. The short lived period of collaboration between Weiss and the Vacuan country star Sun Wukong had been fraught with poor planning and worse timing.
“Exactly. Just give it some time your agents will work out the details,” Weiss said and Blake felt her anxiety begin to fade away. Everything always seemed to fall into place when Weiss had a hand in it. Weiss' hair stylist, who was crazy enough to also double as her personal stage manager, leaned down and said,
“Five minutes, Miss Schnee.”
“Ciel, I told you to call me Weiss,” the star said in exasperation, then turned back to the video call. “I’ll talk to you later Blake. Let me know if they send anything over, okay?”
“I will. Break a leg,” Blake replied and Weiss smiled confidently before the video call ended. The moment the call ended Blake sighed and buried her head in her hands. She’d been waiting on something, anything, from her potential collaborators for nearly two weeks now. Maybe it was just because she was still small time, that might have been the reason for their slow response to her and Ilia’s emails.
She glanced over at her list of emails, finding another addition to the ever growing chain of irritated emails from Ilia and found her smile again. Her agent and best friend had always been one for quick action and quicker responses, and the lack of communication from anyone involved with the Xiao Long-Rose sisters was driving her up the wall. Blake had long since stopped reading Ilia’s complaints, they were more for Ilia’s benefit anyway.
As she watched the screen a new email popped into her inbox, along with an accompanying message that read ‘Look like spam?’. The email, [email protected], wasn’t one she recognized, but the subject caught her eye.
‘Video chat for colab?’
Blake clicked on the email cautiously, almost unwilling to believe that this was the contact she’d been waiting for. She had sent the Sister’s agent her personal email as a backup, another sign of her small time status to be sure, but she didn’t think that any of them were actually going to use it.
The email was casual and friendly, and clearly one that had been written by hand rather than the standard kind that Blake was used to receiving.
‘Hey Blake!
Or Miss Belladonna if you want, just let me know. It’s Yang, from Blazing Roses . Just checking in with you to see if you wanted to do a video call before we jump into the colab? It’s been really hectic for a few weeks, sorry no one’s gotten back to you sooner.
Ruby and I are free over the coming weekend if that works for you? Next week is a lot more free, for me anyway, so maybe we can talk then if you want.
Anyway, let me know what’s up.
Talk to you soon!
~Yang’
Blake stared at the email for a moment, dumbfounded by its simplicity. This had to be a prank, or a hoax. This wasn’t how things were done in the professional music industry. Still, the thread of hope that it was real and they could just get this over with strung Blake along and so she forwarded the email to Ilia with an accompanying ‘?’. By now Ilia would be asleep or too busy with her girlfriend to see the email, and so Blake closed her browser.
She considered turning on some music or trying to write something new, but the urge just wasn’t there. The creative flow hadn’t been in her bones for a while now. Her last tour, admittedly a small thing just around Menagerie, had drained her of most of her creative energy. Maybe the collaboration would be enough to get her out of this slump. Blake glanced over at the clock, seeing that it was already nearly midnight. Damn time zones, screwing up her sleep schedule, she grumbled to herself as she started to get ready for bed. For Weiss it was still eight o’clock, for Yang Xiao Long it was closer to five.
“Whatever,” Blake mumbled, pushing the email out of her mind. Ilia would follow up with it tomorrow, though she was just as likely to send it right back and tell Blake to take care of her own messes. As Blake finished up her nightly routine and fell into bed, she was just glad that there was a hint of some progress finally being made on the collaboration.
"No, you can't talk with them this weekend, you're busy," Ilia said, then held up a pair of shirts, "Which one looks better?" They always started their mornings this way, one of them wandering over to the other’s apartment to chat and have some tea. It was nice, a way to ease into the horrible workflow that made up the music industry.
"The dark gray one, like always. I know I have the charity gig in the morning and that quick thing in the afternoon on Saturday, but I should have time in between right?" Blake said, reviewing her schedule in her head. At the very least she remembered the charity performance, that one she was excited for.
"You're accepting the Menagerie Medal of Fine Arts, remember?"
Blake groaned as she heard that. It was an honor, of course, but she knew that Governor Sienna Khan would go on for hours beforehand. They knew each other personally and Blake enjoyed Sienna's company, but that woman loved to give speeches. They'd be lucky to get through the ceremony before someone fell asleep.
"And on Sunday you have that on air concert for MPR."
"Right," Blake grumbled, "so what do we do?"
Ilia sighed as she slid on her shirt and then the leather jacket she always insisted on wearing. It did make her look good, even Blake had to admit that. "I guess you're doing a one on one call with Yang Xiao Long this Monday.
"Can we make it Tuesday? I'm gonna be drained after the weekend."
"Their agent insisted on Monday," Ilia said with a shrug and then her face contorted into a half sneer, half frown that Blake knew meant Ilia was upset with something.
"What's wrong?" Blake asked and Ilia let out an exasperated sigh.
"Their agent is their father, their fucking father! How ridiculous is that?" Ilia said as she began to tie back her hair.
"You're my best friend, isn't that the same thing?"
"No, not even close. We're not related. This is nepotism or something." Ilia let her hair tie snap in place and glanced in the mirror. "How do I look? Do you think Pyrrha will like it?"
"She likes everything you wear," Blake snorted, "You're fine."
“She doesn’t like my favorite shirt,” Ilia said, toying with her jacket. Blake choked back a derisive laugh as she remembered that shirt.
“Oh, the purple one with ‘Pussy Slayer’ across the chest? Yeah, I wonder why Pyrrha doesn’t like that one.” Pyrrha was one of the most mature women that Blake knew, but the amazon of a woman always looked like she would faint at the very mention of sex. “If you’re that nervous, she’s in the next room. Just go ask her.”
Ilia groaned in defeat and stood, taking one last look at herself in the mirror. “Fine, I’ll go ask. Ten Lien says she doesn’t like my shirt.”
“Why do you love giving me money?” Blake asked with a smirk, “You’re on.”
Ilia grumbled to herself as she stormed out of the room and into the den to be greeted with an excited gasp and Pyrrha gushing, “Oh, Ilia I love that shirt on you!” Through the open door, Blake glanced out and shared a knowing look with Pyrrha. The walls in Ilia’s apartment weren’t nearly as thick as she thought they were.
With a thud Ilia sat on the couch next to Pyrrha, squirming a little as her girlfriend planted a kiss on her cheek. “Stop, you’re gonna ruin my makeup.”
“You don’t wear makeup,” Pyrrha said, a wave of confusion sweeping across her voice.
“You’re right,” Ilia said, “C’mere.” Immediately the two shared a slow, tender kiss, all of Pyrrha’s worry dissipating immediately. Blake fought to keep a frown from her face as she saw it, a spike of jealousy thrusting its way into her heart. She wasn’t jealous that Ilia was in a relationship with someone else, she was overjoyed that Ilia had found someone she loved. It was the fact that everyone around her seemed to be finding someone wonderful to live and love with, while Blake was left behind.
Her mother would have shaken her head and said, ‘You just haven’t found the right person,’ but Blake thought it was more than that. It would be a rotten toss of the dice for whoever wound up with her in the end.
She pushed the thought aside with a sigh and stood, getting ready to leave. It was a lazy day, so Ilia and Pyrrha were no doubt going to spend most of the day swapping spit and Blake had no desire to sit around and watch.
“Bye Ilia, bye Pyrrha. I’ll let you know if I hear anything else,” she called out as she left. Ilia waved, then yelped as Pyrrha twisted so they were laying on top of one another on the couch. Blake laughed softly and rolled her eyes, then made her way back to her own apartment.
Blake could barely keep her eyes open that monday evening. The full weekend had, as she predicted, drained all of her energy. She loved playing music and she loved sharing it with people, but a little bit went a long way. Performing to a crowd of thirty was much more her speed than three thousand. Fortunately for her nerves, she hadn't brought in those numbers since her tour.
Most of her day had been spent arguing with her label about her biggest hit, From Shadows . The label wanted to shorten it even further for the radio, though nearly an entire minute had already been shaved off for the first radio edit. Ilia had rallied to her defense, but the label wasn't budging. If the collaboration went well, they said, they would reconsider.
It was only eleven-fifteen, but Blake was tired and so she started to go through her nightly routine, almost forgetting that her computer was already in a video chat room awaiting Yang Xiao Long. She hadn't connected yet, and Blake had been specific about how late she was willing to stay up for the call.
Blake lounged in her chair with her headphones off, idly spinning in a circle as she brushed her teeth. Just another fifteen minutes and she could sign off and head to bed. She spun around once, twice, three times before she realized that the screen on her computer had changed.
Instead of a black screen with Blake’s room in the lower right corner, now there was a camera view of someone that Blake recognized immediately as Yang Xiao Long. The blonde smiled sheepishly and scratched the back of her neck as she stared at Blake in awkward silence. Blake stared back, her toothbrush lolling out of her mouth as she realized that she had been caught looking like an absolute fool. For a moment she considered hurling herself offscreen and crawling to her bathroom to freshen up, but that would only have made the situation worse.
“I’ll be right with you,” she said instead, trying to seem at least slightly professional. Yang Xiao Long nodded slowly, and Blake raised up her headphones to hear the response.
“Yep. Take your time.”
The moment that Blake was sure she was offscreen she bolted into the bathroom, hurling her toothbrush into its holder and rinsing her face clean of toothpaste. Gods, why had she taken her makeup off already, she knew this call was coming! Instead of taking the time to redo it all, she brushed her hair out quickly and flashed a winning smile at the mirror like she had practiced on a thousand reporters before. It looked weak and embarrassed.
It would have to do.
“Sorry about that,” Blake said as she sat back down and slid on her headphones, “I wasn’t sure if you were going to make it. It’s already pretty late here.”
“Time Zones are a bitch,” Yang Xiao Long said, her sheepish smile replaced with the pure cockiness that she always seemed to ooze in live performances. “I woulda been here sooner, but Ruby insisted we go out muddin’ after rehearsal. You can call me Yang, by the way, I don’t go in for ‘mister’ or ‘miss’ or anythin’.”
Blake took a moment to look Yang over. She was, indeed, covered in mud and dirt but still beaming underneath it all. Her blonde hair was matted and her lilac eyes were bloodshot, but somehow she was still undeniably beautiful. There was a strange openness to her, a welcoming presence that Blake just couldn’t place. She had seen her before, in pictures and videos anyway, but seeing her in such a casual setting was like seeing a different person altogether. Yang seemed much more real, more down to earth than she ever had in a hundred concerts. It was altogether the least professional way that Blake could imagine meeting a world famous musician.
“I’ll keep that in mind. What’s mudding?” Blake asked, furrowing her brow in confusion.
“Hop in a truck and go drive around some abandoned fields and through the woods and shit,” Yang said with a shrug, “It’s fun.”
“I’m sure,” Blake said, trying to maintain at least a facsimile of professionalism. Then again, she hardly looked professional, already falling asleep in her chair and her bob of hair a barely controlled rat’s nest.
Yang considered her for a moment, a friendly smile wafting across her face. “So, business?”
“Absolutely.”
“First off, do you want me to call you Blake or Miss Belladonna? Cause I’ll do either, Ruby got told to call Weiss Schnee ‘Miss Schnee’ when they started talkin’.”
“Blake is fine. You’re talking to Weiss too? Shouldn’t we all be on a call together?” Blake asked, straightening her posture and wishing that she had some caffeinated tea an hour ago.
“We, uh, couldn't figure out how to do that,” Yang said with an embarrassed smile, “We’ve done everything over the phone before now, but I wanted to seem like a pro for the colab, you get me?”
In Blake’s opinion she wasn’t doing a very good job, but she did appreciate the realness that Yang gave off. There was something comforting about seeing someone as they really were, and not the mask they put on for appearances. “Of course. We can work on it.”
“Sure. So...business,” Yang muttered, “I love your music, especially From Shadows . I think you’re gonna blend real well with Ruby.”
“Really? You liked From Shadows ?” Blake was surprised, if only because most humans didn’t like her biggest hit. It was a rallying cry about Faunus violence against humans as vengeance for centuries of oppression, something that had been a reality only a few decades prior.
“Oh yeah. I’m from a small town so we never really learned about all that, it was all agriculture and marine science,” Yang said with a shrug, “But you got me to do a ton of research. I’ve basically been readin’ nonstop since that song came out.”
Blake raised an eyebrow, trying to keep the judgement out of her expression. Plenty of humans had gone on about learning the struggles of the Faunus for it all to be performative in the end. “Anything you like in particular?”
“ The Rage: A Treatise on the Faunus and their Relations to Humanity by Leonardo Lionheart was pretty good, but I read that a lot of Faunus don’t like him much,” Yang said, and Blake nodded slowly. Leonardo Lionheart was best known for two things: being a phenomenal writer in his younger years and a yellow bellied coward in his later years. “But I prefer anything by Sienna Khan. She doesn’t give a fuck what humans have to say, and I appreciate that.”
Blake laughed at that and shook her head ruefully. Sienna had gotten into more than one fistfight with a human over her refusal to baby them when talking about Faunus issues. Political experts still debated whether it helped or hindered her election campaign. “She’s got a lot to say, that’s for sure. But anyway, about the collaboration. How are we planning on doing this, logistically I mean. Weiss said that we’d all record our parts individually, is that the plan?”
“Oh, I kinda thought that y’all were comin’ out to Patch to record it,” Yang said, furrowing her brow in confusion. “But if you wanna do it that way, we can.” Noting Blake’s mirrored look of confusion at the name ‘Patch’ she added, “Patch is me and Ruby’s hometown. We record stuff in Vale, but I figured we could practice out on Patch.”
“I see.”
“We can do it either way, I just think it’ll be easier to collaborate in person,” Yang went on, “I prefer seein’ people face to face, you know? An’ a video call ain’t the same thing, I’d love to havin’ this conversation at, like, a bar or somethin’.” She froze for a moment and suddenly gasped in horror. “A-as professionals! You know, just-just goin’ out to talk.”
Oh, she was jumpy. That was something that Blake couldn’t help but dive into. “Of course. I would hope that you wouldn’t ask me on a date after knowing me for all of ten minutes.”
“Nah, of course not,” Yang said, forcing a cocky smile onto her face, “I would never. So, Ruby and I were thinkin’ of combinin’ everybody’s biggest hits for part of the colab. Like, we sample From Shadows, I Burn, Red like Roses, an’ Mirror Mirror . She’s got a killer beat that she’s workin’ on right now, I think it’ll be a good fit.”
Blake mulled that over in her mind for a moment, then asked, “If that’s all you want to do, then why not just get a temporary license on the song? It’s not really a collaboration if you’re just sampling something.”
“Well that would only be part of it. I’m hopin’ that we come up with somethin’ new too,” Yang said, leaning back in her chair and throwing her arms up behind her head. Blake nearly crushed her arm rests as she saw Yang’s ridiculously toned biceps and how her orange tank top stretched against her breasts. Blake didn’t necessarily have a type when it came to women, if only because she’d never had much chance to explore that part of herself, but Yang Xiao Long seemed to be checking all the right boxes.
“That-that sounds like something we could do. We’ll just have to see how the remix does first,” Blake managed to say and Yang nodded sagely.
“Right, of course. Do you mind rerecordin’ parts of it? You know, if the timin’ is off or whatever.”
“No, of course not,” Blake said, then yawned heavily. Yang smiled at her gently and Blake felt her heart flutter unnaturally in its cage. “Sorry, it’s past my bedtime.” Gods, did she just admit that she had a bedtime in front of one of the most successful young artists in history? Of course she did, Blake moaned to herself, because no matter how heavily political her songs or how many shows she did, deep down Blake Belladonna was a godsdammed dolt.
“I shoulda been on sooner,” Yang said apologetically and Blake waved away the apology before it happened. “We’re busy tomorrow, but can we chat again on Wednesday? I’ll be on at two my time, promise.”
Blake tsked slightly and smiled despite herself. “Sure, we can do that. I’ll talk to you then Yang.”
“Talk later, Blake,” Yang said with a small wave, then the video cut off. Blake sighed and leaned back in her chair, bemoaning her unprofessionalism at the start of the meeting. Or had it even been a meeting? It had been more like the conversations she’d had with bar owners back when she had just started out and had been looking for gigs, short, sweet, and usually not very productive.
Still, she had until Wednesday to figure out her side of things. She would definitely be better prepared for that meeting.
“So how’d it go?” Ruby asked, poking her head around the doorway to Yang’s room.
“She’s fuckin’ pretty,” Yang mumbled, more to herself than to Ruby. Blake Belladonna was practically a supermodel in all her official promotional material. Having seen her off guard and without three hours of prep work, Yang thought that she looked even more beautiful.
“Did she agree to do the colab?” Ruby said, a bit more forcefully to get Yang back on track.
“Oh, yeah! She’s down for it,” Yang said, pushing herself up and away from her desk to hide her embarrassment. “But she wants to wait and see how the remix does before writin’ somethin’ new.”
“Miss Schnee was the same way,” Ruby said with a shrug, “We’re talkin’ more on Thursday, though, so I’ll see how she feels about it then. I’m gonna grab somethin’ for dinner, you want anythin’?”
“Nah,” Yang said, glancing at her mudstained hair, “I need a shower first.” Mudding in itself was fun. Tripping and falling into the mud was decidedly less so.
Ruby snickered softly and started to slide away. “I wasn’t gonna say anythin’, but you look like shit.”
“I look like-Get back here!” Yang yelped, darting after her sister who had already torn down the hall and into the kitchen. “See if I drag your drunk ass home next time we go out!”
“You get worse than me!” Ruby shouted back, already rummaging around in the fridge.
“Lightweight!”
“Fuck you!”
Yang laughed and ducked into the bathroom, stripping out of her clothes and turning on the shower. As she pulled up her orange tank top she paused. The look of barely restrained attraction, want even, that Blake had shot her when she stretched hadn’t gone unnoticed. If it were any other woman, Yang would never have hesitated in pursuing that look.
Well, maybe. If she could work up the nerve to pursue it at all.
But that wouldn’t be with Blake. Not only were they both professionals, but Blake Belladonna was well known for saying that she’d never be in a relationship with someone else in the industry. It was better that way, less distracting for everyone involved, she had said in an interview once. Yang was going to respect that, no matter how many looks of strangled desire that beautiful, wonderful, charming woman sent her way. Yang smiled dopily as she thought of Blake, of that tiny laugh she’d gotten from her, then balked.
Ah. So tonight was a cold shower kind of night.