Archive of Our Own ^beta

No...

No, they can't be...

Yang. Blake. Ruby. Weiss.

All of them, they're gone. Gone. Over the edge, turned to dust as she watched them fall, one-by-one.

Winter's scream echoing in her ears even as the other girl barely lifts herself high enough to land by Ilia's feet, before she collapses there. She's crying, they both are; tears, hot and stinging and helpless, landing on the platform under them. Weiss is gone now, too.

She'd been the last one of her team, and had lasted only long enough for Winter to appear and see her die, too.

Penny's body lies mere metres from where Winter is, on her knees and unable to get back up. Not once, has she glanced over that way since she arrived; not able to look and see the red seeping into Penny's clothes, dark and unfamiliar and ugly.

There's still someone screaming, Jaune urging both Winter and Ilia back into focus - they have their backs to Cinder, and that is one thing you do not do. Ilia has only met Cinder twice before today, and yet she knows this. You don't leave yourself open in front of Cinder Fall.

And... she doesn't care. Doesn't care about Cinder; everything she had left to care about just crumbled to literal ashes right in front of her, over the side of the platform right in front of her.

She takes a step.

Then another.

And another.

One more, one more and it's done.

She attempts that last step, and is firmly held from doing so by a grip on her clothing - looking down to find a Winter with freshly-ignited anger on her face, and tear stains on her cheeks. No magical flames in her eyes, but flames there nonetheless.

"Don't you dare."

"I--"

"No."

Winter is up on her feet again, finally, finally, and using the hold she has on Ilia to push her away - towards Jaune, towards the Vacuo portal. One grip on her is relinquished for another, Jaune having seen what she was considering doing and replacing Winter's with his own, forcibly shoving Ilia up the path towards Vacuo.

Not letting her go, until she's halfway through the portal and being sucked through to the other side.

Seconds, minutes, hours...

How long passes between her landing on her ass in the sand - right next to a sobbing Nora - and Winter reappearing, she does not know. Doesn't know anything of the chaos going on around her in the desert of Vacuo, other than it's loud. Almost as loud as the blood rushing hot in her ears, and certainly louder than the drowned words sent her way by Nora in question.

But, Winter does appear, flying through the portal backwards like Ilia had been... and she's alone. Stuck reaching back towards something she'd left behind, towards the golden arch that closes right as she crosses past it.

Jaune, as they'd come to learn later. The thing, the person, that Winter had been reaching for, and another name on the list of ones they failed to save.

Winter doesn't take any time to think, to absorb, just turning and charging off into the many grimm still surrounding them all, and Ilia numb on the ground with Nora as she watches her go.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The mass explosion of magic in the desert manages to catch attention of some nearby, help arriving in the form of shoddy Vacuan airships carrying an eclectic militia of assistance - huntsmen, professional and in-training, and mismatched "soldiers" of varied skill level. Enough numbers to bring salvation, and begin collecting injured refugees from the sand - the rest, the healthy ones, being pointed in the direction of Vacuo and told to start walking.

Airships continue to ferry back and forth, picking up more people and bringing them within the city limits. Vacuo already has enough problems with providing their citizens with supplies, but somehow just enough shelters are arranged for everyone for the night. Some, those with friends and family in Vacuo, break off to head their own way - and lightening the load of care dropped on the front step of a foreign kingdom.

Shade Academy takes on the bulk, people scattered throughout the halls and dorms and offered a temporary residence there until those in-charge can reconvene and discuss next steps. That is where Ilia finds herself, her and Emerald and the remains of team JNOR, watching the bickering going on between Winter and the Happy Huntresses as Headmaster Theodore attempts to mediate.

It takes time for the distrust there to settle between both sides - Mantle being rightfully distrustful of Winter and her role as one of the faces in the repression of their city, and the acknowledged difficulty of getting Atlas to accept any authority held by the Happy Huntresses. The Happy Huntresses, whom are lacking their own official face and leader, at that.

It takes even more time, for them to lay out an explanation of everything that had transpired in the fallen kingdom of Solitas for Theodore, lasting far into the next day before the story is sufficiently covered. By the time the meeting comes to a close, and they're all directed to rooms on campus to finally attempt to get some actual sleep, words no longer have much meaning.

Oscar takes up the mantle of leader for the remains of his team, Ren and Nora clinging to one another and refusing to move apart, and Emerald amusingly pressed similarly close to Oscar's side - the only true friendly face she has at the moment. Even despite her... dalliance with Ilia back in the far distant past, there's not quite enough familiarity there for either of them to want to seek each other out.

The only people Ilia has any desire to go looking for, she can't.

They're gone.

She finds herself in a room of her own, a couple down from where Winter disappeared into.

Quiet waits for her, where she would expect to find four stupid and happy and loud girls. Her girls. The loud of the desert and its chaos seems all of a sudden much more appealing than this. This... nothing. Glancing around the empty room, words - familiar and aching - float through her mind.

"It's all just... too much."

Ruby. She was right. It is all too much.

Her feet carry her back out the door, wandering down the hallway and through the corridors of Shade academy, aimless. Carry her out into the streets of Vacuo, people flooding around her as she pushes her way through those in the middle of their day.

Their normal day, entirely oblivious to the ruin that had befallen Atlas and Mantle. A few times, she sneaks off down a deserted back alley to collapse, the same stinging of tears on her face as had befallen back in the limbo between the two kingdoms that had stolen away her friends.

"Not friends. Family."

Family...

For the third time, Ilia has lost what little she considered her own. Her family. It's all too much.

She can't get back up, remaining huddled in a ball down a forgotten part of a kingdom that holds nothing here for her.

It's all too much.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In time, she has to return. Doesn't want to, but has to. Someone has to keep the fight going, it's the least she can do for the girls who lost their chance to keep doing so. The girls who brought her into this mess, and somehow made her still feel happy and welcome.

Passing by a stall on her path back to the academy, something catches her eye and draws her its way - bottles, gleaming with golden accents and liquid inside. She's pulled out some lien before she has the chance to consider, and the cool glass is soothing in her palm as she slowly wills herself back to her empty room at the academy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The path back to her room takes her past where Winter should be, and she doesn't pay it much mind. Not until she's already past the door, a few steps carrying her - one, two, three. And then, something halts her.

A sound.

Already, she's reclaimed her steps towards it, knowing and not knowing why. Some part, deep inside, making her do so until she's back outside of Winter's room door. Where she waits a moment, and hears it again; she's not the only one struggling to pursue any promise of sleep.

Winter is still awake. And she's crying.

In the brief time spent in her empty room, she'd taken note of what it held - remembering a small kitchenette, tucked off to the side and holding some items. Moving now, with a purpose, Ilia returns to her empty room and claims a couple glasses.

Finds herself back outside Winter's bedroom door, and does not think before quietly pushing open the door to enter. If there's anyone who understands, it's probably going to be Winter. While they weren't quite friends, they weren't not friends either.

Winter doesn't notice her door opening, folded over her knees on the edge of her bed, and head in her hands. She's still crying; and she sounds just enough like Weiss to carve out some semblance of affection in Ilia at the sight of her.

With a couple taps of her knuckles against the doorframe, Ilia announces her presence - and it's no surprise at all to see Winter hastily wipe away at the tears on her face, before looking to see who has come wandering uninvited into her space.

Brief, harsh irritation flashes in her eyes for a moment at seeing Ilia standing there. It relents, slightly and reluctantly, at taking in who exactly has come looking for her. When Ilia lifts the bottle and glasses clutched in her other hand to shake them wordlessly, Winter hesitates before nodding and dropping her head again to look at her lap.

Neither of them say anything. There's no need to, and Ilia just pours a glass to hand off to Winter before one for herself. The idea of sleep is almost laughable, if either of them had the ability to laugh at anything right now.

Neither of them say anything.

They just stay together.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Already, life is moving on by their second day.

There's no time to mourn, while at war. Winter is right back to planning in Theodore's office the next morning, looking every bit like she still hasn't sleep, and almost certainly smelling a little of the same booze Ilia can smell on herself.

It's likely that they both stink, Ilia herself hasn't showered in days - not since before everything went to shit. No one comments on it, but she makes a note to herself to do that at some point today. And tries to push away the thought that it'll be the first time she's done so alone for a while.

There's not much in the way of strategic planning going on, and Oscar and his team - to which Emerald has seemingly slotted into with no intentions to abandon - decide they're going to put their skills to use elsewhere. Grimm, always a bigger problem in Vacuo than the other kingdoms, have been swarming in larger numbers now thanks to the added negativity clinging to those hiding within the city.

After stating such intentions, they hover by Ilia's side for a moment until it registers why - and that they're waiting for her to go with them. Endearing, and painful, and a reminder of the way team RWBY had done to her back in the train station for the Argus Limited all those... what? Months ago? It doesn't feel that long, but it has been.

Oscar approaches her, looking and acting older than his years with each and every day that goes by, and gently offers a space for her with them.

"I know you're hurting, but you're not alone - we'd like you to come with us, and you're welcome to, if you wish to."

And she should, she should go with them and do something. Help, where she can. But then she looks over to where Winter is, huddled over a map of Vacuo with May and Fiona, talking quietly and still clearly not comfortable with working together. Ilia may not be quite alone, not yet, but... Winter is.

She should go, and yet a part of her is telling her to stay.

Winter understands, in a way that Oscar and his team don't quite. They all still have each other, where Ilia and Winter have nothing left of what they had. The closest to not-nothing they each have is one another, having been joined by their mutual love for at least one person - Weiss.

Oscar must notice her looking, as he smiles. Small, and not one of happiness; one of understanding. He leans over to place a hand against Ilia's shoulder, and nods at the decision she hasn't even properly made yet.

"I think that's a good idea. She might need someone here with her, but you're always welcome to come with us too."

"Thank you, Oscar. Be safe out there."

"Don't you all go dying too." The words are there, heard even though they remain unspoken.

"We will be. Look after each other."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Winter isn't crying, that night when Ilia appears at her room door. She's just lying back on her bed, still not sleeping. Ilia can hardly judge, she hasn't slept either; her body screaming at her to do so, and yet not allowing it when she tries. At the very least, she's now showered - overdue, and making her feel something approaching better. Or maybe not better, maybe just a little less shit and gross.

It's late. Too late, but they're both still up.

So she wanders over, sits down by Winter's side on her bed and pours her another glass from the bottle she brought with her once more. It's accepted again, without any words passing between them both.

Neither of them talk. Neither of them sleep.

But at least they're not alone.

Winter still hasn't showered, if Ilia's nose is to be believed. She doesn't complain, but she does make her go take one in the morning when they decide to get up and start their day. It'll probably not make her feel better, but anything that brings her closer to it is worth a chance.

There's a small amount of satisfaction there, at bossing Winter into doing something and having her just do as she's told. That, and the fact they both know Ilia would certainly be bold enough to physically attempt to force her into a shower if need be.

She'd probably lose, that said, so thankfully it doesn't come to that.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The third night proves something of a change towards the previous two. Nothing too drastic, but surprising in its own right - Winter turning to tuck herself into Ilia's side as they lay out on her bed together.

Nothing is said about it, Ilia allowing her to do so and simply wrapping an arm around her shoulders to pull her closer. Winter, even for her tendency to be cold and the nicknames referring to her as such, isn't cold at all. She's warm, and soft, and a lot smaller than she seems.

Always carrying herself like someone bigger than she is, and passing off herself as such. Always in her fucking heels, even in a kingdom built on sand.

Ilia did tease her for it once, and got little more than a look for it. Schnees and their fucking heels, Weiss was rarely without hers either. It doesn't change the fact that, without them, Winter is barely taller than Ilia is. If at all.

She's nice to hold, and doesn't complain about Ilia doing so. Doesn't complain about Ilia playing with her hair, melting into it and her breath warm against Ilia's neck. Doesn't complain when Ilia places a little kiss on her nose, right over the scar there.

It's nothing, and everything; all at once.

An acknowledgement that, if nothing else, they both need each other right now. That they're happy to have each other, in amongst everything they've lost.

And, just as Ilia had come to learn about Weiss in their time together, the Schnees aren't actually all that bad. Winter certainly isn't, happily snuggled into Ilia's side and arms and content to stay there for the next few hours.

Winter isn't quite home, but she feels like it to Ilia just now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It becomes a routine.

They work together during the day, Ilia by Winter's side and being the last shred of before for one another. They sit together at night, and offer companionship. Mostly, they're just together.

They talk more. They drink less.

They actually sleep.

Winter, for all her hard and iced-over exterior, cuddles into Ilia at night and they both cling to each other. It's not quite what either of them want, and that's exactly why they do it. It's comfort, while being a reminder of what they've lost.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

An Atlas airship comes flying into Vacuo a few days after everyone has settled in, heading directly for Shade academy and setting absolutely everyone on guard as it lands. Ilia is there, right alongside Winter and the Happy Huntresses, as it touches down - all of them prepared for a fight and hoping for anything but. They've all had enough of fighting for a while.

The door slides open, and there's a collective gasp of surprise at who emerges from it - Robyn and Qrow.

Smirking in that annoyingly infuriating way that only Robyn quite seems to consistently manage, she disembarks from the ship with her hands held teasingly in the air by her head.

"I've had worse welcomes, I'll admit. Always nice to be greeted by happy faces."

Ilia has barely had enough time to lower her weapon, feeling Winter do the same by her side, when the rest of the Happy Huntresses rush past to meet Robyn. Immediately, she's swept up into a crushing group hug that causes Ilia's own ribs to wince in sympathy... and a little envy, at seeing one team fully reunited.

The way her own team never will be.

And then, the remainders of the Ace Ops appear in the exit of the airship behind the other two, and the weapons come right the fuck back out. It takes considerable effort from both Robyn and Qrow to reassure the rest of them that they're on the same side.

Now, anyways.

Once some of the animosity is smothered Qrow follows down after Robyn, scanning over Winter and Ilia with pre-emptive heartbreak there at seeing only the pair of them and none of the girls he was looking for. His steps stumble as he approaches, a question already on his tongue and being met by Winter - unflinching, even though she knows what she has to tell him.

"Team RWBY... they didn't make it."

Qrow already knew the answer that was coming without it being spoken. It doesn't make it any less painful to see him crumble at knowing his nieces are both gone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One day, they spar with each other.

On Winter's insistence, at them both having been sedentary too long. They're evenly matched, Ilia's speed and reach keeping up with Winter's experience and, admittedly, better training. Thanks to enough time with both Schnee sisters, Ilia knows enough to cut down Winter's summons before they fully take form - keeping that advantage firmly out of Winter's clutches.

She ultimately still loses, Winter smarter than her and freezing her grip on her weapon before yanking it out of her hand, using the surprise to knock Ilia's aura down enough to put her out of the fight.

There's a little smugness on Winter's face at the victory, and it briefly causes the indignation in Ilia at being beaten to rise. But it lacks any ill-will it would have a couple months ago, before they knew each other like they do now. For all of Winter's haughty smugness, she's still just another broken little girl like Ilia is.

Hauling herself back onto her feet, Ilia gestures for her weapon to be handed back over and is halted by the sight of Winter examining it curiously.

"What is it? My weapon isn't that interesting."

"No, it's not."

Winter pauses, glancing up to meet Ilia's eyes for a moment before dropping to scan over her person. The look is... it's something, and causes Ilia's heart to lurch oddly. Those cool blue eyes on her manage to make her feel exposed, enough to give rise to a desire to cover herself or flinch away. Which is ridiculous, considering there's no real reason for such a reaction.

"Well? Hand it over, then."

"Have you ever thought about dual-wielding?"

If Ilia had held any predictions as to where Winter's ogling was going, this certainly wasn't it. Winter is still watching her, with growing interest.

"I can't say I have. Why?"

"If you had two of these, it would likely greatly extend your reach and abilities. You're already fast and rather agile, and with two extendable weapons like this one you'd be able to 'swing' yourself around a fight while still being able to attack at the same time."

"Huh. Can't say I've ever really thought about it."

"Maybe you should."

At this, Winter finally extends her hand and Ilia's weapon with it, returning it to its owner.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A couple days later, Winter shows up to Ilia's room with a long, rectangular case and urges her to open it.

The sight of what's inside is not surprising, considering their conversation previously - another replica of Ilia's Lightning Lash contained within, bright and new and shiny. One of the perks of a mass-produced weapon, easier to obtain a second. Plus the perks of Winter's suspectedly expansive back account; that cushy job up in Atlas had to be good for something.

Winter just smiles at her, when Ilia turns an amused look up at her for the gift.

"Well, what are you waiting for? Take it, and let's go get you trained up on using both."

With a smirk, applied in full challenge to the one extended her way, Ilia does indeed reach out and claim the gift - giving it an experimental couple of slashes to test it out. And ignores the happy expression on Winter's face, at seeing Ilia using a weapon she bought for her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Training she was offered, and training she receives.

Winter is exactly as brutal a mentor as she had been during their time together in Atlas, not slow to take advantage of any openings in Ilia's form as she adjusts to using two weapons and not just one.

"Training under pressure," she had called it. Claiming it to be the best way, and while Ilia will begrudgingly concede to some truth there, it still fucking hurts.

She does get better though, and fast. As fun as it is having a pretty girl beating on her, Ilia isn't the type to go down without a fight. Winter may not have much left of her life from before, but she has plenty of fight left in her.

You can take the girl out of Atlas, but you certainly cannot take Atlas of the girl. Not with how conditioned Winter is, that's for sure.

Ilia has the bruises to prove it.

And has to restrain the urge to flush pink when Winter comments on how good she looks a little beat up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

How and when it happened, Ilia does not know. All she knows, is that - at some point over the last few weeks - she has all but defacto become the right-hand to Winter.

The first time she notices it, is when May turns to Ilia with questions when Winter is busy with whatever she had disappeared off to do. May, looking over at her with expectations as to what the next planned step is with the war effort and fully convinced that Ilia should know.

And... and Ilia does know; Winter having already told her a couple nights previous about what her plans are going forward.

She tells May what Winter had said to her. And pointedly ignores the little knowing look sent back her way, when Ilia can't quite keep the flush away at thinking about Winter confiding such information to her while tucked up in her arms in Winter's bed.

The second time, is when she finds herself surrounded by a collection of Atlas soldiers as they deal with a few grimm that have broken a little too close to the academy and have to resolve that problem. Ilia had just so happened to be nearby at the time and moved to help, and is stunned still when they all turn to her as she approaches.

Doesn't know why immediately, and then it registers - they're waiting for her, for Ilia, to tell them what to do. Automatically deferring to their own perceived authority held by her, purely from the fact she's near-constantly by Winter's side. She'd be a liar to say she didn't gain some level of satisfaction out of giving them all orders. Nor at the fact that her own such orders worked, assisting them with coordinating their efforts with her own to cut down the grimm without much issue.

A little part of her, slowly healing, thanks Ruby and the lessons Ilia has learned in being a leader from her.

The third time is the one that truly cements it, in a weird roundabout sort of way - Robyn wandering over to Ilia's side, and clapping a hand onto her shoulder with a wide grin at seeing Ilia directing Atlas soldiers, where they were resistant to taking orders from the Happy Huntresses. Robyn's flanked by the rest of her team, watching amusedly at whatever interaction is about to go down.

"Check you out, Sprinkles. Gotta say, I'm rather proud at seeing you taking charge. Frosting has done well moulding you into her assistant."

Tingling on her skin marks her body's attempt to flush at the tone held in Robyn's voice upon calling her Winter's assistant, and the teasing there. It's pushed back down before she can turn pink and give Robyn that amount of satisfaction, but only just.

"Thanks, I guess. Though I still don't much appreciate the nicknames. Or you calling me Winter's assistant."

Robyn just maintains her cocky smirk, eyeing Ilia and not removing her hand. "What would you rather I call you? Winter's girlfriend?"

The hand is shoved off, and the attempts to reign in her blush utterly destroyed. It does little to remove any amusement held by Robyn, or any of her team now chuckling at the reaction the teasing has managed to pry out of Ilia.

"Piss off, Robyn."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It's been a month.

A whole fucking month since Atlas fell. A month since she lost team RWBY, her team, her family. A month since she started working alongside Winter.

The air is different, now. Life is different now, moving towards something nearer to healed. Likely, it never will be entirely; both Ilia and Winter still feeling the loss of their respective girls. But, they have each other, still.

The one constant for either of them, in this new and ever-demanding life.

Never easy, but getting easier. Every night, Ilia goes to Winter's room where she remains until morning, the two of them snuggled together in Winter's bed. Ilia's own bed remains virtually unused, just a few doors down.

Tonight, she's bringing another bottle with her. They'd long ago stopped drinking wordlessly together every night, but tonight is hurting especially more than the last few have.

"An anniversary," her mind morbidly supplies without her consent.

As is the theme for this last, very long month, she's not alone in her thoughts - finding Winter similarly demure and melancholy when she enters her room, Ilia not bothering to knock before doing so. She's welcome here, and no longer needs to knock. At a push, maybe she'd even admit to Winter's bedroom being more of a bedroom to her than her own, by this point.

At a push.

Upon seeing her, Winter manages a little smile - still burdened by whatever it is she's thinking about, but the two of them certainly thinking along the same lines. It's almost funny to think, that Ilia has things in common with not just one Schnee, but two.

Life is full of mysteries like that.

Winter happily accepts the glass Ilia pours for her, settling into her side when Ilia places herself on the bed next to her. Even accepts the gallows humour of a toast, when Ilia extends one toward her, and clinks their glasses together. Not without a look full of chiding at the morbidity of it all, but still accepting nonetheless.

They remain there together, tucked into each other, side-by-side and leaning heavily on one another. The way they have this entire month, always there by one another's side.

The last two standing, of their weird little family.

The last two. Ilia and Winter.

"What a pair we make," Ilia jokes, half-heartedly, into Winter's ear; and gets a blackened laugh in return. Entirely at odds with the one word of colour Ilia associates with Winter - white. Always white.

A pair of black hearts and black souls, taking comfort in one another.

It's quiet after that, and neither of them are particularly opposed to quiet but this one time, Ilia is possessed by an urge to speak. The words, soft and fragile like sugar paper at threat of being dampened - probably by tears - still push themselves from her tongue, right into Winter's ear by her mouth.

"I never did say it, but... thank you. For not letting me jump off that platform."

As close as they are, Ilia not only hears but feels the heavy sigh breathed by Winter at what she's just said. For a long moment, it's the only acknowledgment that she's even been heard. But then, it comes - a reply, equally as delicate and at threat of sounding broken as Ilia's own words.

"And I've never thanked you, for staying here with me."

"You don't need to thank me for that. This... this is where I'm supposed to be."

It's enough. Enough to change everything, the tender thread tying them both together. Winter shifts against Ilia's shoulder, turning to look up at her - all big blue eyes and perfect features, looking up at Ilia for a long moment. They're so close, close enough for Ilia to count the lashes on Winter's eyes, the barest dusting of freckles across her cheeks from her time in the snow-burnt northern kingdom.

Close enough for Ilia to kiss that little scar on her nose again, and so she does.

Winter is still looking up at her when she pulls back after, ice and warmth and home, and looking at Ilia like she's the very same. And a kiss on the nose isn't quite enough, not anymore.

Ilia leans down, a hand against Winter's cheek to pull her into a proper kiss. A kiss that's returned, feeling Winter sigh again from how close they're pressed together. A sigh that's happy, not a result of Ilia and her inappropriate jokes.

It's enough, more than enough, for both of them.

When they break apart, it's only for a second. A second just long enough for Ilia to find herself pushed down onto her back on Winter's bed - no, their bed - with Winter over her and every bit as beautiful and broken as she's been this entire time.

She's always been beautiful. She's even more beautiful, now that Ilia can call her hers.

This time, Winter is the one to pull Ilia into a kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~

~~~

Bonus scene:

"Damn it Winter, why do you never answer your fucking scroll?!"

"She obviously doesn't want to hear from you, May. I ignore your messages all the time for the same reason."

"Fuck off, Robyn."

May remains pacing around the length of their room, the rest of her team bemusedly watching her do so and wishing she'd just go to bed. Joanna is the one to voice as much, dry and tired when she does.

"Just leave it, she'll answer you in the morning."

"That's not the point!" May continues pacing for another moment, until drawing to a sudden stop in the middle of the room. "Fuck it, I'm gonna go ask her."

"I wouldn't do that."

It's too late though, May is already gone out the door in pursuit of getting a damned response from her bitch of an ex.

"What's the bets Winter kicks her ass for this?"

"I'll take that action."

Barely a few minutes pass before May comes blasting back into their room, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it to laugh. The action sufficiently piques the interest of the rest of her girls, who had until this moment been content to be rid of her and her incessant pacing.

"Let me guess, Winter chased you off for annoying her?"

May just grins, entirely shit-eating at the question, and pushes away from the door. "Not quite. I didn't get that far."

"What do you mean?"

"Okay, get this - I got as far as her room door before I overheard something interesting... turns out Frosting and Sprinkles are having a sleepover." To punctuate this last word, she affects a limp-wrist and wiggles her eyebrows.

That proves enough to fully enrapture the attentions of her team, all of them jolting upright in shock at what's just been shared.

"No fucking way!"

"Oh trust me, there's plenty of fucking going on."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bonus, bonus scene:

The next day, still high off the information they'd been told courtesy of May and her neurotic tendencies, an opportunity presents itself. Namely, the Happy Huntresses find themselves lagging behind in Headmaster Theodore's office after everyone has departed from their meeting - everyone, except them and Ilia.

Ilia, who is distracted messing with her scroll and coordinating orders for Winter.

A perfect time to needle her.

Robyn flashes a smirk to her team, all of them already giddy at whatever is about to go down and ready to exchange money with each other off of various bets. Fiona already has her lien out.

"So, Sprinkles... how was she?"

Ilia's head whips up, scroll dropping from her hands as she does so and staring over at them like a boarbatusk caught in headlights. She's entirely pink, head-to-toe, as the question sinks in fully.

"Wha-- how do you know about that?!"

With a groan, Fiona hands off a load of lien to a smirking Joanna.