Chapter Text
A blasphemous creation. It turns the stomachs of all those who dare lay eyes upon it. Wicked and foul, an insult to whatever process or being made the world possible.
A pool of stygian darkness… deep, void-like ichor from which rise crooked bones, sharp and gnarled. No words can describe that which wields them. An undulating, violent creature, rich of blood and foul of odour, profane in every sense, possessed of a godlessness so profound, it elicits as much solemnity as it does raw terror.
The solemnity of considering that this thing exists… and the creeping suggestion that follows, that maybe humanity has committed an unforgivable enough sin, once upon a time, and that this being was forged from the most blackened and hateful corner of the gods’ hearts to punish us forever more. Maybe we deserve this. Maybe we should accept it.
Maybe Blake’s lunch is this bad because we as people suck.
“Everyone can stop staring at my food because you’re not getting any.” Blake, the raven-haired girl with the slender build and the strong, but elegant features, is the only member of her team who isn’t absolutely disgusted by the wretched concoction she brought to their team-building hangout.
It’s nothing fancy, the girls - currently baulking at Blake’s lunch - are in their school’s luxurious dining hall for a quick bite to eat. The color scheme of cool, calm whites, polished greys and vivacious greens gives it an air of leisure, while they sit at a table made of… not real wood, but the effort is nice to see. So are the plush, forest green couches and chairs tucked beneath those totally real wood tables, the totally real plants, the stools propped up by totally real metal and brass, the elegant lighting, the great view of the city… it’s more like a lounge than it is a dining hall, and that must be appreciated.
It almost excuses that all the food they sell here is marked up 300%. Almost.
Anway, Blake’s rancid lunch:
“Blake, respectfully, what the f–...” Yang Xiao Long, the group’s burliest member - clearing six feet with ease and carved of muscle weathered by combat and training - takes a brief moment to compose herself.
The wild mane of golden hair splaying behind her is an ever present symbol of her resilience, and her tenacity in the face of hardship; Tangled as it is, it remains proud. The girls see that spirit as well in her worn blue jeans and the heavy boots she wears, beaten by time and work, and even in the thrifted black T-shirt she threw on by complete happenstance, purely because it was in her reach when she learned the girls would be going out.
Unfortunately, they don’t see it in her absolutely baffled expression at this moment. Blake’s lunch has defeated her.
Instead, they see that the cogs of tact within Yang’s mind are working, and they are working hard. This process has served Yang well when dealing with her little sister, who herself sits across from her, eyeing her expectantly for her reaction.
There must be a kind way to phrase what she wants to say, Yang ponders. There simply must be.
“What the actual fuck is that?” There wasn’t.
“Food?” Blake replies, granting the girls a complete dearth of context, even the low bar of it being her lunch eludes her explanation. Going purely by her words, she may well have stolen this. But surely not, since who would want ‘this’ enough to take it from someone else?
Blake shows no sense that she’s captured the obvious. In every outward way, Blake appears to be a thoughtful, pensive and stoic individual. Outfit built of stark white and deep black, from a smart knit pullover to fashionable tights, to even the simple bow atop her head, any observer would put Blake in a class of introspection and studiousness she simply is not a part of.
The girls here have the privilege of understanding Blake is exactly the kind of person to bring this to lunch and not even mind or think about why that might be a bad idea. They know she’s… complicated.
The ‘this’ in question is a tupperware full of a dense-looking slab of teeth-chatteringly raw fish, bathed in a soup of unidentifiable origin. The colour of the brine would read that soy sauce was involved in the process somewhere, but the smell makes one doubt any simple conclusions regarding this culinary war crime.
What a smell it is. Some mix between refuse and poison, it attacks the nostrils with a relentlessness unlike any other. Truly, it is violent. It must be stopped.
So reasons the team’s leader, Ruby Rose.
“What’s the number for campus police, again?” Ruby inspects her Scroll with facetious worry.
“No Scrolls at the table, sis.” Ruby rolls her eyes as she hears Yang’s comment, before quickly shifting her device back within the rolling dunes of her broad red hoodie.
It is the most obvious thing to notice when one catches sight of her, that and the striking, honestly, blinding, difference between her and her sister Yang. Ruby is so much shorter and slighter than Yang, it feels like she was made that way on purpose as a prank. It’s not just age either, even if Yang and Ruby have considerable years between them.
The dichotomy continues in the hair, which Ruby has elected to keep short, and neglected enough to turn unkempt. Coupled with the dark circles under her eyes, and the pale skin that reaches all the way to her thin, wiry fingers, Ruby elicits a certain eeriness that it’s obvious she’s elected to lean into.
She sweeps some hair out of her face as she reaches within a ratty backpack at her side to take out a steaming bag of classic fast food, which clearly was not bought here, before making a vague motion beyond Blake, to deeper within the dining hall.
“You see that, Blake? That’s the trash can. Throw your lunch away immediately, and apologise when you come back.”
“I’m hungry though, so no.”
“Well, that’s all the fucks I had to give! Bon appetit, Blake.” Ruby tumbles the food out of her bag.
“How did–... Okay. Give me a minute.” Weiss, who’s posture is so correct you could borrow the entire back of her chair and return it an hour later without her noticing, is more overt in her attempt to be kind. She steeples her fingers against her lips and thinks hard. The boundaries of tact and kindness are being pushed as we speak.
The others aren’t shocked. Ruby and Yang see Weiss formulating a needlessly generous read of what Blake just imposed upon them and sigh. Business as usual.
Weiss is like Blake in a way. In the same way that Blake seems put together, but brings hot raw fish on a lunch date, Weiss seems stuck up and unkind, but even a moment with her will dissuade that notion.
The sharpness and preciseness of her features betray her in this sense, so do the completely unnecessarily expensive clothes she dons. The white blazer hanging from her shoulders is bad enough, but couple it with the pure white silk blouse and pleated skirt, and of course the deep red scarf caked with designer monograms… Weiss is wearing rent right now. A few months worth of it.
“I think this is our fault,” Weiss states.
“In what possible way is this our fault?!” Ruby chokes out. “No, let’s hear her out, Ruby, I was thinking that too.” Yang sits up, excited to have a lead in the quest to justify Blake’s lunch.
“Thank you– Now, we all know Blake doesn’t know how to cook. Right?” Everyone nods, including Blake. “We tried to teach her, didn’t we? At the dorm? We taught her how to cook fish because she likes it.”
“We sure did,” Yang nods. “We sure regretted it, but we sure did.”
“We tried to teach her how to marinate fish too, right…?” Weiss nudges them toward the conclusion she’s drawn….
“Blake…” Yang holds her face and groans into her palms. “Please tell me you didn’t just fuckin’ dunk it in sauce and then bring it here.”
“... I made it rare.”
“I’m going to lose my shit.” Yang pulls at her temples trying to beat back the tide of incredulity. “Blake, you can’t make it rare, stop saying you’re making it rare everytime you want to eat raw fish– We don’t buy sashimi grade fish!”
“I mean, we could…” Throws in Weiss, as though she’s helping at all.
“Weiss.”
“I’m just saying! If Blake loves raw fish so much, we should accommodate that!”
“Accommodate it at forty Lien a pound?! You’re gonna accommodate us into homelessness, Blake eats too much fish, it’s gonna be fish or rent for us!”
“W-Well it doesn’t have to be! I can just pull extra shifts at my extremely lucrative, secret job that’s not hiring anyone that I told you guys about, right?? And then Blake could have delicious fish, like she deserves!”
Blake’s eyes narrow pensively. “Guys, I think Weiss is onto something…”
“The only thing Weiss is onto, is trust fund money.” Ruby gives Weiss a side-eye. “Weiss, why do you keep pretending like you’re not rich?”
“Ruby, for the last time, just because I know how to save–”
“Weiss, you could piss on that scarf and sell it for more than Yang’s ever made working construction, you don’t get that by saving!”
“Ruby!” Weiss, shakes off the shock of Ruby’s crass comment and turns her body as much as she can to her. She puts a hand on her shoulder. “Listen, I know how you see me–”
“As rich, that’s how I see you specifically.”
“Sure! But I promise you, that couldn’t be further from the truth. And as my hunting partner…” Weiss inches closer to lend emphasis to her statement. “I would expect you of all people to take me at my word. I’m not an heiress, or rich or–”
“Atlesian royalty.” Ruby interjects.
“Yes, not that either. All I am, is just…” Weiss’ gaze falls a bit from Ruby’s. Her expression blanks slightly as she takes in a small breath. “... A regular girl.” Her eyes gloss and she stares into nothing–
“With a lucrative secret job that’s not hiring anyone, that lets you buy anything you want.” Ruby’s comment snaps Weiss out of it. “There’s a company card, Ruby, they let me get the things I need, and sometimes the things I want!”
“As the only person sitting at this table that actually has a job, that’s complete bullshit. “ Yang stops Blake from drinking her lunch’s marinade. “Way more important than getting Weiss to admit she has more cash than God, is how we prevent Blake from ever cooking again.”
“I’ll repeat what I said last time, I don’t need or want to cook–” Blake tries to get a piece of her cursed fish and Yang smacks it away. “You guys should just tell me where the ocean is and I’ll get in there and handle lunch for free.”
“Blake? Listen to me.” Yang speaks slowly as she answers. “For the last time: There’s Grimm runoff in Vale bay. You can’t eat fish straight out of the ocean.” She makes extremely obvious motions, trying to sell the gravity of her words.
“How do you know that?”
“People have died?”
“And we’re all very sad for those weaklings, indeed we are… But maybe I’m different. How will we know I can’t eat ocean fish and be fine if we don’t let me do it? Maybe it’s what makes me special. It could even be my semblance.”
Blake tries to take a big bite out of her fish to cement her fantastic(ally nonsensical) point, but Yang’s finally had enough and just takes it away from her.
“Thief.” Yang ignores Blake’s comment and addresses her sister. “Ruby, we brought Blake a snack right? Get her the snack.” Ruby nods, reaching into her bag and taking out a crisp can of chunked tuna, one with a surprisingly chic black label reading “Blake’s.” Blake’s eyes don’t light up as much as they focus like a predator eyeing prey as the can slides across the table to her.
She takes out the weapon she’s meant to be using to fight Grimm and cuts the top off the can with more deftness than she ever has against them.
“You know, I admire you, Blake,” Ruby sits up as she speaks, eating her side order of fries. “Your mind is so unburdened by the petty and insignificant things of our time. Like common sense! And good ideas.”
“Thanks,” Blake says, deeply earnest, before sucking the juice out of the can. “... It means a lot.”
Ruby nods to her, while licking the salt off her fingers. Each time she does it, she bares a long, jagged scar that spans her palm to her friends. Those friends seem well acquainted with it… and look as though they all wish Ruby was much less so.
Ruby completely ignores their sudden pity. “I commend you for trying to cook. What’d you even put in there, Blake? What was in the sauce?” Ruby asks, purely because she knows Weiss and Yang would hate to hear the answer.
“Soy.”
“Great.”
“Ketchup.”
“Oh my fucking god.” It slips out from Yang with almost an awe to it. Meanwhile, Ruby’s losing her mind laughing. “H-How is it just ingredient two and it’s already horrendous?!”
“Mustard.”
Weiss’ fork clatters against her glass lunch container. “Wh-What is this, a science experiment…?!”
“Mayo.”
“You HAVE to be joking. There’s seriously no way that tastes good.”
“Yeah…” Blake looks pensive. “For some reason it’s not as good as the fish you make, Yang.”
“O-Oh… Oh, it’s a mystery.” Ruby eeks it out between bouts of wheezy laughter. “What do you think’s missing?”
“Fish isn’t raw enough.”
“Blake, you’re banned from the kitchen forever.” Yang grips the sides of the table with a harrowed look like she’s trying to ground herself to reality. “I’ll make your lunch every day, just promise me you’re not going to cook up another batch of the Blake special, please.”
“Okay.” Blake accepts, with surprising swiftness. “Cooking is hard anyway. You’re way better at it than I am.”
Yang lets out a long sigh. Meanwhile, Blake finishes her tuna can and beats a burp out of her chest, which prompts Yang to take a napkin and wipes the errant tuna off Blake’s face. While she’s being tended to, Blake stares pensively into the empty tuna can.
“Do you think I used to be good at it? Cooking, I mean.”
The other girls stare back at Blake with varying levels of worry. Yang’s the first to answer, however. “We’ll find out when you remember.” Yang’s arm pulls Blake in closer, good-naturedly. “Even if I get my memories back… I still want you to cook for me.”
“Aww!” Weiss puts a hand to her heart, touched, as Blake expounds. “It’s not fun at all but you enjoy it for some reason, so…” Weiss’ excitement deflates. “Okay, it’s less cute now.”
“Yup.” Ruby finishes her meal and packs the paper up into a neat sphere of trash. “Fitting for us.”
Back to silence… This one lasts even longer than the last one.
The one to break it this time is Ruby, however, as she stares up at the ceiling and asks, to no one, or perhaps to everyone:
“Hey… this is gonna sound weird and out of nowhere, but you know how Beacon’s like, the most prestigious school in the country?”
“Oh don’t I know it!” Weiss’ voice lilts as she answers, her glee evident.
“And how the hunting program is the most prestigious program at that school?”
“Yeah…?” Even Yang can’t help but crack a smile as Ruby explains it.
“And how all four of us made it in?”
Blake stops trying to lick the inside of the tuna can to nod in agreement.
“I guess I was just wondering… Y’know…”
Ruby’s gaze falls back on her teammates.
“How the hell did that happen?” And the instant Ruby asks, Blake cuts her lip on the can, as though the universe itself were asking that very same question.
END 0.1